Page 73 of When the Sky Breaks

“Excuse me, what?” Sorcha looked up, brows knitting together in confusion.

“What happened last night?” Ansel asked, deadpan.

“Shit,” I swore. Had I not told them? I must have told them. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t mention that to either of you?”

“Definitely not,” Ansel snapped.

“I would’ve noticed?” Sorcha asked, eyes wide. “Wouldn’t I?”

“You remember getting sick?” I asked, stepping closer and crouching in front of her, hands on her shoulders. She was shaking hard.

“Yeah,” Sorcha said.

“That was blood,” I said. “You were scared. We both wanted out. I took care of it. You’re fine.”

I paused.

“I’m fine?”

“I think.”

A long moment passed in silence then Ansel snapped, “And at no point did you think this might be valuable to share with the group?”

“You kidnapped a man, decided to torture him, then you manhandled my pregnant wife before triggering a full-on existential crisis,” I said, turning to glare at him but not taking my hands from Sorcha’s shoulders. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“And you kept your mouth shut about a very important development!” Ansel snapped back at me.

“I get it,” I said. “I should have said something. I get it.”

“You been sick since?” Ansel asked, turning to Sorcha.

She shook her head.

“I haven’t eaten,” she told him. “There’s not been anything to vomit up.”

“Tonight after dinner we’ll keep a close eye,” Ansel said. “See if it’s still happening now that you’ve got some distance.”

Another long moment passed in silence.

Father Andrew dug through his desk and eventually handed us a thin, leather-bound notebook with a silver crucifix embossed on the front cover.

“What’s this?” Sorcha asked, opening the text.

“My journal,” Father Andrew said. “It’s not much, but it’s everything I’ve been able to learn about the cults since I started here, everything I’ve been able to surmise about the portals and the demons. Perhaps it will help.”

“Thank you,” Sorcha said. “I’ll see what we can do.”

“And all of you?” Father Andrew said. “Get out. Soon.”

“We’re on the first train tomorrow morning,” I replied.

“Good man.” Father Andrew nodded as he got up to open the door.

Thirty

Sorcha

Neal didn’t even let Ansel back in the hotel room.