"And what's my sin, Malcolm?"
"Do you want me to insult you, Ms. Blake?"
"I just want to hear you say it."
"Why?"
"Why not?" I said.
"Very well; your sin is lust, Ms. Blake, as it is the sin of your master and all his vampires."
I shook my head and felt that unpleasant smile curl my lips. The smile that left my eyes cold, and usually meant I was well and truly pissed. "That's not my sin, Malcolm, not the one nearest and dearest to my heart."
"And what would your sin be, Ms. Blake?"
"Wrath, Malcolm, it's wrath."
"Are you saying I've made you angry?"
"I'm always angry, Malcolm; you just gave me a target to focus it on."
"Do you envy anyone, Ms. Blake?"
I thought about it, then shook my head. "Not really, no."
"I will not ask about sloth; you work entirely too hard for that to be an issue. You are not greedy, nor a glutton. Are you prideful?"
"Sometimes," I said.
"Wrath, lust, and pride, then?"
I nodded. "I guess, if we're keeping score."
"Oh, someone is keeping score, Ms. Blake, never doubt that."
"I'm Christian, too, Malcolm."
"Do you worry about getting into heaven, Ms. Blake?"
It was such an odd question that I answered it. "I did, for a while, but my faith still makes my cross glow. My prayers still have the power to chase the evil things away. God hasn't forsaken me; it's just that all the right-wing fundamentalist Christians want to believe he has. I've seen evil, Malcolm, real evil, and you aren't that."
He smiled, and it was gentle, and almost embarrassed. "Have I come to you for absolution, Ms. Blake?"
"I don't think I'm the one to give you absolution."
"I would like a priest to hear my sins before I die, Ms. Blake, but none will come near me. They are holy, and the very trappings of their calling will burst into flames in my presence."
"Not true. The holy items only go off if the true believer panics, or if you try vampire powers on them."
He blinked at me, and I realized his eyes held unshed tears, shimmering in the overhead lights. "Is this true, Ms. Blake?"
"I promise it is." His attitude was beginning to make me afraid for him. I didn't want to be afraid for Malcolm. I had enough people in my life that I cared for enough to worry about; I did not need to add the undead Billy Graham to my list.
"Do you know any priests that might be willing to hear a very long confession?"
"I might, though I don't know if they're allowed to give you absolution, since technically in the eyes of the Church you're already dead. You have ties to a lot of the religious community, Malcolm; surely one of the other leaders would be willing."
"I do not want to ask them, Anita. I do not want them to know my sins. I would rather..." He hesitated, then spoke, but I was pretty sure it wasn't the sentence he started to use. "Quietly, I would rather it be done quietly."