Chapter Thirteen
Ivory pillars lined either side of two rows of pews. On the far end of the chapel, life-sized statues of angels, saints, and the Virgin Mary formed a pyramid that seemed to point to the round, stained glass window placed above them. Between the stained glass and the rim of a dome-shaped ceiling, a clear window in the shape of a cross glistened with sunlight.
Hayde sat in a pew while Kinzer paced in the aisle between the pews, fidgeting nervously.
After reaching the church, Hayde had asked the front receptionist to fetch Father Lowr, Fehrin’s cover. She obliged and asked them to wait in the chapel until he arrived.
“Will you just sit down?” Hayde asked. “You look suspicious as hell.”
Kinzer glanced around uneasily, checking the windows through the main entrance to make sure no one was watching them. He carried a syringe filled with another batch of the immortal sedative he’d used on Hayde. Again, his plan was to knock the higherling out, tie him up, and question him about Veylo’s whereabouts. He just hoped this time he’d actually have the upper hand.
“Keep it down,” Kinzer said. “And just remember…” His voice was soft, serious. “…you try anything, and I’ll slit your fucking throat. You got that?”
He patted his back, at his waist, where Hayde knew he was keeping his dagger in case of emergencies.
Hayde nodded. He looked resigned, defeated. Kinzer was glad he’d finally given in, yet it was sad too.
Kinzer’s gaze fell upon the statues. “If only they really knew how backwards they had it,” Kinzer muttered. “Like flies worshipping a frog.”
“Only the Almighty doesn’t need mortals to survive,” Hayde said.
“Hayde?”
Hayde and Kinzer turned to the main entrance where a man stood in the doorway.
His broad shoulders fit snug in a black shirt and white collar. As he approached, Kinzer realized Fehrin was nearly a foot taller than himself. Between his impressive physique, chiseled jawline, and buzz cut, he looked more like a soldier than a priest.
Kinzer imagined he acted as a trendy man of the cloth for his congregation.
Hayde hopped up from the pew and approached Fehrin.
“Hey, we need to talk.”
The priest looked Hayde up and down like he was checking him out. Kinzer wondered if there hadn’t been something more intimate in their history. If so, he was going to have to be even more careful to make sure they didn’t turn on him.
Fehrin looked at Hayde’s face and cringed.
“You try to eat a blender?” he asked.
“I… um… had a little run-in with some asshole fallens.”
Fehrin’s gaze shifted to Kinzer. Unlike with Hayde, he looked more suspicious than interested.
“This is Faor,” Hayde lied.
Fehrin offered his hand and they shook. “Any friend of Hayde’s is a friend of mine. Please, let’s talk in my office.”
He led them through the church.
“How long’s it been, Hayde?” Fehrin asked as they walked down a hallway.
“I got moved about six months ago.”
“Six months? Feels like it’s been a lot longer. So they have you hauling messages around for some other higherling crew?”
“Something like that,” Hayde said coyly. He turned to Kinzer, glancing at his pocket, his eyes seeming to say, “Hurry up and do it!”
Kinzer gripped the syringe, but didn’t make a move. Fehrin occasionally glanced over his shoulder to speak. He didn’t want to risk being caught before he was able to stick him with the shit.
