Crossed: Chapter 12

ANOTHER WEEK, ANOTHER HOLY MASS IN THE books.

And I still haven’t done anything other than the bare minimum for the parish. I’ve barely met the people.

I’ve been too distracted by Amaya. Stalking in the shadows and waiting for my moment to pounce. Or maybe waiting for a reason not to. The indecision is tearing me in two, the man warring with the monster. Only this time, it’s the man who wants to rid her from the earth.

All things come with time, I remind myself.

After this week’s Mass, I’m annoyed that once again, she didn’t show up. Even though I specifically told her to be here. I want to see how the townspeople interact with her in this setting. When the witch of Festivalé comes to pray.

I use the term witch loosely; they treat her as more of a bad omen than anything else, but I’m not convinced. She’s able to put me under her spell with ease, and I’m a believer in dark magic.

“The Festival of Fools is coming up.”

I glance over at Parker as he sits in an ostentatious black chair behind his giant desk, watching me from over the rim of his reading glasses. “And?”

I had no idea the Festival of Fools was even celebrated here. It’s not widespread or well known outside history books, and the church banned the festival in the 1400s. I’m not sure how to feel about it being resurrected, although the few that I have seen are nothing more than a common carnival. Street performers doing cartwheels for little kids with cotton- candy fingers and powdered- sugar mouths.

“It’d be good to put a stop to it.” Parker says this like a command, and it makes my jaw lock.

Here it is. The first of his “suggestions.” I’ve known since arriving that I wasn’t truly called here for what Bishop Lamont said. While the people do live in sin and there is poverty and strife in the streets, it isn’t to the level I was led to believe.

Parker Errien wants me to be his puppet in a way Father Clark was not. But I take orders from no one but God.

“Surely it’s little more than a street festival,” I reply. “It can’t be like it was in the Middle Ages.”

“It’s blasphemous.”

My brows rise and I bite back the retort that wants to escape. Rich of Parker to remember his religion when it suits him.

“Blasphemous is a powerful word.” I lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees and cutting him with a knowing look. “Are you sure this is about disrespect to the church and not about the personal slight?”

Traditionally, the Festival of Fools was a celebration on January 1, where the peasants would be the power for a day, appointing a king of the fools to sit on the bishop’s throne and lord over his people. But as with all things, the devil infects where there’s a weakness, and the church banned the celebration when the townspeople became belligerent, drunk, and unholy.

Normally, I’d agree with Parker that this must be eradicated. But he doesn’t need to know that I’m on his side. Showing people your cards means they can plan a next move without you, and that’s the last thing I want Parker to do.

Besides, I’ve found that I quite like making him squirm.

“It’s all in good fun, Parker. Let the people have their joy.” I wave him off. “It’s all pretend. Take it as a compliment. They want to be you.”

“It’s not a laughing matter, Father.” Parker’s voice is low and dangerous.

The smile drops from my face, and I lean in, that familiar burning starting to take root in the deepest parts of my body. “And tell me, Parker, what is it you expect me to be able to do?”

“You’re the church.” He waves his hand aggressively. “Aren’t you supposed to be all- powerful?” I am.

It seems like our initial chat didn’t sink into his pigheaded brain, which isn’t surprising. Words won’t hit their mark when you’re saying them to someone who thinks they know the world and all its secrets.

But my ire grows with every breath he takes. I stand up, taking the time to grab my peacoat and slip my arms slowly into the warmth before grasping my leather gloves and putting them on. I take three large steps then to his desk, pressing my knuckles against the edge and leaning in until he jerks back in a gorgeous show of submission.

“And what makes you think that you command the church?”

“I command everything,” he replies. “You should learn that quickly.”

“The festival will go on as planned.” I straighten before he can continue and button the front of my coat. I’m done with this conversation. “In fact, I think it may do the church some good to get involved. A show of good faith to the community.”

A smile breaks across my face when I see the anger growing on Parker’s already ruddy cheeks.

He opens his mouth to respond, but a knock sounds at his door, the handle turning before he can tell them to come back later.

I twist toward the noise, using my opportunity to slip away, and when I’ve made it to the door, it flies open, leaving me chest to face with the little sinner of my nightmares.

My stomach tightens, blood pounding in my ears, remembering how she stuttered on stage when she saw Parker in the crowd. How he was a man on a mission, like a hunter trying to capture prey.

The expression on Amaya’s face changes from shock to confusion so quickly that I’m sure the shift is from the fire flashing through my gaze.

Her eyes lock on mine, and time slows until there’s nothing except for us.

A throat clears somewhere in the distance, and it snaps her out of the trance, a beautiful smile stretching across her face. “Father Cade, what a surprise.” She glances past me to flick her eyes toward Parker.

My chest pulls at the split in her attention.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she says.

I don’t take my eyes off her, even now, even when I can hear Parker moving closer, his feet shuffling on the floor, can see in my peripheral vision the moment his dirty hand dares to touch her shoulder.

You shouldn’t care, I tell myself. She’ll be dead soon anyway.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweet girl. You’re never an interruption.” He drags her in close, pressing his slimy lips to her temple, and my stomach twists.

She shifts uncomfortably, taking a small step away, and I let the air out of my lungs.

“You’ve met Father Cade already?” he asks her.

She shrugs. “Hasn’t everyone by now?”

“Amaya was supposed to be at Mass yesterday morning.” I lift a brow as I stare down at her. A challenge sparks in her gaze and my cock twitches.

She tilts her head. “You must have confused me with somebody else.”

I smirk at her defiance and can’t resist taking a step closer. “Impossible.”

Parker clears his throat again, his eyes blazing. He turns toward her, reaching out his hand and tipping up her chin as though she’s his. “Get comfortable, sweetheart. Let me walk Father Cade out.”

She nods and moves farther into his space like she’s always belonged. The thought bothers me more than it should, and for a single solitary moment, I wonder if she is his. But then another thought grips me.

I pay off my mother’s debts, and that makes me feel dirtier than sex work ever could.

“Amaya,” I bark. My voice is loud and gravelly, my eyes flickering between the two of them. “My door is always open if you need it.”

She nods, a small grin tilting the corner of her lips as she makes herself comfortable in Parker’s office.

I turn back to Parker. “I can see myself out.”

He nods, slamming the door in my face, clearly as desperate to get away from me as I am to leave. Or maybe he’s just desperate to get back to her. I relate to his plight.

Has she bewitched him too?

I should go back to the church. Or maybe head around the community and make sure the homeless are ready for the cold front expected to hit in the next few days. Maybe set up a place for them to stay dry and warm.

But deep down, I know that I’ll do none of these things. Not today.

And when I see Amaya’s angelic face walking out the Errien Enterprise doors, I follow her all the way back to her run-down apartment, a possessive fire burning through my veins.