Page 7 of Heathens
“I don’t know,” he answers, narrowing his eyes slightly. Those eyes are catastrophic. This close, I can see the flecks of silver in his periwinkle irises. His skin, though pale, is beautiful. He reminds me of an angel. Too bad he arrived too late to save me.
“So, you’re a priest.” I gesture to his collar.
“I’m not a priest. Not yet.”
I laugh, but it’s not a kind laugh. “Excuse me; I have to go.”
I push off the wall and slither away from him. I look around, but Benedict has disappeared. I have no idea where he went. I walk around the corner of the nearest alley. My heels click against the cobblestone.
To my utter horror, I hear the priest—or whatever he is—call out to me.
“Hey!” I close my eyes and stop walking. A warm hand grabs my right wrist gently. “I didn’t mean... I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.” A chunk of hair falls in front of his face. It’s endearing how unkempt he is.
I pull my hand out of his grip. “I really have to go now.” I turn and continue walking down the alley.
“You just seem—” he says, his voice deep and comfortable. “Are you okay?” This—thisis a man who sees the best in people.
I’m not okay.
I want to scream it from the rooftops.
I turn to face him again, wrapping my arms around myself. Voices carry into the alley—people heading out, people heading home. People with normal lives. It was warm today, but the spring air cooled after the sun went down.
“What’s your name?” I ask, crossing my legs and trying to keep my teeth from chattering. I should’ve worn something other than cut-off shorts and an old, threadbare band t-shirt.Halsey. I saw her when she played here last year. His eyes follow my hands as they rub my arms, observing.
“Salem,” he answers, taking a step closer so that he’s right next to me. “Are you cold?”
“Hm. Interesting name. And no.” I make a mental note to look up what his name means when I get home.
“What’s yours? And I don’t believe you. You have goosebumps. I can give you my outer shirt.” He sets his briefcase down, but I throw my hand out, rattled by his precise observations.
“No, please. I'm fine. And it's Lilith,” I blurt. I hardly ever use my full name. Something about him makes me want to expose that part of me.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Benedict’s voice causes me to jump back from Salem. He meanders down the alley toward us.
Salem’s eyes narrow but they don’t leave mine until I look away, like he’s watching, waiting for me to give my secrets away. “I was looking for you,” I say to Benedict casually. I have to keep my voice from shaking. Salem’s eyes could pin me to the wall behind me.
“Who’s this?” Benedict crosses his arms. He stops right next to me, his body in a protective stance.
“No one,” I retort quickly. At the same time, Salem introduces himself and the two men shake hands. I swear I see Salem’s eyes darken just a bit.
“I was just inquiring about one of her photographs,” Salem says, his voice smooth and composed.How did he... His eyes quickly dart to my open purse. Lo and behold, my trusted old Leica sits on top. Rolls of undeveloped film fill the outer pockets. I suppose it was an easy tell. “I was just asking about her availability. I’d like to view her gallery.” Oh, he’sgood.
My mouth drops open. Benedict just stares at Salem.
“Here’s my card,” I say quickly, reaching into one of my purse pockets and taking out a bent business card. The matte, black card with just a phone number looks strange in Salem’s hand.
Salem nods once, his eyes roving over both of us before placing it into his front pocket.
“Well, then, have a good night. Lilith, I’ll see you again.” He smiles and walks away. His black leather shoes snap against the stone, the noise fading as he gets further and further away. Benedict just gives me a curious glance before we walk away together in the opposite direction.
Cardinal Sin
Salem
Present
I have to ball my fists to keep them from shaking as I walk away.Lying. I’d lied because of her. Though it wasn’t technically a cardinal sin, it is what I like to refer to as a personal sin: something I never want to do. Honesty is my mantra. People could count on that from me if nothing else. However, instead of feeling shame, instead of the normal guilt I often feel when I’ve done something that’s considered wrong, I feel... euphoric.
