Page 96 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

“Where’s Cisco?” I ask.

“Who?” She mocks me with confusion. “Oh, you mean Cesco. Fran-cesco, my brother?”

Silence settles between us, along with her smug stare.

What the ever-loving shit is this?

Is Hannah Maria? She’s not dead. How? Why didn’t Cisco recognize her?

It takes every ounce of self-control not to show my surprise. A wave of invisible buzzing washes over me, and it feels as if the demonic entity is also gloating.

If that’s Beelzebub touching me with his filthy invisible hands, I swear to God I’ll cut them off.

But the sense disappears, and I almost think I imagined it.

Hannah’s watching me curiously.

Fuck.

She’s Cisco’s dead sister.

I can’t believe we’ve not thought to look into Cisco’s past more thoroughly, or Dominic’s for that matter. We should’ve investigated what he alluded to in the interrogation. Wesley was taunted by a demon in his youth, and so were Leila and Zeke. Now this . . . Cisco’s been manipulated since his childhood . . . shit, no, it’s worse. His family curse is blood-deep. Mark of Cain deep. That’s what his family called it at dinner.

Random thoughts bubble up from the past—the letter from Spain, the Rev’s confusion about the manifest, Hannah never staying long at the abbey, the fact she got away with it when most other Sinners would have been ordered home.

Cisco’s mother insisted her daughter would return any day. Maybe she wasn’t going insane. Maybe she knew all along that Maria was alive.

We assumed Cisco was the recipient of his family’s curse, but what did his nonna say? It had two sides, an angel and a devil. Marco also mentioned that his great-grandfather, Rocco, had a worse version of the curse—something about forcing people to do what he wanted.

I’ve never seen Cisco force his will on anyone, but if Hannah is Maria, and she’s somehow convinced everyone that she’s dead, then maybe . . . maybe the angel and the devil somehow got mixed up. Maybe they share the powers.

She watches my face as it dawns on me.

It is about the divine relic, but only because of what Cisco told me at the Vatican. The sword can purge the curse from their system, to fix them.

Hannah doesn’t want that. She’s not repentant in the least. My gaze darts to the sword then back to her. She must still think it’s broken. Otherwise, why would she look so triumphant?

“Go on,” she drawls. “Ask me how I did it.”

Okay. Not where my mind was at, but I think I can take a stab at what she means.

“Why’d you have to kill everyone in Spain?” I ask.

Disdain curls her lip. “I meant about faking my death. God, you really are a dumb bitch.”

“You faked your death?” I gasp.

Her expression deadpans. “And you’re shit at acting.”

Oops. “Too much?”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “You want to know why I had to kill everyone in Spain? Simple. Too many witnesses.”

“Yet you let the orphans live. Why?”

Annoyance flashes in her eyes. “The thing with persuasion.” She gestures to her head. “This dark spark of mine, the one my brother failed to steal from me, is that it works best when there’s little resistance. Aren’t you the one who taught me that the best lies hold a sliver of truth?”

The two thugs are getting bored. Their gazes wander, and the gangly one starts picking at dry skin on his nose. But Hannah is just getting started. In my experience, the biggest criminal masterminds are dying to tell everyone how clever they are. They spill more of their secrets the dumber you pretend to be.