Chapter 1

As I squirmed through the granite crevice, two memories came to mind: the time I failed to slip between two bouncers after forgetting my ID, and the old doomsayer outside my favorite coffee shop who dropped his cardboard sign and disappeared.

Like the bouncers, the rock wall wouldn’t budge, and like the doomsayer, I realized the end was already here.

In a reasonable world, I’d spend my mornings in lecture halls, drink strawberry frappes with friends in the afternoons, and club hop with my twin sister Lia at night. I didn’t live in a reasonable world. The world I lived in collapsed, and I spent my days fleeing scabs and beasts.

Each step through the abrasive stone tore at my skin like coarse sandpaper and left red speckled gifts as short-lived mementos. I’d heal soon enough, but the holes in my tank top wouldn’t.

I arched my back around the remaining corner and pressed off the rock wall with my arms, but it was no use. My hips wouldn’t cooperate, and the stone didn’t negotiate. I was hungry, thirsty, emotionally drained, and stuck. Things weren’t great, but overall they were better than the day before.

With one last push, I sucked my all too thin stomach in, twisted my body, and drove my legs into the solid wall until it tore down my pelvis and ripped through the loose cargo pants I stole from a dead scab. I collapsed onto the cave floor, gasped for air, and shrunk into the pain with wet eyes.

Across the cavern, hunched, and wearing a gray beard that kissed the ground, sat a priest of The Order. Lia said I’d find him here, and he’d save me. He certainly had the rank.

Four stripes under the red cross embroidered on his vest meant the priest was a unit leader, a warrior of God. Armed with faith, priests fought against the beasts the Pope deemed Lucifer sent. Everyone knew that wasn’t true, but nobody stopped them from fighting, not while they kept people safe.

A layer of dirt settled on his body from months of remaining still, but he was alive. When the first breach burst open in the sky and flooded the world with unknown particles, people’s bodies changed. A powerful priest from The Order transforming into a monster could survive years on the decay energy alone.

The steady dripping of water caught my ears, and I dragged my body to the icy pool collected from the stalagmite runoff. Hard water purer than anything I drank in months and clear enough to bottle. I sank my sweat-soaked head into the tub sized collection and let the water wash away the heat.

After drinking more than I should have on an empty stomach, I washed the dirt caked on my face and ignored my reflection. The vain worries I once had disappeared long ago.

A steep ramp on the far side exited the cave—an entrance I wished I found earlier—and the sun spotlighted a flat rock where I collapsed into a heap and blew the hair out of my right eye. Scabs left it long enough to fall onto my face, but too short to tuck behind my ears. If I survived, I’d decide whether to grow it out or chop it off.

The priest fought against soul corruption, but he’d lose and become something between a beast and a scab—a monster, ready to attack anything. The corruption he exuded pricked my skin, slowed my actions, and froze my thoughts.

In a few more months, he’d terrorize the whole of upstate NY.

Lia didn’t say how the priest would save me, and she wasn’t answering. The only thing I could think of was confession.

I didn’t come from a religious family. Father said going to church cost money, and because we didn’t have any, God wanted nothing to do with us. Lia disagreed and read the bible under our unicorn comforter every night. I never worried, but she thought God would save us if we told him our sins.

I’m not sure if that was true, and the priest didn’t look like the type to take confessions, more like a devout believer pressed into service, but that was what I had.

The adrenaline rush ended and left my hands shaking, so I squeezed them together, laid my cheek on my right shoulder, and cleared my throat. “This isn’t how I imagined it, and I um ... never confessed before, but I’ve seen a few movies, so I’ll try to get this right.”

I’d seen movie’s where somebody made a cross on their body, then walked into a booth and confessed. After a few Hail Mary’s and Our Fathers, God forgave you, and your world moved on. That’s what I hoped for, anyway, and I figured the clear well was close enough to holy water, so I had most of what I needed.

I pressed my soul into my wounds and healed them while thinking about the pardons I wanted and the abilities I lacked. Everyone gained a skill once the particles bound to us, but some were more useful than others. Soul manipulation let me heal wounds, but I couldn’t strengthen myself.