Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(9)

Father Murray wanted to laugh in her wrinkled face. She was a slave to a church who denied the world and the Lord its truth. Tried to stop the heretic trials and ignored the evil that spread through the world like a cancer while they focused on church services and collecting riches from their congregations to add to their already brimming pot.

“Of course,” Father Murray said politely and followed the old woman outside, taking the proffered shearing scissors in his hand.



Six hours later, Father Murray hovered outside the education room. He could hear the low murmur of Father Quinn’s voice as he spoke to the trainee nuns. The sound of footsteps approaching the door followed. He sank back against the wall and watched as the novitiates vacated the room. His eyes quickly searched for the one nun who always captured his attention. The most devout. The quietest. The one who would scarcely meet his eyes. He held his breath when she finally came through. Head lowered in the “custody of the eyes,” she had her gaze downcast and her hands joined together, hidden, tucked under her large sleeves. Her white headdress covered her head, and her black habit hid her small frame. Father Murray took a deliberate step forward into her path.

Shocked blue eyes snapped up to meet his. “Father Murray, you startled me.” She smiled shyly.

Father Murray smiled back. “Sister Maria Agnes. Nice to see you again.”

Sister Maria nodded once, then cast her eyes to the ground once again and commenced her walk to the refectory for the evening meal.

“Father Murray?” Father Quinn’s voice pulled Father Murray’s concentration from Sister Maria. When Father Murray looked to the high priest, he saw the flash of censure in his gaze. “Is there something I can help you with? You were on duty at Holy Innocents today.” Father Quinn spoke vaguely, of course. In actuality, Father Murray was scheduled to be on duty in Purgatory today, overseeing the cleansing of the boys they had in their care.

Father Murray checked their surroundings were clear and stepped closer to the high priest. “I must speak with you. Urgently.”

Father Quinn’s eyes narrowed slightly. The sound of Mother Superior walking toward them made them both face her direction. “Fathers, evening meal will commence soon. Join us.” On cue, a bell rang out into the barren hallways, bouncing off the stone walls.

“We will speak after food, when the nuns retire to their rooms for the night,” Father Quinn said. “Come.” The high priest led the way to the refectory. Father Murray and Father Quinn were seated at the top table with Mother Superior. Everyone ate in silence; discipline was of the utmost importance at this monastery. It wasn’t progressive, a convent of modern times, but one that embraced the past and its harsher, more rigid practices. Father Murray always thought that if the Brethren were to ever take women into their fold, this convent would provide the best candidates.

Father Murray’s seat allowed him a view of the nuns eating their small, basic meals. And as always, he couldn’t tear his gaze from Sister Maria Agnes. He didn’t know why she commanded so much of his attention. But he suspected it was to do with the fact her skin was a gentle shade of milky white, her fairness untouched by the sun. And her neck . . . a long, slim neck that, when she moved, displayed every bone that kept it intact, every vein that housed her lifeblood.

He wondered if she ever felt him watching. It wouldn’t matter. Sister Maria Agnes was the most dutiful bride of Christ he had ever encountered. The perfect holy sister—meek, subservient, and completely devout. He knew Father Quinn felt the same about the novitiate. He had seen the high priest speak to her longer than the others who were close to taking their final vows. He watched the older man’s gaze warm whenever Sister Maria was close, when she nervously smiled his way.

Father Murray choked down the bland vegetable broth and bread and waited until the nuns had vacated the hall before following Father Quinn to the privacy of his office. The minute the door was locked and Father Quinn gave the signal that they were alone, Father Murray rushed out, “I saw one.” The high priest seemed confused, until Father Murray added, “In the club last night, after I cast a sinner to hell, I saw him. Raphael. One of the lost Fallen.”

The room plunged into a harrowing silence. Father Quinn’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“And where is he now?”

Father Murray rubbed his hand down his face. “I had to leave. People were noticing the sacrifice’s absence. But we now know where he frequents. We can lay a trap.” Father Murray smiled in excitement. “We can finally capture him, Your Excellency. We can finally recall him to finish what we started.”

“We need a plan. We’ll have to call a meeting of the others. This is too important to wait.” Father Quinn sat down behind the desk, but Father Murray could see the high priest was just as excited as he was. The older man was unable to keep still. Father Quinn was a master priest. The finest example to follow. But Father Murray was comforted that the high priest, served with this news, was unable to rest. “I have a call with a Maine diocese that I must take. After that, we’ll call an emergency meeting at the headquarters and make plans. We need something that is iron clad, brother. We can’t lose them again. We may never get another chance to finally send their souls to hell.”

Father Quinn got to his feet and laid a hand on Father Murray’s face. Father Murray was not unused to the high priest’s touch. It had been Father Quinn who had exorcised him all the years he was in Purgatory, cleansing him with his seed. At first he had fought it. But he had still been in the grip of the consuming evil that had captured his soul. Once that evil had been freed, Father Murray had yearned for the high priest’s touch. Prayed that he would come to the dorm and take him into his care.