Page 58 of Divine Temptations

[pause]

“There’s a shop on Main that sells nothing but blessed holy water, vintage tarot decks, and ethically sourced goose feathers. Not kidding. And the bar—where I met tonight’s principalattraction—is called The Chalice & Cherry. It smells of bourbon, patchouli, and unresolved trauma. Honestly, 10/10, would drink there again.”

[chuckles]

“Which brings us to him. Jude Brooks.”

[pause, voice softens—curious, conflicted]

“You ever meet someone and immediately forget how to function? Like, your brain just blue-screens? That was me walking into the bar and seeing Jude for the first time. Sun-kissed hair, golden skin, a smile like sin in a cathedral, and these eyes—God, those eyes. They don’t just look at you. They unwrap you. Layer by layer.”

[sips drink]

“He was laughing with the bartender, Percy—who, by the way, might be the only sane person in this town. Guy’s like if a grizzly bear gave up on life and started pouring drinks for hippies. Total nihilist. I adore him.”

[beat]

“Anyway, I sit down and suddenly it’s like the air changes. Jude turned to me and just… looked. And I swear, I’ve never felt so simultaneously seen and completely exposed. It was annoying. And hot. But mostly annoying.”

[clears throat]

“Here’s the thing: Jude Brooks has that rare, unsettling kind of charm. He’s not trying to be seductive. He just is. Jude smiles, and people lean in. He speaks, and people believe him. He’s like some combination of a golden retriever and a Greek oracle. Friendly. Ethereal.”

[pause]

“I flirted. He flirted back. There was heat, disciples. Like actual, skin-prickling, why-is-the-room-suddenly smaller kind of heat. Percy noticed. Of course, he did. Small townsare excellent for two things: spiritual delusion and casual voyeurism.”

[beat, tone shifts slightly]

“But every time the conversation got interesting, it circled back to Cosmic Grace Ministries. His ‘healing space.’ I asked him if he gave out frequent flyer miles for miracles. He didn’t laugh.”

[pause]

“I don’t know what Jude Brooks is yet. I don’t know if he’s a genuine believer or just an incredible actor. But I do know he invited me to his little ritual tonight. Full moon, fire pit, circle of true believers, the whole enchanted drum circle vibe. And I said yes.”

[smirk audible in voice]

“Because someone has to be there. Someone who won’t fall for the incense and soft lighting. Someone who’s not dazzled by pretty faces or tight pants or—God help me—bone structure that could convert an atheist.”

[beat]

“I’m going. Not because I believe in Jude’s healing energy or because the moon told me to. I’m going to that bonfire to expose the truth behind Cosmic Grace Ministries. To pull the halo off the prophet’s pretty head and show everyone who he really is. But if I happen to enjoy the view while I’m at it… well, sue me. What could possibly go wrong under a full moon with a hot prophet and a bonfire?”

Chapter Six

Jude

The sun was bleeding out behind the trees, painting the sky in layers of pink and gold, like someone spilled sorbet across the heavens. I stood barefoot in the grass behind the Healing Center, stacking firewood into the old stone pit we used for the full moon circles. The wood was cedar, pine, and a little birch—each with its own scent, its own memory. I’d soaked some of the smaller sticks in a mixture of lavender oil and saltwater earlier that morning. When the fire lit, it would hopefully perfume and clear the air enough to open hearts and loosen whatever burdens people carried in with them.

“You’re stacking them all wrong, babycakes,” Zephyr called out behind me.

I turned and found her waving a bundle of dried herbs like a wand, flicking them toward the trees, the fire pit, and occasionally me.

“Sweetgrass and rosemary,” she said, eyes closed in concentration. “The rosemary’s for remembrance. The sweetgrass is for attracting good spirits. Also, it smells like heaven.”

“And smoke,” I said, smirking. “Smells like smoke.”

Zephyr cracked one eye open, waggling her fingers at me as she sashayed past. “Says the man who thinks lemon verbena tastes like sadness.”