The Lost Saint

“Hey, did you know that Jeff Read said you look hot in that sweater?”


I followed them into the bus and sat a row behind them. I listened as they chattered on about what else Jeff Read had said recently about Claire. I smiled and nodded in all the right places, but I didn’t really feel like talking anymore.

When we pulled into the parking lot of the school, I saw Gabriel waiting for us by the front doors. I knew I could fool Claire about the damage to my shirt, but I figured Gabriel would be a harder audience—besides, he could probably smell the Gelal and Akh stench that clung to my hair—so I made a beeline for Dad’s Corolla in the parish parking lot.

I pulled from my backpack my set of house keys, which also happened to have a spare to the Corolla on the ring. Hopefully, Dad wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it to get home. I even called and left a message on his cell phone, telling him I was doing so. He could always take the parish’s truck if he didn’t feel like walking.

I parked in the driveway and ran into the house. Mom called my name from the kitchen—followed by the wafting goodness of her pork tenderloin in Marsala sauce—but I pretended not to hear her and dashed up to the bathroom. I pulled off my nasty shirt, wrapped it in the towel I’d used to clean up with at the old man’s house, and shoved the bundle deep inside the bathroom trash can. I pulled off the rest of my clothes and stepped into the shower.

I lathered and rinsed my hair three times before I felt like the noxious scents from the afternoon had been washed away. But what were impossible to scrub out were the memories of the day that clung to me now—wiping down a crime scene, watching a demon die right in front of me, the expression on the face of that bodiless head, and Talbot finding that dead old man. I scrubbed and scrubbed. I sat in the shower with my knees pulled up to my chest and let the scalding water rain down on me. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rinse those images out of my mind.

My life had changed in the last few hours.

I’d changed.

I felt like a different person, and part of me longed for Daniel’s arms, strong and true, to wrap me in his warm embrace. I wanted to hear him tell me that it was okay for me to be different now. That he still loved me no matter what.

When the water turned cold, I got out and changed into fresh clothes. My plan was to hide in my room for the rest of the night. I still buzzed so much from what had happened this afternoon I worried that if I spent too much time with anyone, they’d be able to tell I was hiding something. They’d be able to see the changes in me. I was just about to start in on homework at my desk when Charity knocked on my door.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Dinner,” she said, and gave me a weird look from the doorway.

“I’ll just get some leftovers later.” I turned away and gazed down at my book. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“No … Mom says everyone has to come. It’s a family dinner. Mom cooked, and we’ve got company.”

“Really?” Regular family dinner had been a Divine family ritual for the first seventeen years of my life, but now I could hardly remember the last time we’d all sat at the same table together—let alone had company. I guess I should have put two and two together when I smelled good things coming from the kitchen.

“Daniel’s here.”

“Ooh.” I loved that just the mention of his name could make my heart skip a beat.

“And that cute new religion teacher at your school. Pastor Saint Moon.”

“Oh.” My voice had a very different inflection this time. Gabriel was the last person I wanted to see at the moment. “I really do have a lot of homework. Can you tell Mom that I can’t—”

“Yeah, right. Mom’s full-on Martha Stewart-ing it down there. She made a four-course meal and pulled out the good china. I wouldn’t mess with her if I were you.”

“Great,” I mumbled.

Bree Despain's books