The Nun
Through the glass, the new neighbor — the nun, was not entirely invisible any longer. She had moved inside the foyer, and through the broad windows they could see a figure set against warm walls, the interior’s arrangement just beyond perception. Ares and Julian watched, speculating on her taste in candles and whether the chapel she would likely place on the east wing would have stained glass of saints or something approximating modern art.
“She’s arranging things,” Julian said, leaning forward. “See? She’s not just standing there. I can make out movement. Boxes, maybe.”
Ares swirled the last of his whisky and set the glass down. “Careful, brother. Speculation breeds expectation. And expectation can be dangerous.”
Julian gave him an affectionate smirk. “Said the man who stitch
