Page 27 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

“Babylon.” He gestures everywhere. “Humanity.”

“What’s your point?”

His eyes grow wild, darting around the room. “We thought Him gone. But he’s not. He’s watching, and He’s passing judgment.”

Cisco starts mumbling, praying, I think. He’s spiraling, and for what? Because he thinks he’s going to Hell? Buddy, join the club. We made T-shirts.

Maybe this is why Mary Magdalene said the Sinners are the world’s only hope. We’ve made peace with our post-life destination, and we’re still willing to do the dirty work to get the job done.

I suppose we’re fortunate in a way to have found each other. My sisters have kept me sane and supported me. Never once have they strung me out to dry like Cisco’s superiors just did. Never once have they put conditions on my belonging—apart from the sanctioned sinning for the sake of the world shit. My point is, once I was in, I was in.

No matter how many people I fucked, or how many times I went off the rails trying to drown my insecurities or fuck my way through mental health issues, they didn’t turn me away.

I look at Cisco, and the first thing that strikes me is that my Beatific Vision still gives zero warning signs that he’s a demon, evil, or anything I have to worry about. I have to trust that.

“Hey!” My shout echoes off the domed ceiling.

He stops pacing and looks at me, chest heaving. But then starts again, mumbling and grabbing his hair every so often. No, not hair. His ears, as if to block out a sound I can’t hear.

Instinct, intuition, that thing a woman should never ignore—it urges me to go to him. I’m there in two strides, taking his face between my hands, and smashing my lips onto his. I pour everything into the kiss, using my whole body. This isn’t something I do. Pretty Woman warned me never to kiss on the lips . . . unless you want to fall in love.

But I do.

I feed all of my longing, love, and emotion into it: the pain, the need, the angst. I give him the confession he’s desperate to hear, the truth I’m too afraid to say aloud.

I don’t want to be alone anymore either. Stay with me.

I feel the moment he’s mine again. The rigidity of his muscles relaxes. He exhales through his nose. He kisses me back, hands fluttering to cover mine. It’s the most honest we’ve been with each other. It aches, and I don’t know why. We allow ourselves another slow, indulgent moment of being in each other’s arms before we break.

“We’re going to figure this out,” I whisper.

He nods. Closes his eyes and frowns. “I saw something. In their sins.”

“Tell me.”

“They wanted your sword. If it’s fixed, it can also fix me.”

My heart soars.

“So then let’s go.” I drop my hands. “Let’s fucking do this before it’s too late.”

I sense there’s more he’s not telling me, but don’t push it. He’s functional and sharpening by the second.

“Where to first?” I ask.

“We take the back exit through the courtyard.” He collects the bag again and walks to the door, only hesitating when he sees the guard I drugged, slumped over himself on the floor.

After one last check of our appearance—each of us fixing the other—we cautiously leave the apartments. As we’re in a forbidden wing, no one is outside. To give us an extra bit of time before we’re found out, I jam a hairpin into the locking mechanism and force the door shut. It’s now stuck. They’ll have to remove the door to get inside.

Cisco leads the way down the dark stairs, and we fake it until we make it outside the palace and into a private courtyard. It’s empty and concrete, likely just for events. Through a gate, we hit the public estate and veer right after the palace, staying tucked into the shadow of the Basilica’s massive stone skirt.

“You know where you’re going?” My gaze darts around at the wall of manicured green gardens on our left.

The buzz of tourists filters over the high wall, but there are no gift shops here. No selfie sticks. Just a couple of black-tinted Audis idling nearby at a restricted gate.

I duck my head.

“I don’t think they completely revoked my access,” Cisco says, voice low. “They were waiting for me to . . .” He frowns, shaking his head.