Lessons in Sin

Just like the first room, bars hung on the outside of the windows. But the spaces in between were wide enough for a bat to fit through.

Shifting two steps to the closest window, I turned the latch and pushed the casement upward. It didn’t budge. Another attempt, same result. Exerting all my strength, I shoved harder, again and again, and broke a fingernail.

“Fuck!” I threw myself at the glass, grunting, straining, and gritting my teeth. “You ancient, stubborn piece of shit! Why won’t you fucking o—?”

“What are you doing?”

His sharp voice ran through me like a sword, puncturing my lungs. I lowered my arms, dropped my brow to the cool glass, and steadied my breaths.

Then I turned to face Father Magnus. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Attempting an escape.”

“Ooh, good idea. I’ll just use my bionic arms to bend the bars out of the way. After I break all my nails trying to open the damn window.”

He stared at me like I was an idiot. If it were possible, that scowl looked even meaner than before. Spine-chilling. Malicious. Beneath the cloud of disapproval, his eyes tapered, and his expression creased with disgust. Pure, unconcealed abhorrence. As if the mere sight of me made him want to inflict bodily harm.

If he had any secrets, an attraction to young girls wasn’t one of them. But I wasn’t ruling out abuse. Or misogyny. From the way he continued to glare at me, he was giving off some serious homicidal vibes.

Maybe he just hated his life and didn’t know how to be anything but a salty, miserable dick.

With perfectly shaped lips.

He ambled toward me, his gait slow and threatening. A thrum of unease beat in my veins as I sidestepped, blocking his line of sight to the bat.

Too late. He’d already spotted it.

“Don’t hurt it.” I held up my hands, warding him off. “It’s just a pup. I’m just going to let it out through the window and—”

“You want to save it?” He pulled up short, his brows a heavy mantle of suspicion.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Bats carry rabies. Did you touch it?”

“Not all bats, and no. No touching. No biting. No heavy petting. We don’t have that kind of relationship. It just needs some mosquitoes in its belly and a little more practice flying…” I withered beneath his flinty stare. “What?”

“Bats are roosting in the bell tower. They’re not pets. They’re pests. Especially when they make their way into the classrooms and rain terror on the students.”

“Does that involve screaming and tears?”

“Yes.”

“So what you’re saying is you have bats in the belfry, and it makes all the girls cry. That explains a lot.”

A muscle bounced in his jaw, and he lurched into motion, rounding the desks.

Oh fuck, I’d gone too far. My pulse quickened, and my muscles went taut. But I refused to move. He would have to go through me to get to the bat.

When he stepped within arm’s reach, I braced for impact…only to feel the heat of his body breeze past me and the bat.

I released a breath, turning to watch as he wriggled the latch on the window.

“The lock sticks.” He slid the casement open with ease.

The instant the air changed, the bat flew, darting straight toward my face.

A hand wrapped around my throat and yanked me back against a slab of marble. Hot marble, bunched with ridges and aggression. Holy sweet Jesus, he was hard. A hot-blooded, hard-bodied, immovable beast.

I choked on my raging heartbeat and lost all motor and brain function.

I’m going to die.

In a blink, he released me. My hands flew to my throat as he strolled to the window and closed it like nothing had happened.

Nope, no need to overreact. My blood pressure flirted with the red zone, and my lungs ran on empty. But the little brown bat was doing just fine.

Right outside the glass, it wrapped itself around one of the bars. If Father Magnus hadn’t pulled me from its trajectory, it would’ve been my face that the pup was hanging on to for dear life.

I took a moment to calm down. Once my breathing returned to normal, I joined him at the window. He didn’t acknowledge me. His focus centered on the bat as if he were contemplating the best way to kill it.

Come on, pup. Fly away. Spread your wings and go!

She lifted her tiny nose and stared back at me.

Father Magnus reached for the window.

“Wait.” I gripped the sill. “Just…give her a second. She’s scared and still learning how to fly. Don’t take this moment from her.”

“Her? Are you an expert on bats?”

God, no. I was talking out of my ass. “Let her make mistakes. She’ll learn from them.”

“It made a deadly mistake the moment it breached the walls.”

“Not if she was born inside.” I wouldn’t beg for her life, but I wasn’t giving up, either. “What does the Bible say about bats?”