The church was small. It had been built after the Second Reformation half a century ago and was filled not with stained glass and candles, but leafy green plants and, in the daytime, bright sunshine. Tonight he entered to find it empty but for a solitary woman kneeling at the altar. He slid into a pew at the back, his eyes on the stars visible through the transparent dome of the roof. It made him remember what he’d given up when he’d left the PsyNet— the cool darkness, the icy flare of millions of minds.
“The young ones don’t kneel, but the old grew up in the time of Rome.” The voice was male and full of the same peace that soaked the walls of this building. It was the single thing this church had in common with the more ornate pre–Second Reformation churches—the sense of hushed reverence, a quiet that was so pervasive it was almost sound.
Judd glanced at the man who’d taken a seat beside him. “Father Perez.”
Perez smiled, teeth flashing white against his teak skin. “That makes me sound like a candidate for the senior citizens’ pension. I’m only twenty-nine.” Wearing the winter uniform of a Second Reformation priest—loose white pants and shirt, the latter bearing a panel on the left side patterned with blue snowflakes, he looked even younger. It was the knowledge in his eyes that made him old.
Judd thought of him not as a priest, but as a fellow soldier. “It’s your title.”
“We’ve been working together for close to six years. Why won’t you call me Xavier? Even our shy friend calls me by my given name.”
Because using Father Perez’s given name would be the first step on the road to friendship and Judd didn’t want a friend. To do what he did, to be what he was, he had to retain his distance. From those who would be friends and the one woman who might be…more. “Did he give you something for me?”
A sigh. “No matter what you’ve done, Judd, judgment is not yours to make.” Perez passed over a data crystal encased in protective plasglass. The crystals cost more than the ubiquitous discs, but they were more secure and held larger amounts of data.
Judd slid it into an inner pants pocket. “Thank you.” He didn’t need the data for tonight’s operation, but he would for the next hit.
“The New Book says God does not wish to punish or harm us. God wishes us to learn and grow, to become better souls through the ages.”
To believe that, he’d have to possess a soul. “What about true evil?” Judd asked, mind awash in memories of a blood-drenched room and a woman with bruises ringing her neck. “What does your book say about that?”
“That good men must fight the evil and that bad men will be judged in death.”
Judd looked at the lone parishioner still kneeling at the altar. She was sobbing, the sound soft and almost apologetic. “Sometimes, evil needs to be judged in the moment, before it kills the good, destroys all light.”
“Yes.” Perez’s eyes went to the woman. “That is why I sit with you.”
“How do you balance the two halves of your self—the priest and the soldier?”
“The same way you balance your todays and tomorrows. With hope and forgiveness.” The other man rose. “I must comfort her. Only you can comfort yourself.”
Judd watched Perez walk down the wide aisle and kneel to place his arm around the shoulders of the woman who wept. She turned into his embrace, finding succor. A simple act, but one that Judd was incapable of. He was a naked blade, his purpose—his gift—to kill. As a child, he’d been deemed unfit to live with others and relocated, brought up among the shadows. He had no business being in the SnowDancer den now that the rest of the family was safe, and absolutely no right to do what he’d been doing with Brenna.
And he had been actively
And blooded.
Brenna blushed at the memory of Faith’s words and straightened her short black skirt. Teamed with a soft V-neck sweater in red, it was a perfectly acceptable outfit. Except that the sweater caressed her curves and the skirt shaped her bottom. Her hair still looked like hell, but the rest would do.
Drew scowled when she walked through the living room of the family quarters, but let her go without argument, probably guessing she was going to visit one of her girlfriends—especially since she’d deliberately hinted at that earlier. She knew she was procrastinating, but she had no time to bring up the topic of separate quarters right then. At least her brothers were no longer trying to confine her to quarters now that she’d shown she’d take off if they tried.
She got several slow male grins as she walked down the corridor and one outright request for a date. Though she had to refuse, the invitation bolstered her confidence—SnowDancer men could be incredibly charming when they put their minds to it.
It had taken her all day to work up the courage to follow Faith’s advice. Frankly, part of her remained terrified that she wouldn’t be able to handle anything sexual. It was the first time since the rescue that she’d even contemplated being with a man, the first time the idea hadn’t made her break out in a cold sweat. Santano Enrique had tied her to a bed, kept her naked for his experiments, done other, sickening things…things she wanted to erase from her mind.
“Breathe.” Reaching Judd’s door, she unclenched her hands and rubbed them on her skirt before knocking. The memories she crushed into that locked box in her mind. She wasn’t some
“Judd,” she called sotto voce when the door remained closed. No response. Her nose backed up the fact that he was out—his scent was there but not as concentrated as it would have been had he been inside. “Brenna, you idiot.” She wanted to kick herself. All this nerve-wracking preparation and she hadn’t bothered to check if he was in. Now what?
Returning to her quarters—thank God neither of her brothers was still home—she put through a call to Judd’s cell phone, expecting to find him elsewhere in the den. It didn’t connect. “Turn it on,” she muttered, then hung up.
Feeling a tad pathetic at being all dressed up with nowhere to go, she got undressed, crawled into her pj’s and took out a book—a hardcover—Riley had given her for her birthday.
“Bloody expensive,” he’d said, but there had been a grin in his eyes.
Her elder brother didn’t smile like that anymore. She knew he blamed himself for not keeping her safe from Enrique, despite the fact that there was nothing he could have done. Riley had always been serious—ten years her senior, he’d pretty much raised both her and Drew, with the pack’s help, after their parents died—but now he never so much as smiled. Drew put on a good front, but her wonderful, funny, smart middle brother was so angry.
Someone knocked on her door. “Bren, you back, too? Want some pizza?”
Tears pricked her eyes as she leaned against the metal bars of the headboard she’d fashioned using nineteenth-century patterns for inspiration. “What’re you doing eating pizza at this hour, Andrew Liam Kincaid?” she said, forcing a smile.
Sure enough, Drew cracked open the door to throw her a grin. “I’m a growing boy.”
“Well, I’m not, so don’t tempt me.” She opened the book. “Shoo.”
“Your loss, baby sister.” Sending her another grin, he pulled the door shut.
She squeezed her eyes closed and then took several deep breaths to think past the lump choking up her throat. But no matter how hard she concentrated, she was too emotionally torn up to focus on anything, much less the book in her hands. All she could think was that she needed Judd, needed him to hold her. She knew that to be a foolish, impossible wish, but the animal in her didn’t care. Where was he? She tried calling him several more times, until finally, she could no longer fight the enveloping wings of sleep. What awaited her was anything but restful.
