Page 91 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

Didn’t come up.

I bring the phone to my ear and grind out, “Put Wesley on.”

Two seconds later, his voice filters through. “You all right, mate?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to send you pictures from an old book the Pope gave me. I need you to authenticate them. Translate them. Tell me if it’s what I think it is.”

I put the phone down and take snap after snap of the story I just read. I send them to Wesley and wait a few painstaking seconds for him to confirm receipt.

“Do you know what kind of supernatural powers Beelzebub has?” I ask.

“What’s going on, Cisco?”

“Just tell me. Please.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, then starts rattling off some things I already know about flies and decay. He pauses to ask Thea to retrieve a book from a shelf. They must be in the archive because a few seconds later he says, “Thanks, love.” Pages turn. “Here. Beelzebub is an absolute authority in Hell—another name for Lucifer, or the Devil in some circles. He can surrender unclean spirits into his servitude at whim. He can cast out lesser demons—” He makes a choking sound. “He takes sadistic pride in inciting holy men into lust and lawless deeds.” He turns a page. “Shapeshifting. Mastery over insects, filth, and excrement. Um . . . what else?”

“Some call him the patron demon of Gluttony,” Thea says in the background. “Some say he’s Envy.”

“Bloody hell,” Wes murmurs. “He represents a hollow, all-consuming hunger that devours resources and spiritual purity. Shit. Cisco . . .”

“What? Tell me.”

“It says here that he’s so single-minded about destroying the world that he’s sickened entire bloodlines.”

I scrub my face. “Anything else? Anything about . . . other powers?”

“Some bullshit about fire and fury, the usual deception, then . . . here. What’s this, love?” I hear tapping down the line, a finger to paper perhaps. “Does this mean what I think it does . . . that he controls who is seen and who remains hidden?”

Thea’s tone is cold when she answers. “Basically, he can mind-fuck everyone into thinking someone’s not there.”

The buzzing in my head starts to roar, pushing against the confines of my skull.

My heart seizes in my chest. I force the next words out, already rising to stand. “I have to go. I need to see the photo at the osteria.”

“What photo?”

“The one of Maria as a child. I think . . . I think I need you to ask Raven if my sister is the girl she saw in the vision. Tell me if my sister looks like Hannah.”

“Cisco?”

“I’ll send you something in a few minutes.”

I hang up, and then I run.

Two steps across the piazza, gunshots fire, cracking loud enough to pierce the buzzing in my head. Another crack echoes across the vast space. At first, I don’t know which direction it comes from, but then I see people fleeing.

The hunger in me surges, instincts sensing the sin before my eyes catch up.

The sound comes from the direction I’m headed.

From where I left Mercy asleep.

Crack!

Crack-crack-crack!

My feet pound the pavement, faster and faster. Everything I pass is a blur. Every sound is a buzzing roar. I only have eyes for the osteria ahead. The front door is wide open. It’s dark inside.