Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 15 - What's in a Name?

When we open the suite, it’s empty.  Bishop growls when he finds out his brother left with the bi’s, but frankly, I’m relieved.  I’m tired and have had about all I can take for the night. 

“Guess we’re calling it a night, then,” I tell Bishop and hand him his jacket, “So I’ll just wait for your call in the morning?” 

He throws his jacket down on a chair and sits down on the sofa, “There is absolutely no way I’m leaving here tonight,” he tells me. 

“Uh, yeah, there is,” I retort, “Like it’s my room, not yours.  As the song states, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” 

“Claire,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “You have a demon after you.  To kill you.  I am not leaving you here unprotected.  I will sleep on the sofa.  But I’m staying here.” 

“What good are you against a demon, Bishop?” I snort, “Are you going to scare him away with your stock portfolio?” 

“I think I’m beginning to understand how your arch-demon could dislike you,” he pinches harder, “Claire, I’m half-angel.  I’m more than a match for a lesser-demon.” 

“How do you know that?” I cross my arms. 

“Believe me,” he pulls his hand away and gives me a very serious look, “I know.  I haven’t lived this long without being able to kick a demon’s ass.” 

“Why are you doing this?” I ask him. 

“Protecting you?” he chuckles, “I have a soft spot for underdogs.” 

“Bullshit,” I tell him, “What’s the highest bid for me up to, Bishop?  What’s the price you’ve set in your head that you’re waiting for the bidding to reach before you sell me out?” 

I expect him to get indignant that I would accuse him of it or angry – possibly violent – that I’ve figured it out.  He does neither. 

“Very good, Claire,” he starts laughing, genuinely amused, “You have been paying attention.  Bravo!” 

“How much?” I ask again, hands on hips. 

“Far more than the current highest-bid,” he tells me, still laughing, “My price has raised significantly since I’ve gotten to know you a bit.” 

“But you do have a price still,” I remind him. 

“Everyone has a price, Claire,” he chuckles, “For just about anything.  But I’ve lived a long time and I have no need for money.  I have plenty – and then some.  I can afford to be much more – particular – with my time and talents now.” 

“Such as?” I press.  I’m tired of everyone telling me how naïve I am.  Yes, I probably am naïve.  But I’m not stupid. 

“Let’s just say that I’m placing a few bets of my own,” he grins and gets up to get blankets and pillows out of the spare closet, “The odds are long-shot, at best.  But I meant what I said – I like betting on the underdog.  Especially when she’s been trained by the best.  Get some sleep.  Your training continues tomorrow at nine.  Baron will be here by then.  And I have a tour of the city to give you too.  You’ll need your rest.” 

There is so much spinning in my head, I’m staring at the dark ceiling and trying to make sense of it all.  I wish I had a week to research and process everything that I’ve learned and figure out what I haven’t yet.  I know Father Jonas didn’t give us those books on a whim.  I know there’s something I’m missing.  I just don’t know what.  And I highly-suspect that I’m purposely being kept so distracted and tantalized by promises and half-truths that I won’t have time to puzzle it all out for myself.