Page 42 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

“What?”

He glances at me. Pulls the rope out and acts dumb. “What?”

“You just said . . . ugh. Never mind. Help me with what?”

“Everything.” He gets up, dusts his hands, and stalks back to the arcade with a slight limp in his gait. “Coming?”

“Do I have a choice?” I mumble.

“No.”

“Why are you suddenly helping?” I sheath the sword between my shoulders, then jog to catch up.

“You’re right. I should be decimating you, but . . .” He pauses to sniff Cisco’s frozen form, scrunches his nose as if that was a bad idea, and then meets my eyes. “You’re one of mine. I’m honor-bound to help you when you summon me.”

“You said something like that when we summoned you at the abbey. What does being one of yours mean?”

That old picture of Lilith flashes through my mind.

“What do you think it means?” he counters.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “You’re the demon of lust, right?”

“Among other things.”

“Care to be more obvious?”

“Care to join me?” he steps up the limestone wall and then offers me his hand for a lift.

Fuck it. What else am I going to do?

I take his hand and let him pull me up. He flourishes his hand, and a flaming torch manifests, casting light on the walls deeper into the ruins. Pagan murals paint every surface, each depicting stories of gods and people. These are not like the ones inside the papal apartments. These are older.

Golden light flickers over Asmodeus’s handsome face as he looks at me with melancholy.

“You remind me of someone I failed,” he says, voice soft. He limps toward the murals. “That’s why I’m helping you.”

“Lilith?”

He halts, shoulders bunching, then continues into the ruins.

Fifteen

Mercy

Walking into dark, ancient ruins with the Demon Prince of Lust and ex-Horseman of War isn’t exactly the smart thing to do. Dumb girls in horror flicks would do it.

Asmodeus tosses a forlorn glance at me over his shoulder, torchlight flickering on his face. “You know, they paint me as the villain now, but it wasn’t always like that.”

I think about Cisco still frozen back on the shore. “I find that hard to believe.”

He harrumphs. “Let me show you something.”

“Let” sounds as if I have a choice. I follow him deeper into the ruins where he shines his torch on a wall crumbling under the weight of time. The fresco is broken into three distinct scenes.

The first shows a couple in love, the middle is a battle, and the third is a banquet. All figures are pagan gods and deities. I’m not as knowledgeable about cultures and eras as I am with languages, but I’m guessing these are the Roman gods and their pantheon. Makes sense if we’re buried beneath the Vatican.

Asmodeus stops at the first scene and smiles. “Handsome devil, isn’t he?”