The priest released a mirthless laugh and settled onto the padded bench. “Of course, they did. Sister Mary Agnes was what you might call silly. Unlike many of the older sisters, she lacked the stalwart qualities of a good nun. The younger women liked her laxity. Did you know she was sneaking letters out of the monastery without the mother superior’s approval?”
“Yes, the cook told us as much, and we’re looking into whom she may have been in communication with. Can you explain a little more about how she was acting?”
“She was the sort to have flights of fancy. She saw herself as some great thinker, a modern saint in the making. In the best light, it’s egotistical and frivolous. In the worst, it’s sacrilegious. She was working on a book of her own mysticism. She showed me once, and I told her to stop, though I doubt she did. Her job as a nun of Corpus Christi was to pray. Pray for priests, pray for monks, pray for the holy men and women coming up in the local religious orders and those in their parishes. It was not her job to write about her religious delusions.”
Oliver applied himself to quickly writing out the conversation, but the words blurred as the pain in his sinuses spiked. That pungent smell of pine sap and smoke seared his nostrils. It must have seeped into the fibers of the priest’s many vestments and tainted the wooden cabinets for it to be so strong.
“Frankly, Inspector Galvan, as much as it pains me to say, I think Sister Mary Agnes suffered from hysteria and delusions. She believed she was special in that God had chosen to give her visions, and that she would be canonized one day as a mystic. She never should have been admitted to the order in the first place. She should have been in an institution. I tried to tell Sister Mary Margaret as much, but she said there was no legal or ethical reason to remove her. Perhaps, Sister Mary Agnes suffered a fit of some sort, and a delusion led her to wander outside in the middle of the night. If she became confused, she could have easily succumbed to the cold and died. A tragic and ill-timed accident.”
Father Gareth said it with such conviction that Oliver nearly believed him. The cold, hard facts were that Sister Mary Agnes should have been institutionalized and that her death had been an unfortunate accident. God, his head hurt. Oliver sneezed, once, twice, three times. His forehead ached, but as he apologized and dug in his coat for his handkerchief, he looked down at his notes. No, no, that didn’t make any sense. There was evidence of violent magic on her body. He and Galvan had seen and smelled it themselves, yet Felipe was nodding along. Was he placating the priest to get him to talk or—?
“Do you gentlemen have any other questions?” Father Gareth asked softly with a languid smile.
“No, I think that’s all.”
When Felipe moved to rise, Oliver caught his arm. “Actually, I have a question.”
Tightening his grip on Felipe’s arm, Oliver watched his placid expression break with a blink and a silent cry at Oliver’s nails digging into his flesh. Oliver released his hand and scribbled a note as he spoke.
“How often did you visit the monastery, Father Gareth? Did you have a visitation schedule, or did you just walk in unannounced?”
Gareth looked between them as Oliver flashed the note at Felipe.Keep your wits. I think the priest has magic.Felipe blinked again and shook his head as if to clear it.
“Father?” Oliver pressed.
“I didn’t often drop by unannounced, if that’s what you mean. That would be disruptive and unseemly. I visited on Saturdays for mass and by appointment if the mother superior asked it of me. I’m quite busy visiting the sick and tending to my parishioners here.Theyare my priority.”
The smell of incense wafted again, and Oliver felt the urge to leave creeping into his limbs. He should get up. They should go. He reached to flip the notebook shut and saw,Keep your wits. Blowing out his nose, the urge dissipated slightly, though Felipe kept glancing toward the door and Oliver’s leg still twitched.
“How were the sisters able to summon you so swiftly the morning Sister Mary Agnes was discovered?” Oliver asked, gritting his teeth.
Father Gareth shrugged. “They sent a postulant to get me. The rectory is half a mile from the monastery as it sits between the church and the monastery grounds, so it only took us ten minutes to walk back to the monastery. It is a delight to know that my orders were explicitly disobeyed after I told them not to involve the Paranormal Society, but I’m not surprised. I’m sorry you boys had to get involved. You should go now.”
Overwhelming foreboding twined through Oliver’s chest. Hundreds of mouths broke through the tender flesh of Felipe’s cheeks and forehead. In unison, they opened and screamed, the noise crowding out his thoughts. If he didn’t leave or kill Felipe, the things inside him would kill Oliver like it did Sister Mary Agnes.Hehad killed the nun. But that didn’t make sense, Felipe... Oliver jumped at a hand clamping onto his arm. His breaths came fast but seeing Felipe standing in front of him with his arm on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Felipe’s features had returned to normal, unblemished but taut with anger.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Father Gareth. If we have any further questions, we’ll be in touch. Let’s go, Barlow.”
Oliver stood on shaking legs, keeping his gaze low to avoid the smug look written on the priest’s face. The moment the door to the rectory closed, Felipe wrapped his arm around Oliver’s shoulders and guided him outside as fast as his legs could carry him. Fresh air rushed into his lungs and sinuses when they stepped out of the front doors, clearing the fog so fast his head panged with pain. Groaning, Oliver leaned back against the stone of the church to catch his breath as Felipe dropped onto the steps.
Scrubbing his eyes with his knuckles, Felipe shook his head. “What the fuck was that?”
“Compulsion. I’ve never experienced it, but that would be my best guess,” Oliver replied, keeping his voice low. Someone lingered in the graveyard, not far from the church doors, and there had to be a groundskeeper somewhere. “Let’s discuss it in the steamer. Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I just— That was horrible.”
Oliver stood and helped Felipe to his feet. The other man averted his gaze as they made their way down the street to the steamer. He seemed angry. At first, Oliver worried Felipe was angry at him for falling into the visions and freezing, but Felipe hadn’t chastised him for his breakdown that morning. Had he been made to see what Oliver saw?
“Did Father Gareth make you see me as a monster?” Oliver asked. “The last thing he did before you dragged me out was show me your face covered by a hundred screaming mouths. He told me you wanted to kill me as you killed Sister Mary Agnes.”
Relief and guilt warred on Felipe’s features as he nodded. “I came back to myself when I stood up. Getting between you and him or turning my back to him must have broken the connection. As soon as I saw your face I—” At the way Felipe’s features fell, Oliver cautiously reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Oliver. I’m just ashamed I believed it and that I almost acted on it.”
“But you didn’t. Hemadeyou believe it. The same way he made us think Sister Mary Agnes was suffering from hysteria and delusions.”
“And I would have believed that too if it wasn’t for you grabbing me. God damnit, am I weak-willed? I don’t understand how I fell for it.”
“You’re not weak-willed. His power is compulsion. That’s how it works. He makes you think things that aren’t true. If I hadn’t sneezed and seen my notes, I would have believed it, too. It was only seeing my autopsy notes that brought me around.”
“Even seeing them, I don’t think I would have fully believed it.”
