“I don’t—I don’t know.” She decided she didn’t like Rinaldo when he was glowering at her like a disappointed father. She didn’t know if she liked Rinaldo at all in the first place, but she certainly liked this version even less.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Did you carve this?”
“Yeah? I don’t think gremlins did it in the—”
He yanked her by her wrist, jarring her. “I said this isn’t a game. How do you know this symbol?”
“I don’t. I really don’t. Let me go, Rinaldo. I swear to fuck I’ll scream my head off if you don’t let me go right now. You don’t need another Catholic priest getting a bad rap.” She did her best to glare right back up at him. While he was older than she was, maybe in his mid-forties, it was clear he was easily three times stronger. And ten times more skilled.
But she could still punt him in the gentleman parts or go down trying.
At her comment, he rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you go. But when I do, you’re going to answer my questions.”
“Why?”
“Because otherwise I’ll knock you unconscious, throw you in my trunk, drive to my safehouse, tie you to a chair, and then ask you questions.” He pointed at her with the knife. “That’s why.”
She hated feeling small. She hated feeling afraid. Fuck it. It was clear Rinaldo needed her alive. Taking a step closer to him, she peered up at the priest. “I’ve decided I don’t like you.”
“That’s great. Now—”
She went to kick him in the nuts. Again. But it seemed she only got one free shot. He jumped back, twisted her arm behind her back, and slammed her face-first onto the table before she could even figure out what had happened.
“Ow! Hey, let me the—” Her words cut off as he slammed the knife into the table by her head, sticking the point of the blade in between the gaps of the geometric shape in four parts. She froze.
Okay.
He meant business.
He didn’t even sound fazed. Like this was perfectly normal to him. “Can we talk now?”
“Uh-huh.” She swallowed.
“Repeat after me—this isn’t a game.”
“This isn’t a game,” she muttered, staring at the knife wide-eyed.
“Good.” He let go of her arm and ripped the knife back out of the wood. “Now get up, look at this thing you’ve done, and tell me how the fuck you did this.”
Pushing up from the table, she quickly moved to put it between them. At least there was some furniture keeping her safe, even if she knew Rinaldo could easily snatch her again. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know. I blacked out, and then when I came to, it was there. I was holding the knife. I assume I did it.”
“You blacked out?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” Rubbing her wrist with her other hand, she glanced away. She hated having to explain it. “I’m nuts, Rinaldo. You know that. I have blackouts. I don’t know where I go, what I do, and I come back after a random amount of time. Sometimes I draw things. Apparently, I also like to carve furniture.” She couldn’t keep the loathing and sarcasm out of her voice. She wasn’t sure she tried very hard.
“And you’ve never seen it before?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
“Honestly?”
“Not that I remember. And that’s not saying much, because I can’t remember shit. I’m telling you the truth.” She folded her arms across her chest.
He scratched the back of his neck with a grunt. “Fan-fucking-tastic. The office better have not known about this, or I swear I’m going to give Gabriel a piece of my mind. Do you know Sumerian cuneiform?”
“Of course not. I don’t even know my own fucking last name, let alone be able to read, translate, and inscribe an ancient dead language.” She threw her hands up in the air in frustration and stormed away from him.
“Where are you going?” He moved to intervene.