Page 104 of Not Today, Satan
By the time I’m done, my hair’s dry and my voice is hoarse.
The thunder and lightning stopped long ago, but rain still patters on the roof. Many of the candles have burned down to nubs, while some snuffed out with a whisper of smoke.
Through all of it, the man says nothing beyond the odd, “I see” or “keep going.” He nods and rubs his chin and shifts in his seat, but he never interrupts me and never tells me to stop. And while his eyes widen at points, he never backs away or tries to leave. If this man is afraid of me, he’s good at hiding it.
I lick my parched lips and study him. “And that’s how I ended up here.”
He pulls himself up with a groan and paces the aisle twice, his head bowed, mouth uttering words I cannot hear, before settling back in his seat and facing me. “You haven’t told me your name yet, child.”
I blink at him and rub my temples. “All of that, and you want to know my name?”
He waits, so I blow out a stream of air. “It’s Devica.”
“Well, then, Devica. Can I ask you one more question?”
I spread my hands. “You’re still here and you haven’t kicked me out yet, so ask anything you like.”
He leans forward. “What made you come in here?”
“I thought you’d tell me.” He gives me nothing, so I pull my jacket into my lap and fiddle with one of the buttons. “I think I was hoping I’d find proof that I’m evil like my father. Like, the altar would burst into flames at my presence, or you’d scream and try to perform an exorcism. If I knew, without a doubt, that I’m a monster, I’d know I have to go home because that’s where I belong.”
“But, my dear, evil’s not a tangible thing,” he says. “It’s simply the absence of good. Based on what you’ve told me, you’re not evil. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“But you heard who my father is, where I come from, what I’m being asked to do. How can I do his job and still be a good person?”
“Punishing bad people doesn’t make you a bad person. Those things are not equal.”
I stretch my legs across the aisle to get the feeling back into them and knock over the umbrella with my boot. Scowling, I stare at the carpet. “But I’ve done bad things. I hurt my own mother. Nate’s foster brother is dead because of me.”
He nods. “No one’s perfect. But you tried to save the young man. You apologized to your mother. And you saved this Nathan Reynolds fellow. Seems to me you did the best you could do under each circumstance.”
My heart thuds in time to the rain pounding on the windows. “So you’re saying that Ishouldn’tgo back there? That I don’t belong?”
He turns fully so he can meet my eyes. “I’m telling you you’re precisely the one to take your father’s place.”
I lean against the back of the pew, my jaw agape. “What? That makes no sense.”
He arches his back, and a low crack rumbles through the church. “You are the right personbecauseof your goodness. Because you’ve proven that you’re fair and kind. Think of that boy you saved—condemned to eternal punishment, even though he was innocent. With someone like you down there, that won’t happen again. You told me yourself you can see both the good deeds and the sins in people. That’s something your father couldn’t do. You will make sure the people who end up below deserve to be there.”
Visions of Alex plow through my brain. His memories that I never need to see again. How his crimes made me sick. And how no part of me is sorry for where he is now. If anyone deserves Lot Thirteen, it’s him. Then I cleanse my mind with Nate’s memories. The way he helped strangers in any way he could. His face when he begged me to help set him free. The relief I felt when I realized I’d gotten him out of somewhere he never belonged. And my horror when he’d been sent back.
I lick my dry lips. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”
The church is darker now; the hiss of candles sputtering out surrounds us. He’s completely in shadow, so it’s hard to make out his expression, but his body language is relaxed as he leans against the back of the pew.
“We have a habit in our lives of seeing things how we want to see them. You wanted to believe you were unable to take your father’s place because you felt it an evil calling. And while it’s a place I hope to never see, it’s somewhere I’ve always deemed necessary. You may not love your home or understand why you were born into it, but it has its place.”
Standing, he pulls a new candle and a book of matches out of his pocket. He walks over to one of the candles that has fizzled down to a nub and replaces it.
“As I first told you when you came in, it is necessary for there to be darkness in order for there to be light.” He strikes the match and holds it to the wick until it catches. “This doesn’t make the dark bad. The two work in unison to create balance. They are, in fact, equally good.”
I follow the dancing flame with my eyes. “So youaresaying I should go home.”
“I’m saying you should go where you’re most needed.” He shakes his hand until the match goes out.
“What about Nate?” I ask. “And my mother? I’m supposed to give up the only two people I love because of genetics?”
He drops the box of matches into his pocket. “You mentioned your father visited this place many times over the years. Why couldn’t you do the same? If your love for this Nate fellow is as strong as you say, you’ll find a way to make it work.”
