Page 16 of Savior

“I just wanted to be sure you knew what I could find at the end of this road, Father.”

I nod at him. “I understand more than most.”

He knows I do. The haunting images we’ve witnessed lately, the deafening sounds of their cries when they realize they’re saved that echo in my mind, the acrid smell of unwashed bodies and piss that fills the air, and the profound sense of despair thatgrips my soul — these are the elements that have shattered my faith to its very foundation.

“Alright, then. Expect to hear from me soon. I’ll get my men and Brynne’s on this.”

I perk up in my chair. “How is Brynne doing?”

He smiles, pure light and happiness gleaming in his usually dark eyes. “She’s great. I was worried, you know? How she’d handle stepping into her role as the head of one ofthe families,but she’s become a formidable leader. One I won’t cross. Unless I’m looking to…” he trails off and clears his throat. “Sorry, Father.”

I laugh at the implication left hanging in the air between us. “You have no idea what I hear inside that confessional booth, Slate.”

Using his translated name makes him feel more at ease, and he sits back in his chair with a smirk. “And do you never get jealous or want to quit this life? It can’t be an easy one to live.”

I sigh. Confessing how my devotion has been faltering isn’t something I’m ready to do, especially not with him.

Even though he’s a man with blood coating his hands and a dark veil surrounding his soul, I can see how his eyes look at me with respect and admiration, as though he’s in the presence of an individual booming with higher authority than he is.

I shrug. “It gets hard. But nothing in life comes easy, does it?”

He laughs. “Just the riddled answer I’d expect from a man of the cloth.”

I shake my head and stand to lead him to the door. “I have to get to confessionals and then write a sermon, but if you need anything else, let me know. I don’t know much about her, but I’ll try to get you any information you might need.”

Ardesia follows and steps out the door, returning to shake my hand. “I know you’re breaking a million church rules to workwith us, and it’s a massive risk. But, Father, you’ve done more good than you know. Finding this girl is the least I can do.”

I watch him get halfway to the carport, where he’s parked behind my car.

He turns back. “What do you want done with her if we find her?”

And for some ungodly reason, without thinking, I say, “Bring her to me. I’ll handle her from there.”

He smirks knowingly, but nods. “Have a good day, Father Russo.”

A deep sense of foreboding propagates through my stomach.

“You, too,” I whisper, closing the door and letting my back sink into the cold glass of the windows within it.

After writingmy sermon for Mass on how we shouldn’t let others influence our decisions and actions as we try to live inHislight—more a lesson for myself than the parishioners—I began cleaning the spare room in the rectory. Why? I honestly don’t know.

Other than that, if anyone is going to find her, it will be Ardesia. And I assume she’s going to be bad off.

The only address he could find for her was that of her mother’s house, and if she’s in rough shape when he finds her, that’s the last place I want her to be.

Or that she’ll want to be.

I try to ignore the way I feel authority over her already, just from seeing one photograph.

More than just slipping in my faith, I feel as though I’m losing my damned mind.

I drop the blanket I had been making the bed with and growl.

She’s not allowed to be in the rectory, and I know it. But there’s nowhere else I want her to go home to whenever I find her.

If I find her.

My phone goes off in the living room, and I trudge into the room and plop onto the couch with it. It’s a text from Ardesia.

---