Page 18 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

Another two ladles of water onto the stones thicken the air. When condensation drips rivers down the tiled walls, more erotic artwork is revealed.

The men all react differently. Lars scowls and averts his gaze. Gunther slumps and stares with heavy-lidded eyes. Valerio is more of a closed book. Interestingly, it’s the young priest who is the easiest to read. Rather, it’s the growing bulge between his legs.

“Do you know the story about these rooms, Francisco?” Valerio asks.

“Everyone in Rome knows,” I reply.

“They think they know. We keep them to remind ourselves that we are not perfect men. We never have been. It’s through God’s love and forgiveness that the church has the power to endure for centuries against all odds.”

The others nod. Another scoop of water is added to the stones, keeping the condensation thick enough to drip so the images stay clear. Valerio is watching me.

“We brought you here today because we want you to know you aren’t the first to relapse, my son. Dalliances are more common than you think.”

Tension creeps into my posture. “Relapse?”

“Come now,” Lars chuckles.

Gunther waves his hand across his face, displacing steam in wafts. “It is natural for men to have urges.”

“We hardly blame you. After all, you were in prison for a decade.” Valerio chuckles. “In fact, I thought we’d have dealt with this a lot sooner.” His voice turns hard. “But you are not a normal man, are you?”

“Speak plainly,” I clip.

“You look spiritually fatigued, Francisco. The collar is a heavy yoke for a man with your . . . unique appetites. We gave it to you to keep you alive. To keep the darkness contained. But when a priest’s focus drifts to earthly temptations, the grace that protects him, or those he loves, begins to thin.”

Tiny devil horns prick up from beneath my tattoos. “My vows remain intact.”

Mostly.

“I am so relieved to hear you say that because an unfocused shepherd cannot protect his flock.” Valerio pulls a damp file from beneath his bench and passes it to the cardinals, who pass it to me.

My fist clenches on the soggy cardboard. There’s no need to open it.

“I received it from the Naples diocese this morning,” Valerio explains. “A tragedy of bureaucracy, really. It seems the parole board is facing severe overcrowding, and so they are reviewing several life sentences for early release. Your uncle’s name was at the top of the list.”

Shadows swarm across my vision, buzzing inside my skull.

“We had an understanding,” I grind out. “I took the collar. I serve Rome. And Paolo stays in his cage.”

My family has suffered enough.

“Rome honors its devoted sons, Francisco. When our priests are fully committed to the Holy See, we are happy to use our . . . administrative influence . . . to keep such violent men off the streets. But lately, your reports are vague. Your loyalties seem divided. For all we know, this tragedy in Spain could have been avoided if you’d been more open with us. And let’s not forget the poor Monsignor, God bless his soul.” He makes the sign of the cross and lifts his gaze to the ceiling. “The Curia is questioning whether we can justify expending our political capital on a priest who advocates for heretics.”

Gunther places a paternal hand on my tense shoulder. “We are your sanctuary, Francisco. As long as you remain an obedient, focused servant of the Church, we have the resources to protect your dear mother and your Nonna.”

I am three seconds away from breaking that man’s fingers if he doesn’t remove them from my body. My glare must work because he slides his hand back to his lap.

“As far as your immediate team’s betrayal,” Valerio continues, bristling. “All will be forgiven. They can return home if they bring the stolen manuscript. That’s the most important thing.”

The sense of his evil spikes, and I fight the urge to beat his head against the wall. Wesley was right. The instant they return, they will not live to see the next sunrise.

“I thought stopping the apocalypse was,” I counter.

Another ladle pours. Water hisses on stone.

“But is there an apocalypse?” Gunther lets out a low, incredulous chuckle.

My jaw slackens. “The rise in demonic activity says yes.”