Read Darkness Calls for Free Online Page A

priest. “He asked for you.”
    Grant finally looked down at his hand, still gripping the cane. “Where is he?”
    “Shanghai.” Father Cribari wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. “We could not bring him to you. It may be difficult to move him for some time yet. He was sent as part of a special mission from the Vatican to explore relations with our brothers and sisters in China, but something happened while he was there. He . . . changed.”
    “He murdered,” Grant said softly, still looking down. “But that’s impossible. He was a good man. I know it.”
    I had wondered for some time what good looked like to Grant. What it meant to have a kind aura, or a gentle spirit. Grant said I had all of those things in me—which meant he was the best liar I knew—but I believed him when he said the same of others. If his Father Ross had been a good man when Grant knew him, then it was true.
    Father Cribari took a step toward the door. I did not budge, not even when his back came close to brushing against my body. Zee writhed against my skin, lunging in his dreams toward the priest. I tried to ignore the sensation. Tried not to think about what it would look like if it were night and Zee were awake, lunging for real at that man’s back. I guessed there would be a hole the size of a Frisbee where his spine should be. My boys were good like that.
    “He asked for you because he said you would know what to do,” said Father Cribari.
    Grant’s gaze snapped up. “If I remember correctly, we had a similar discussion ten years ago. About all the things I could do. You suggested I would be better off dead.”
    “But you are not, are you?” The priest sidled backward again, and this time did touch me. My arms were still folded over my chest. I felt the hard muscles of his back through my clothing. He was built like a whip. The scents of yeast and beeswax were strong, and even though I had never thought about the hairs in my nose, I could suddenly feel every one of them, tingling.
    Father Cribari did not move away. He stared over his shoulder into my eyes. No words, just silence. I gave him the same treatment. No sweat off my back. I could stand like that forever. Or at least until the sun went down.
    Grant said, “You want me to go to Shanghai; is that it?”
    Father Cribari did not move or look at him. Just held my gaze. “Yes. We can arrange a visa through one of our local contacts in Seattle’s Chinese embassy, but you will have to fly a commercial airline and enter the country as a tourist. We do not want to bring attention to this situation. It must be handled in secret.”
    “Secret,” I said, before Grant could reply. “For a man with secrets, you sure spilled your guts in front of me.”
    “And why wouldn’t I?” said Father Cribari, with a smile—though there was a trace of unease in the lines of his mouth. “Dark Mother.”
    I blinked, and the priest backed away, his eyes glittering. Skin slick with sweat.
    Grant whispered, “Get out of here.”
    Father Cribari pulled a white business card from his pocket and laid it on the desk. “I’ll need your answer within the hour.”
    He turned to the door, and this time I stepped aside. There were reasons not to. I had no idea what Dark Mother meant, but the man obviously knew something about me—and the boys hated his guts—which was more than enough to judge and convict.
    But it was not the right moment. Not a good opportunity for truth.
    Father Cribari moved past me without a glance, opened the door, and walked out—though he paused, just slightly, in the hall. Looking around with a wariness that made me think he was afraid of meeting one particular old woman. I hoped Mary found him and stuffed some of her brownies down his throat.
    He left the door open. I listened to his footsteps fade, then reached out and closed the door. I locked it, but did not turn to face Grant. I stared at the brass knob, thinking hard. All my secrets were