Sin's Dark Caress by Tracey O'Hara Page A

cruel,” Bianca said, glancing at a black cat cleaning itself on the kitchen windowsill.
    He shrugged. “Not really. We knew the rules and it was never meant to be a punishment. The sisters never allowed animals within the Sanctum, pure and simple. Sister Morgan was just as heartbroken as the children.”
    â€œSo what happened?” she asked, taking a sip from her glass.
    â€œThe sisters were gentle and good and kind. They took great care of us. When I was about thirteen, there were eleven kids in the orphanage, including me. I was the oldest and had been there the longest, so I could sense the undercurrent of tension in the sisters. We were restricted from going outside the Sanctum without supervision. Two sisters began watching over us during the day, and then one night . . .”
    A lump formed in his throat, choking the words. He swallowed. “I woke to the smell of smoke.” It was as clear in his mind today as that night.
    â€œWe can stop if you want to,” she said, taking his hand in her warm, comforting ones.
    He shook his head, trying to get the words out. Bianca handed him the remainder of her own drink. He gave a quick nod of thanks and drained it. The cloudy spirit went down as smooth as honey. His head started to feel light. With a little more fortification, he continued.
    â€œI climbed out of bed. The smoke was everywhere, and I woke the older kids to organize the little ones up while I ran to fetch Sister Morgan. She was our dorm mother, the one who got up for the kids who had nightmares. But her room was empty.” He swiped a hand across his face and looked at her. “I was so young and I didn’t know what to do. I should’ve gone looking for the sisters. If I had, then maybe they would’ve survived.”
    She sat beside him on the sofa and squeezed his hand. “But you saved the kids instead.”
    The words lodged in his throat as the memory of those kids hit hard and fast. Their terrified faces all turned to him, huge eyes looking for answers. Answers he didn’t have. He was just as terrified as the other children. But he was the oldest. The next eldest, Gavin, was eleven, and was just as scared. Tiny Isabelle, who looked younger than her eight years, was twice as brave as the rest of them and kept the younger ones calm.
    â€œThey would’ve died without you,” Bianca whispered, as if reading his thoughts.
    The derisive laugh escaped before he could stop it. “Maybe?”
    â€œNo maybe,” she admitted. “I studied all the reports, though your names were left out of them. From all accounts, the children would’ve been trapped if you hadn’t led them to safety. They would’ve died, just like the sisters.”
    He could hear the frightened sobs as they made their way out of the dormitory, the terrified screams as they came across Sister Morgan’s body, her throat cut and blood pooling around head, frightening them. Memory after memory assailed him all at once. The cracking of burning timber crashing around them as they ran out of the building; the sight of Sister Elaine jumping from the fifth story window, flames engulfing her nightgown and the sizzling pop of her eyeballs exploding as the fire consumed her broken body where she lay in full view of the children.
    He’d tried to open the door to reach the rest of the sisters inside, but the heat was unbearable as the flames seared his skin and the overpowering stench of his own flesh burning stopped him. It all became too much. He needed to make it stop.
    He reached for the bottle of absinthe on the table and guzzled several mouthfuls before Bianca was able take it away, pulling him against her in a fierce hug.
    McManus became aware of her warmth. “The sisters, they all died.” His voice was muffled against her shoulder, and he clutched her with a tightness that bordered on desperation. “I tried to save them, but I couldn’t. I was too