The Sinners of Saint Amos: The Full 3-book Boxset

by Logan Fox

  The dining hall? My stomach grumbles. When was the last time I ate something? It might have been yesterday, but I can’t remember if it was breakfast or lunch. They’d served supper on the train last night, but I’d been too nervous to eat anything.

  I start forward, expecting Father Gabriel to move ahead. I come up short when he grasps my elbow and gently turns me around to face him.

  My chest grows tight at the look on his face. “What?” I ask quietly.

  He releases me and grasps his hands in front of him.

  I know Father Gabriel well. He looks older today. He’s still far from an old man, but his face has lost some of its youthful glow.

  “Anyone can lose their faith, Trinity.” Tiny creases form at the corners of his eyes. “It happens so quickly. So, so easily. But that’s exactly what the devil wants.”

  My chest closes. I can’t speak, or think, or breathe. Pressure builds behind my eyes as Father Gabriel presses his mouth into a thin line.

  “We can never comprehend the full extent of God’s plan. Especially if we turn our back on Him during difficult times.”

  Difficult times?

  Sadness turns to anger. The pressure is still there, scalding my eyeballs. Moisture builds, but these aren’t tears of mourning.

  These are tears of rage.

  Not the first I’ve shed. I’m sure not the last.

  There are so many things I want to say to Father Gabriel right now. Bad things. Blasphemous things.

  Hussy.

  But I don’t.

  If he senses my anger, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

  “One last stop before lunch,” he says as he sweeps out an arm. “In case you ever need to get something off your chest.”

  There’s a small alcove a few feet away. The arched door set within has a brass crucifix hanging at eye level.

  Father Gabriel opens the door, revealing darkness beyond.

  He steps inside.

  I can either follow or stay out here, stranded and alone. As much as I want to fade into the shadows, I’m done with being alone.

  I trust Gabriel.

  I know he wouldn’t allow harm to come to me.

  I follow him inside despite my tight chest and my pounding heart and my dry mouth.

  I follow him into the darkness, and it swallows me whole.

  Chapter Four

  Trinity

  Candles emerge from the gloom once my eyes have adjusted to the low light. They don’t do a good job of illuminating this place—but there isn’t much for them to light up anyway.

  This is the tiniest chapel I’ve ever seen. The nave consists of six short pews, three a side, with a narrow aisle leading to the chancel.

  The person on his knees in front of the altar seems too big and brawny for this intimate space.

  Candle flames flicker as we move deeper inside.

  As if sensing us, the figure in front bows his head a little deeper and slowly gets to his feet.

  “My apologies for interrupting, Reuben.”

  The figure turns.

  I thought it had been a man, perhaps another priest, but as the flames light the stranger’s face, I realize he’s a kid like me.

  Okay, kid isn’t the right word. Young man works better. He couldn’t be more than a year or two older than me, but he’s tall and broad and the darkness in his eyes doesn’t come solely from this shadowy room.

  He’s dressed like Jasper was, but without the blazer. On him, his dress shirt skims defined muscles and his collar hugs a thick neck. The top button of his shirt is undone, and his tie slightly loosened, as if he was getting hot.

  Unlike Jasper, he’s handsome as hell.

  I suddenly feel much too small for my age.

  “Trinity, this is Reuben. He’s in the same grade as you.”

  “Hi,” I manage, although I doubt he can hear my whisper all of a yard away.

  His dark eyes take me in, not changing one bit, and then fix on Father Gabriel. “She’s a girl.” His voice is deep, like I expected, but so melodious. The sound tugs loose a contraption that releases a million butterflies into my belly.

  “Acute observation,” Father Gabriel says through a laugh. “Trinity is my—”

  Gabriel’s cell cuts him off. He lifts a finger, sending an apologetic smile first my way, then Reuben’s, before he slips out of the room to take the call.

  When I turn back, Reuben’s standing less than two feet away.

  My heart jumps out of my chest as I stumble back.

  “What are you doing here?” Reuben demands.

  “Um…Going to school?”

  His dark eyes scour mine. “You don’t sound so sure.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but then I hear fabric rustling behind me.

  “Reuben, child, show Trinity to the lunchroom.”

  I turn pleading eyes to Father Gabriel, willing him to understand the psychic message I’m yelling at him.

  Don’t leave me alone with this guy! He’s a fucking psychopath!

  But Father Gabriel just gives me a warm smile and a pat on my shoulder before saying, “Jasper should be in the lunchroom. He can show you to your first class this afternoon.”

  My skin itches, and I’m sure it’s because Reuben’s staring at me.

  “Father—!”

  “I’m sorry, I must go.”

  Reuben watches Gabriel leave then his eyes flicker back to me. He ducks his head and slips a rosary around his neck with reverential care. The wooden beads rattle as he tucks it under his shirt.

  When he looks back up at me, my spine turns to ice.

  Eyes like pools of frozen tar pin me where I stand. If I could have turned tail and run, I would have been scampering out of here like a mouse who’s spotted a cat. And the cat was ready to pounce.

  Reuben steps past me. I catch a whiff of something sweet and musky in the air he disturbs as he reaches back and grabs my wrist. I have no choice but to trot after him. It’s that or have him rip off my arm. He doesn’t walk fast, but big as he is, he covers a lot of ground even at his slow pace.

  Reuben says nothing as he leads me from the prayer room and down the hall to the lunchroom. I catch a glimpse of Father Gabriel before he disappears around a corner. If I’d had a shred of common sense, I’d have called out to him. All he’d have to do was glance back. When he saw how Reuben was manhandling me he’d realize something was wrong.

  But he doesn’t look back.

  Guess he’s forgotten all about his newest charity case.

  I watch Reuben’s back the rest of the way, both mesmerized and horrified by the way his muscles move under his shirt.

  How easily he could have snapped my neck back there.

  No one would have seen.

  No one would have known.

  My skin crawls at the thought.

  He pushes open the door. A wave of chaotic noise and intoxicating smells wash over me. Reuben releases me and steps through. The door almost crashes into my face as it swings back on a hydraulic hinge. I catch it just in time. When I push it open, Reuben’s disappeared into the bustle of boys moving around as they go to find their seats.

  Thankfully, no one seems to notice me standing here.

  The crowd thins at just the right time, creating an open channel to the far side of the room. Call it a miracle, but through some disturbance in the fabric of the universe, I spot Jasper. He’s sitting at the end of one of the long benches chatting with the boy sitting opposite him.

  Just another boy in a room filled with boys. But at least I know his name. At least he didn’t just murder me with his eyes.

  I push back my shoulders and head for the edges of the room, trying to find the most inconspicuous way to reach him.

  Definitely not the welcome I was expecting.

  Jasper does a double-take when he sees me standing beside him. It took every bit of courage I had to walk through the bustling hall and make my way over here. Even more to detour and grab a plate of food. I was expecting some kin
d of buffet line, where staff in hair nets dished up whatever you wanted onto your plate. Instead, I had to grab the second-last food tray covered in plastic wrap from a nearby counter.

  Today’s lunch is thin stew and bread.

  This place is really starting to remind me of a prison.

  Jasper sits back, the hand holding his fork sagging. “What are you doing here?” he whispers furtively.

  “Eating?” I grip my tray a little harder. The closest boys turn to stare at me. Those next to them look, then the next, then the next.

  Everyone is watching me.

  The entire dining hall is silent.

  Dear Lord.

  “Can you move up a little?” I ask quietly as my cheeks heat up.

  “Fuck off,” Jasper says under his breath, glancing askance at the kid next to him like he’s embarrassed by my presence.

  I grit my teeth. “Please?”

  He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on his plate. I glance around in panic and spot a gap at the table next to us.

  Before I get there, the gap disappears.

  Now my cheeks are on fire.

  It feels like every boy in this room is staring at me but when I look around no one meets my eye.

  Screw this.

  My nose can’t go any higher into the air, so I push back my shoulders and strut down the middle of the room like I belong here.

  Technically, I do. I’m a student here as much as any of these pricks. They have no right to treat me like a turd.

  Despite my flaming cheeks, or the way my skin is intent on crawling right the fuck off me, I make it all the way to the other side of the room without wetting myself. I push open the door, my heart thundering in my chest as the door hisses closed behind me.

  Relief is brief, but delicious. The plastic wrap has crept up at one edge of my tray, and I catch a whiff of the food beneath. It doesn’t look like much, but it sure smells good enough to eat.

  You can do this, Trinity Malone.

  One day at a time, same as before. One day at a time, one after the other, thy kingdom come, thy will be done.

  A-fucking-men.

  My intention had been to eat my lunch in my room—if I could find my way back there. But I’d barely gone a yard before someone emerges from the nearest stairwell. A stocky woman at least two decades older than Father Gabriel latches eyes with me.

  I smile weakly.

  She frowns—hard.

  My smile wilts. I stop dead in my tracks. She picks up her pace, the skirt of her habit snapping around her thick-set ankles.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demands as she storms up to me.

  “Lunch?” is all I get out before the woman grabs my elbow, spins me around, and shoves me back the way I came.

  I stumble into the dining hall amid a cacophony of sniggers and giggles and chuckles.

  A second later, everyone’s mouth snaps shut.

  “Move,” the woman snaps.

  I start forward on instinct, but she catches me above my elbow. “Not you.”

  She surges ahead, stabs out a finger at the boy seated closest to the door, and drags a line to the side. “Move it, Nelson!”

  The boy shoots to his feet, grabs his tray, and almost trips over his own feet in his hurry to get out of the woman’s way as she drags me across the floor.

  “Sit.”

  My ass hits the bench so hard, my teeth click.

  “Eat.”

  The woman steps back and claps her hands. “Children, this is Trinity Malone. She is a new student here. Each and every one of you will make sure that she understands and obeys the rules of our school, or I shall punish each and every one of you. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Sister Miriam,” the school choruses.

  I’m staring so hard at my food I’m surprised it’s not setting alight.

  Sister Miriam lets out a huff, turns, and starts pacing the length of the hall. For a few minutes, there’s only the sound of her shoes hitting the tiles. Then, with another slap, she barks, “Eat!”

  Plastic knives and forks scrape plastic plates.

  No one says another word.

  No one looks up from their plate except me. And I only risk peeking through my lashes.

  My heart slows from a gallop to a trot, but I couldn’t eat if I’d crawled out of the desert having wandered forty days and forty damn nights.

  One day at a time? I’m wondering if I could even get through the day at this rate.

  Seriously, what else could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter Five

  Zac

  CASSIUS: We have a problem.

  I tap my finger against the side of my phone, stroking my bottom lip with the other hand.

  “Afternoon, Brother Zachary.”

  I glance up and give Simon a curt nod. Students file neatly into my class, seating themselves like a beautifully choreographed dance. My AP Psychology class is one of the smallest in Saint Amos—I only teach up to a dozen students in each grade.

  I return the smattering of ‘hellos’ and ‘good afternoons’ before facing the chalkboard. “Today we’ll be discussing epigenetics. Can anyone tell me—?”

  My classroom door rattles. I glance back at my class.

  All my students are present. It’s highly unusual for a staff member to interrupt me once my lesson has begun. Word has long since gotten around how much that annoys me.

  “Who is it?”

  The door immediately stops rattling. Then a hesitant, high-pitched voice says, “Trinity.”

  She cuts off when I open the door and snatches away her hands. Looks like she’d been pulling at the handle instead of pushing.

  I tilt my head. “May I help you?”

  The girl steps back, and huffs a dark curl away from her face. She’s wearing street clothes and a thoroughly confused expression. “Yeah…uh…is this Psychology?”

  T. Malone.

  My new student.

  I’d barely glanced at the memo slipped under my door this morning. My mind had been on other things. More important things. So much so, I’d even forgotten to assign her a seat.

  I step back and wave her inside, my mind moving a mile a minute.

  I’ll be the first to admit I’m set in my ways. Which is saying something for someone who’s turning twenty-one in a few months. A strange girl showing up at my door shouldn’t have rattled me, but it did.

  She stands at the front of the class, notepad clutched to her chest like a shield. A moment later, her amber eyes come back to mine, now even more confused than before.

  I snap my fingers at a student in the front row and point to the chair behind my desk.

  He hurries over, picks it up, and sets it by the wall.

  “You’re late,” I say, when the girl keeps staring at me like she’s had a stroke. “Don’t let it happen again.”

  Still, she doesn’t move.

  “You’re my teacher?”

  I straighten as my hand drops to my side. “Were you expecting someone different, Miss Malone?”

  As if she realized what she said, she shakes her head and hurries to her seat. There’s a soft hiss as she plops down on my chair and the air leaves its pillow. Her fair skin looks even paler as her cheeks turn rosy with embarrassment.

  It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts. As I turn back to the board, the text message on my phones comes back to me.

  Could this be the ‘problem’ Cassius mentioned?

  She’s not wearing a uniform which indicates her presence took others—such as Sister Ruth, who runs the laundry—by surprise. Else she’d have been decked out in Saint Amos colors.

  Her slim body, her poorly fitted clothes, the nervous energy vibrating through her—I put her at sixteen. But her eyes tell a different story. They’re underlined with shadows, as if she hasn’t had much sleep, and don’t hold my eyes longer than a moment before she looks away.

  Could be she’s shy, but I suspect it’s more a matter of her not wanting t
o give away more than she already has.

  “Have you submitted your transcript to the administration office?” I ask, turning my back on her as I scratch out a note on the chalkboard.

  “I…I don’t have one.”

  I turn back to her, subtly aware the other students in my class are following our exchange like a particularly slow—if fascinating—tennis match. “Which school did you attend? I’ll have it sent over.”

  “I was…homeschooled.”

  “Ah.” I click my fingers at the student closest to her and turn back to the board. “Sit with Alex. He can share his textbook with you.”

  She drags her chair over to the closest table, and the boy reluctantly slides his textbook to the side so she can lean across and read with him.

  Homeschooled? That’s a first for Saint Amos. At least, since I became a teacher here. Most of our students are children from across the state who couldn’t afford private tuition and whose parents—for whatever reason—had decided they didn’t want them in a public school.

  Those who still had their parents, of course.

  Many students at Saint Amos are orphans.

  Is that the case with Trinity Malone? If so, why isn’t she at the all-girls school up in Devon? Sisters of Mercy never turns anyone away.

  I glance over my shoulder. Trinity immediately drops her gaze back to the textbook, and her cheeks turn rosy again. I take in the rest of the class. Most of the boys are surreptitiously peeking over at her, some hiding the fact behind hands or raised up textbooks.

  I’m fully aware of her presence through the rest of my lesson, and find myself watching her more often than my students. Perhaps it’s because she’s a new and shiny thing in a place usually full of shadows and cobwebs.

  I need to find out what she’s doing here.

  If this is in fact a coincidence, then so be it. But if there’s any chance she’ll disrupt our plan, then we’ll have to get rid of her.

  The new girl doesn’t have anything to pack up except her notebook. She clutches it against her chest as she makes a beeline for the classroom door. The bell is still sounding its last gong when she disappears out the door without so much as a glance in my direction.