Devil's Fire by Melissa Macneal

Author:Melissa Macneal [M Macneal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780753533314
Publisher: Ebury Publishing

Chapter Twelve

Yet Another Cleansing

As I hurried along the path to the abbey’s imposing entrance, where the gargoyles leered with more menace than before, my tunic was sticking to all the wrong spots on my body and my hair was a ghastly sight. I could only wonder what sort of punishment awaited me when I reached Father Luc’s office. Mrs Goodin had only had five minutes to tell her tales — but I suspected she’d set a nasty trap before coming to the kitchen. My thighs chafed with the memory of her lye soap as my footsteps echoed down the stone corridors. I entered that solitary hallway, nipping my lip.

Father Luc awaited me alone. He was seated on his thronelike chair, his hands tented beneath his nose, following the sinister lines of his black moustache. ‘What day is this, Miss Michaels?’ he demanded.

As I calculated back to when I left Mount Calvary, it seemed I’d crammed weeks into only a few days. ‘It’s Sunday, sir,’ I murmured, already sensing where this path would lead.

‘And have you attended Sabbath services?’

‘No,’ I replied, the heat rising into my cheeks. ‘Have you?’

‘I conducted mass at sunrise, before breakfast. I noted your absence, Mary Grace, and was appalled that you’ve so quickly departed from the way in which your parents raised you.’

‘Let’s leave my parents out of this!’ I retorted. While I was ashamed for forgetting what day it was, no one else had mentioned any worship services — nor had they behaved as though today was different from any other.

‘And why are you mentioning this now? I’m getting pretty damn tired of everyone else knowing the routine here, and leaving me out!’

His coiled laugh warned me that I was playing into his trap. ‘Sybil didn’t inform you? She hasn’t missed a Sunday service since she’s been here,’ he continued smugly. ‘And Elvira — whom you undoubtedly met during your kitchen visit — is the finest organist Heaven’s Gate has ever enjoyed. If I were you, I’d be wondering why my so-called friends didn’t tell me about these things…why they allowed me to blunder, and then pay the consequences. Perhaps you’re associating with the wrong people.’

My mouth dropped open. ‘You’re the one who assigned me to Sybil’s cottage!’

‘Because she had room for you. Because we have so few women’s quarters.’

‘And you have nothing but praise for her cooking!’

The abbot chuckled as though he were dealing with a dense, witless woman. ‘What Sybil and her crew produce in the kitchen is our business, Mary Grace. Our livelihood. Let’s not confuse our earthly work with seeking our souls’ places in the hereafter.’

When Father Luc leaned towards me, I noticed how his eyes burned with something familiar, yet something so cruel and vindictive it frightened me. I braced against his scrutiny, because it would be a sign of defeat to shrink away from his gaze.

‘What’s that I smell?’

‘I don’t know, sir. Your cassock looks fresh,’ I ventured. ‘Perhaps it’s the soap and sunshine from Mrs Goodin’s laundering.’

His mouth quirked.

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