Page 34 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

Sinners don’t break like this. We’ve been trained in the harshest climates and circumstances.

“I think it’s best if you stand over there with your team,” I say.

His brows pinch slightly, but he nods and moves. More than one exhale is audible behind me. Facing the girls, I smile gently and introduce myself.

“Hello. I’m Mercy.”

That’s all I get out before another shriek pierces the air. Whirling, I catch the tail end of Raven and Hannah ricocheting backward like pins knocked in a bowling lane. Jasmine launches at Cisco, screeching, “YOU! You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

My feet are moving before my brain catches up. I make it to him a split second too late. Jasmine clashes with him, clawed fingers aiming for his eyes, striking to maim. A flood of fear hits me, of panic and ill portent. But when tattooed hands effortlessly maneuver hers, twisting her into a defensive headlock, I am reminded of his dark past.

He might be a holy man now, but muscle memory from decades of violence lingers. He contains her pretzeled body within his arms, her spine against his front, somehow making it impossible for her to strike him. It’s like watching a wolf’s jaw lock around a lamb.

Jasmine knows she’s done. Her eyes meet mine, pleading. “Make him stop, Mercy,” she whimpers. “I don’t want to die like the others.”

The penny drops. I cross the room and take Jasmine’s wrist, yank her toward me, glowering at Cisco. “Release her. Now.”

He hesitates. No, worse than that. He tenses, as if contemplating twisting her neck and snapping it. I feel a wave of violence emanate from him, or her, or both. His eyes are black, pupils swallowing the brown. I realize then that I’m not looking into the eyes of a priest, but the enforcer. The man who was feared by murderous mafiosi.

Just as quickly as it appears, his hesitation dissipates. The priest returns, and his body softens. Shame flushes his cheeks.

“Forgive me,” he mutters and lets go. “It was instinct.”

Jasmine tumbles into me, but I don’t coddle her. For all this drama, she’s a Sinner with over a decade of field experience under her belt. This vulnerability is probably a ploy. We all know how to use it.

Shoving her behind me, I give Cisco a stern warning look. Don’t fucking move. Then, I turn to Jasmine and school my features.

“Explain.”

Calculation flickers in her eyes. She is like Tawny in this regard, so adept at projecting an innocent face that I sometimes forget what dangers lurk beneath, even when seeing them only seconds ago.

“Try it,” I warn, “And I’ll punch your lights out. Sit.” I point at the nearest table. “Explain. Fast.”

As suspected, her vulnerable expression completely drops to match the viciousness in her eyes. She slices a death glare at Cisco, doesn’t sit, but lifts her chin. “The priest is one of them.”

“I know.” It’s an effort not to roll my eyes. “And?”

Her jaw drops. “What do you mean, ‘And?’ Look at me. At them!”

I glance at the girls. Then at Jasmine. I share a confused look with the other Sinners.

Jasmine whirls to face the Rev. “Did you tell them nothing?”

But our matriarch is still looking dazed. Dominic has moved her to a chair outside the boardroom, but her veil is still disheveled.

“Tell me, Jaz,” I clip. When she doesn’t look at me, I snap my fingers in the air between us. “Tell me.”

Disgruntled, she gestures roughly to the priest. “They’re the reason Sisterhood chapters have been dwindling all these years.”

“I beg to differ,” Wesley interjects. “Not us precisely.”

“This is the first Sisterhood I’ve visited,” Zeke says, hand over heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“I don’t mean them, them. I mean another Team Saint. The fucking Vatican!” Every word causes Jasmine’s complexion to darken. “You come in all sugar and molasses, saying you’ll help us learn to hunt demons, all”—she puts on a mocking tone—“savior complex and friendly intentions. It’s just a merger. Right? It’s just a way to pool resources. You forgive the dirty heretics for going rogue. You give us absolution.” She jabs a finger in the air at Cisco, brows slamming down. “But instead, you just want our relics. You wanted us destroyed. Dead. Annihilated.”

I grab her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

Tearing her gaze from the priest, she meets mine and holds.