If it had been anyone else saying that to me, I would’ve flipped a lid, blew a gasket. But it was Ezekiel, and I still didn’t know what to think about him. In the end, I said nothing, nor did I smile again. I was momentarily caught by those crisp, clear blue eyes.
“I know, but he’s dead. He doesn’t want anything now.”
“Perhaps, but that is the burden of the living. We must go on, keeping the memories of those we’ve lost alive. Without those memories, we cannot learn from the past.”
Maybe he was right, but I wasn’t going to admit it to him. Instead, I said, “I confessed to you. Now it’s your turn to confess to me, Father. Did you kill those men who came looking for me?”
He gave me a smile, but unlike the smiles I’d gotten from Luca and Zander, this particular smile wasn’t rooted in suave charm. No, this one was measured, calculated, and deadly. It was the kind of smile a man wore when he wanted to get his point across but did not want to say it aloud. It was the answer I needed.
This priest was a little on the psychotic side. Why did that make me more intrigued by him?
His silence was his answer, along with that chilling smile, so I said, “I guess it doesn’t matter, anyway, because Atlas still found me. He sent me a get well card.” I watched as that smile slowly fell off his face, the realization dawning on him. “I didn’t tell my father, so I guess another sin I have to confess is that I’ve lied. My father thinks it’s one of the others who shot me, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was one of Atlas’s men.”
“He must have more men in this city than I thought,” he muttered, though it sounded as if he spoke that mostly to himself.
“Because you know all about gang leaders.” As I said that, even I realized how stupid the sarcasm sounded. Of course he knew all about gang leaders; he was the Black Hand’s priest. He was used to dealing with men who committed crime on a daily basis.
Neither one of us said anything for the longest while. We both just stared at each other, as if we were trying to piece it all together, trying to understand the other person in the room. I didn’t get how a priest could be a killer. Granted, he hadn’t admitted it out loud, but that smile was not a smile that graced the face of a normal man.
No, his smile was practically sociopathic.
It was Ezekiel who broke the silence by saying, “If you are not contrite, I cannot absolve you of your sins.”
“I think I’ll survive,” I said.
His sapphire eyes sparkled as he stared at me, slow to say, “I should probably go, then. If you don’t need forgiveness, then you don’t need me.”
“No, I don’t need you.” I should’ve left it at that, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Knowing he’d taken care of some of Atlas’s men for me… maybe it was strangely, psychotically sweet, but I also didn’t ask for it. “I don’t need your forgiveness, and I don’t need you to take care of anyone for me.” I sure as hell didn’t need a priest to kill for me.
If there was ever a sentence I never thought I’d think, it was that one.
Ezekiel was once again the emotionless man he’d been before, and he stood up, giving me a nod. He held his small bible at his side, his expression giving nothing away. He still stared at me, and from this angle, I could definitely see it. What was it they always said?
It was the quiet ones you had to worry about, the quiet ones who always surprised you. My first impression of him had been a little off-base, but now I didn’t know what to think of the guy. He was the very opposite of Father Charlie, even if he wore the same clothes and worshiped the same God.
He slipped out of the room, leaving me to finish playing with my food in peace. I should’ve been happy that he was gone, thrilled that I’d told him off before he left, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him and what he’d said. And that smile… that devious, sly smile he’d worn after I’d asked him if he’d killed the men who’d come into his church, asking about me.
Why would he kill for me? It didn’t make sense. He was not only a priest, but also a stranger to me. You didn’t kill for a stranger, unless you had some twisted morals, and since he was a priest, I was having a hard time believing that.
I didn’t know what to think of him, and the more I tried not to think of the way his eyes were both icy and warm at the same time, the more I struggled to understand his reasoning, the more I ended up thinking about him.
Maybe, once I got out of here, I’d visit his church again. At least it would get me out of the house and away from my father; frankly, I’d take any excuse to get out of there, and since my body would have to heal before going to the Playground again, I didn’t have many options.
All I knew was, I didn’t want to be in that house more than I had to be. Being with my father only filled me with anger, and it was only a matter of time before I slipped up or Zander came clean to him about how I’d joined a sex club. My amnesia story might not last that long.
Whatever. At this point, there was nothing I could do. If Zander was going to tattle on me, he’d tattle, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
The day I got out of the hospital, my father didn’t even show up. It was probably a good thing, because after I was officially checked out and unplugged from everything, it was time to get out of the horrible hospital gown and get dressed. Not in the clothes I’d come here with, mind you—you know, the stuff that had blood on them from getting shot. Zander had brought some of my clothes here, thankfully.
The police had filed their report yesterday; I’d spoken to them when I felt confident I could tell them the same story I’d told my father, the slight amnesia bit. Only better, and way more believable than I’d been when I’d told my father I couldn’t remember much.
Once the nurse left the room, Zander helped me onto my feet. I tensed up when his hand gripped mine, and my entire body got warm and itchy when he wrapped an arm around my lower back to steady me.
He was so close. I could feel the warmth from his hand on my bare back, where the hospital gown opened. I focused on my breathing, and it was only because I was weaker than normal that I didn’t immediately pull away from him.
It was hard, more difficult than I wanted to admit to myself. I was filled with a mixture of feelings that didn’t really go well together. I hated being close to people in general, but after everything that had happened, after everything we’d said to each other… after that kiss, feeling Zander touch me wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
And that was definitely a bizarre feeling.