Wicked Souls Read Free Page B

locker room echoed off the walls, reminding me
I was definitely going to be late for my appointment with Father
Leonard. “Anyway, it’s over. Hopefully he won’t be back.”
    “Oh, he’ll be back,” Luc said, staring again
at my chest, although not in his usual, rakish manner.
    The tone in his voice made the warning bells
go even crazier. “Why is that?”
    He straightened and lightly touched the spot
with the tips of his fingers. “Because, Amy, he took a piece of
your soul.”
     
     

Chapter Three:
    Soul Be It
     
    Father Leonard’s office at the church was as
big as my whole apartment. Towering bookshelves filled with dusty,
leather-bound tomes, as well as best-selling legal thrillers, lined
the walls. A monstrous mahogany desk and chairs anchored one end,
surrounded by antique wooden file drawers. At the far end were a
brick fireplace, couch and coffee table. While he kept the casual
seating area—the place he comforted parishioners, entertained
fellow priests, and counseled me on a regular basis—neat and tidy,
his desk and file drawers were a complete disaster, manila files,
papers, pens and pencils in tangled disarray. Two jars, one labeled
“Cuss”’ and the other “Cliché”, sat on top of two stacks of books. The priest hated both foibles.
    From his window overlooking the front of the
church, I could read his latest quip on the changeable sign facing
the street. “If God can’t satisfy, what can?” Besides the bad
grammar, the statement made The Rolling Stones play in my head. I can’t get no…no satisfaction . God and satisfaction didn’t
go together in my book. In fact, in my personal dictionary,
Lucifer’s picture was on one side of the satisfaction entry. Adam’s
on the other.
    A rainbow of sticky notes dotted Father
Leonard’s outdated computer monitor, all of them reminders of
important dates and times he couldn’t fill in on his desktop
calendar because it was covered with junk. A pink sticky note read,
“Tuesday, 6 PM, Amy!” in his bold script. It was an inefficient
system, yet seemed to work. I had no doubt he would be at my
ceremony on Tuesday, not because he was my sponsor and would simply
remember the important event, but because his system was
flawless.
    That didn’t mean he was always on time. I
needn’t have worried about being late—his office was empty when I
arrived. As I paced around the large desk, I chewed a fingernail
I’d broken during my fight with Gabriel. Snakes of worry twisted in
my lower gut, Luc’s words still ringing in my ears. I’d been so
freaked out after his last statement, I’d simply thrown on my
clothes and took off, walking the six blocks to Immaculate
Conception in a rush, trying to squash my anxiety. Did no good and
I became even more freaked out when I sensed Lucifer following me. Not in his usual stalk-the-witch mode, but as my bodyguard. The
fact I needed a bodyguard as powerful as Lucifer sent all my
careful reasoning about Gabriel’s attack out the window.
    As I turned a corner of the desk too
sharply, I knocked off a stack of files. Papers flew
everywhere.
    “Damn it.” Without thinking, I started to
throw a gathering spell, but caught myself before my hand made the
motion over the papers. “What the hell?”
    Barring my latest encounter with Gabriel, I
haven’t had the urge to use magic since the last time I sent him
packing back to Heaven at Halloween. And while he was trying to
kill me, my resolve not to use magic had stayed strong. So why was
I now about to chuck that resolve out the window over some dropped
papers?
    I’m a neat freak, no doubt. It’s ingrained
in me as much as magic is in my blood. Emilia and I had grown up in
a house where every surface had been covered with objects. Empty
whiskey bottles on every counter, black candles, herbs, beads and
other spellcasting props scattered on bookshelves and table tops. Clothes, capes and veils thrown over furniture.
    Our aunt, whom we lived with, spent the
majority of