Jaeger strides confidently down the center aisle and sets me down in a polished pew. “Wait here.”
What?He walks past the altar and disappears into a small back door beyond the choir stands.
I sit uncomfortably, bathed in yellow and red light from one of the stained glass windows. In the quiet, I can hear the shrieks of children playing outside. It would make sense that the children’s home has a playground nearby.
What did Jaeger tell me?We attended mass only on the coldest days.I try to imagine him and his brother lurking in the back of this beautiful room, their skin chapped red from the cold.Father Francis founded the school.We brought street kids, the ones too young to fend for themselves. . .
“Can I help you?”
I jolt in my seat at the unexpected voice. A man stands in the aisle next to me. I didn’t hear him approach.
“Pardon me. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He puts out a hand and hovers it near my shoulder in a reassuring gesture, although he doesn’t touch me. He’s white, with thick, light brown hair and a short beard. He’s in his mid to late forties, with a weathered face.
He’s in black robes with a white collar and a large wooden cross on a chain around his neck. A priest.
“Um… I’m okay. I’m here with a friend. He said he had an errand.” I wave toward the front of the church where Jaeger went. “If I’m not supposed to be here, I can leave…”
“No, not at all. The church is open at all hours to anyone who wishes to worship.” He relaxes back against one of the pews, studying me.
I tense further. “Oh, I’m not here to… do that. I’m not religious.”
“I know why you’re here, Elodie.”
A chill runs through me. How does he know my name?
He chuckles. “I suspect Jaeger brought you here so we could meet.” His blue eyes crinkle with laugh lines, but something about his gaze is unnerving. “I’m Father Francis.”
10
Elodie
I stareup at the man Jaeger told me about.
“But…” Jaeger said Father Francis raised him. This man doesn’t look old enough to have raised a grown man. “I didn’t realize,” I finish.
Father Francis doesn’t seem ruffled by my scrutiny of him.
“I’ve known Jaeger a long time,” he says, as if he can hear my thoughts. “Since he was a boy. I took my position here when I was twenty-six. At the time, this was a poor parish with an aging clergy and a church building in need of renovation. No one wanted a position here.” He glances around the gorgeous sanctuary.
I find my voice and follow his gaze to take in the finery surrounding us. “This place is beautiful.”
“We’re blessed now with some very generous donors. I believe you’ve met a few of them by working at Inferno.” Father Francis folds his hands in front of him, looking at me expectantly as if he’s said something revealing.
Is this place connected to Fraternitas? Jaeger said he and St. James were raised by Father Francis, along with the head of the organization, a man I only know as The Devil.
Could the brotherhood be the church’s main donor? It would make sense if they wanted to give back to the man who’d helped them and so many other kids.
Does a priest really associate with a gang leader called The Devil?
“Maybe,” I say. I glance at his hands, checking for a skull ring.
With a sly smile, he raises his hands and shows me the front and back. His fingers are bare. The only jewelry he’s wearing is the cross.
Instead of feeling relieved, I tense up further. He seems to be reading my mind. And is amused by my scrutiny.
He’s a priest, for godssakes. So why do I feel like a shark is circling me in the water?
“I know you’ve met St. James,” he says.
