Page 128 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

Raven frowns back at him, but then her eyes widen when she sees how close he is. She whirls, braid flying, and lunges toward Beelzebub’s outstretched hand.

“Raven, no—” Dominic’s broken English is so loud, so full of heartache, I hear every word. “Is only the dead! He take only⁠—”

Her fingers close around Beelzebub’s. The sun breaks free from the clouds, almost as if to shine light on the smile curling on the demon’s lips. A shadow blooms from nothing across the gravel beneath his shoes, growing in size and darkness while Raven’s thins.

“Raven!” Mercy’s shriek snaps my attention to the fearless and naked woman running across the lawn, flames billowing from her sword as she races to meet them.

My feet are moving before I can think. Down the steps, cutting across the lawn toward the driveway, blanket clutched around my waist.

Raven turns to us, to Mercy, then to Dom a few feet away from her and closing. I swear there’s a moment when relief sags her shoulders. They lock eyes, and her lips move. She says one word—that’s all I can tell—and then she fades away.

The ghostly silent ones zoom past Asmodeus and Tawny, and spill around Beelzebub like a torrent of water. When they reform this time, they’re more solid—just like their master.

They split into factions—some head back to those they passed, others keep coming up the driveway.

Tawny goes down under something with too many joints, but Asmodeus is there. I hear an agonized sound rip from his soul. I see white—Noctis’s enormous wings folding over Dominic like a hand closing. I see the moth’s piranha teeth, and a shape going into that maw and not coming out.

And through it all, a voice slides across the yard and lands right against my ear: How generous. His was no use to me.

When I look, Beelzebub is back at the gate, one hand on the latch and the other lifting to give me a finger wave. Then he swings open wide the iron bars and waltzes through to freedom.

Epilogue

Hot summer sun bakes the homeless woman’s head. Somewhere nearby, camera shutters go off. Tourists laugh. A seagull squawks. A fly buzzes.

Her skin blisters, her throat is parched, but she is too hungry to lift her head, and too empty to raise her voice and beg for mercy.

Her signboard warps and cracks in the heat. The chalk words slump out of shape and are no longer legible, but she remembers them.

Death harvests not with a scythe, but with an outstretched hand.

Footsteps approach, clicking on cobblestones. They stop beside her head, and a shadow unfurls over her body as the figure blocks out the sun. A buzzing fly grows loud.

“Poor, famished lamb,” a voice croons. “They don’t see you anymore, do they? Come with me. I’ll find you something nourishing.”

And then he offers his hand.

Bonus Epilogue

Mercy

3 Weeks Later

As our taxi approaches the abbey after a long day of retail therapy, the gates open to let a private charter vehicle leave.

“You girls see this?” Thea asks from the front passenger seat.

“Yep,” I reply from the back, and push my forehead against the window to see if I can recognize the private vehicle’s passengers. The windows are too dark to really tell, but I think I see men.

Leila and Tawny crane their heads to watch the car retreat down the road until it turns into the driveway and disappears out of view.

“Who do you think it is?” Tawny asks.

“Don’t know,” Thea answers.

“Don’t really care either,” Leila mutters as the vehicle pulls up at the abbey main building. “After a day at the mall with you three, I’m exhausted.”

“You can say that again.” Next to me, Tawny covers her mouth as she yawns, but then grins sheepishly at me. “I had fun, though. I’m glad you ordered us to have a day off.”