Page 74 of A Lesson in Thorns (Thornchapel 1)
Maybe he’d been purified.
So he got up at dawn and went to Augie’s workshop and started working on the platform. Not because it was a substitute for explanation—as much as he wanted to, St. Sebastian couldn’t delude himself into that—but because he wanted the night to be the kind of night that lent itself to explanations. He wanted the night to be perfect, perfect for Proserpina in particular even if she wasn’t chosen as the bride, and then after the perfection, he’d offer her all his imperfections.
He’s done pushing her away. He’s done fighting himself. She might belong with Auden in the eyes of the village—hell, even in his own eyes sometimes—but he doesn’t care anymore. Auden is engaged, after all, about to marry Delphine, and so it seems the village is going to be out of luck regardless of what St. Sebastian does.
And St. Sebastian is going to tell Proserpina that he’s falling in love with her and he’s terrified. He’s going to ask her to forgive him and then he’s going to offer her his scorched heart and then he’s going to pray, even though he doesn’t believe in prayer.
He’s going to pray that she takes it.
He’s going to pray that she offers her heart back to him in return.
Becket hangs up his vestments in the sacristy, and then finishes closing up the church for the night. There’s no need to leave the side door unlocked since he’ll be with St. Sebastian tonight in the thorn chapel, as they watch the fire burn against the sky and two of his friends consecrate themselves with thorns and sex.
Or it could be you that’s consecrated, a voice whispers in his mind.
He thinks about this as he gathers his things in the rectory and then gets in the car to drive to Thornchapel. If by some random chance the others think he should be one of the people up at the altar, should he say no? Can a Catholic priest still claim anthropological distance when he’s fucking someone in the mud?
No. No, he doesn’t think so.
If he does this thing, he can’t pretend to himself that he’s doing it as a priest, or at least as a Catholic priest, since in a way, they’ll all be priests tonight. Priests for each other, priests for themselves. Priests for Thornchapel.
By the vows he’s taken, by every creed and doctrine of the church he’s sworn his life to, tonight is wrong. Immoral and unfaithful to a jealous God. That can’t be denied. But the zeal can’t be denied either, and the zeal is demanding mud under his fingernails and the heat of a fire against his face. The zeal is demanding thorns and blood and worship.
Primal, ancient worship.
Isn’t all worship primal? Isn’t all worship ancient?
Why should the zeal see a difference between muddy earth and cold stone floors? Between a bonfire and tall white candles? Between ale and wine?
Between consummation and communion?
He knows tonight can’t be undone. Whatever happens tonight will stay with him for the rest of his life. It will mark him, and whether that mark will bar him from heaven, he doesn’t know, but he also doesn’t know if he can afford to care what the rules are anymore.
What are rules when God Himself has filled him with holy fire?
Because the other thing he knows is that tonight is holy. And he is a holy man.
With a short prayer and a long exhale, Becket puts the car into drive and starts down the road for Thornchapel.
It’s almost dark when Rebecca gets to the center of the maze, but it’s not late, it’s not time for them to gather together and go to the ruins yet. Which is why Rebecca had the time to follow Delphine when she saw her going into the maze.
She didn’t want Delphine to get lost and delay their ceremony. That’s why she followed her, and definitely not for any other reason.
Certainly not because Rebecca could see from her window seat that Delphine had been wiping her face as she’d been walking toward the maze. That her shoulders were hunched as if she were crying. Certainly not because the idea of Delphine crying irritated Rebecca so much that she literally could not sit still while she thought about it.
So Rebecca went into the maze, deciding she’d take the route to the center first, and then if she didn’t find Delphine along the way, she’d check the little dead-end paths and silent niches where the hedge was carved out to accommodate a bench or two. Fortunately, none of that was necessary, because here’s Delphine, precisely where she should be. In the center of the maze that Rebecca is planning to rip down.
Delphine sits on the ledge of the empty fountain, her feet where the water will be once the weather warms enough and her coat wrapped tightly around her. She’s staring at the statue of Adonis and Aphrodite while tears run in slow, effortless tracks down her face.
She doesn’t wipe them away.
Neither does Rebecca, even though she is close enough to after she sits down on the ledge next to Delphine. Rebecca could so easily steal a tear off Delphine’s cheek and lick it off her finger to taste the salt.
She takes a deep breath and looks away so she won’t be tempted to. So she can stop seeing how beautiful Delphine is when she cries.
Instead she asks, “Is everything okay?”
“I broke up with Auden,” Delphine says with a tiny hiccup as she pushes down a sob. “Last night. I guess it’s just catching up with me today.”
