Veil & Collar
957 Words
The marketplace of Little Harmonie had once been Delilah's favorite part of town. She remembered running with her siblings between stalls, breathing in sweet bread and admiring the colorful displays of fruits and vegetables.
But that was before Father Vornero became head of the church. Now she rarely visited Harmonie Square.
The square had grown quiet over the years, yet somehow the silence screamed louder than any noise ever had. Today, it howled.
Delilah's shoes thudded against the cobblestone as she stepped into town. Her black veil covered her dark hair, and her fitted dress flowed to her ankles.
She felt their stares before she saw them.
A woman organizing apples froze mid-bundle, her hands going still.
An elderly man by the butcher shop mumbled something to his grandsons, pointing inside. The two young boys who'd been playing out front scrambled indoors, eyes wide as they glanced at Delilah. One dropped his toy and didn't look back to retrieve it.
They saw me like a walking sin.
Dressed in veils instead of virtue.
But Delilah didn't flinch, she didn't blink. She walked like she didn't even notice them.
But she noticed everything.
A dog barked, not knowing whether to approach or run.
The owner ran after his dog, but the mutt ran up to Delilah. He sniffed her, circling around her.
The owner looked petrified, he called for his dog.
"GARY!" The man shouted.
Delilah looked at the creature and bent over it, towering over the small animal.
The dog wagged his tail, body soft and eager, licking Delilah's fingers.
Delilah recoiled. When was the last time anything had touched her without fear?
She quickly realized the dog was giving her something she hadn't felt in years.
Affection.
Something she didn't know. Something she craved.
Was this what grace felt like? Warm. Undeserved.
The man quickly walked up and yanked his dog back, avoiding her eyes and taking off.
She looked at the man running with the dog, her hand still frozen mid-touch.
She immediately put her hand away.
She glanced around as people watched.
But her face turned to stone, her lips straight.
Whispers buzzed low like flies, crawling under her skirt hem, flicking at her ears.
She could almost taste them...fear, yes, but something sourer too. Jealousy. Suspicion.
Bitter little things disguised in godly smiles.
She walked by the fountain and crossed the square in the direction of the Baker's cottage. That was where Helen was located. It was reported the girl was wasting away due to a rash that no one could clarify.
Dr. Whitlock hadn't been able to resolve it. No prayer calmed it. Yet naturally... they hadn't asked her until now.
Should I call myself lucky, that Helen and her family left Little Harmonie for vacation, and she came back sick like this... Who knows if she would have caught it here...
They would have found a way to blame me.
As she continued, a figure blocked her path.
Delilah looked up.
A man.
He was taller than her. She looked up at his light hazel eyes. Bright and watchful. Not cold, not warm. Her eyes scanned his chiseled clean-shaven beard.
The black of his clergy shirt tucked into charcoal slacks was crisp, newly pressed.
A white collar against his tanned skin...
She blinked. Her shoulder brushed his...a slight touch, yet it landed like stone.
Father Jacob...
"Oh, my apologies—" he squinted his eyes trying to get a look at Delilah.
Delilah tilted her head, her dark eyes scanning his face again.
She didn't speak at first. She didn't have to. She did what she always did.
She reached with her senses, trying to catch a glimpse of something on him.
Some glimmer of sin.
She expected a trace of something...repression, maybe.
A stray hunger or even a flicker of wrath.
But there was nothing, just silence.
It was unnatural.
No sin? No stain? Not even guilt, that holy scent that every priest wore like a second skin.
She realized she hadn't answered the man, and he was staring at her with a face of confusion.
"It's fine." she said, finally.
"Oh... I—You were headed to the Baker's cottage?"
She saw the man was going to say something else, but he seemed slightly flustered now.
"I was," she replied.
"I've just come from there. The girl's in bad shape," he said, pointing to the dark brown door.
She didn't thank him.
His eyes lingered just half a second too long on the bare skin of her collarbone before shifting back up.
Delilah smirked. He had noticed.
But it wasn't the look of a man resisting temptation. It was the look of someone curious about something dangerous.
His eyes narrowed again, slightly.
"Move, Father" She said, slow and taunting.
Father Jacob gave a half smile, before stepping aside. "Don't let me delay you. Lady?"
"I don't like being called Lady," she said.
She stared at him intensely.
Jacob held her gaze. "Then what should I call you?"
She smirked. "That depends. Are you here to save me?"
He didn't answer. Not directly. His silence was a kind of answer in itself.
He only smiled briefly.
Delilah finally walked past, brushing the edge of his sleeve as she moved on.
And again, nothing.
It made her skin crawl.
Not even a flicker of guilt.
She walked to the door, glancing back to see if the priest was there.
He was gone.
My magic better not be failing me. I can always sense some type of lust or corruption in these filthy townsfolk but you...
You're too clean, Father. Even saints have shadows.
So what are you hiding?
She thought again, her face changing into a scowl.
Even angels fall eventually...
- Writer
