Dree sucked a deep breath for courage and asked the darkness, “Are you—something else?”
“—Like what?” Confusion filled his voice.
“Like—” She felt stupid saying it, so she rushed. “Like a saint. Or an angel. Or part-angel, like I’m one-eighth German.”
“No,” Maxence said. His voice was firm. “I’m just a guy. I’m not anything else. There isn’tanything else.”
“What does itfeellike to you?” she asked, a creak of desperation in her voice.
Again, the inhale, a sigh like his breath brushing her shoulder, and he said, “It’s like light rolls through me. Or love. Maybe it’s more like love. When I’m in it, I can feel the whole church. Not individual people. Not like reading minds. I’m looking at the Bible page and the verses, and I’m breathing air and projecting my voice, but Iammy voice. Iamthe air that moves through me. Iamthe vibrations of sound that reach people.”
Dree stared into the darkness. “And that’s why you have to be a priest.”
He paused again. “It’s part of it. But it’s this. I can feel when I’m doing it. Sometimes, when there’s something important, I can make it happen, like with that Black English baron at the charity event at the Versailles Palace last week, Sir Marvin Meriwether-Stone.”
“Yeah,” Dree said. “The investor guy who was with your friend Micah, the one who wassuddenlyvery interested in Micah’s business deal.”
“Right. I did it then for Micah because he wanted that investment and Meriwether-Stone would have missed an excellent opportunity if he hadn’t done it, but sometimes it just happens. Sometimes, I don’t know I’m doing it until afterward. There have been times that it’s happened, and I convinced people to do things when I didn’t realize that I was influencing them. Sometimes, I make people do the wrong things.”
The thought of a person like Maxence being able to influence a crowd to do thewrongthing stilled Dree. It was terrifying.
“When I think about people who could influence other people as I can, who had this skill or innate ability or whatever because I don’t know what I’m doing, the names that come to mind are Charles Manson, Jim Jones, Osama bin Laden, and even Hitler.”
“But … those guys were all evil,” she said slowly, though cold air seemed to be seeping inside her sleeping bag and chilling her skin. “They were psychopaths who had no empathy and treated people like objects that were fun to manipulate. You aren’t like that, right?”
“That’s not the reason. IknowI’m not a psychopath. My brother is, and IknowI’m not like him. Living with an actual psychopath teaches you exactly what they are. He’s an empty pit of nothing with no human emotions except a taste for violence. He paints on a mask when he talks to people. He betrays people who think they are his friends, and he does not notice if they are hurt or if they are no longer his friends. He has the soul of a great white shark.”
“So, you aren’t like that,” Dree said. The chill was making her tremble inside her sleeping bag.
“But Ishouldbe a priest,” Maxence said, and his voice in the cold dark air had an anguished edge. “I should beassignedto do good works by a hierarchical organization that knows what they’re doing. I should betoldwhat to say and what to do. If not, I am a deadly virus. I am a brandished gun.”
“You don’t trust yourself,” she said.
“It’s more than that. I should beanonymous.I should be just another interchangeable priest in a black soutane on the street or wearing vestments during Mass. If I’m someone important, I could be used as a weapon or fashion myself into one. I guess I don’t trust myself becauseno oneshould trust me.”
Dree said, “It’s not hypnosis. You’re not hypnotizing people, right?” It had felt different than hypnosis.
“It’s not. Father Moses calls it ‘the divine gift of charisma.’ My friend Casimir says that I’m ‘just really persuasive’ because he’s a lawyer, while Arthur calls it ‘a regal bearing.’ I’m not sure what to make of that one.”
She chuckled, relaxing a little. “Well, you’re a prince of Monagasquay, right?”
He chuffed a laugh. “Yeah,Monagasquay.Maybe that’s why. But the current sovereign prince doesn’t do it that I know of, and my brother, Pierre, certainly doesn’t. He convinces people to do things with blackmail or threats.”
“You talk about Monagasquay like it’s a real place.”
He laughed. “I must have a vivid imagination.”
“Or you’ve been describing real people this whole time.”
She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Maybe that’s it.”
“Your brother sounds creepy.”
Maxence laughed again, a little lighter this time. “Yeah, he is. I’m worried about what will happen to Monagasquay after he takes power, but I’m out of that. I plan to become a Jesuit. Iwillbe a Jesuit. It’s best for me, and it’s best for the world.”
She waited for him to speak again, but his breathing slowed. The local time must have been after midnight, maybe much later.
Hours passed before Dree fell asleep.
