A Line in the Sand by K A Stewart

Author:K A Stewart [Stewart, K A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K.A. Stewart
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Daylight came all too soon, and we rose and dressed in a semi-conscious state, ushered along by Sister Mary Alice’s insistence that if we wanted to lose ourselves in the tourist lines, we had to get there early.

My dress clothes consisted of one fairly new pair of black jeans, which were just going to have to do because there was no way Cam’s khakis were going to stay on my narrow hips, no matter how tight we belted them. I eyed one of his short-sleeved polo shirts with trepidation, knowing it would leave the demon contract tattoo visible for all eyes to see, but ultimately decided screw it. Cam knew already, and if either of the two women noticed, they didn’t say anything. The shirt was bright red, which wasn’t a color I usually chose, but it was either that, or lavender. And lavender just doesn’t go with my eyes.

I pulled my hair back into a neat tail at the base of my skull, noting that the end now hit me just below the shoulder blades. It would be time to cut it again soon. After a quick shave, I was deemed presentable.

Cameron had forgone his priest’s collar in favor of a navy polo and his khakis, looking every bit the fine and upstanding citizen I knew him to be. Clean shaven, hair gelled into fashionable spikes, we just had to hope that they’d be looking for a priest, not a civilian.

Sveta produced a pair of dove gray slacks from somewhere, coupling it with a very nice white silk blouse. It had ruffles, even, around the collar and cuffs. She left her dark hair loose around her shoulders, one of the very few times I’d ever seen it down, and dabbed very subtle makeup on her face. Any other time, I’d have teased her about her fluffy shirt, but I could tell already that this was not the time for it. She made very little effort at conversation, getting through breakfast with the bare minimum words required.

“We’ll meet you back at the hospital when we get done,” I told Sister Mary Alice as we parted ways in front of the building. “I don’t know what time that will be.”

“It’s fine. Brother Cameron has my number.” She smiled, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. The hitchhiking souls in my skin fluttered a little, but in a pleasant way. They liked her. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after him. You go do what you have to do.”

While I thought we were being absurdly early to just go stand in line, when we arrived at Vatican City, there were already at least fifty people ahead of us. The three of us slipped into the back of the line and were soon surrounded by more tourists, all of them entirely too cheerful for this obscene time of morning. All around us, they chattered and gushed and snapped selfies. There were college-age kids, middle-aged businessmen, elderly women with excited gleams in their eyes. For a few minutes, I envied them.

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