The Devil You Know Read Online Free

first creature she had known to wander out of the hills and onto church
property. In the time she had worked at St. Lucy’s, she had needed to escort
several tarantulas and a few gopher snakes out of the buildings and into the
chaparral that grew up to the edges of the church grounds. The little
rattlesnake had likely been dining on the rats that she had seen about
exterminating, and it would be the first of the church’s freeloaders that she
had needed to kill.
    Still,
there was nothing else for it, and so when Father Joe came back with the
shovel, she nodded her thanks and suggested he wait outside in case the rattler
got away. With another deep breath, she carefully lifted her foot off the
trashcan. Holding the shovel tightly, she used it to knock the wastebasket over
before she thrust the shovel toward the floor and chopped off the snake’s head,
all in one quick motion. The body wriggled in a way that struck her as suddenly
more desperate than it had been while alive. She found it repulsive and deftly
scooped it up and into the trashcan once she’d righted it, followed by the
head. She turned towards the door and Father Joe, who stood motionless beyond
it.
    “All
done,” she said with a big exhale. Trembling, she leaned the shovel against his
desk.
    The
priest simply shook his head, awestruck. “Thank you,” he finally said. “You’re
all right?”
    “Fine,”
she answered, trying to reassure herself as much as him.
    Father
Joe smiled and sighed with relief. “Even so,” he said, grasping both her hands
with his, “that was a dangerous thing. I shouldn’t have let you do it.”
    “It’s
okay, really. The police probably would have shot it, after all. Wouldn’t do to
have guns going off in the church offices, would it?” She smiled at him.
    He
returned the smile and nodded. “I suppose not.”
    Together,
they gathered the papers Marie had strewn across the floor and dumped them
unceremoniously onto the dead snake. Marie took the trashcan and shovel out to
the shed before she returned to the office for her purse and a final goodbye to
Father Joe. He surprised her by putting a hand on her shoulder and saying,
“Bless you, Marie. And thank you.”
    Taken
aback, she only mumbled, “You’re welcome,” not sure of the etiquette for
receiving a blessing.
    The
quickest route from the rectory to the parking lot was to cut through the
chapel itself. It was April, the weather still chilly, so she pulled a jacket
over her blouse and entered the chapel through a side door. The sun shone
through stained glass windows and lit the two rows of oak pews with a mosaic of
colors. As was her habit, Marie walked quickly in front of the altar, genuflected,
and turned to walk toward the double doors at the back. But before she could
take a step away from the altar, she stopped, her eyes drawn to a man kneeling
in one of the middle pews with his forehead on his knuckles, so all she could
see of him was the top of his head.
    The
chapel was usually empty this time of day, and Marie felt as though she had
just intruded. The man seemed not to have noticed her, though she was sure her
heels had clicked against the tile floor. Marie considered turning around, but
then decided to go ahead and walk quietly down the aisle, trying not to let her
shoes make too much noise. She assumed that the man was deep in prayer, but as
she neared his pew, keeping an eye on him so that she could smile
apologetically if he looked up, she noticed that his shoulders were shaking. He
was not just praying, she saw, but full on weeping. Marie felt herself grow
flushed as she paused at the end of the pew, the kneeling man only ten feet
away from her. If she had felt like she was intruding before, the feeling
multiplied tenfold now, and she told herself she should move on and leave him
be. At the same time, though, she felt compelled to make sure he was all right
or, at the least, offer to fetch Father Joe.
    She
stood that way for several seconds, holding