Nothing Sacred by Z.J. Cannon

Author:Z.J. Cannon [Cannon, Z.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Z.J. Cannon
Published: 2022-04-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

When I stumbled into the office, Father Keller was waiting at his desk. He took one look at me and waved me over with a weary sigh, the first aid kit already open on his lap.

“You could at least have the decency to look surprised,” I said.

“It wouldn’t have taken you this long to come back if you hadn’t found some sort of trouble. How badly did you damage yourself this time?”

I shucked my jacket onto the floor. Normally Father Keller would have reminded me of the importance of keeping the front office presentable for customers—bloody jackets lying around tended to scare off business. But he didn’t even glance at the jacket. He was too busy looking at the red that had seeped into my t-shirt.

I tugged the shirt off one-handed, which was a trick. I did my best not to look at the mess I had made of Father Keller’s work. But I got an idea of how bad it was by the way his breath drew in as soon as he got a good look.

“Upstairs,” he ordered. Then he shook his head. “Juliana is up there with Holly. We’ll do this in your office. I know you keep alcohol in there.”

It probably says something about how shaken I was that I didn’t bother trying to save my good whiskey by denying it.

“If Sullivan comes around,” I said as I followed him to the back room, “don’t answer the door. Definitely don’t invite him in for pastries. Unless you want to see me hauled out of here in handcuffs.”

Father Keller paused. His shoulders sagged. “What did you do?”

“Shoved him out a window.”

“Nic—”

“I shoved him out a window,” I repeated, “to protect him from the Fallen who’s after Holly.”

Slowly, Father Keller turned to face me. He didn’t look afraid. He should have. If I was afraid, he should have been wetting his pants in terror. But all I saw in his eyes was a depth of sadness that made my breath catch.

“Anyone you know?” was all he asked.

“I didn’t stick around to find out.”

He gave me an approving nod. “Prudent of you.”

“This body might be a pain in the ass, but I prefer to keep it alive.”

I thought I saw Father Keller smile at that. “There’s no sense in having this conversation while you bleed on the floor,” he said. “Let me take care of that wound.” He propelled me into the back with a feather-soft touch to my shoulder. I let him.

My chair was back at my desk again. I sank into it and dug out the whiskey bottle. Almost empty. I hadn’t realized I had been going through it that quickly. I felt the loss as Father Keller poured the last of it out onto a cloth and dabbed my wound with it.

“I suppose now you’ll want my advice on facing one of the Fallen,” said Father Keller as he prepared his suture needle.

I looked away and gritted my teeth, bracing myself for the pain. I remembered the process well enough from last night that I couldn’t lie and tell myself it wouldn’t hurt.

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