The old man chuckled. "I believe that means we disagree."
"So why did you assign me to her?" Sin asked, refusing to show the frustration he truly felt. "Is this because you don't think I'm ready to be back in a real position?"
"Thisisa real position," Benedict told him. "That is why I chose you. No, not for some hypothetical lesson on morality or such, but because I feel this is important. God guides ourhands in ways we can never expect, but over time, we learn to understand when His influence is involved. The moment this request came to the Legion, I saw it. Not through the normal channels, because it likely would have been rejected that way." He swayed his hands, sawing through the air with the peak of his fingers while he thought. "Sinclair, I had prayed for an answer. God gave me an Ingénue. My gut tells me this is not a coincidence."
Sin licked at his lips. "I hope you're right, Father."
"Me too." Then Benedict relaxed his hands and waved that all away. "But your angel is not the only problem on your mind, is it?"
Sin could only sigh. This man knew him better than most, having all but raised him for the last sixteen years. He could never tell how Benedict made these guesses, but he was always right when he did.
"I'm concerned about Joshua's recent decisions," he admitted.
"Which ones?"
"I feel like the Legion is being pushed toward a corporate agenda," Sin explained. "Our protection assignments are bringing in more money to the church than ever before. The value to society, however, has decreased enough that more people think of us as little more than fancy bodyguards. Then there's his recent comments during his ceremonies."
"Ah." Benedict nodded. "The first precept has become rather controversial ever since he was elected to Censor, hasn't it?"
Sin scrubbed at his mouth. "I feel like he's undermining your decisions."
"I do as well."
"Then why did you choose him!" Sin finally snapped. "Of all the priests who would have been thrilled to work at your side, why Joshua?"
Benedict simply leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Ididn't choose him. I put forward Sister Maria. The Conclave felt she would offer nothing to the Legion that I do not already provide."
"They chose him because of his stance on the first precept?" Sin asked, appalled.
"Mm-hmm," Benedict said, lifting a brow.
"But why?" Sin asked. "What good does it do to set people against each other like that?"
"Fear makes for easy subjects to control," Benedict said as if quoting from somewhere. "It doesn't even matter what they're afraid of. Give them a monster, promise to defeat it, and then talk a lot about how you are slowly gaining victory, and the masses will forgive all other transgressions."
"Ok..." He could understand that, but he wasn't sure how it applied.
"And I'm not a young man, Sinclair. Patience is a virtue, and every priest in the Legion learned it early on. The real question is where you'll stand when I'm no longer here to ease the dissent."
"Wherever God needs me to," Sin said automatically.
"No, my boy. Think about this. It is well known that you're the closest thing I have to an heir to this position. You are enhanced. Your ascension into the position of Praetor all but ends the debate on how to interpret the first precept. Conversely, because of your history, having you support the idea that enhancement is bad would strengthen the grip of their faction on society. Even more terrifyingly, removing you from the Legion completely?" He opened his hands, leaving Sin to figure out for himself how that would play out. "So where you'll be is something you should consider now, because time moves faster than any of us like."
"I'm not ready to set aside my wings," Sin told him, knowing that would be required for him to become Praetor.
"Not even if God calls?"
Sin could only sigh. "I don't know, Father. I wouldn't assume to know the will of the Lord. I'm just here to serve Him. That doesn't mean I'm ready for it."
Chapter Seven
His second day with the Ingénue wasn't going any better than the first. Sin was losing his patience with the spoiled robot again. Three times, he'd tried to start a conversation, and all three times she'd ignored him. He knew he should give her the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn't stop himself. This girl was simply oblivious to everything, including his attempts to be nice. However, she always responded—in some way—when he lost his temper.
"We aren't all rich little bitches, you know that, right?" he snapped. "Some of us have other things to do before and after this."
"Really?" She paused, almost as if answering had been accidental. Then her pale eyes jumped up to his face. "Your contract cost two million."
He chuckled. "And I get a very small amount of that. Most of it goes to equipment and the needs of the Legion."
