"Seventeenth floor, Father."
He didn't bother correcting her.
The elevator moved too slow. As the display beeped an announcement for each floor, Sin wondered if he was already too late. His first responsibility was always to his angel, but Benedict was all he had left of his old life. The Praetor had always been so vivacious, so devoted to his work. He'd shown Sin what it meant to care more for others than for oneself. More than all of that, he'd always been there when Sin needed him most.
When the doors opened, Sin knew he had the right floor. Priests crowded every available surface. Many wore simple clothing, others were in full combat gear, but most were in their formal attire. Only Sin still carried weapons.
"Let him through," a woman called out.
Heads turned and bodies began to drift to the side. Sin followed the sound. Standing before a nondescript door, through the crowd, he could see Julie. She was a tiny woman. Her short hair revealed black fauxskin across the back of her skull, setting her apart from most of the other priests around. Yet like so many others, she made no effort to hide the tears streaming down her face.
"Sister Julie?" he asked, hoping for some update.
She pressed her curled fingers to her lips before she could manage to talk. "He's waiting for you, Sin. The doctors say there's nothing they can do, but Benedict asked if you were on assignment."
"I was. My angel sent me here."
Julie took a deep breath. "He won't make it through the night."
"I know." Sin reached up and wiped away her tears. "He'll be in the arms of the Lord."
"Amen," she whispered as he reached for the handle.
The room was dark, lit by the glow of medical devices and a small holoscreen in the corner. Benedict lay in the bed, propped on pillows. His eyes were closed, and the hiss of something mimicked the rhythm of breathing. That and the bouncing line against the back wall assured Sin he was not too late.
"Praetor?" Sin asked.
The old man's eyes cracked open and one side of his mouth curled. "Hey, boy." His fingers twitched as he tried to lift his right hand.
Sin hurried to the bed and knelt, grabbing his hand before Benedict could strain himself. Then Sin lifted the ring to his lips. With his kiss, he sent one more prayer, begging for it to be worn on a worthy hand.
"May I serve only the power of God, and do His will as only He sees best," he breathed.
"Won't be much longer." Benedict's voice was slurred and weak. "I'm glad you came."
"I'm sorry I had to."
The Praetor flicked his fingers, trying to wave that away. He spoke slowly, as if dragging each word past his lips. "I need you to listen, boy. I nominated you to be the next Praetor?—"
"I can't," Sin said.
"Shh. I did that a year ago. If they accept, you must say no. The girl is important. She has the answers."
"She's an Ingénue, Benedict. Of course she does."
Benedict patted his hand. "I just feel like she's important. God wants you to protect her."
"Then that's what I'll do," Sin swore.
"Stop butting in. Listen," Benedict ordered. Sin nodded, refusing to interrupt again. The Praetor's voice was too weak. "The first precept. They want to enforce it. They want to eradicate any who break it. Do not let the Legion turn against the flock. I need you to guard them, boy—the flock. Thewholeflock. I need you to make sure the Legion is not used against the innocent." He paused, fighting his own throat. "Even sinners are innocent. We can all be forgiven."
"I promise," Sin whispered, holding Benedict's hand tightly.
The old man smiled. "The combination to my safe is your birthday. Empty it. Do not tell them."
"What's going on?" Sin asked.
He tapped one finger on Sin's thumb. "Blue nails. This wasn't God's will, Sin. This was the work of a man. I need you to protect the faith and the faithful. It's heavy metals. Not my mind. The doctors told the press what I asked, buying us a little time. There's a wolf in our midst, and youmustprotect the flock."
