Divine Temptation (24 page)

He released her wrists and removed his weight from hers, lying on his side and looking down on what she was sure must be a dazed expression. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She shook herself into focus and murmured, “That was amazing. The demons must run screaming from that level of…of…bliss.”

Evan smiled. “Consider it a taste of what you can expect in the next life.” He trailed his fingertips along the side of her face, and for a long while they simply watched each other.

Inevitably, however, Maggie’s curiosity returned and she reluctantly broke the enchanted silence. “Can all angels do that?”

“We all have the ability, but it takes a certain level of training.”

“So you’re a trained demon hunter?” She pushed herself to sitting, and now looked down on his agile form as he reclined on a propped arm.

“It’s not my specialty, but I’ve received some training.”

“And why are you showing me this now?”

He glanced away and sat up, his mouth pulled tight.

“Evan, tell me.”

“I’ve been concerned about Tommy’s demon. No signs of it have appeared in the vicinity, and I started thinking that perhaps it had, in fact, entered you and gone immediately dormant, biding its time until my attention went elsewhere. You’ve been holding more grudges than usual lately—that’s often a sign.”

“I thought you said my problems with Sharon seemed like a human issue.”

“True, but now I see you’re holding onto your animosity toward the monsignor too, so it seemed like a good idea to check, just in case.”

“So this was a sneak attack?”

Evan chuckled. “I guess you could say that.”

“And you’re sure it couldn’t still be in there, hiding in some dark corner?”

“I was pretty thorough.”

Maggie smiled and nodded in agreement as her face flushed. It only took a moment away from Evan’s touch for her human instincts to kick in, and her reflections on the kiss were already twisting it into something slightly naughty. The way the white linen stretched across his chest when he sat up, giving a hint of the lean but defined muscle beneath, wasn’t helping. “What about the last time you kissed me, the quick one behind the bushes? Were you checking then too?”

“No. I told you, that was a spontaneous reaction because I was happy to see you.”

“What about the time you kissed my forehead, at the canyon? I was pretty low then, were you worried that evil influences were involved?”

“That was…something else.” His gaze fell for a moment before he lifted it to her again, the muscles between his jaw and cheekbones flexing.

“What, exactly? You’ve never really explained it.”

“I was tempering a random spark of something I’d not felt before. An urge, most likely lust.” His resolute focus on her didn’t waver. He didn’t smile, but his look wasn’t harsh either. He was merely stating facts. “That kiss was done as an act of self-control.”

“The control you didn’t exercise behind the bushes.” She wanted to coax out a warmer reaction to his confession.

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrow in warning. “Technically, that’s correct, but that was a kiss of friendship and what I was demonstrating prior to that was control over my lust, which I’ve contained ever since.”

Maggie nodded and kept her smug smile internal—he’d said “contained” not “extinguished.” Satisfied with the answer, she was ready to move on. “Have you ever actually cast out a demon?”

“That was my first attempt on a human.”

“So that’s a no?”

He pushed himself back to lean against the headboard, raking his fingers through his hair. “Not exactly.”

“What then—cows? Sheep?” She’d only been joking, but became concerned when a dark shadow crossed his face. “You don’t have to answer that,” she quickly added.

“I cast them out of my Lord’s kingdom.”

“Out of…do you mean you…” Maggie thought she should’ve been numbed to new revelations by that point, but each one continued to astonish her, and this one most of all. It was impossible for her to picture her gentle angel in the midst of the great battle in Heaven.

He sat with knees bent and forearms resting on them while he stared at the fingers of one hand twisting over the knuckles of the other. Crawling to him, Maggie took both his hands into hers. He stopped fidgeting and turned his palms up to grasp onto her, letting his breath drain out in a slow exhale.

He didn’t look at her as he said, “I lost brothers that day. Lucifer had been doing his work discreetly. The signs were there that something was going on—unexplained fires, strange symbols; it was how they communicated—but no one on the other side understood it. It was a brilliant strategy. We had no idea who’d been recruited to his side until weapons were drawn.” Evan’s fingers wrapped tightly around Maggie’s wrists, and a new kind of energy flowed into her. It was cold and trembled at the edges. “Angels who’d been by my side for ages, whom I’d trusted and served with, suddenly held their blades to me. We didn’t have time to sort it out. We had to react immediately.”

Maggie shuddered involuntarily, and Evan’s eyes snapped up. He dropped his frozen hold on her and clutched his hands into fists on his knees. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Maggie moved to sit beside him, resting one hand protectively on his shoulder and reaching the other across to cup his jaw. “How many times have you patiently listened to my petty drama? This is so much bigger. You can tell me. I’ll listen. I want to.”

He pressed his mouth into a straight line before whispering, “I don’t want to relive it.”

“You don’t have to.”

He ducked his head, and Maggie instinctively guided it to her chest. Leaning back against the headboard, she slid her hand from his shoulder to the side of his head and let the other drop to his back as he rolled into her and wrapped his arms around her waist. With her knees pulled up on either side to fully cradle him, she stroked his back and combed her fingers through his hair as she’d done so many times to comfort her children.

They lay wrapped in each other until the vibe coming from Evan warmed enough for Maggie to fall asleep. She only half woke once during the night to find herself alone under her covers and hear Evan murmur, “Thank you,” before he left.

Chapter 17

T
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, Maggie received a text from Carl asking her to call him that evening to discuss Thanksgiving. It was his turn with the kids so she wasn’t sure what there was to discuss—unless this time he wanted to usurp the whole weekend and take them to Disney World or somewhere else fabulous without her.

She never would’ve been able to predict what Carl actually said: “Melissa and I were talking, and we’d like to invite you to join us for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Maggie didn’t respond.

“Mags? You still there?”

“Yes. So…is this a we’ll-ask-her-to-be-nice-but-hope-she-says-no invitation?”

“If it was, would I tell you that?”

“Guess not.” She twisted her lips and bit them. It was all she could think to do in her utter confusion.

“Seriously, we want you here. It would be nice for the kids to be able to celebrate with both parents, don’t you think? And I know she’d never tell you this, but Kirsten worries about you when you’re left alone on holidays.”

“Yeah, she does the same about you.”

“So come on, it’ll be fun,” Carl coaxed.

Maggie exhaled. She knew she was about to give in, so she threw up one more barrier. “Does Melissa still not know about our little escapade last spring?”

It was Carl’s turn to be silent.

“Carlicious, still there?”

“She doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way. She and I were broken up at the time, so you and I didn’t do anything wrong, but I don’t imagine she’d be thrilled with the news. I don’t see what the purpose would be in telling her.”

“Relax, I agree one hundred percent.”

“Good. So are we on for Thanksgiving?”

“Yes. And…thanks for the invite.”

“Words are cheap, Magpie. Know how you could
show
me your appreciation?”

“How?” she asked cautiously.

“By bringing your famous sweet potato casserole. I told Missy you would.”

“Aha! I knew there had to be an ulterior motive.” Maggie laughed, thinking perhaps this would be fun after all.

After helping Liam with a science report and then getting him into bed and securing a promise from Kirsten to only stay on the computer for another half an hour, she ran out to the store for peanut butter and other lunch supplies, and then decided to take a quick run by the church to see if Randy, the janitor, had delivered the giant cornucopia and silk florals she’d asked him to retrieve from storage. When she could, she preferred to arrange the altar in the later hours when the church was typically vacant.

On her way into the narthex, she passed by a man heading out. He tilted his head in greeting and she recognized him as the handsome newcomer at Father Tom’s archeology presentation the previous summer. It was the first time she’d seen him since, but he’d obviously continued on at the church in some capacity, even if it was just to visit the adoration chapel, where she assumed he was coming from.

Maggie found the boxes she wanted stacked in the coat closet and smiled. Picking up the two bulkiest, she carried them to the church, pushing the door open with her back. When she turned and faced the front, she stopped abruptly. The altar was in disarray, with its tall, brass candlesticks knocked over and strewn across the twisted cloth. The glass surrounding the hanging lamp had been shattered, and the flame, ever-burning to indicate the presence of Christ, was dead.

Maggie swallowed and set the boxes on a pew in the back row, thinking she should run to the rectory to alert the priests, but she held still when a muffled sob sounded from the altar. Taking a breath and stepping into the aisle, she peered through shimmering dimness, with the glow of electric votive candles casting an eerie motion throughout the large, open space. A dark, hunched figure kneeled at the side of the altar, directly beneath the fractured lamp.

Maggie walked cautiously up the aisle and about halfway she saw that it was Father Tom. He appeared to be picking up the glass shards, and even in the gloomy church Maggie could see he was shaking.

“Father! What happened?” She quickened her pace to reach him, but he sat back on his knees and held a hand up for her to stop. She did as he requested, but insisted, “You’re bleeding. Please, let me help you clean that up.”

She took another step, but now another figure emerged from the shadows. It was Monsignor Sarto, and his face smoldered with quiet fury as he hovered over Father Tom. She now noticed the overturned wooden pillar that typically held the paschal candle at the monsignor’s feet. The candle itself had rolled nearby.

“You can’t help him.” The monsignor’s voice was cold and his words final. “Please leave us and lock the doors on your way out.”

“But I don’t mind—” She dared another step.

“I said leave!” The monsignor demanded.

Maggie halted, but turned her worried gaze on Father Tom. He nodded and attempted a reassuring smile. “Go on, dear. It’ll all be fine.” When she still didn’t move, he added, “Please.”

“You’re sure?” she asked quietly, as if the monsignor wasn’t standing right there, glaring at her.

Father Tom nodded again, his eyes pleading for her to just do as she was asked, so she retreated, picking up the boxes on her way out. When she reached the doors into the narthex, the monsignor called out to her.

“I advise you not to say a word about this to anyone. For Father Reardon’s sake, at the very least.”

Maggie nodded and left. After ensuring no one was in the adoration chapel, she locked the church doors and prayed throughout her entire drive home. She checked on the kids, got ready for bed, and waited for Evan. But he didn’t appear that night.

All the next morning, Maggie was tempted to tell Brenda about what she’d witnessed in church the night before, but first she wanted to talk with Father Tom. When the door from the rectory opened, she whipped her head around to greet the pastor, but instead she saw Monsignor Sarto. He was closely followed by Father Dominic, whose eyes remained steadfastly fixed on the floor as the two men made their way to the conference room.