Sin of the Saints (Between Delusion and Sobriety Duet #2)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Bartimaeus

I ’ve been summoned to the Pope’s private quarters. It’s always intimidating, but when I know the reason for the invitation I’m more tense and stressed than ever.

I knock on the third floor door, not waiting for a response, opening it and stepping into his apartment, also known as the ‘ Appartamento Nobile ’. It looks more like a presidential suite at the heart of the papal palace. The apartment was moved to the third floor, the highest and closest to the Divine, because in addition to the aspect of the Holy Trinity, the ghost of the Pope who led the church over a century ago still haunts the second floor.

The truth was of course covered up, as is the way of the Church, and this secret was also placed in the trove of many hidden truths the public would never know or hear of. Courtesy of sanctity, of course.

“You wanted to see me?” I approach the red velvet armchair where he always sits, and I notice his aura.

It’s nighttime. His aura stands out against the night sky, which finally grants me a bit of peace after the stinging daylight. His aura moves as he turns his gaze to me, and I feel him looking at me for a long moment. He raises a hand and beckons to me with one finger. I stride towards him.

“You’re not feeding,” he states the obvious. “Are you refusing to do so, or do you not feel hunger?” It’s a trick question. No answer will please him. “Hmm…” he hums, and I get goosebumps.

“Your Holiness—” I want to say something, anything, but he cuts me off.

He raises a hand in the air. “That’s enough.” I bow my head. We’re forbidden to argue with the head of the Church. He holds his hand out to me, and I hesitate for only a moment before kneeling in front of him. “We are not like those monsters. It is the price we must pay to continue serving the King of Kings.”

He caresses my head, and I hold my breath in my lungs, counting the seconds until this most hated moment ends.

I thought I hated being in the heart of Hell, my body contaminated by foul demon blood. But the one ray of light was being far from here, keeping me from participating in this pagan ritual.

“Be at ease, my son, it’s only for the best.” I hear hesitant steps approaching me. So small, so gentle. With no other choice, I fix my fangs in my victim’s fragile neck. He lets out a small whine and I close my eyes tight, detaching myself.

If it’s all for the best, why do I feel so desecrated?

Our quarters in the palace are restricted, and the guardian angels aren’t allowed out until all pre-arranged private tours are over.

The Guard keeps a close eye on tourists, making sure they don’t find themselves somewhere they shouldn’t be. There have been incidents in the past, and we try to avoid them at all costs. We have the power to make humans forget, but some have slipped past our radar, spreading stories that became rumors and folklore. This place is holy, and people believe they’ve seen divine revelations here that they’d sought their whole lives. As a result, many of the believers come here to experience that same revelation that has become an urban legend.

I get ready in my room, and put on my training clothes. We dedicate the touring hours to training behind closed doors.

I make my way to the gym, walking with more confidence despite my blindness. Training with Ellis is having an impact. On the way there I hear the orders the commander gives the guard at the entrance to the palace. The large windows flood the corridor with sunlight, and I squint in the scalding sun. The light still hurts me, and it seems to only be getting worse. I haven’t said anything about it to anyone. I know deep down that it’s not right. A guardian angel being uneasy during the day? Finding his place in the darkness? No, it doesn’t take a genius to realize there’s nothing right about that.

My head’s foggy today, after having fed last night. I know endurance training will make me forget the nightmares that have haunted me since that moment, and I’m grateful for the coming hours that will focus only on pain.

Breathing heavily and sweating after a rough workout with Ellis, I approach the window and a sense of peace washes over me. The sunlight has grown dim and no longer stings my skin with the same intensity as before. I assume the private tours have ended, and I decide to return to my room before Ellis invites me to join him for feeding. I peek down the corridor and listen cautiously. All is silent, and I decide it’s safe to step out.

I cover my eyes with my palm, looking down and marching to my room. Nearby I bump into something, a shout of surprise giving away that it’s a woman.

“I-I…” I mean to apologize for bumping into her, but my breath catches the moment I realize who’s standing before me. The black aura of a demon.

Shit.

“It took me forever to find you, Dr. Abano!” she whisper-shouts hysterically. I immediately recognize her voice.

“What are you doing here?” I survey our surroundings, making sure no one can see her here.

“Can we talk about it somewhere more private?” She sounds tense. There are footsteps behind us, and the sound of Ellis’ laughter raises my adrenaline levels. I grip her arm and pull her after me, my other hand probing along the wall, and I count the doors until I reach my room. “In the name of all demon-kind, get your hands off me!” she yells as we go inside.

My eyes move down along her aura. Our joined hands are causing smoke to rise, and I jump back, pulling my hand away from hers.

“What the hell?” I glance at my palm and the growing aura. The scent of smoking, burnt skin rises into the air.

“That’s completely twisted shit, Dr. Abano,” she hisses, her aura moving as she rubs her arm.

“Stop calling me that,” I growl. It reminds me of too many things I can’t deal with right now.

“Fine, angel, so what am I supposed to call you?” Her aura again moves and I realize she’s crossing her arms over her chest.

I want to tell her my name is Bartimaeus, but the name is foreign to me. Damn it, what’s been happening to me since I was pulled from the grave?

She lets out a frustrated breath, “Fine, angel it is then, Mr. Mystery.”

“What are you doing here, Valentina?” She must have some courage if she infiltrated the heart of the holiest of holies on her own, behind enemy lines. I should be turning her in immediately. I should, but I don’t.

She lingers before answering, and the silence is irritating.

Finally she leans towards me and whispers: “Do you believe in miracles, angel? Because I’ve got a feeling we’ll need one.”