Sinners and saints (Radiodust saint au)

✧*̥˚Chapter Six *̥˚✧

Progress was tentative, tedious, and slow, but there was progress to be seen as far as the archbishop and Father Ellis were concerned.

Angelo remained behaved. He took up supervised volunteer work doing chores and odd jobs around the village, and no one had a bad word to say about him for it.

That is, outside of confession.

Father Alastor kept his vows of secrecy, naturally, but Angelo gave him detailed descriptions of everyone he worked with in the village anyway. There were still words aplenty about Angelo's presence, about how 'tempting' he was despite doing nothing but performing his duties as requested. If Sister Myrtle had nothing bad to say about Angelo's performance, then there was nothing to report on.

Still, there was little to be done without anything having happened to Angelo, and Father Alastor was loathed for that to happen again.

Things came to a head on Christmas day, of all times.

Their small parish was almost full for midnight mass, which proceeded beautifully. Their chapel had never been warmer and more inviting with everyone coming together for this most holy of nights, and the soothing ritual of it all staved Father Alastor of his hunger for some time.

It still did nothing to temper his hypervigilance, and his eye was kept on Angelo, who was only performing his own duties to the best of his ability, including singing some beautiful hymns that made Father Alastor smile. Angelo had such a lovely voice, but the boy rarely sang. Contextually understandable, but what a gift he had that was going to waste because of the weakness of sinners.

Mass ended, well-wishers met and shook hands and hugged and began petering out into the snowy night. Angelo helped tidy up, shifting closer to Father Alastor in order to murmur,

"I think there might be someone."

Father Alastor bit down a surge of almost ravenous hunger among the disappointment of this happening on today of all days, giving Angelo a sidelong look. "Are you certain?"

"Almost," Angelo replied, looking just as thrilled about it as his mentor. "James Feldman from town."

Father Alastor's jaw tightened; he'd heard plenty in confession from him. "I see," he said, closing a hymnal tome quietly. "...alright. We prepared for this." He stood up straight. "You remember yourself, Angelo."

Angelo nodded solemnly. "Yes," he replied, then slipped out of the chapel. Father Alastor finished his tidy-up and went to aid the more elderly members of his church bundle up for the cold, insisting they leave with warm meals as well before brushing out the snow from their leaving.

At that point, Sister Myrtle and Father Ellis had turned in for their nightly devotions, the cold getting to their elderly joints. It was no trouble at all for Father Alastor to insist he and Angelo had the rest of it covered, and the parish was soon empty and silent save for the rush of icy wind outside.

Father Alastor made sure everything was in its place, everywhere was clear, before dropping to his knees in front of the altar, clasping his hands tightly.

"Merciful Lord, I pray for strength in cleansing the wickedness from this holy house. May Your judgement fall on this trespasser for his mortal sins, and may Angelo suffer no more from his man's wicked acts. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

He crossed himself and stood, making his way out of the chapel and through the halls, his footfalls silent in the darkness. His eyes and ears picked up every little image, every hint of sound, and by the back corner he had it. James Feldman from the village, almost boxing Angelo against the wall with his arms.