one ignored the pallor and the new lines around the eyes and nose.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” John said, bowing over the thick-fingered hand August offered.
The careless haste with which his protégé bent to press his lips to the bishop’s ring did not please August. He tried to look upon the men serving his parishes as a strict but fair parent would, but he always expected obedience and deference from his diocesan sons. John’s lack of reverence was more disturbing than his letter, because it diminished the church’s hold over him. Where there was no church, there was nothing for Hightower to use.
John Keller was under a terrible strain, however, and August could let it go. For now.
This meeting was worrisome, as well. The order had demanded it, against Hightower’s expressed wishes. In time August knew he could have brought John around, but time did not interest the Brethren. John’s sister, Alexandra, did. Her disappearance, and the circumstances around it, stank of the
maledicti
. The Darkyn could not obtain medical treatment through normal channels, and a talented surgeon would be an enormous boon to them.
If they can keep her alive
, August thought. The Brethren were worried enough to be considering termination. They would have to find her first, however, and the only family she had left alive was her brother, John.
“Forgive me for not being here to welcome you properly,” John was saying.
“I gave you little time to do anything but dress.” He patted the young priest’s shoulder fondly and gestured to a comfortable armchair beside his own. “Sit, my boy. It’s been nearly five years since you came back from South America, hasn’t it?”
Wariness entered John’s eyes. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Abandoned at a young age, John and his younger sister had wandered in and out of foster care, sometimes living on the street between placements, before the church took an interest and arranged their adoption by a moderately wealthy white couple.
Hightower had predicted it as a fortuitous match, although the Kellers, both good Irish Catholics, had needed some convincing. The children’s mixed blood and semiferal upbringing presented sizable obstacles, but Hightower had counted on Audra Keller’s long-barren womb making her desperate for children. Once Audra had seen how urgently the dear wayward lambs needed a permanent, nurturing home, she softened, and in turn persuaded her reluctant husband. The remaining details—handling the social worker, having the Kellers’ adoption papers pushed through the courts—were handled through the usual channels.
It was not the first such arrangement Hightower had made, nor the last. He was very tenacious of his wayward lambs, as John Keller was about to find out.
“Your letter of resignation was forwarded to me from the head of your order,” Hightower said without ceremony. “I was surprised, to say the least, upon reading the contents. What brought this on?”
“I should have called, but I know how busy you are, Your Grace.” John quickly related the news about his sister’s abduction. “Time is of the essence, and I would ask to be released now so that I can help search for her.”
John was using his sister’s disappearance as an excuse to leave the priesthood, not a reason. “Have you discussed your plans with the police?” When the young priest shook his head, August sighed. “Frankly, John, I think this is a matter for them to deal with, not you.”
“The police receive hundreds of missing-person reports every month. They can’t follow up on them all.” He rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair and made a weary sound. “She’s my sister, Your Grace. She has no one else.”
The bishop knew John’s desire to search for his missing sister was his way of compensating for the guilt he still carried over abandoning her after their foster parents’ deaths. That had always weighed heavily on John, as did other, internal struggles he had
“Good morning, Your Grace,” John said, bowing over the thick-fingered hand August offered.
The careless haste with which his protégé bent to press his lips to the bishop’s ring did not please August. He tried to look upon the men serving his parishes as a strict but fair parent would, but he always expected obedience and deference from his diocesan sons. John’s lack of reverence was more disturbing than his letter, because it diminished the church’s hold over him. Where there was no church, there was nothing for Hightower to use.
John Keller was under a terrible strain, however, and August could let it go. For now.
This meeting was worrisome, as well. The order had demanded it, against Hightower’s expressed wishes. In time August knew he could have brought John around, but time did not interest the Brethren. John’s sister, Alexandra, did. Her disappearance, and the circumstances around it, stank of the
maledicti
. The Darkyn could not obtain medical treatment through normal channels, and a talented surgeon would be an enormous boon to them.
If they can keep her alive
, August thought. The Brethren were worried enough to be considering termination. They would have to find her first, however, and the only family she had left alive was her brother, John.
“Forgive me for not being here to welcome you properly,” John was saying.
“I gave you little time to do anything but dress.” He patted the young priest’s shoulder fondly and gestured to a comfortable armchair beside his own. “Sit, my boy. It’s been nearly five years since you came back from South America, hasn’t it?”
Wariness entered John’s eyes. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Abandoned at a young age, John and his younger sister had wandered in and out of foster care, sometimes living on the street between placements, before the church took an interest and arranged their adoption by a moderately wealthy white couple.
Hightower had predicted it as a fortuitous match, although the Kellers, both good Irish Catholics, had needed some convincing. The children’s mixed blood and semiferal upbringing presented sizable obstacles, but Hightower had counted on Audra Keller’s long-barren womb making her desperate for children. Once Audra had seen how urgently the dear wayward lambs needed a permanent, nurturing home, she softened, and in turn persuaded her reluctant husband. The remaining details—handling the social worker, having the Kellers’ adoption papers pushed through the courts—were handled through the usual channels.
It was not the first such arrangement Hightower had made, nor the last. He was very tenacious of his wayward lambs, as John Keller was about to find out.
“Your letter of resignation was forwarded to me from the head of your order,” Hightower said without ceremony. “I was surprised, to say the least, upon reading the contents. What brought this on?”
“I should have called, but I know how busy you are, Your Grace.” John quickly related the news about his sister’s abduction. “Time is of the essence, and I would ask to be released now so that I can help search for her.”
John was using his sister’s disappearance as an excuse to leave the priesthood, not a reason. “Have you discussed your plans with the police?” When the young priest shook his head, August sighed. “Frankly, John, I think this is a matter for them to deal with, not you.”
“The police receive hundreds of missing-person reports every month. They can’t follow up on them all.” He rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair and made a weary sound. “She’s my sister, Your Grace. She has no one else.”
The bishop knew John’s desire to search for his missing sister was his way of compensating for the guilt he still carried over abandoning her after their foster parents’ deaths. That had always weighed heavily on John, as did other, internal struggles he had
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