Page 73 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

He is as still as a statue.

All I want to do is scratch his pretty eyes out for seeing me. For daring to fucking look at me while I’m in this state. I fucking warned him this would happen.

“Mercy.”

No, no, no. Leaders don’t do this. Sinners don’t do this. I don’t do this.

“Look at me.”

I don’t speak. Can’t move. If I do, I’ll explode.

“Okay.” He straightens and looms over me, a black tower of judgment. “Then it is time for a walk.”

My head snaps up. “What?”

He’s already shifting the mess out of the way with his foot, wiping his hands on a cloth.

“You do not come to confession⁠—”

“Confession?” A hysterical laugh bursts out of me. “That’s your answer?” I’m so disgusted and shocked that I stand up so I can look into his eyes. “You think saying a few Hail Marys is going to fix this?” I advance on him. “You think whispering my dirty little secrets in a dark box is going to stop me from exploding?”

He holds his ground. Not an ounce of fear in him, which makes him foolish or a really good liar.

He says, “One of the first things they teach an exorcist is that evil cannot survive a name. If you keep it inside, locked in the dark, it is a monster without form.” He leans into my space, all calm heat. “It grows. It whispers. And it becomes a god. But the moment you speak it aloud … it shrinks. Only words.” He pauses. “This is why you go to confession, no? To let it out.”

I flick his Roman collar. “And how’s that technique working out for you?”

Cisco grins, and it’s both devastatingly handsome and terrifyingly unnerving. It’s not the look of the shepherd. It’s the wolf who ate him.

“We will find out.” Eyes on me, he walks backward to the door. “You refuse my counsel. You run from confession.” His spine hits the wood, and he stills. “I can’t give you my body, Mercy, not in the way you deserve. But I can give you my violence.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You need to fight or fuck, sì?”

My pulse quickens at the word ‘fuck’ on his lips. He says it like a criminal. A deviant. Like someone who knows exactly how to do it dirty, hard, and well. That impossible task from earlier? The one where it’s too difficult to turn back from rage? I lied.

I’m not thinking about anger now. I’m thinking about⁠—

“Answer me,” Cisco says.

I nod. “I mean, yes.”

What was the question?

“Bene. Then you know you will hurt someone you love, or yourself, if you don’t do something about this feeling.”

“Sure.”

“Then we fight.” He throws open the unlocked door and strides out.

No.

No, that’s not what I want.

But it’s either stare after him with my metaphorical dick in my hand or follow. I catch up as he arrives at the staircase.

“You’re not seriously suggesting we do this now.” I follow him down.