Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology

by Yolanda Olson

  “Seems to be in a mood,” I remark, gesturing to where our boss has disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Perhaps, wonder if it’s going to be a good one when he comes back,” Sawyer chuckles, gripping my shoulder, and I know what he means. I’m always on the boss's shit list. No matter what I fucking do, he finds a reason to give me grief. He can give me all the crap he wants, and I'll still enjoy working for him because I have freedom to kill the fuckers I find, and he doesn’t stop me from my mission—finding my sister.

  “Fuck y’all, I’m heading in,” I offer before making my way down the hallway and into the office that’s decked in old mahogany and dark browns and greens. It’s as if an antique’s fair threw up in this fucking room and left all its shit in here.

  Settling in a black wingback chair, I pull out a cigarette to keep in my mouth while he’s talking. It’s my way of keeping myself calm, taking the nervous edge off while I’m in the boss’s office.

  When he enters, the air turns dark and foreboding. It’s the power he emanates. I watch the man settle behind his desk, resting his elbows on the wooden top, his fingers twined together under his chin as he regards me.

  “I have a job for you, but…” he settles back, his shrewd blue glare locking on me as if he’s assessing me. I’m suddenly unsure of myself, but I don’t show it. I lean back, resting my left ankle over my right knee as I watch him. “It’s dangerous.”

  “I’ve been on dangerous jobs before.”

  “This is different,” he tells me, shoving the folder toward me before he sits back and watches me pull the information toward me. Peeling open the Manila folder, I scan the photo, information, and the names I need.

  “You’re sending me back to the fucking convent?” I chuckle. “Is this…?” I turn the page, my eyes locking on the name of the church. “Why?”

  “There’s shit going down, and I want the girls out of there before we send the team in. The bombs will be set up for a week after you arrive,” he tells me with a clipped tone. “Underground, there are passages that lead directly under the border into Mexico. If they get those girls over—”

  “They won’t be back.”

  “We’ll lose them,” he nods.

  I meet his gaze, still confused. “So, who is she?” I lean back, knowing he must have another motive because saving a few nuns is not something that God would do. He doesn’t do bad things for good—there’s a fucking oxymoron for you.

  “Get them out, Kahn,” he tells me with finality, and I know there’s nothing I can do to make him offer up more information.

  “Why aren't you sending Sawyer or Amir in?”

  “Because you’ve been there. You know the layout. Also, you’re going in as a priest. It will give you more credibility, authenticity.”

  “What the fuck?” I bite out, on my feet as I lean over his desk. “I’m no fucking priest.”

  “Remember, Kahn, the Devil is also an angel,” he chuckles.

  “A fallen fuckin’ angel, boss,” I retort, challenging him with a glare even though I know I’m going to lose. “I don’t have a choice. Do I?”

  “Did you ever?” he questions with an arch of his dark eyebrow. His hair is slowly turning to salt and pepper with streaks of silver amongst the black.

  Shaking my head, I press the smoke between my lips, flicking the lighter, but I don’t light the cancer stick. He waits, watching me intently, and I know he’s challenging me like I did with him.

  “As you wish,” I tell him, picking up the folder before turning for the door. I’m at the exit when I stop to glance over my shoulder at him. “If a nun goes missing, you won’t care?”

  “Depends on the nun,” he tells me.

  “Maeve,” I respond, giving only her first name.

  He considers this for a moment before shaking his head. “No, just keep in mind, there’s one girl in there I want safe. I want her alive, breathing, and not hurt in any way.”

  “You’re sending me in,” I tell him, “The job will be done to your specifications, as always.”

  “Don’t get your head twisted over some pussy,” he grits out in a low tone. It’s a taunt. “I don’t pay you to get your dick wet.”

  “Yes, Father,” I chuckle—using the word that’s normally used in prayer or confession—before I push open the door. I exit into the hallway and head down to the basement where we keep the weapons and my outfit which is already sitting, waiting for me. Black shirt, slacks, and shoes, with a white collar. Fucker.

  Maeve

  And forgive us our trespasses

  I didn’t sleep last night, and now, as the sun is streaming through my window, I have no way to hide the dark circles under my eyes or escape what’s to come. Today, I’m supposed to give a tour to a small group of visiting priests and nuns who may be staying here for the next six months.

  I have to be the picture of innocence.

  Shoving off my bed, I pad to the window, sliding open the glass and leaning out over the sill. An icy breeze is blowing as golden light shines into my eyes. I wish I could run away from here, but it’s the only place I know.

  At twenty, I’m nothing more than a homeless orphan. Technically, my parents aren’t really dead, only in my mind. I’ve killed them so many times, and each Sunday, I ask for forgiveness.

  After stepping into the confession booth, I pray for redemption from being an evil child. I also ask for God to forgive the fact that I enjoy sex, that I bask in feeling a man inside me. And most of all, for doing it with one of his flock, Father Dominic.

  I wasn’t much older than most of the girls that are brought to our church by their parents when I realized I wasn’t normal. My mind had been broken from what I’d seen.

  Before coming to the convent, I spent my days getting high behind the bleachers with the rest of the emo clan. I would hide out, off my head on a thick joint, and even then, even with all the memories floating in a cloud, I still couldn't escape the nightmares. They burned through me like poison in my veins.

  I was only sixteen, finding my feet as a teenager. The boy who called himself my boyfriend was nothing more than a friend who would grope me sometimes while sticking his tongue down my throat. Even though I let him go all the way one night at a house party, there was never a time I trusted a boy enough to give my heart to him.

  I’d learned that sex was nothing more than a means to an end. Although my stepfather used it to cleanse his flock, I knew it was dirty. My stepdad: A sadistic priest who would prey on those who needed his guidance. That’s what brought me here at the tender age of eighteen. I was hoping to be absolved of my sins. But no amount of fucking Hail Mary’s could cleanse me of what I’d seen. The things I didn’t tell anyone about.

  A knock sounds on my bedroom door to remind me it’s almost time to go, and I realize I’d been lost in my mind for far too long. Grabbing my clothes and a small towel, I head into the bathroom to shower and get ready.

  Once my long brown hair is pinned in a tight bun at the back of my head, I gently situate my habit. My eyes are wide, filled with fear at what today will bring. I don’t deal well with strangers, they make me nervous, and I’m not sure I was the best choice to give the tour.

  But I can’t argue.

  I have to behave.

  I sigh as I leave my room and make my way down to where the newbies will be meeting Sister Hilary.

  When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I’m ushered into one of the small meeting rooms and told to wait at the front of the room. I watch as five new nuns as well as four new priests are ushered into the small space. My gaze lands on each one individually, taking in their faces.

  Then my eyes lock on the last man. The man in the back. He's wearing the same black uniform and white collar as the other priests and yet he looks far too familiar to ignore. Ink snakes up his neck, sneaking behind his left ear, and I’m tempted to rip his collar off to see what it says. I can tell from here it’s some sort of script, but I can’t make out what the words are.

>   “Hello, everyone, before we head to the breakfast hall, we’ll do a quick run through of the convent and your rooms.” I force myself to smile, plastering on an expression of happiness when all I feel in my gut is acidic guilt. It sits low in my belly, where normally heat and pleasure would reside. I glance at the man in the back, his chocolate gaze locked on mine.

  Swallowing back my nerves, I tear my gaze away and almost immediately feel the pull to glance back at him. I’m not sure what he’s doing, perhaps it’s the work of Satan, and the devil has finally come to claim me.

  “Welcome to Our Lady of Heavenly Hope. We’re glad to have you here. If you would please convene in the corridor, I will show you to your accommodations as well as show you where our meal room is,” I tell them with a fake smile. “There aren’t many rules. If you’re doing votives, and would like to remain silent, there are many places where you can pray in silence.”

  “And if we’re here for work?” Mr. Tall, Mysterious, and Handsome asks. I don’t know why he has such an effect on me, but I don’t meet his gaze when I respond to his question.

  “You can check in with Father O’Kane,” I grin stupidly, and everyone nods slowly as they take in the old building that I know is hundreds of years old.

  At the door, I step aside, waiting for everyone to move out of the room and step into the hall. When he reaches the doorway, he stops, pins me with those chocolate eyes, and waits. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but I can’t offer him more than a smile.

  “You didn’t think I’d be back for you?” he questions me in a low tone that sends heat skittering down my spine. “Guess some things just happen for a reason.” With a shrug, he steps into the hall, leaving me staring at his back. I can't help but notice how the dark material tapers along every dip and peak of muscle that’s hugged by the cotton.

  I want to retort. I want to bite out a response of questions that burn the tip of my tongue, but I can’t just yet, so I nod then lead the group down the hallway and into the lunch area. It’s just a large hall that’s stacked with tables. Breakfasts are served in the smaller living area, but because lunch is so busy, we use the bigger space.

  With every door we reach, another guy or girl leaves the group to make themselves comfortable in their rooms. Eventually, I’m left with the stranger who kissed me.

  “Looks like it’s just me and you, little nun,” he coos in my ear, the warm breath from his lips causing every hair on my neck to stand on end. “Will you be a good girl, or is there something darker beneath your robes?”

  From the top of my head, to the tips of my toes, I tremble at his words. I’m alight with both excitement and fear. Something about this man instills heat inside me, it warms me for a moment, but then I wonder what he’s truly doing here.

  “I’ll see you at dinner this evening,” I nod, averting my gaze from his, because I know the moment I look into those deep dark pools, I’ll be lost in the abyss.

  His hand catches my arm, his grip tight, but he doesn’t hurt me. He leans in farther, allowing his lips to brush along the column of my neck, just behind my ear.

  “I don’t like playing games, little nun,” he murmurs low and gravelly. “So, you either help me get the information I need in here, or I send you across the border where they’ll fuck you up so bad, you won’t recognize yourself.”

  Tugging my arm free, I glance up at him, meeting his endless gaze with a sardonic smile. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, can fuck me up more than I already am.” I step away, needing air to breathe that isn’t filled with his woodsy, spicy scent. “You'd do yourself a favor by not judging every book by its cover,” I bite out before turning on my heel and leaving him. I can feel his stare, hot on my back as I make my way into the church, which sits not far from where the guest block is.

  The moment I step inside the cool interior, I can inhale deeply, not worrying about smelling that arrogant asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I don’t need a knight in shining armor, or inked armor, or whatever the fuck he is.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Alexia asks in a hushed whisper when she steps up beside me. The altar is empty, except for the candles that sit on the baptism table.

  “What do you mean?”

  She glances at me, narrowing her blue eyes as she grins. “He’s here. Back for you? Or back to break all the church rules?” She waggles her eyebrows, causing my face to flush with heat.

  “I don’t know why he’s here, but whatever he wants, I’m not going to be the one to give it to him.” My retort is hot, feisty, but deep down, I don’t really feel it because I know the moment Mr. Tall, Mysterious, and Handsome asks me for something, I’ll do it without hesitation.

  Kahn

  And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us.

  Seeing her again was a shock. Even though I knew she was here, in this convent, being close to her disarmed me. I never expected her to remember me. The softness of her lips beckoned me, but I behaved. For now.

  Her words sit in my chest like a warning I don’t want to consider. She said she’s already broken, but what the hell does that mean? Surely she’s had a fairly good life, she lives in a fucking convent. But then I recall the night I first saw her, the way she held onto that rosary as if it were meant to give her the answers to life.

  I bet it never did.

  The room I’m in is nothing more than a square space with a small metal bed and a door which I’m guessing leads to a toilet. The lodgings aren’t five stars, but at least I’ll have some peace and quiet during the short time I’ll be living here.

  I’m still thinking about Maeve when my phone beeps. Pulling it from my pocket, I slide my thumb across the screen to unlock it. A message from the boss man waits for me. Quickly, I scan the information then flop onto the bed, trying to make sense of why he sent me here.

  He knows my background, he knows what happened to my sister, and he also knows how hell bent on revenge I am. I need to find her because I know she’s still alive. If she had been murdered, I would’ve felt it. I know I would’ve.

  Growing up, we were close. We spent all our time together and having her gone has left me empty in ways I can’t explain. But I’ve found purpose from her disappearance. My focus is on finding the asshole who took her, and the moment I do, I’ll kill him.

  No.

  Not just kill.

  I’ll torture him until he bleeds out before me. I want to see his eyes dim as the life drains from him. Only then will I be at peace.

  God teaches us to forgive, but there’s no forgiveness when it comes to the evil that I know my sister faces. And I’d rather be damned to Hell by getting the revenge I crave before leaving her in that darkness to wither away.

  I’ve seen girls who come back from that. I’ve seen survivors. And there’s nothing left of them. They’re broken and tormented to the point of nonexistence. I failed in keeping her safe before, but I won’t fail again.

  There’s a knock on the bedroom door, causing me to still for a moment. I don’t know anyone here, only the pretty nun, who I know for a fact wants me. I push off the bed and make my way to the door, twisting the handle before pulling it open.

  On the threshold of my bedroom is the girl in question. I’m not sure how old she is, but I would have to guess somewhere in her twenties, very early twenties at that.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, stepping aside to allow her into the room. I doubt she’s allowed in here, but she walks inside anyway. “I asked you a question.”

  “And I’ll answer you once you close the door,” she mumbles, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead she settles on the edge of the bed, toying with the bedspread.

  I shut the door, locking it, before folding my arms across my chest and leaning against the wall. I want nothing more than to go to her, to taste her lips again, but I don’t. For the time being, I behave myself, but deep down, my body is reacting to her.

  She’s no longer wearing her
habit. She's wearing a long flowing skirt and a top that’s tight covering her arms and torso, the neckline sitting at the slender column of her neck.

  “So?”

  “I need your help,” she finally speaks, and her voice sounds like a million tinkling glass ornaments dancing in the breeze.

  I arch a brow, pushing away from the wall to settle at the small desk which sits against the opposite wall. “Oh?”

  “I don’t belong here,” she tells me. “I… I don’t know why I ever thought joining the convent would be a good idea, but God can’t save me from the darkness, and…” Her words trickle into nothing, and I’m left staring at her in the silence of the small space.

  “And?”

  She fidgets, her body is trembling, as if she’s about to go to confession and admit to a murder or something just as bad. Her long dark hair hangs down her back, and her wide, azure eyes seem like endless pools of defiance and pain all wrapped up in a small package that I want to tear apart with my teeth.

  “I need to leave here, but they won’t allow me to until I’ve completed my studies. Please, when you go… take me with you?” This time, her gentle eyes meet mine, and it’s almost as if she can see right through me. To the very heart and soul that are blackened by my life’s experiences.

  I have a feeling, though, that she’s been through the same type of pain and agony that I’ve become accustomed to. But I don’t ask, that is something that she should tell me when she’s ready. Forcing someone to confess their secrets doesn’t make them feel safe, and for now, I want her to feel that with me.

  Instead, I ask the question that is burning the tip of my tongue. “What makes you think I can save you?”

  Maeve

  And lead us not into temptation,

  But deliver us from evil.