Page 10 of The Idol

I let a small, skeptical laugh slip out. “That sounds nice. But I’m not sure I’m the kind of person he’d be interested in fixing.”

“Oh, He is interested inallof us,” Malachi said, his tone almost tender. “Even the broken. Especially the broken. You don’t have to decide today. Just promise me you’ll think on it.”

It was smooth. Manipulative as hell, but smooth.

“I will,” I said quietly.

He smiled, a predatory glint hidden in his eyes. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

Yeah. The Bureau was right to be worried.

3

Elior

It had been three days since the stranger came.

Father had said his name wasJace.He might become one of us, Father had told me—one of the faithful, if the Light found him worthy enough.

I had never seen anyone quite like him before.

He had warm, tan skin, black hair that hung tousled just past his shoulders, dark stubble on his jaw, and his eyes didn’t look down when they met mine. He had looked right at me, like he was trying to see what wasbeneath.

I’d never seen eyes like his before—almond-shaped, dark enough to almost be black. They were so different than mine. Beautiful, with something so intensely masculine about them that I couldn’t put a finger on.

I had thought about those eyes a little too much these last few days, sitting alone in the chapel.

Father said curiosity was the mind’s rebellion, and that I must guard against it. He said that the Vessel should think only of the Light and the souls who need it, but sometimes thoughts just… happen. They slip in like moths through the cracks, even when you try to shoo them away.

I kept thinking about how the candlelight had made his hair seem to shine. There was something different about him—an energy that made it feel like he didn’t quite belong in our quiet little world.

Father had been pleased after that meeting. He said Jace had areceptive spirit.I wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but Father had smiled when he said it, and when Father smiled, it usually meant the Light was pleased.

“Perhaps,” he’d said that evening as he made a rare dinner visit to my rooms, “perhaps the Lord has sent him to us for a purpose.”

I nodded then, as I always did.

Now, sitting by my bedroom window, I thought about that purpose. What sort of man would the Lord send to us? A sinner to be cleansed? A teacher to test our faith?

The candle beside me had burned low, leaving a waxy pool on the desk. I brushed a fingertip across the edge and watched it cling to my skin before hardening.

Outside, the children’s voices carried from the schoolhouse—soft laughter, the rhythmic drone of a hymn. I liked their voices best when they sang. They didn’t sound afraid then.

Maybe Jace would visit them, too.

Father said he’d begun learning about our ways, that he’d spoken kindly and listened well. Sometimes, new believers spent extra time watching me sit in the chapel, praying near me, asking the Light for blessings. Father said it helped strengthen their faith.

Maybe Jace would come for that.

I didn’t know why the thought made my chest feel strange, fluttery almost.

I clasped my hands and bowed my head quickly, whispering a prayer to still it.

“Light of Heaven, burn away the shadows within me. Let my heart be clean as glass, my thoughts like still water.”

The words steadied me, the same way they always did.

I rose and straightened my robe. Father would expect me soon—there would be evening prayers, and then repentance.