Corruption

by Jennifer Blackstream

  She laughed, a short self-reproachful sound. “I wonder how much of the space between me and God is the demon, and how much is my pride.”

  “It is never too late to seek redemption,” I told her. I reflected on my past, some of the choices I’d made that I wasn’t proud of.

  “You are right. And that is why I will seek Atonement.”

  She said Atonement as if it was capitalized, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. She wasn’t talking about doing good deeds to redeem herself. Atonement was a ritual--a powerful ritual. I wasn’t sure it was possible for a demon-bound.

  “I will make a formal request to the ministry first thing in the morning,” Laurie continued. “I hope to ask for Father Salvatore’s support.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek and concentrated on the road. “Evelyn surprised me when she mentioned the ministry’s stance on your exorcism,” I said casually. “Did Father Salvatore see it the same way they did?”

  “He will understand it when I explain it to him, but I don’t believe he knew of their stance, no. And he supported my desire for an exorcism. He was the one who offered his church, and closing the church for any amount of time is not something he takes lightly.” She smiled. “He’s been good to me.”

  I shifted in my seat. Or maybe Father Salvatore offered his church so he could stop the exorcism.

  “I can sense your discomfort, Mother Renard. Does it have anything to do with Father Salvatore’s request to Corban and Christophe?”

  I kept all emotion from my face. “You can see why it seems odd. Given the circumstances.”

  “It’s not odd at all. Matteo and I have been friends for many, many years. Corban and Christophe showed up with no warning, and they insisted on doing the exorcism immediately. At the time, their urgency seemed odd, but now that I understand the ministry’s position, I can see why they felt the need for secrecy. But it gave me no time to discuss the matter with Father Salvatore, and like many others would, he worried that I wouldn’t choose death over a life as a demon-bound. When he asked the twins not to perform the exorcism, he did it on my behalf.”

  I fought to keep my face from betraying my thought process. “You didn’t mention before that Father Salvatore was against the exorcism.”

  “Because he wasn’t. He might have been at first, but then I explained to him I wanted the exorcism. I gave him the same reasons I told you before. Eventually he understood, and he supported me.”

  Andy hadn’t said a word. I glanced over at him, wanting to see his reaction to this new information. He slumped against his door. He’d fallen asleep.

  I tried to come up with something to say, but words eluded me. Laurie had just found out that the ministry had been suppressing all efforts to free her from Lorelei—without telling her. No one had asked her, no one had allowed her any input. They’d decided what was best, decided that she should take one for the team. She hadn’t even had the courtesy of a notification.

  I remained silent as I pulled to the side of the road in front of her house. Four cars filled the driveway, and the lights inside were on.

  “That will be the Acolytes,” Laurie mused.

  “Do you want me to stay?” I offered.

  “No. Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “I have a great deal to consider. Perhaps I’ll let Lorelei have the night with her friends and… I’ll start over tomorrow.”

  I watched her get out of the car and walk up to her door. She gave me a small wave, and disappeared.

  “You think Father Salvatore hired Patrick to kill Corban and Christophe?” Andy asked.

  I jumped, unprepared for his voice. “I thought you were sleeping?”

  Andy straightened, rolling his head back and forth until his neck popped. “I don’t like being lied to, or misled. Father Salvatore didn’t tell us he was initially against the exorcism, or that he knew Patrick.”

  The lights from the house made shadows dance across his bare chest, drawing my gaze to follow them over his faintly tanned skin. There was an exotic strangeness to seeing Andy this way. In my mind, Andy’s suit was part of him, an important component to his FBI agent persona. A persona I’d never seen falter, no matter the situation. Seeing him sitting there in the SUV half-naked unsettled me in a weird way.

  His chest bore none of the scars that covered his back and upper arms, so there was nothing to blemish the smooth pectorals, or well-defined abs. A thin layer of softness covered the muscle, but not so much that the effort he put into his body wasn’t obvious. I wondered if Andy kept in shape like that for professional reasons, or if he personally valued physical fitness to that level. A body like that took a lot of work. Especially for a man who spent a fair amount of time sitting at a desk.

  “You’re staring,” Peasblossom hissed.

  I blinked, realizing my attention had stalled out somewhere on Andy’s firm stomach. Heat warmed my cheeks as I checked my peripheral vision and noted he was watching me. He’d definitely caught me staring. Perfect.

  I started the SUV and backed out of the driveway with less regard for safety than I should have. I couldn’t read the expression on Andy’s face, and if I focused on my driving, I wouldn’t have to.

  “We need to talk to Father Salvatore again,” I said, my voice too loud in the sudden silence. “I need to see his face when I ask him about his chat with the twins.”

  A few seconds of silence passed. I didn’t take my attention off the road, but the side of my head itched. As if Andy were staring at me.

  “Where’s Flint?” he asked.

  I frowned. “Home, I would guess. The Vanguard offered to let him wait for me, but he opted to leave as soon as they finished questioning him.” I snorted. “No one likes to hang around the Vanguard any longer than necessary.” Especially not murderers, I added to myself.

  “I don’t remember much of the fight. At the lake.”

  It took a lot of effort not to look at him again, at his blood-stained shirt. “It could have gone better.”

  “I gathered.”

  Something about the stiffness in his posture caught my attention. He’d barely moved since he got in the car. One arm braced on the door, and the other pressed against the seat beside his left hip. “The black cat came to help,” he said.

  “Yes.” I frowned. Why was he sitting like that? Was he in pain? Had the healers missed something?

  He grunted softly and shifted in his seat, then immediately froze. He continued before I could ask what was wrong. “Is this the new normal? Is it officially your… What did you call it? Animal comp—”

  “It is not her animal companion!” Peasblossom shouted. “She doesn’t need an animal companion, she has me.”

  “Is it part of your team?” Andy finished, ignoring the pixie.

  Part of “your” team. I shoved away the pain his choice in words caused me, refusing to dwell on whether or not he’d meant it the way I felt it. “I don’t know.” I glanced around the SUV, half-expecting the big cat to appear. I caught a glimpse of Majesty and tensed. “Peasblossom, you have to keep an eye on him now, Laurie’s not here.”

  “Why don’t you get your animal companion to do it?” Peasblossom snapped.

  I gripped the steering wheel and counted to ten.

  “I saw Flint carry you away. He didn’t seem like he planned to wait for the rest of us.”

  Andy’s voice had dropped to a lower register, gruff, with anger or concern I couldn’t tell. I fought not to squirm. This drive was taking forever. “Flint is a murderer, and a manipulative bastard. He doesn’t care about anyone. All he cared about was protecting his investment.”

  “You.”

  “Yes.”

  Andy fell silent again. Uncomfortable tension crackled in the air between us like too much static electricity, and I fidgeted. What was going through his mind? Did he think I’d been willing to leave him behind? Did he think my connection to Flint compromised me, made me too risky to keep as a partner?

  I gritted my teeth. I would
not let Flint cost me this partnership. I’d worked too hard to get here. Andy shifted again, and I saw him wince down at his pants. Realization dawned. It was his clothes. That’s what was putting him off, making him sit like that. Every time he moved, he felt the dirt and grime that had dried on his pants, was reminded of everything he’d gone through.

  Lifting my chin, I called my magic and waved a hand over Andy. The familiar spell rose with no words or gestures, as familiar now as breathing. The shirt balled in Andy’s fist shimmered as the blood washed away, and the fabric shifted against itself as the rips and tears knitted themselves back together. The sand and water disappeared as well, not just from his shirt, but from his body, his hair, and the rest of his clothes.

  “Thanks.” He raised the shirt, an eyebrow arching as the wrinkles smoothed themselves out. “Neat trick. Where does the dirt go?”

  “The magic neutralizes everything and triggers a return to a base energy. Sort of like stem cells for the universe. The particles that the blood and other stains break down into will become something else and go to the point they’re needed most. In this case, since I used the cleaning spell and the mending spell simultaneously, they probably replaced the missing fibers in your clothes.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Magical physics.”

  He fell silent after that, busying himself with putting his shirt on and fastening the buttons. I didn’t know if he was still contemplating magical physics, or if he was considering what I’d said about Flint. I hoped it was the former. My suspicion about his suit being a sort of armor for him was supported when he finished dressing. The tension bled from his shoulders, and he relaxed. It was a soldier’s version of “at ease,” but it was a significant improvement over a moment ago.

  I parked on the street, noting that the closed for renovation sign remained, but the chains on the door were gone. I exited the SUV and turned to retrieve Majesty from the back seat.

  He was gone.

  “Peasblossom!”

  “What?” The pixie popped out of my coat pocket, her pink hair disheveled and her eyes squinty with sleep.

  I twisted in frustration, trying to look at her before I remembered the angle wasn’t right. “You were supposed to be watching Majesty.”

  “So?”

  “So you weren’t and now he’s gone!”

  “Stop yelling, it’s bedtime,” Peasblossom complained, putting her hands to the sides of her head. “Go talk to the priest, I’m going back to sleep.”

  I growled and slammed the door. Andy stared at me over the hood of the SUV, one eyebrow raised. Fully dressed in clean clothes, even without his suit jacket, he was a completely different man than the one who’d slumped into the SUV almost an hour ago.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I grumbled. “You don’t have kids.”

  He snorted, but let the subject drop. We approached the church together, and as we got closer, I realized all the lights were on. The door opened when Andy pulled the handle, and he held it open for me to go inside first.

  Father Salvatore paused with a stack of hymnals in his arms. He looked as he had before, dressed in the black pants and shirt of a priest, complete with the clerical collar. Even knowing what I did now, he still didn’t seem like a murderer.

  “Laurie called me,” he said by way of greeting. “She told me about the poison and the bounty hunter. I am grateful to you for getting her home safe.”

  “It was my pleasure to help.” I gestured to the altar. “I see they got everything back to normal.”

  Father Salvatore followed my gesture. He nodded, but the tightness around his eyes and mouth implied he still saw the twins lying there in his mind’s eye. I know I did.

  “Yes, they cleaned everything up. The funeral is tomorrow, and I’ve received permission to attend, so I’m grateful for that.” He held the hymnals closer to his chest. “I wish things had turned out differently though.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  I turned to find Thomas standing behind me, holding an intricately decorated metal canister on the end of a chain. An incense burner.

  “Planning to bless the church?” I guessed.

  Thomas nodded, but the wariness in his eyes didn’t go away. Even with his black hair combed and the freshly pressed uniform of a priest, there was still something too sharp about him. A ferocity that never went away. “Yes. After everything that happened, there’s a great deal of cleansing to be done before we invite people in.” He paused. “Why are you here?” he asked again.

  “Thomas,” Father Salvatore said sternly.

  “No, it’s a fair question,” Andy spoke up. He looked at Thomas. “We’re here because we have a few questions.”

  “Tying up loose ends?” Thomas asked.

  “You might say that,” I agreed.

  Andy swayed forward, one hand bracing on the back of a pew. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, then clamped it shut. He wouldn’t appreciate me asking a question like that in front of a suspect. Instead, I observed him out of the corner of my eye as he eased himself into a seat. He managed to make the movement seem threatening, as if he were sitting to indicate he wasn’t leaving until he got his answers.

  “Father,” he started, looking at Father Salvatore. “Were you against the exorcism?”

  All emotion fled from the priest’s face. Slowly, he placed the stack of hymnals he held on the pew beside him, tucking them into the corner. “Why do you ask?”

  “Please answer the question.”

  He folded his hands in front of him. “I’m afraid I cannot.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Andy asked.

  “It doesn’t matter, the result is the same.”

  Thomas frowned. “What do you mean? Of course you weren’t against the exorcism. You know how important it was to Laurie.”

  Father Salvatore avoided eye contact with Thomas. “If that’s all, there is a lot of work to be done before we open tomorrow morning.”

  “Laurie told me you talked to Corban and Christophe.” I searched his face for some sign of his thoughts, some clue to what emotions he hid behind that calm, blank mask. “She mentioned that you tried to talk them out of performing the exorcism.”

  Thomas stared, his lips parted in shock. “What?”

  “She said you changed your mind,” I added. “She said she spoke to you, convinced you she wanted the exorcism, and only then did you agree to let it proceed.”

  “It was not my decision,” Father Salvatore said simply. “Laurie made her own choices.”

  Thomas gaped at Father Salvatore. “Why in the name of our Heavenly Father would you ask them not to go through with it?”

  Father Salvatore remained expressionless, but I’d met creatures who could empty their faces of emotion so completely that you’d have to reach out and touch them to assure yourself they weren’t statues.

  Father Salvatore wasn’t that good.

  “Did you ask Corban and Christophe to cancel the exorcism?” I asked.

  “Good night, Mother Renard. Agent Bradford.”

  I took a step after him as he turned away, but Thomas stormed around me and charged at Father Salvatore until he was close enough to grab his shoulder and spin him around. The older priest remained calm, but there was a tension in his shoulders that betrayed him.

  “Answer her question,” Thomas demanded.

  “I have said all I will say. Laurie is safe, and she is at peace. Let us leave it at that.”

  “No.” Thomas shook him, hard. “No. Patrick is dead. He was my best friend, and he’s dead.” He squeezed Father Salvatore’s shoulder, hard enough that the older man let out a soft grunt. “If you were involved in this, confess now. Live your convictions, isn’t that what you always tell me?” He jerked his head toward the front of the church, at the window with the etching of Jesus Christ. “Tell Him what you’ve done.”

  “I’m sorry for your pain, Thomas,” Father Salvatore said quietly. “And I’m sorry I can’t give you t
he answers you want.”

  “Someone said something in confession, didn’t they?” Andy rubbed his temples. “That’s why you can’t talk about it.”

  I stared from Andy to Father Salvatore. “The confessional?”

  Andy stood, gripping the pew in front of him and fixing his attention on the priest. “This isn’t my first rodeo with the Catholic church. I’ve seen that look before. The refusal to answer questions, the unease in your body language, the need to get away. There’s something you want to tell us, but you can’t. Someone confessed to you.”

  He didn’t bother to make it a question. Father Salvatore said nothing. Which was as good as an answer.

  “Father,” I tried again. “Let me ask you a question unrelated to what you may or may not have heard in the confessional.”

  He sighed. “I will not play games, Mother Renard. Please, let us say goodnight now.”

  Despite his plea, he made no move to turn away, so I forged ahead. “I’ve just learned that the Ministry of Deliverance had a special ban on exorcisms for Laurie. They considered her to be a prison for an ancient, a rare opportunity they couldn’t afford to lose. Do you agree with them? Should we consider the greater good when someone applies for an exorcism?”

  “I believe if someone feels they are being pushed away from God because of a possession, then that person has a right to ask the church for an exorcism.” Father Salvatore’s voice was quiet, but firm. “No one should have to leave His presence for the good of someone else’s soul.”

  “Even if condemning one soul could save hundreds? Thousands?”

  “Every soul has to be worth saving. It is not for me to decide who deserves it and who doesn’t.”

  “Did Laurie want the exorcism?” Andy asked.

  “Please leave,” he said.