Page 126 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

“Fucking do this,” I grind out, and edge inside, careful not to breathe too deeply. Something crunches under my foot. Squelches between my toes.

Gross.

I brave a look down. Something sticky and dark is oozing under my foot. The smell is overpowering, like a locker room left to die. I flick the light switch on and see why.

Flies are everywhere. The walls, the clothes, the ceiling. They coat every surface, swarming like living shadows. The bed is the worst. It’s like they’re nesting on it.

Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down.

Someone has ransacked Jasmine’s dresser. The drawers are yanked open, spilling their contents. A pile of books and trinkets smashed to the floor. I spy more of my things. Slippers. A shirt. The pink ribbon tie from my silk robe.

I don’t think there was a struggle, though. It’s more like someone emptied the place looking for something they lost. That’s when I realize a bulky shape on the bed looks familiar. The flies are crawling over something long and lumpy, like a figure.

We never got around to discussing Beelzebub. What if this is him?

Before I lose my nerve, I plunge the sword into the mass. The bugs don’t even care. They topple to the side like scattered pebbles, vibrating a moment longer, and then stopping.

I swipe the sword up and down the nest, but there’s no body. It was all flies. The bedsheet’s yanked off, and the pillow is dented with the imprint of a skull.

No Jasmine.

My knees wobble, but I grip the sword tighter and listen to the instinct Mary’s Gospel gifted me. Quietening my soul, I open my awareness to the buzz. I let it wash over me, feel the grime and the rot, and know it’s demonic. But it’s in pieces. It changes. An individual fly is nothing alone, but together, when they amass to something bigger, they’re a giant link to the underworld.

Wind brushes my face. My eyes snap open. The window is open. Cold air blows in, but the flies don’t care. If anything, there are more on the sill, crowding the frame, happy to wait. And watch.

Out in the dark, the abbey’s grounds are a black ocean. The only thing bright in the midnight gloom is the church. Lights burn through the stained-glass windows like a beacon.

Cisco’s voice in the confessional comes back to me.

The curse reacts around her.

Heart in my throat, I bolt outside, not even caring about the bugs squashing beneath my feet.

I am a Fury, a Banshee come to life.

“AIR RAID, BITCHES.” Using the sword, I pound on each door. “Wake the fuck up!”

The orphans’ door opens. A pale face appears in the gloom.

“You all in there?” I ask, jogging up.

“Oui,” Mathilde says.

“Good. Stay. Don’t open this door for anyone else, you understand?” I pause. “Keep singing.”

She nods. I close the door just as the first Sinner stumbles out of her room. Leila, blinking away sleep. In her shorts and cami.

“What the fuck?” I hear the faint metallic click of her Smith & Wesson pistol.

“The other one.”

Her eyes widen. Someone out of view hands her the spiked Helwing Gun. Zeke appears behind her, strapping on his holster. Then it’s Raven and Tawny. A shirtless Dominic, wide-eyed and ready. Wesley and Thea. And then, finally, Hannah stumbles out of her room, rubbing her eyes.

“What the fuck?” she groans. “I just got to sleep.”

Dread seizes my stomach. I thought Hannah was the problem. But it’s Jasmine, after all.

Ignoring her, I point the sword at Thea. “Get your relic.”