Page 48 of A Prince of Smoke and Mirrors

“I’m sure he’ll bethrilledto see us.” I didn’t mean my tone to be quite so dry.

I traipsed beside him, not quite swinging his arm, but I was hanging back a little bit. Bothering a priest at this ungodly hour seemed so mean.

Heh.Ungodly.But itwas.

At the dark ranch-style house behind the arid courtyard covered in pebbled granite and cacti, Nico again pounded on the door.

This time, a light switched on in the back bedroom and, after a minute, a portly man rattled the locks and opened the door. His charcoal beard was streaked with gray, and he asked with a thick guttural accent, “Yes, my child? How can I help you in the middle of the damn night?”

Nico started speaking some other language like a machine-gun barrage.

When the priest’s eyes widened and he started speaking back in the same language, I decided this was none of my business and stepped backwards. If they wanted me to be included in the conversation, they would’ve spoken a language I knew. Obviously, they both could speak English.

At one point, Nico showed him his Swedish driver’s license.

The guy’s eyes widened even more under his wiry brows.

Then he stepped back from the front door and motioned us inside, settling us in his brown and green living room before retreating to the bedroom.

“What’s going on?” I muttered to Nico.

Nico’s sly smile and one eyebrow-rise should have tipped me off. “He is readying himself to perform the rite.”

“What rite?”

“Marriage. It’s a sacrament.”

Shock billowed through me like a bomb blast. “Wait,what?He’s actually going todo it?”

“I told you I could arrange it. He asked whether you’ve been baptized.”

My baptism was not my happiest memory just then. “Sure, a few years ago.”

“Denomination?” Nico asked.

In Jimmy’s family’s church. “Evangelical.”

His head tilted to the side. “Is that Christian?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s Protestant, correct? Not even Roman Catholic.”

“Yeah, Protestant, I guess. It’s not Catholic.”

“He’ll have to baptize you before we do the marriage rite.”

“I don’t want to get dunked in a pool of water tonight.” Even though I was sticky-sweaty under my wedding gown. “Getting my dress wet will ruin it. I don’t have a baptism shift. I can’tdothat.”

Nico dropped one eyebrow. “He’ll touch your forehead with holy water and blessed olive oil. There will be no dunking.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. We don’t do that. Do protestant churches have some sort of a fish tank for that?”

“Some of them have a baptismal pool, yes. Some of them use a swimming pool or a river.”

Nico’s blue eyes were open as far as he could get them, the embodiment ofaghast.“We don’t do that. We aren’t literal in our rituals. Our sacraments are symbolic and civilized. And he’ll have to perform your chrismation before the marriage rite, too.”