“I can’t damn your soul, Maria. I can’t . . .” Gabriel shook his head.
“It’s not on you to make that decision, Gabriel. Raphael has asked me to live with him. He is my one true love, and I will be here. And I want to help you too.”
“I can’t, I—”
Maria took hold of Gabriel’s hand. “Release some of the responsibility to me, Gabriel. Let me help you. Let me assist. I know, in my gut, that this is my calling. I believe God sent me here, to the manor. I am strong, Father Gabriel. I can do this.”
Gabriel stared at Maria, then stared into the fire. “It’s not an easy life.”
Maria sighed. “Nothing about my life has been easy, Gabriel. I am war-torn, but I am strong and now have Raphael by my side. I love him and want to keep him safe; that is all the incentive I need.” Maria put her hand on Gabriel’s head. His eyes closed at the gesture. “This life is destroying you, Gabriel.” Her heart broke for this man. For how broken all the Fallen were. “Don’t let the darkness consume you. Take my help. Let me share the load of your pain.” When Gabriel lifted his head, she said, “You have six brothers, Gabriel. From this day on, you have a sister too. A fellow sister of the faith. You have a friend.”
Gabriel’s head fell. “I’m lost, Maria. I’m so lost. I pray, but God doesn’t answer me. I sin . . .” He looked into her eyes. “And I too have a darkness inside me. One that grows day by day. I’m . . . I’m so afraid that one day it will consume me too.”
Maria tipped her head to the side. “How long has it been since your last confession?”
Gabriel laughed, but it was stained and laced with agony. “Thirteen years,” he whispered.
Keeping her hand on his head, she said, “Then confess. Confess to me, a novitiate and your sister. Confess to me.”
As if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, Gabriel inhaled a deep breath and began. “Forgive me, sister, for I have sinned. It has been thirteen years since my last confession . . .” Maria listened to Gabriel purge his soul of his sins. Thirteen years and more of sins that haunted both his sleep and his waking hours. For hours she listened to him confess, and when it was done, she left him sleeping in his rooms, unburdened for the first time in so long.
When Maria returned to her room, and Raphael pulled her into bed, his arm tugging her in close, she closed her eyes and silently whispered a prayer: “Thank you, God. Thank you for giving me this man. Thank you for sending me here to these men. I will love each of them as you do. Without judgment, and as one of your own. I will protect them and guide them as best I can. And I will cherish the love you have given me in Raphael, my heart, my soul, my heaven . . . Amen.”
*****
His feet shuffled on the stone floor as he approached the wooden doors. He could barely walk, needing his wheelchair, but he refused any aid right now. The skin on his legs was tight and slowed him down. But anger fueled his every move. He had a new purpose in his heart, a new mission in his soul. God had kept him alive for a reason. Seven reasons.
As the door opened, hundreds of his brothers got to their feet and watched him move slowly to the altar. He heard the gasps and whispers at his ruined appearance. But vanity was a sin, one he cared not for. He reached the altar, and, taking over the pulpit from Bishop McGuiness, he turned to the congregation.
“Brothers,” he said, his words slurred from the damage done to his lips. “We are now at war. A new crusade.” He felt the excitement flow through the room. He held up his hand to calm them. “Holy war has been declared by us, the Brethren, against a group of evil sinners known as the Fallen.” Father Quinn smiled, his scarred skin pulling tightly at the movement. “And we shall cast them all to hell.”
Epilogue
Raphael kissed the center of Maria’s chest. The pain of the tattoo had finally subsided. The feathers of the toy brushed against her core, and her back arched at the maddening feel. Raphael’s tongue ran over each line of the Fallen’s symbol that Sela had tattooed over the upturned cross Father Murray had seared into her flesh.
“Spread your legs,” Raphael ordered, and Maria moaned. She did as he said and watched, biting her lip, as he sat up, ran his hands down her thighs, and took his length in his hand. Discarding the feather, he thrust inside her. As he filled her so completely, she thought—not for the first time—that she would never tire of this feeling. Of her lover and her soul’s other half pushing inside her and making them one. Raphael leaned forward and captured Maria’s mouth with his own. “I love you,” he rasped, and the sentiment still made her heart burst. She knew he had struggled to understand that what he felt in his heart toward her was love. He fought with understanding feelings that weren’t pain or displeasure, but he now understood love.