Claimed By Sin: Father Levi

Chapter Eleven: Forgive Me Father...

Levi

I paced my office after attending Kanara’s wedding. Frustration roiled within me as I cracked my knuckles. That man needed to be removed off this earth.

My time as a clean up man had me dealing with a lot of that pissant’s families ordeals. I was their go to assassin that removed their competition, their enemies and their–sins. I halted my steps in front of a portrait of Jesus, his hands were outstretched as he wore a crown of thorns. My jaw twitched while my nostrils flared, anger rising underneath my skin.

“The longer you stand in his shadow, the more you’ll lose her.” Whispers echoed through my head while I stared at the painting. Is there a possibility to travel the road of redemption while tearing sin out of this world?

“Wouldn’t God thank you for doing his work? He thanks Father Thomas…”

“Father Thomas does everything in his power to keep the church in a good name.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Mmm, so him asking you to permanently remove another Priest when we first started–”

“Stop.” I cut my voice off, lowering my hand and tilting my head slightly. Father Thomas requested me to remove a tainted Father before we took our vows. That was the final act of violence that painted my hands.

“Not the final act of sin though. You’ve touched yourself–broken vows over and over…” The voice hummed within me as flashes of Kanara pleasing herself flew through my mind. I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

Turning away from the Lord, I went to grab my coat off the back of the chair. I need to do some recon, study the mansion she’s in and find holes. I might be able to pull her out and hide her under the sanctity of the church. My plan was to convince Father Thomas to make her a sister, protect her under those vows and maybe–just maybe the Mikhalov family will leave her alone.

“You know the only way that will happen is if you kill them all.” My voice chuckled as I slipped into my coat. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, walking out of my office. The church was silent, empty like a void. It was barely lit due to it being late and mostly everyone already heading back to their homes.

I exited the front, the cool air swirling around me as dry leaves danced whimsically. Removing my hands from my pockets, I reached up, popping my coat collar to protect my cheeks from the elements. My breath misted into the air, creating the look of smoke. I pursed my lips as a craving for cigarette etched its way into my throat. It’s been a good nine years since I quit due to lack of control and I didn’t want one thing to lead to another. I may need to pick it back up due to the circumstances now, but I will decide that later.

Taking a right and walking down Douglas St. I kept my head low as I walked toward Sackett St.The Mikhailov mansion was only a six minute walk from the church. It was a lot closer than her family home that sat on 6th St. and Prospect Park. The street lights flickered on, illuminating my way while I walked down the empty street. Pedestrians walked in groups on the main sidewalk that nestled by Bond St. No one really came down the church's pathway. Since it was a fairly new addition, we only saw traffic on Sundays and when there was an occasional wedding.

Once I reached the corner, I hung a left, keeping my head tucked down as I walked through the bodies. I stayed close to the walls of the buildings, the traffic lights had cameras and I didn’t wish for the Mikhalov's to use them to find me. I’ve been fairly good at erasing my steps so they couldn’t. I kept my first name, but changed my surname. There’s a lot of Levi’s in this city. Then, I covered up my tattoo’s with shirts and my distinguishable marks with makeup. I got rid of my car, bought an old one and turned all of my money assets into untraceable cash. I keep it hidden somewhere to avoid opening up any unnecessary bank accounts. I don’t spend more than I need and I don’t do anything to bring any unwanted attention to myself.

I’ve learned the ins and outs of the city, where the cameras are, who is under Mikhalov's thumb and other crime bosses factions to avoid. The good thing about being a Priest,is no one questions them. I spent a decent amount in donations for the Church of St. Pelagia and helped build its sister, St. Mary, on Douglas St.

I halted in my step, counting under my breath. As soon as I hit thirty, the light changed. I stepped forward during the switch, avoiding the camera click. They like to take stills every thirty seconds to see who from their rival sections are entering their territory. Crossing the street and staying in the middle, I stepped up on the curb, making another left and working my way down. The street their mansion is on is highly secured. No one walks down it, and if they do it’s recorded.

Standing with my back against the wall I watched everyone scurry by. The sounds of the night drowned my voice in my head out, giving me some peace. Reaching into my pocket, I found my rosary. Rubbing the beads on it, I chewed the inside of my cheek as I watched vehicles move within the shadows down the street. Distant barking rang out, as muffled voices from the alleyway mixed with the street sounds.

If my information from when I worked there stayed the same, they have guard changes at exactly six in the evening. They then shift their routes, without a warning to throw anyone off who’s trying to learn their patterns. There’s a gap when there’s party though, too many guests to really keep outside guards on post. They move the experienced ones inside, dress them up to make them blend in and keep the rookies out with the K9’s.

I shifted my stance, tilting my head toward the mansion. It was four stories, elegant with several balconies on the outside. My attention was brought back to the street that it sat on, as two black SUVs left the cul de sac. They moved fast, ignoring the traffic and cutting people off. Something must happened. Curiosity pricked at my mind as I took a step forward. I wanted to cross over and snoop, heck if I was in my prime I probably could have done it without a hitch. But I wanted to stay low for now, get a good read on the security.

After watching the guards patrol on the outside a few times, I decided to head back to the church. The temperature dropped drastically, and with that the people thinned out. I didn’t feel like being this exposed. Tucking my head down, I made my way back to my sanctuary.

Once back, I sat at my desk, tapping the paper pad I had in front of me. Only a few things were scrawled out on it.

“Guards patrol outside the wall at approximately 8pm. Weak spots will be during guard changes. Possibility to knock one out and steal clothing high. Best time would be during a party. Need to figure out when their next party is.”

I brought my pen up to my lips, inserting it and chewing on the end. My nerves raced, sending a ping of anxiety throughout my body. I placed my pen down, clasping my hands in front of me. My leg bounced as I racked my brain. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted her with me–now.

I shoved away from my desk, pacing my office as I ran my hands through my hair.

“Take them out, take them all out Koschei.” My distorted friend chimed in. My vision started to turn to static while the imagery around me slowly faded and changed.

“Oh don’t you miss this Levi!” A body flickered next to me, the mirror image of me, just more satanic. His mouth was curved into an un-natural smile, his eyes dark and void.

I stood there, fists balled tightly as he pranced around me. Taunting, teasing me as the church walls became rusted and stained.

“Remember the ways you used to torture people?” He stopped moving, standing right next to me and leaning his arm on my shoulder. I clenched my teeth, staring straight ahead.

“Oh the harmonies they’d sing for you! My favorite is splitting their eyelids down the middle.” He chuckled, shoving off me. My brows scrunched together as I closed my eyes tightly. Images of men who were broken, beaten and bloodied raced through my mind. My eyes flung open, my body spinning around and facing the door. I needed to get out of here, this hallucination–

“Is it bringing you joy?!” The figure roared. The room spun, slanting as a red substance spilled out the wall. The paintings of Jesus wept, the handle on the door melted as my hand wrapped around it. I flung the wooden panel open, stumbling into the wall. A demonic laugh followed me as I shoved my way down the ever changing hall. Huffing, I stood in front of Father Thomas’s office, my legs trembled as I fumbled my way forward. Sweat pricked at my brow as my hand clammed up. I reached for the door, throwing my body into it.

I crashed through the threshold, landing on the floor with a sick thud. Thomas’s office was dancing, swirling as I covered my eyes with my palms. A rough, hoarse scream erupted through my throat as I writhed on the floor.

“f**k off!” I hollared, rolling onto my knees. My nails dug into the floor as my teeth clamped down harshly. My body burned, my core tightened as my muscles strained. Looking up, Father Thomas’s desk was rotting, etching with Russian slang. Most of the words were vile, telling me to commit atrocities. My eyes traveled from the desk to the trash that sat on the side. My chest heaved as I crawled to the bin, knocking it over as I reached out for it.

The contents spilled, and as they did my angel’s hair toppled out of it. A small grin warped it’s way across my face while I grabbed the strands. My mind silenced, my vision slowly turned the room back to normal as I clung to my precious artifact. I collapsed onto the floor, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I held the item up to my chest, pressing it into my body.

I stared at the ceiling as a feeling of shame washed over me. I sighed, reaching my hand up to the ceiling.

“Forgive me father–for I have sinned…” I whispered, reaching for the heavens, hoping he would answer back. My heart shattered as static whizzed through my ears.

“No–No, it’s Forgive me Father for I’m about to sin.” The words crackled through my brain, my mouth forming into a grin.

“Anything for my Kanara…” I cooed, cradling the hair in my hand.