Our Sins in Silver

5. Visitor in the Night

Chapter two

Visitor in the Night

Sterling - Pt. 2

I’d never liked that they had provided me with my own room when I accepted my role as senior scribe. I didn’t deserve the extra space any more than the other men. Now, though, I found myself thankful for the privacy.

I scrubbed my skin clean as best I could with the rag and bucket of water in the corner, downed a slab of bread like a beggar without saying grace, and collapsed into bed without bothering to change. I succumbed to the darkness closing in around me before my head hit my pillow.

I dreamed of nothing but scripture—Psalms 40, over and over, as if it were branded into the back of my eyelids.

Dread gripped my heart when I felt a hand on me, shaking me awake.

Had the abbot returned? Was he angry that my apprentice had freed me? Had he discovered my trespasses?

I bolted upright in my bed, registering how gentle the hand was on my shoulder—how it slid sensually down my arm and remained on my elbow, dainty fingers caressing me.

“S–Sister Catherine?” What was she doing here? No woman was allowed in this wing, and certainly not inside a monk’s private quarters.

The young woman knelt beside my bed, her fair features cast in the amber glow of the candle she’d brought with her. “Brother Godfrey. I’ve prayed for you these last three nights. I’ve barely thought about anything else.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Only men are permitted in this building. If you’re seen, you’ll likely get the strap.”

Sister Catherine was one of the younger nuns in the abbey. She couldn’t have been a day older than nineteen. As happy as I was to look at anything other than Psalms 40, I wished she hadn’t come. This wasn’t proper. My mind flicked through my memories of time spent with her, trying to remember any instance where I might have given her the wrong impression. I’d been polite, but never allowed my eyes to linger.

The nun still had her youthful innocence about her, always walking around the gardens with stars in her eyes. She’d yet to discover the darker side of life. I had no desire to be what sullied the snow-white world she lived in.

“Brother Godfrey,” the young blonde muttered in her soft-as-angel-down cadence. She leaned into my lap, her cheeks stained red and her eyes glossy and swollen, as if she’d been crying.

Catherine was a handsome woman, but I’d never coveted her, or any woman for that matter. As a monk, I’d sworn off certain human indulgences, female companionship among them.

Now, I was finding it hard to breathe, seeing her crouched between my legs while dressed as she was. She wore her flaxen hair loose, kissing her shoulders. The candlelight lit up the golden strands like a halo around her head, making her appear positively angelic. She’d come without her cornet and was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. I could see her n*****s, hard and jutting against the rough cotton.

I averted my eyes, flustered. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I couldn’t sleep, Brother. Not when Brother Elijah told me of the state he found you in.”

My brow contorted with annoyance, but she grabbed my hand, and my features smoothed out along with the stroke of her soft fingers over my knuckles. “Don’t be angry with him. I made him tell me. I told him I’d see to your wounds.”

When she held up my wounded hand to examine it in the light, my chest loosened as I realized she’d come to heal me. Nothing else.

“Do not fret, for those who share in the sufferings of Christ can be saved,” I said with a bitter smirk.

Her eyes narrowed as I recited Brother Peter’s words. “You don’t believe that. You don’t believe anyone should be made to suffer. It’s why you were beaten in the first place.”

Expelling a sigh, I pressed my mouth into a faint smile. “I wasn’t beaten, Catherine. I simply paid for my sins.”

She bristled at my explanation, and her brow contorted with anger. “What sins? You did nothing wrong.”

“I did in the eyes of our abbot, I’m afraid. Now, leave. Please. You’ll be punished if you’re seen here.”

Something I couldn’t discern flashed across the nun’s fair features. Then I recognized it. Defiance. Ignoring my protests, she took up the hem of her skirt and ripped a strip of cloth free. She rose to her feet, then lifted a bottle of wine she must have brought with her that sat beside her candleholder on my nightstand.

Lowering herself to the floor in a kneeling position once again, she doused my hand with alcohol. I hissed at the sting, but the pain was dwarfed by my surprise that Catherine was showing such gumption. The nun did nothing without permission, especially inviting herself into a man’s room in the middle of the night.

The moment she’d finished bandaging my hand, I opened my mouth to dismiss her. This time, though, the words wouldn’t come. The tears in her eyes held me captive.

“You must take better care of these wounds and future injuries, Brother Godfrey. You’ll take ill if you don’t. Abbot Lockheart doesn’t appreciate you. He may be fine if your fingers fall off, but I certainly won’t be.”

My expression softened. “How many times have I told you, Catherine? You need not call me Godfrey. You may use my first name.”

Her lashes fluttered, and her cheeks heated. “Oh, I couldn’t. Any man important enough to have a surname should be addressed as such.”

The nun had come to me in the middle of the night, dressed in hardly anything at all, yet she still insisted on such formalities. I ran my bandaged hand over my hair. “You should go.” I tried to stand, but she pushed me back into the bed.

“You need tending to, Brother.”

She climbed onto the bed with me, lifting her skirts as she moved to straddle my pelvis. A large portion of her milky thigh flashed in the moonlight that poured in through my window.

“Catherine!” I took her by the waist to push her off, but we both froze when she gasped at my touch. The unfamiliar feminine sound caused heat to coil in my groin. As we gaped at one another, my shock slowly twisted into something strange. Something hot and simmering.

I gritted my teeth. Even though I was a scribe who’d dedicated most of my life to scripture, I hardly ever recited it. But now, I said a silent prayer.

Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

Even as I repeated the words in my head a second time, I couldn’t look away from the woman who clung to me as if I were the oxygen in her lungs.

She was so slight that she barely weighed anything. Even in my weakened state, I could have easily carried her out of the room myself, forcing her to leave. But my loneliness, paired with my curiosity, was posing a formidable opponent against my will.

“It’s not right,” she whimpered, her voice so delicate as she spoke. Large tears whelmed in her eyes. “It’s not right that you were punished for opposing Brother Peter. He was the beast responsible for…” Her voice shook. “For us having to hurt ourselves. He should be locked up, not you. It’s absurd.”

“I appreciate your kindness, Catherine. But I am not as good as you may think,” I said, my words coming out hoarse.

“We are all sinners in the eyes of the Lord, Brother. I–I have thoughts. Sinful thoughts. But in your eyes, that doesn’t make me wicked, does it?”

I swallowed thickly, shaking my head. “No.”

She donned a tearful smile. “Exactly. That sets you apart from the other men, Brother Godfrey.” Her voice came out so thin that it was as if a gentle breeze would steal it. Then she let her gown slip from her shoulders, allowing it to pool around her waist where I held her.

She was a visage of purity. Her curves were like nothing I’d ever seen before. Her flesh was of the palest hue, like marble, flawless and unmarked by the cruelties of the outside world. With her profile kissed in candlelight, and her front bathed in moonlight, I wasn’t sure if she was a gift from Heaven for my piety or the devil in disguise, sent to derail me from the path of righteousness.

I tried to push her away, but she pushed back. She flung herself into my arms and planted a tearful kiss to my lips. The globes of her breasts pressed into me, and she moaned into my mouth when her n*****s scraped against the rough material of my tunic.

God forgive me for waiting a few moments before plucking her mouth from mine. “Catherine, we can’t.”

She sniffled, her thick tears rolling down her cheeks. “I know we’ve sworn ourselves to the Lord, but you are truly my gift from God, Brother. How could it be a sin to be close to someone so devout and steadfast in his faith? Kiss me. Please, please, kiss me.”

My heart broke into a thousand shards as she begged me. Again and again, she begged me.

But I couldn’t.

Touching her felt wrong. As confounding as it was, she didn't feel right pressed against me. And I wasn’t sure how, but I knew it had nothing to do with my vow of chastity.

My hesitance was born from something else. Something buried beneath my skin that had nothing to do with the will of God.

“Come, Sister. It’s time you wander back to your own bed.” I stood and hauled her up with me, breaking apart on the inside as she crumpled at my feet in a fit of tears.

“Brother Godfrey, I love you. Don’t deny my heart! I will spend the rest of my life on my knees begging for the Lord’s forgiveness for this night of weakness, as long as it means you’ll let me have you just this once.”

Before I had time to respond, a shrill scream of terror pierced the night.

The nun fell still at my feet. She lifted her chin, staring toward the small window over my bed. “W–what was that? What’s happening?” Her eyes were wild with fear, and I could see gooseflesh mottling the curves of her breasts.

I crouched in front of her and hastily tugged her nightgown back over her shoulders. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Run back to your room and don’t let anyone see you like this. I’ll go out into the courtyard and see what the commotion is. If you hear more screams, hide.”

I should have been grateful for the interruption, but the sickening sensation that hooked in my stomach left no room for relief.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Pulling my cowl over my head, I watched Catherine fly from the room as anxiety crashed over me like a tidal wave. I allowed myself a moment to compose my nerves before striding into the night.

A thick crowd gathered at the gate. Everyone was in a panic, especially the nuns. The conviction of their frantic prayers—mumbled beneath their breaths as they signed the cross over their chests—did nothing to comfort me. If anything, it only made my pulse climb higher.

I shouldered my way through the crowd until I reached the abbey’s front gate. There sat nuns on their knees, sobbing. Monks bowed their heads in silent prayer. One would think the rapture had come about.

Seeing Elijah, my heart lifted. The scribe apprentice stood next to our abbess, who stared through the iron gate with cheeks as pale as a sheet. Her fingers trembled where she held the crucifix around her neck.

“We are under attack from dark forces, Brother Godfrey.” The abbess’ voice was threadbare, fraught with terror.

My brow furrowed as I peered out at the road, shrouded in a heavy blanket of mist and shadow.

Then I saw it.

A beast stepped out of the dark, with luminous eyes that sliced the night.

It was a lion.

I knew of such creatures, but I’d never seen one with my own eyes. This one was larger than it had any right to be, with fur the color of death. In its jaws, it dragged what looked like a potato sack, trailing a path of something dark behind it.

Blood.

The animal carried cargo in its jaws. A sack filled with something dead. What beast did such a thing?

Elijah clutched my arm in a bruising grip, his entire being shaking. “What is it, Brother?”

“Don’t be afraid. It’s nothing but an animal.” I spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, though I knew my reassuring words were in vain. My lie was palpable in the air. It was certainly a predator, and I knew deep in my marrow that it was no lion.

An icy shiver crept up my back when the large beast dropped the sack and released a deafening roar. If the citizens of the abbey were panicked before, nothing compared to the unbridled terror that gripped them as the black lion began to expand.

Bones cracked, and its pelt warped as if something lay trapped on the inside, trying to free itself.

Sharp nails sliced through the flesh, and a human arm thrust from the damned creature.

God save us.

A man emerged from the lion’s carcass like a moth emerging from its cocoon.

He was naked, his ashen flesh smeared in blood. Many of the nuns had collapsed to their knees in prayer. The abbess clung to my other arm, joining us in transfixed horror as we watched the nightmare unfold.

The man straightened to his full height, pulling the lion’s hide around his shoulders like a king’s mantle before slowly turning his hellish gaze on us. He leered at us through the iron gate like a ravenous wolf inside a cage.

Blood oozed from his charcoal-black hair, and his dark eyes gleamed with something that sunk straight through me and cleaved my heart in two.

This wasn’t a man at all.

He’d shed the lion’s carcass like a cloak.

I was certain that this flesh of man he wore was just another layer to his disguise.

He prowled toward our gate, lips spreading into a malevolent grin as everyone shrunk away.

Even the abbess.

Only Elijah remained rooted beside me, trembling against me as I held my ground. The creature appeared intrigued, his hell-red eyes fixed on me.

The scent of death seeped through the gate as he approached the bars separating us. He pushed his body against the iron barrier, razor-sharp canines flashing in the moonlight with his ear-to-ear grin.

“Be sober-minded, be watchful,” the entity cackled. His voice came out multifaceted, smooth and honied, yet demonic and booming at the same time. “Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.”

My stomach heaved. This thing, this…demon, was reciting scripture.

My apprentice looked up at me, his words coming out so weak I barely heard him at all. “B–B–Brother. Y–your curse.”

Fear filled my lungs like blood intent on drowning me. What I’d said to Elijah in the scriptorium was only the mutterings of a tired monk that had been pushed to his limits. It meant nothing. Still, my curse rang through my skull like a bell.

What matters is that our efforts are righteous in the eyes of the Lord. And if He views our mission as a sin, then Lucifer curse this place, Elijah. Lucifer curse it all to Hell.

No, no, no. This wasn’t the devil.

It couldn’t be.

I refused to accept that nightmare as reality.

Tamping down the tattered fragments of my nerves, I turned to the abbess, beckoning her back to my side. In the absence of the abbot, she was in charge. It was her duty to address our most unwelcome visitor, or at the very least, say something inspiring to the rest of the abbey. Or lead us in prayer, or bloody anything.

The nun only gave a frantic shake of her head.

I swallowed the fist-sized lump in my throat as I turned back to the creature. “What are you, stranger?”

The man’s gore-smeared chest rumbled with a laugh that was as light and amusing as a thunderclap made of a thousand screams. “You are a man of God, Priest. You should know precisely what I am. But if a name will bring you comfort when I’m tearing out your throat, I’m known as Luciferi equitis. But my mate…” His voice contorted with emotion as he gripped the iron bars. He threw his head back and let loose a flayed moan of agony that bled from him like a wolf howling mournfully at the moon. “Oh, my sweet bride. My darling, human mate.”

I gaped at the stranger. He was in pain. He’d lost his woman. Surely he was a demon, but not Satan himself? I doubt Satan would take a mortal lover, let alone be grief-stricken over her loss.

My attention dropped to the bloody potato sack, and I wondered if it was her body that he’d dragged behind him.

His hand shot through the bars, moving so fast there was no time for me to react. He seized me viciously by the throat, and I sputtered for air. Elijah and everyone else stepped back with a gasp. My breath latched in my chest, unable to squeeze past the vice-like fingers crushing my windpipe.

“Look at me, Priest,” the demon sneered. His blood-laced saliva dripped from his bared canines, painting his infernal grin in sin. “You asked me a question. Few have been brave enough to do so, and even fewer have survived long enough to receive an answer. That makes you special, therefore I will give you a special answer. I am known as Luciferi equitis, but my mate called me Thomas. You may do the same.”