Beautifully Brutal ( Cavalieri Della 1)

I keep my head bowed, peering through the gap from beneath my hoodie. “Found this girl. Needs your help.”

The door opens wider and I see a frail old woman in a thick black dressing gown and slippers, her white hair twisted up and pinned tightly. I can tell she’s a nun even though she’s not wearing a habit.

Her watery blue eyes fasten on the girl in my arms. “Oh, poor child. Bring her inside.” The nun turns away and disappears into the church. I consider dumping the girl on the doorstep and getting the hell away from this place, but she seems to have fallen into unconsciousness in my arms, her cheek resting against my shoulder. Too tired to run. Too tired to fight or even care what happens to her.

Inside, the church is quiet and warm and steeped in shadows. I can make out the pews and the altar at the far end, and off to one side is a row of burning candles. Votive candles, lit by those who’ve come to pray.

The nun takes me through to a side room that looks to be an office, and waves me over to a sofa against the wall. I place the young woman on the cushions and she makes a small sound before clutching at my jacket, as if reluctant to let me go. I smooth her dark hair back from her face. At least she’ll be safe here and the sisters will look after her until she’s strong enough to go back to wherever she came from. If she can go back.

When I straighten, I see the nun is eyeing my clothing and I wonder if she can see the dark stains of blood even on the black fabric. I wonder if she can smell it. My face is in shadows beneath the hood, but she looks me right in the eye.

“God sees everything you do, and He is merciful.”

It’s like she knows. Not about the murder, but that helping this girl is my first good deed in a long, long time. As soon as this nun hears tomorrow there’s a body behind the church, she’s going to know I did it. There won’t be much she can tell the police though, and by the time she talks, I’ll be over state lines. Six foot three or four. Caucasian. Didn’t say much, wore black, kept his face in shadows.

My eyes land on the gold crucifix on the wall, the tiny, grim effigy of a slowly dying man. Untold suffering in this life, but that’s okay because the next life will be better. I never saw the comfort in that. I’ll take what I can get in this life.

I turn to leave, and take one last look at the girl. Her eyes are closed, dark lashes resting against her pale cheeks. She’s so damn small and sweet and I feel the urge to snatch her up again and take her with me. Except where I’m going, she can’t come with me.

The nun calls after me, “I’ll pray for you.”

My footsteps sound through the empty church as I head for the door. “Yeah. Don’t bother.”