Illusions of Evil (Illusions Series Book 1)

by Lily White

I was a distraction.

  I was his light.

  I was the woman who belonged beneath his steady hand.

  My eyes were trained to the wall behind him, my body still…waiting.

  Fingertips touched the sides of my legs and I breathed out the air I’d been holding.

  Slowly, softly, dangerously, they dragged up, not a caress, but a tease.

  Refusing to move, I let him explore me, let him look and touch, lead and command. Words weren’t necessary in this. I knew what he needed from me.

  By the time his fingers reached my hips, his hands were shaking.

  He gripped me, those same fingers pressing down until the nerves beneath my skin came alive.

  The chair creaked as he leaned forward, my feet moving only when he tugged me to him.

  Leaning toward me, his breath was a fan of heat across my abdomen, his lips just inches from my skin, teasing me – toying with me.

  I was coming undone.

  He was letting go.

  Only God knows what would have happened if somebody hadn’t knocked on my door.

  JACOB

  And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Matthew 6:13

  It was as if God himself were knocking on the door, the might of His hand pulling me away from the temptation that stood naked and trembling before me.

  Yanking my hands from the heat of Sedra's skin, I pushed back in my chair, wincing at the sound of the feet scraping over the scuffed wooden floors.

  "Father Hayle? Are you in there? Your confessional hours begin in a few minutes. You have one person waiting already."

  It wasn't God's voice that spoke through the door. It was Gabriel Hart.

  My mouth opened to speak, but the words lodged in my throat. Guilt, I assumed, clogged the flesh, left it swollen and teeming, sitting there festering until I cleared it after several attempts. Even then my voice didn't come out much stronger than a gritty whisper.

  "I'll be out in a second."

  The lack of footsteps clued me in that Gabriel hadn't walked far away and his presence alone was enough to push me out of my chair. Sedra stood still in the same place. Her body didn't move, her eyes didn't stare at me accusingly. She just stood there...waiting.

  What had I been doing with my fingers on her skin? What had I been thinking to allow myself even that small contact? The girl was sick, not physically but emotionally, and there I was falling prey to the ease of her...to her unwillingness to say no.

  I deserved to be struck down. I deserved a fate worse than Hell. But yet, I still found myself staring at her, wanting her as no priest should want a woman. Knowing little about the young woman, it wasn't love or even fondness that drew me like a moth to her ever-burning flame. It was much more insidious than that, a part of me that I'd thought dead, that I'd thought the faith had forced away.

  Without speaking, I moved past her, noticing that when my shoulder brushed hers, knocking her back a step, she immediately moved to where she'd stood before, her eyes still trained to the wall, her body still presented like it wasn't a temple shielding her soul, but a cage.

  Not just a cage.

  Her body was a weapon.

  One aimed directly at the parts of me that were more dangerous than my head, my heart or my soul.

  Not only was she perfectly compliant, frustratingly obedient, and so ready for whatever I wanted to give her that she'd crawl for it, she was also a picture from my past. Her face, her skin, her hair and eyes, they all reminded me of another woman just as compliant, just as obedient and trusting. Jericho couldn't have chosen a woman who looked more like Cassandra if he'd tried, and I had to wonder at the likeness.

  Was it merely a coincidence, two twins who have similar tastes in women, or had Sedra's appearance been intentional? Had he trained this woman for his own deviant tastes, or had he intended her for something more?

  I wasn't sure, but what I did know was that I needed to stay away from Sedra, needed to stay as far away as I could.

  Grabbing the robe she'd dropped to the floor, I wrapped it over her shoulders, my hands gripping over the bones to pull her away from the spot she held like a well-trained soldier. She tried to resist, but her strength, her size, her will wasn't enough to keep me from directing her to the bed.

  Sitting down on the mattress, she looked up at me with pain blazing behind her eyes. I felt that pain, absorbed it, sipped on it until the taste was acrid across my tongue, blending and mingling with the guilt already choking me.

  "I have to go," I explained, hating the regret clearly etched in my voice. Regret shouldn't have been allowed. I should have wanted to go. "Once I finish my work for today, I'll come get you. We'll find you more clothes and then I can take you back to the compound."

  "Jacob..."

  I held my hand up to silence her. "You're unwell, Sedra...confused. You don't know up from down at the moment and I can't - I won't - take advantage of that."

  The pleading look on her face nearly broke me, memories creeping in to weave through the present, pain slicing deep to remind me of all the horrible things I'd once been. Monsters didn't deserve salvation, and yet God had given it to me anyway. You don't throw something like that away.

  My resolve wavered when I looked at her. Her sad eyes, her hunched shoulders, the defeat and heartache that was plain to see. I took joy in that heartache. I felt powerful for that defeat. And I would gladly burn in Hell for acting on those feelings.

  Where Sedra was confused, I could see clearly. And while she thought she walked down the path of a righteous woman, I knew that she walked down a terrible road, one filled with all the same traps and potholes that had almost destroyed me.

  I wanted to rip her from that road, wanted to grab her and never let go. I wanted to show her that the God to which Elijah had her pray was not God at all. But the life I'd so carefully constructed was falling apart with her around, and I had no choice but to let her go. I couldn't help her. Couldn't offer her salvation because I was too damn tempted by her to remember my place.

  "Father Hayle?" A voice called through the door.

  Thankful for the voice, I turned toward the door. I had to fight not to look back as I walked through it.

  Gabriel leaned up against a wall, his thick arms crossed over his chest, his beard neatly trimmed for the first time that I'd seen. He'd worked as a handy man for as long as I'd known him, not only for the parish, but for odd jobs people in town needed done. That work had given him a strong body and keen eyes, eyes that were now staring directly at me.

  "I couldn't let her into the sanctuary. She would have seen..." His voice trailed off, anger a vibration over his skin. The muscles in his forearms were clenched where he'd crossed them. "I can clean up the statue, but when that girl came in for confession, I hadn't started yet. I don't want her to see that. She's too young."

  Pushing off the wall, he moved to leave, but I called out to him. "How did you know about the statue, Gabe? Did somebody call you?"

  The only other person who knew about the vandalism was the young nun, but she'd left almost as soon as Jericho.

  "I came about some repair work I knew needed to be done in the atrium. When I didn't find you in the rectory I came here. Still couldn't find you but then I heard a noise, so I knocked on the door as I passed it."

  The last thing I wanted to do was sit there and listen while somebody confessed their sins, but I couldn't turn them away. In truth, it was a blessing in disguise, because it kept me away from Sedra. "Thanks, Gabriel. I'll take care of the young woman outside while you repair the damage. You can finish whatever you need in the atrium as well."

  Inclining his head, he grumbled, "Damn vandals," before walking away.

  Weaving through the halls, I crossed the narthex and opened the large front door to find Annabelle Prete sitting lonely on a front bench. She reached up to push her glasses farther up her nose as she read a book in her lap.

  With striking red hair always kept in a braid, she had light skin th
at revealed the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. A young woman, she'd just turned eighteen and graduated high school. I'd watched her grow up during my tenure at this parish. She and her parents both dutifully showed up for Sunday Mass, they took the Eucharist whenever it was offered and Annabelle always took a role in the nativity play we put on every Christmas.

  She was heading off to college, from what I'd been told, on a full scholarship she'd earned for her perfect grades and dedication to learning. She was a good girl in every way, probably one of the purest I'd known.

  "Annabelle," I called, stepping out into the sunlight, shielding the glare from my eyes with one hand. "Why don't we use the reconciliation room instead of the confessional today? There's some work being performed in the sanctuary."

  Over the years, the Church had been trying to modernize itself and dispense with antiquated practices. However, this particular parish, and the convent down the road, still held on to certain traditions shunned by others. It’s why the Sisters still wore their habits, why we still kept a confessional when a less restrictive option was in hand.

  Many of the younger parishioners turned up their noses to the dark traditions of what the Church had been. The confessional was musty and dark, full of regret and flagellation, where the reconciliation room was simply a place where I could talk with those who wanted a lighter feeling when they confessed. It wasn't small and condemning. It didn't trap you within its iron grip. It was simply a room where they could approach me with their problems, where they could ask for forgiveness for even the smallest sin.

  The reconciliation room wasn't appropriate for many older members. They still preferred the small, sheltered closet that kept them private while they voiced their innermost problems. They preferred what they believed was anonymity thanks to the screen between us that concealed their faces.

  Annabelle's head shot up at the sound of my voice, a broad smile spreading across her lips as she closed her book over a torn piece of brightly colored paper she'd used to mark her place.

  Color spread across her cheeks, the hint of a youthful crush on me so clearly written into her features. The blush had occurred since she turned sixteen, since her childhood was being left behind and womanhood was fast approaching. I found it adorable more than anything, she would never act on the attraction, she was too good for something like that.

  Running up, she gave me a hug before pulling away with a darker red spreading across her cheeks. "Sorry, Father," she said, embarrassment coating her words. "I'm just really happy to see you."

  Poor thing must have thought that even touching a priest with desire in your heart was somehow wrong enough to step on God's toes.

  I didn't blame her. Many woman found me attractive even though I wear the clothes of a devout man. In fact, if Annabelle wanted to practice flirting, I'd rather her do it with me than a young man who would take advantage.

  "You can hug me, Annabelle," I teased. "There's nothing wrong with that."

  She flushed, her hands waving around her at a dizzying speed as if she didn't know what to do with them. "I know, it's just that you’re a priest and I-"

  Her words cut off, her blush deepening. "I'm, well, whatever...the reconciliation room is fine." An awkward smile spread across her face, forced so that I wouldn't notice she was flustered.

  My shoulders shook with silent laughter. Wrapping an arm over her shoulders, I led her inside and down a hall towards the room. "Why are you so happy to see me?"

  I couldn't help the grin that slid across my face to see the color on her cheeks deepen more.

  "Well," she explained, happily walking ahead of me into the room and selecting a seat on the brown, overstuffed couch. I took a seat in the stuffed chair that faced her.

  "As you know, I'm heading off to college. And I think in an effort to be right with God, I need to make a confession before I leave."

  Instructed by her parents to only make confessions in that dark box in the sanctuary, Annabelle seemed lost to be out in the open. She couldn't look at me, her hands wringing over her lap, her book tucked demurely beneath them. "Is it done the same way in here?"

  "We can skip the formality if you'd like. It's giving voice to your sins that matters to God, not the routine we use to do so."

  "I have a crush on someone," she blurted out, her blush spreading down her arms and legs where I could see them.

  Not surprised by the outburst, I almost wished for the confessional just so I could hide my expression. Thankfully she didn't want to look at me as much as I didn't want her to see my reaction, so I was able to hide the smile without her knowing I 'd found her confession amusing.

  Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on my knees and locked my hands together. "There's nothing wrong with having a crush on someone."

  Her head shook. "Oh yes there is. Especially if it's a someone I shouldn't have a crush on."

  Breath poured over my lips. I was thankful for this one normal moment after the past few days I'd had. This was my element, this room, this space, this innocent moment where I could explain to a member of my faith that their perceived sin wasn't as bad as they thought. Having this break helped pull me back into place, helped remind me why I'd sought shelter in this life in the first place.

  It also cemented the fact that I needed to push Sedra away. She was too tempting, too painfully sexual that if I'd been sleeping I could call her a succubus. Like the demon who supposedly haunted men in their dreams, who stole their ability to refuse while sucking away everything decent and good about them, Sedra was the ultimate tease.

  She was a bridge back to my former life, a bridge I thought I'd burned when I became a priest.

  "I'm going to go out on a limb here and tell you that it's not a sin to have a crush on a priest."

  Her eyes widened where she stared out the window. "You know? Oh, of course you know. You're a priest. You can see sin."

  The squeak in her voice during the last sentence she'd spoken had me biting my cheek not to laugh. "I can't see sin, Annabelle, it doesn't work like that. But I am a man who had a life before becoming a priest, and I recognize the signs of an innocent crush. Most men do, and some will prey on that, which is why you should always be careful."

  I neglected to add that I had once been one of those predatory men, the kind who took innocence and crushed it beneath my fingers.

  Annabelle's face lost its color. "Yeah, but maybe it's not just an innocent crush," she admitted. "I've had...dreams...and those dreams became thoughts, and those thoughts led to fantasies-" She sighed, her eyes clenching tight enough to force lines at her temples. "I've thought about you in a sexual way," she blurt out. "There I've said it."

  Peeking an eye open, she looked at me. "Am I going to Hell?"

  Resisting the temptation to laugh at Annabelle's innocence was almost as difficult as resisting the temptation that was sitting in another room.

  Somehow, I refrained...on both.

  "Sexual thoughts are natural. As long as you're not acting on them with somebody who isn't your husband."

  "But the Bible says to sin in thought is the same as sinning in act. So if I think it -"

  Cutting her off, I asked, "Did you follow through on it?"

  "No."

  "And did you regret thinking it afterward?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you've done nothing wrong."

  The same couldn't be said for me. Each moment alone with a woman who didn't even know my name was pushing me closer and closer to acting on the very thing I was warning Annabelle away from. My fingertips came alive with the memory of her skin beneath them. My entire body froze at the thought of how close I'd been to tasting her just once.

  Forcing that thought away, I focused on Annabelle. "You can't always control the way you feel. Just like you can't always control who you're feeling it for. But what you can control is whether or not you act on it." It was almost like I was trying to convince myself of that fact more than her.

  Damn it, focus...<
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  "Just remember that when you head off to college, Annabelle. Just because you feel something doesn't mean you've failed your faith. It means you're human. Make good choices. Do good things, and do them in a way that pleases God. That's all that's asked of you."

  Nodding her head, she reached up to push the tail of her braid over her shoulder. "Do you hate me now that you know how I feel?"

  "No," I breathed out. "And I'm glad you felt the need to confess it and be honest. It might be the weight you needed lifted from your shoulders so you can go off to school with a blank slate."

  "I wish I could erase my embarrassment," she said on a laugh.

  Smiling, I asked, "When do you leave for school?"

  Her face lit up, pride a joyous glow behind her brown eyes. "I leave in two months. I wanted to go right now, but the dorms aren't open and I should probably stay on the farm with my parents. I'll miss them when I'm gone, but I'm just so excited. Only three people in my class got full scholarships to college and I thank God that he took that worry away from mom and dad. They had no idea how they were going to pay for me."

  "God works in wonderful ways," I agreed. "Do you feel better now that we've talked?"

  "Yes," she answered, shrugging a shoulder. "It was the only secret I've kept for a while and I'm glad to have it off my chest."

  Standing, I offered a hand to help her from her seat. "Well, then I'm glad we've talked as well. I'll walk with you outside."

  Silently, we made our way back to the front of the church, every step building the anxiety in me that I would be left alone with Sedra. I couldn't take her out until it was dark because I didn't want anybody to see her. Which meant I had several hours of knowing she was lying in the room...just waiting. Scrounging my thoughts for any idea of what I could go do to keep me away from the church, I drew a blank. There was no escape from her while I rode out the agony of my desirous storm.

  Sunlight poured in when Annabelle opened the front door. We both stepped out and my attention was drawn to another parishioner, Michael Grinnis, where he stood waiting.

  Annabelle waved her hand in goodbye, but my eyes were directed at Michael, my focus on greeting him as Annabelle walked away.