“I said, get out!” I huffed. No one moved, so I pushed past them and out the front door of the cottage, heading for the only place that ever made any sense to me.
The chapel doors were propped open, allowing people to come and go. I didn’t care for anyone’s company, but hopefully people would know to stay clear. I was here for myself, not for them today.
I slid into an empty pew near the front, the soft whispers of prayer surrounding me fading into background noise as I clasped my hands together and pressed my forehead to my hands. Stavros and Deyva fucked on that altar, so I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. Even here, in the most sacred and holy of places, I couldn’t escape her.
I couldn’t pull myself from the confusion. Everything about her was paradoxical. She fed on sex for Christ’s sake, why would she care if I had broken my vows with Azariah?
She just cares.
The thought bubbled up from a random place, but it clicked and solidified in my conscious mind. She wasn’t just fucking Stavros to feed on him, she cared about him. She cared about all of us. Otherwise she wouldn’t have drained herself, risked her own life to fight that demon.
She wouldn’t have run out of the safety of the gate to save my ass. She wouldn’t have been watching us like a hawk to make sure we were okay.
Just say it.
“I misjudged her,” I whispered to my folded hands. “I was ungenerous and unkind. I was too proud of my own piety and I failed to see another person’s good intentions.”
Shame rose up, making the back of my neck hot, as if God’s stare was burning into me. But there was no answer from Him, only the one ringing in my own mind.
I owed that succubus an apology.
16
Idle Hands do the Devil’s Work
Kais
Coffee bubbled in the percolator on the stove and I dug my knuckles into my temples, trying to excavate the headache pounding in my brain. Behind me, feathers rustled anxiously.
“Father Kais.”
I frowned and my fists lowered to the stove door handle, clenching tightly. “Not really in the mood right now, Azariah,” I bit out.
Listen to the way you’re talking to an angel, part of me thought, still a little dazzled, still marveling at being so close to one of God’s closest children. Forever coming to grips with the fact that all of this was real. It was one thing to believe, to want to be a priest, to guide people in their faith and through their troubles. It was another to wrap my head around the fact that there was a man standing behind me, with massive golden wings, who could produce light from his hands that defeated the hellions that hovered at the edges of my world.
Suddenly, the years before recent weeks, when it was all super soakers of holy water and crossbows pointed at monsters, seemed so simple.
“I have an explanation to give. To all of you.”
“Well, Zach’s not here right now, and I haven’t gotten any fucking sleep tonight, so like I said, not in the mood.” Not that I ever got much sleep.
And then, because it was my luck or my burden, the door to the priest’s house opened and I heard the telltale thunk of Zach kicking his boots off by the door like a kid who’d just arrived home from school.
“Where’s Deyva?”
“Zachariah,” Az breathed, plaintively.
I was living in a teenage supernatural drama.
“No. Don’t. Kais, where’s Deyva?”
I was one hairsbreadth from slamming something and telling them all to go fuck themselves, and I wasn’t even entirely sure why. Was it seeing Deyva take down that demon general? The slam of my heart in my chest as I watched her, and the violent jealousy of how easy she made it look? Or was it all this bullshit of who was fucking who and whether or not it was moral, while I was stuck with my fucking hand in the shower?
Zach hurried past me as I snapped the cupboard door closed and poured myself some coffee. This wasn’t going to help. I’d end up with the shakes and there was still a ton of work to be done, especially on that old house we’d started on yesterday. But the last thing I wanted to deal with right now were the night terrors.
“Oh, Deyva. I...I need to talk to you,” Zach said softly, his face turned up the stairs, none of his usual sneer