Page 27 of Nun’s Prayer

As I entered the rec room, Piston texted me that a package had arrived for Nun, and I replied that I would collect it for her. He’d accepted it, and it was at the gatehouse with him. Usually the prospects took gate duty, but there weren’t many of them, so the stable picked up two nights on a rota.

“Any trouble?” I asked, arriving.

“Nah. I saw some lookie-loos; they looked like bible bashers. I’ve not got time for them,” he responded.

“Aye, there’s always someone. You need anything?”

“Nope. All set up. Chopper is going to bring me dinner, and then Dream’s taking over at ten. Thanks for asking, man,” Chopper replied. I nodded and grabbed the small package and headed back to the clubhouse.

An uncomfortable feeling hit me, as if I were being watched. The sensation got so bad I couldn’t help but check over my shoulder.

Naturally, I didn’t see anyone, but I wasn’t happy until I reached the clubhouse. I headed for Nun, who sat at the bar with a bottle of beer in her hand. She was smiling and remarkably more relaxed. Serving drinks quietly, Priest stood behind the bar, although he looked somewhat annoyed.

“Here, this came for you,” I said, tossing the parcel onto the counter.

“I don’t remember ordering anything,” Nun muttered. She opened it and found a small jewellery box. “Blue, did you buy me something?”

“That’s not from me.” I shook my head.

Nun opened it, and her face froze. Horror and fear crossed it, and she appeared shocked beyond words. I snatched the parcel out of her hand, and a chill ran down my spine. Inside was a plain wooden rosary with dark stains.

“Blood,” Nun whispered.

Belladonna grabbed it from me, and she ground her teeth audibly. “This was yours.” It wasn’t a question.

Nun nodded. She shook off her emotions and walked away.

I chased after her and caught up with her in her bedroom. Without a word, I folded her into my arms. My strong woman collapsed into me as she cried silently.

Priest

What the fuck was that? Nun appeared as though she’d been poleaxed.

Belladonna turned on her heel and strode off, taking the small box with her. But I’d seen inside it. A small wooden rosary. Why the hell would that upset Nun? A thought struck me, and I nearly shook it off. Had she been a real nun? No, that was impossible, surely?

I yanked my phone and texted my contact. I wanted the background on Nun. Why it mattered, I didn’t know, but it did. No woman should look like Nun had.

God’s Reclaimer

I watched the whore walk away with the parcel. He was as culpable as Margaret, guilty of despoiling God’s chosen. I wondered what Margaret would make of my gift. Would she remember it? I’d held it close ever since I’d reclaimed it from the ashes of her former priory.

Did Margaret even realise what had become of it? Somehow, I doubted it. The devil had taken a firm grip of her and made her retreat.

Tonight was the first step in remembering who she’d been. A virtuous woman, walking in the wondrous light of God. Now she was cloaked in shadows and fear. Margaret would regain the holy truth once I had shown her the error of her ways. She would then join the others in the Hall of the Reclaimed. Margaret would be a fight; the devil had his talons firmly in her, but I would win. I’d never failed, not while I walked in his footsteps.

Priest

I lay back on the bed in the bunk I’d been given and opened my email. My guy had sent me the basic information I’d requested. It was interesting reading.

Nun had actually been a real-life nun. That took some getting used to. Her name was Margaret Steeleman, and she’d had three sisters and a brother. Nun’s parents were highly religious, and the mother’s family had provided a nun in each generation. Nun was chosen for this one.

I wondered if she’d agreed. My gut told me she hadn’t. She’d been sent to her aunt’s priory at sixteen and had become a postulant. At seventeen, she was moved into a novice role and became professed at twenty. There was something very wrong with this.

At twenty-two, it blew wide open. Nun had disappeared, and days later images of her broken, beaten body appeared on the internet. Her face blurred out; she’d given a pain-wracked interview, detailing the abuse her aunt had levelled at her. A doctor backed up her statement with medical records. The whole situation rapidly escalated before the church could shut it down, and the police raided the priory.

There, exactly where Nun had said, they’d found the items used to torture her. The church moved to clear it up, but far too late. Two former postulants came forward and gave statements, and several of the other nuns cracked under questioning. Five arrests had been made.

Nun’s aunt, the Reverend Mother Mary Agnes. Then four nuns named Mary Immaculate, an old hag with a cruel face and a nasty tongue. Theresa Clare, a pious woman who refused to talk. Hildegard, a vicious woman who took great pleasure in explaining how they’d beaten the devil out of Nun. And finally, Elizabeth Antony, who went on a starvation protest, which lasted three days before she stuffed her face again.