Original Sin by Allison Brennan Page B

would die. If his interpretation was wrong? He’d set into motion a chain of events where far more would suffer and die, including those he deeply cared for. But inaction, doing nothing in the face of evil, was a sin, and to many—including himself—inaction was an even greater sin than being wrong. No one could sit on the fence in the battle of good versus evil. The line had been drawn eons ago, when the serpent first lied to Eve. Sides were still being chosen. Only God knew the outcome, and He wasn’t sharing.
    Philip sought out Bishop Pietro Aretino, the elderly vicar who handled the day-to-day spiritual needs of the priests and monks. It was time for confession.
    One might think the sins of a devout priest were few, but Philip’s mind was a maze of conflict and doubt. Doubt showed lack of faith, which increased fear, endangering him and others both physically and spiritually.
    Philip’s entire life had been filled with doubt and questions. And yet, he persevered. Still, he stood against evil.
    After he received dispensation, the bishop took him on a walk through the garden. The garden that he’d at one time cherished was going the way of weeds. Such was the reality of the twenty-first century: fewer young priests with strong backs, more elderly priests with weak bones. At one time, decades in the past, when Philip had been new to St. Michael’s, it was common to have three, four, or even five infants left on the island each year. These young ones were to be raised and trained in the battle against evil. Now? Four in the last twenty years. Did that mean the final battle was near? Would ten-year-old James Parisi be the last warrior in an order that had been founded hundreds of years before?
    “You’re leaving,” Pietro said.
    Philip had said nothing of his journey during confession, but the bishop was astute, even in his advanced age. “Yes.”
    They walked in silence. It was midday, the clouds obscuring the descending sun. Philip paused to pull weeds that surrounded the tree they’d planted after Peter’s death. So many trees in this row … too many trees. Peter. Lorenzo. Elijah. And more.
    “Take Gideon with you.”
    Philip hesitated, then slowly rose and faced Pietro. “I thought we’d decided Gideon would stay another year.”
    “We haven’t the luxury of time.”
    Philip didn’t want to disobey orders, but he wanted to keep Gideon safe. His mentor had died last year, and Gideon’s training here was complete. His calling was still obscure, but his gifts were many. Dangerous gifts, and easy for misinterpretation by the young man.
    Pietro resumed walking down the broken stone path with deliberate steps, his age forcing him to walk slowly and carefully. “You have affection for the boy.”
    Philip followed. “No more so than the others.” Was that a lie? Not a deliberate lie. To clarify, he added, “He reminds me of Peter.”
    Pietro nodded.
    “Peter failed.”
    “Did he?”
    “He believed he was stronger than he was; he believed he could turn dark power into light. He kept secrets.”
    “You fear for young Gideon’s soul. Your greatest failing, Philip, is your greatest strength.”
    When the older priest didn’t elaborate, Philip said. “I’m going to Olivet. I’ll need your blessing and authority.”
    Pietro nodded. “You have it.”
    “Anthony is asking questions.”
    “As he always has. Let him ask. He’ll find answers when he asks the right questions.”
    “If he’s right about the Seven—”
    “He is.”
    Philip stopped walking. “You know something of this?”
    “I know the Conoscenza was not destroyed at Santa Louisa.”
    “In Santa Louisa! The Conoscenza was destroyed hundreds of years ago. Here, in Italy—”
    “A book that had been called the Conoscenza was destroyed, a brilliant forgery. But the real Conoscenza , the one written in ink tainted with demon blood, the one written by demonic hands, the original, which is older than Moses and unintelligible to most