Page 58 of The Sin Eater
Say the prayers.Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...
Let go of conscious thought and open myself to the flow of energy that’ll carry his sins to me.
It’s like being clawed by a cat.
His sins are heavy. They scratch against the inner space where I try to contain them. I don’t know if they could really break free. Fuck, I don’t know why any of this is happening. I take it, though, grateful that it’s just pain. No ghosts, no memories, and no more dead people yelling. My fists clench so tight my nails cut into the skin on my palms, but I remember to breathe and wait it out.
It ends with a whisper, words I don’t understand. Sure as hell don’t hearthank you. I take what’s left of the oatmeal cookie off his chest, acutely aware that it looked a lot more appetizing this morning at the Brew. Eating it is the last step and I manage to choke it down.
Even better, I don’t puke it back up.
It takes a couple minutes for me to get my gut and legs organized in order to stand and once I’m standing, I have to take a few deep breaths before I can move. I get the corpse tucked back into his cabinet, shut down the last remaining lights, and pull on my puffy coat. Let myself out of the morgue and damn near have a heart attack.
Damon Clemens is standing in the hall, his expression uncharacteristically blank. “Praying?” he asks.
“Yeah.” My voice is full of gravel.What the fuck is he doing here?
“Geneva take off early?”
“She didn’t work today.” I don’t explain that our part-time guy had lit out as soon as he possibly could.
Damon’s got me trapped in his gaze, weighing, assessing. “You didn’t call me this time.”
“I didn’t know you were working.” Though I probably should have checked.
“Does this have something to do with being psychic?”
“No,” I snap. “It has to do with being raised by crazy people.”Fuck. I need a cigarette. I fish in my pocket and thank everything holy there’s a lollipop in there. I’ve got it unwrapped and in my mouth with lightning speed.
“At some point I’m going to have to write you up.” He shakes his head, letting loose a sigh. “Come on, man. You’re going to get fired if you’re not careful.”
I lean against the door, arms crossed, lollipop secure. “They’d be doing me a favor.”
He snorts. “You’re not wrong.”
We’re quiet for a moment. I’m staring holes through his broad chest and I can feel the weight of his gaze.
“Damnit,” he says finally. “I came down here to see if you want to have dinner. I think my friend Mo might have found your girl.”
He saiddinner. My mind heardsexand just as quickly went topenance. “Fuck. I can’t.”
His expression grows harder. “Got a hot date?”
“No.” The lemon-flavored lollipop is super tart and I have to blink to keep my eyes from watering. Tart candy, not tears. “Text me or... whatever. I need to—” My voice cracks and I take a big step to the side, intent on escape.
He stops me with a hand on my arm. “This is getting old, Ezra.”
I spin away from him. “I’m glad you found her, but this is not a good time.” I’m already wondering if there’s enough Jack in my apartment to wash away this foul lemon taste.
He finally cracks, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he shuts it down again. “When do you work next?” His voice is distant, removed.
“Tomorrow, most likely.” I back away, although he’s standing between me and the stairs. I can go out the loading dock if I need to. He nods a couple times, lips pressed together like he’s determined not to say anything else.
Yeah, that Jack’s going to need to do triple duty. Clean my mouth from that nasty lollipop, heal the frayed edges of my soul from whatever just happened in there, and help me forget the hurt in Damon’s eyes when I finally make a break for it.
That last bit’s going to stick around longer than the other two.
Chapter Twenty