Author's Note: Welcome to chapter fourteen! As always, I would like to sincerely thank all my fantastic readers and reviewers, FireChildSlytherin5, R-Bizzle, Miss Heart of Swords01, Farren Ouro, ShipsThatFly, saichick and Beautiful Liar Please Save Me. Also, I would like to thank everyone who took the time to add this fic to their favorites/author alerts list. You guys rock! I do hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Priest.

Part XIV Whispers

They set up camp that night in a gully not far from the site of the vampire attack. Much to Priestess's utter dismay, her motorcycle turned out to be more badly damaged than she had originally assumed. After riding for a mile, she became aware of a severe glitch in the vehicle's computer system. The motorcycle swerved drunkenly on its dented front wheel, and every time she revved the engine, the vehicle only coughed dryly, the whole seat jolting beneath her when she tried to pick up speed. She battled the motorcycle for a torturous second mile, but was finally forced to surrender to the inevitable. Seth, fortunately, didn't mind stopping for the night.

Priest did, though.

Reluctantly, he built them a fire as close to the wall of the gully as he could, and as an added precaution, he took the severed haunch of the dead vampire, a slab or stinking, grey meat, and threw it amongst the tinder. The scent of burning carrion was overwhelming, an unpleasant perfume of leech blood and diseased flesh. Priestess and Seth, however, were accustomed to the foul odor, which would be enough to drive away any lingering vampires that might consider creeping into their camp.

Together, the three of them sat hunkered down around the meager warmth, their shadows long and narrow, skeletal figures of flickering black that danced manically along the gully's craggy walls. Priestess kept her hood up, her eyes fixed on her motorcycle parked nearby. She didn't look at Priest. She couldn't bear to.

Because his lips…his lips had been warm. Dry and hot, their touch unrelenting, unforgiving and so exquisitely unrepentant. She wanted to brush her fingers across her mouth. She wanted to feel what he had felt.

But she resisted. God, oh God, she resisted.

"Who's going to take the first shift?" Seth asked after they had sat up for a while. He poked at the fire with the tip of his knife and let the blade languish in the flames until a hint of red colored the steel.

"I will," Priestess offered. It was the first time she had spoken in hours and her throat was parched. She remembered, with only a slight twinge of regret, that most of the water in her canteen had gone to Priest the night before.

"I'm not tired," she added, trying to work some spit into her papery mouth.

Priest stirred. His hood was pulled over his head and she could only catch a glimpse of his eyes when the firelight hit him directly. His face looked drawn, aged almost, as if the night had stolen his youth and left him with only care and worry and some private fear that could not be defined.

He was something of a shadow, she realized. A wraith. And for some reason, that frightened her.

"You're not taking the first shift," he said, keeping his head turned from her although his voice carried easily. "You were awake with me all last night. Sleep. I'll go first, then Seth. We might not even have to wake you."

Priestess was about to protest, but then she thought better of it. There was a certain heaviness resting atop her eyelids and a definite ache in flank from when she had been hit by the vampire and thrown from her motorcycle. Without a word, she rose and retreated a few feet away from the fire. The wall of the gully was steep and she turned her face to it, her head pillowed on the ground, which was always hard and rocky in the Wastelands.

It did not take her long to drift to sleep, but right before she did, she realized that she had given in and primal instinct, long buried, long forgotten, had risen up to conquer her once more. Almost unconsciously, she had pressed her fingers against her lips. Almost unconsciously, she had reminded herself of what had happened. And almost unconsciously, she had let the last of her resistance go and she dreamt, not of the war, but of other things.

Sleep came quickly to Priestess, but it did not last. She was roused a few hours later from the pale wisps of her dreams into the cold loneliness of the desert night. The fire was still burning and she could feel its steady warmth on her neck. Neither Seth nor Priest were asleep.

That troubled her.

Keeping her back to them, she listened to the subtle sound of their whispering voices, to their words which were caught up in the crackle of the smoldering tinder and the low, lullaby winds that blew over the flatlands.

"Are you still awake?" Seth asked. He seemed to be the closest to her, she judged, listening to the timbre of his warm baritone.

Priestess shut her eyes, her arms carefully cradled against her breasts. She pretended to be sleeping.

"I am," Priest muttered. His boots scraped on the rough soil as he shifted.

Seth drew in a short breath. "What about her?"

Priestess stiffened. There was a quiet insinuation in Seth's voice, enough to bring her heart into her mouth. Enough to send an unwelcome shiver along her spine. She clenched her hands into fists until her knuckles cracked.

"She's asleep," Priest replied. "I knew she would be."

"Oh," Seth muttered. He was tapping the edge his knife on the ground. Priestess could hear the metal ring as it hit the soil. It sounded like a bell. "Maybe this is a good time, then," he said. "I've been wanting to speak with you…alone."

"What for?"

When Seth didn't answer right away, Priestess felt a knot begin to form in her empty stomach. It nestled underneath her ribs and pulsed, bringing a hard frown to her face. But she tried to lay still, she tried not to let them see that she was, in fact, awake.

Priest was astute, although, and she knew he would probably notice. He always seemed to notice…

Priestess struggled to keep her breathing even. A horrible fear had crawled up inside her and started nibbling away at her resolve. She knew she shouldn't be hearing this, and despite her tempting curiosity, she really didn't want to.

"I don't want you to be angry with me," Seth said at last. He had stopped tapping his blade on the ground, the bell silenced in its tower. For a moment, the night was devastatingly quiet.

But then Priest sighed tersely. "Go on."

Priestess swallowed, her throat contracting. The sound thundered in her ears and she felt an unlikely flush rise to her cheeks. She was certain she wasn't going to like this. Oh God, she was certain…

"I saw you," Seth said and his words were heavy, weighed down by suspicion and perhaps a little embarrassment. "I saw you kiss her…before."

Priestess turned her face closer to the ground, her cheek pressed against the grainy, gritty sand. There was some moisture under her eyelids, but she couldn't blink it away.

Priest shifted again. The fire growled and crackled. "What does it matter?" he asked. "Why does it matter?"

"It's matters because we're Priests," Seth replied, some heat in his tone now. "It matters because we took a vow of celibacy. We swore before the Church and before God."

"The Church wants to kill us," Priest muttered, the dead coldness of his words resonating.

Priestess responded to the chill. It which slithered right up next to her, an venomous serpent and curled around her body, constricting. She shivered.

They didn't seem to notice.

Seth started to speak, but fell silent. Nervously, he tapped the edge of his blade on the ground again.

The uneasy rhythm of the knife hitting the earth made Priestess's heart beat in a quick staccato and she felt much as she had so many years ago, when she was just a girl and had stumbled upon the other Priestess and Priest, when she had come across something she hadn't quite understood.

And still didn't.

I've kept secrets from you…

Secrets and secrets meant lies. He had lied. Her instinct had been right. Priestess grimaced faintly, hating her intuition which had guided her to such dark places in the past. It only took a whisper, she realized, a quiet hint of disruption to stir her suspicions. And once stirred, they would not settle. She could not silence the ringing in her mind and her heart, the great, loud clanging that sounded like a bell…like some tortured bell in an iron belfry. It was a warning. It was a herald and she was forced to listen. Listen. Listen.

Listen…

Her eyelids hurt and she realized that she was clenching her eyes closed, as if the comforting darkness could possibly shield her from all that was ugly. Consciously, she tried to relax her body and let the stale, unused adrenalin dissipate. The heat from the fire throbbed at her back, burning.

Burning, burning, burning. Like when his lips had touched hers, like when she felt him so close and knew it was a sin.

Burning.

"I know," Seth said, his voice dry and hollow. It came out of the night, a creeping shadow. And it was a phantom. An unwelcome ghost. A memory. "I know that it happened once before."

Priest coughed hoarsely.

"Over the years," Seth continued, "I've had time to think about things and I've had questions…doubts. I know what they told us, what you told us, Priest. And I know what I believe happened."

"This is useless," Priest interrupted. "If you want to speak with me, don't talk in circles."

It was a challenge. Priestess thought Seth would give in, relying on his natural deference and obedience, falling back on his habits, which had always served him well. But she had forgotten, after so many years, how truly brave he was. How intrepid. Seth took a deep breath…and then he plowed ahead.

"I'll be clear," he said. "I'm talking about Priestess. The one with the red-hair. The one who was our leader."

"The one who broke your jaw," Priest snapped.

"You were with her when she died," Seth said.

Pebbles scattered over the hard-packed sand. Priest had obviously gotten to his feet and the sound of his pacing was controlled. Not frantic. Not wild and mad and mournful as Priestess herself felt, with the stench of rotting vampire flesh in her nose and the shadow of his lips still lingering on her mouth.

His lips, his tongue, which he had used to lie. Because she had feared, she had ignored, she had denied his lie.

No.

"Yes," Priest replied at length. "It was when the Church sent the two of us to scout the hives out by the West Fringes. We were the first ever to set foot in Sola Mira. It was only then when we realized how bad the infestation was."

"It's a nice story," Seth added. "Very convenient."

"We were doing recon on the upper levels," Priest continued, his voice raised and determined, the flow of his words like a drumbeat rising over the barren desert and the insidious sense of doubt that had invaded their campsite. "A patrol of hive guardians cornered us. Priestess managed to draw them off, but she didn't know the hive's passages well enough. She fell while they were chasing her, right down the mountain." He hesitated, then. "I gave her last rites."

"The Church made a martyr out of her," Seth said.

Priest overrode him. "There was nothing I could do. Absolutely nothing."

"That's what they told us."

"She died a hero. Because of her we were able to infiltrate Sola Mira a few months later-"

"And it's a lie!" Seth suddenly thrust himself to his feet, his quick movement knocking a few loose stones in Priestess's direction. A tiny rock hit her in the thigh.

"I've had a lot of time, a lot of years," he said and the accusation was there, virulent and volatile. "I've gone over it in my head again and again and I'm telling you now, Priest, there's no sense-"

"Seth," Priest warned.

"I've done the math and it's clear. Plain as day. The timing doesn't add up."

"You need to stop."

"I know more than you think. And I know…I know that's not how Priestess died."

"Enough!" Priest roared the word, his voice a trumpet blast of rage and perhaps, just perhaps, a little fear.

Silence, then. A horrible silence that ached with the echo of Priest's desperate plea. Priestess felt the tears on her cheeks, but she didn't dare move to wipe them away. Silence, silence, dear God in Heaven, the silence.

After a long minute, it was Seth, brave Seth, who finally had the nerve to break it.

"Did we wake her?" he asked, dropping onto the ground with a muted thud.

Priest took a few steps towards her. She could feel his presence, like the heat from the fire, burning against her back.

Burning. Burning.

"No," he said and threw himself down by the fire. When he had settled himself, he muttered, "No more of this tonight."

"Agreed," Seth replied.

They were quiet for a time and Priestess thought that it might actually be over. She hoped and prayed that it might actually be finished.

But then Seth, brave, intrepid Seth, spoke up again.

"They killed her, didn't they?" he asked.

Priest, for his part, said nothing.

Author's Note: I usually don't "cast" OCs in my fics, simply because I like to leave their physical appearance completely up to my imagine, but for some reason, I keep picturing Seth as Clive Owen and the other Priestess as LeeLee Sobieski. Hmm, go figure.

Anyhow, thanks so very much for reading! If you have the time, please leave me a quick review. I'd absolutely love to hear from you. The next chapter has already been written and should be posted shortly. Until then, take care and be well!