Priest Detective Books Novels & Stories

Through their bond, Casie felt his methodical focus, the way he was compartmentalising the supernatural aspects to apply standard investigative techniques. "The prints we found belong to a Joseph Mercer," Mendoza informed them, checking his notes. "Small-time fence with connections to several antique dealers in the tri-state area. No known supernatural affiliations." "Probably just a customer," Casie concluded, turning back to the blood pattern. "This is our real lead. What exactly were they looking for in his memories, Valeria?"

Christian clamps his teeth into my neck, and I moan for him to keep going, even if he sucks it all dry, turns me into a demon, just like he did to that civi I was charged to execute. I jolt awake and feel a shock of clanging resistance as I go to lift a hand to my pounding head. I’m cuffed to a hospital bed. I crashed the Cadi while fleeing a crime scene dizzy from blood loss. Now the cops don’t just got a description of that civi’s assigned executioner; they got me dead to rights. The lead detective comes in asking questions the second the nurse reports to him I’m finally awake, but he don’t get far in before the knock comes at the door. “Priest is here.”

I’m Elara Quinn, 33, an investigative journalist with three big awards, but I had one secret I’d never print: I came here to record, not to confess. The screen slid open with a quiet scrape of wood on wood. A shadow filled the other side. He was male, with broad shoulders straining the black priest clothes. His cologne was faint—oud and smoke, expensive, and forbidden. His voice came low, familiar, and dangerous. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” I froze. That voice.

They were my friends, my very close friends, there was no doubt abouthim , but I still didn't know what their reaction would be if they get to know the actual truth, and so I kept it to myself. I stopped hooking up with him when Charles came into the picture. Nuel had announced on a Sunday that a new priest will be sent to our parish to act as the parish vicar. The diocese had considered sending him based on the fact that Nuel's popularity had turned our small parish into a big one. I never thought much about the new priest, not when I still loved Nuel and still felt like I was cheating on him, but when I first saw him on that Saturday evening, looking more like a model than an actual priest

Just a fitted black clerical shirt tucked neatly into grey trousers, with polished Oxford shoes grounding him in place. He smells… good. And he’s close. Too close. I swallow. I’m not naive. I know things, even if I pretend not to. I have a sneaky link, and whenever I visit, we sneak off to his father’s cornfield for quick sex. But this… this is different. Priests aren’t supposed to get hard. Didn’t they trade the flesh for the spirit? My gaze drifts back to his face. He’s already watching me, and the smile there isn’t kind. It isn’t holy.

Bernie was left alone with the priest and the two cops. "Now, Bernard," The priest started, taking a deep breath. "I've asked the officers here if I could speak to you first. I know you are not a member of our congregation, but I believe you are a good man. I asked them if I could come with them to speak to you." Bernie was unable to speak, the eyes of the priest hypnotic. Oh God, he thought, save me, save me from jail! I'll never touch her again! "I know you are a good man, Bernard. I know that you love Hayley very much. There can be great strength in such love, can't there?"

In the end, Meredith and George decided to arrange a meeting with the police detective assigned to Helena’s case, Detective Sergio. He was a tall, lean man with clean-cut hazelnut hair. Alice could make out the wrinkles in his forehead and cheeks as he settled himself in front of her. She watched the man remove his black coat and placed it on the table before taking out a medium-sized notepad and a pen. Alice loved comic books about detectives. Her favorite was James Gordon; he was Batman’s acquaintance and a respectable captain of the Gotham City Police Department. Whenever she saw a detective, she could not help but be mesmerized by their badges and work.

I lowered the gun slowly, holstering it with a final, echoing click. “Dismissed.” The men scattered, not running, but moving with a hurried, disciplined speed. The three who had pointed out the man dragged the bleeding, unconscious culprit away, leaving the bloodied mess for the cleaning crew. As the last of them vanished, I turned to Vincent, who had watched the entire, brutal affair without a flicker of emotion. And that's exactly why he was my favorite. He stepped closer, his voice dropping low so that his words reached only my ears. “It seems,” he whispered, “that the Church are actively looking for their missing priest.”

He didn’t even notice me when he walked by, there must have been something very important in his mind. The Deputy had told me, I’d be working with a man, I was starting to hope it was the one that walked in, even though he looked fierce and tough; he was still the handsomest among the other detectives, he was tall and had a great body; just the type of man I had always dreamed off.