Priest Sierra Simone Novels & Stories

His hands trembled as he lifted them in the opening sign of the cross. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…” The words felt wrong in his mouth. Heavy. His voice cracked on the last syllable. Behind the closed doors of the church, the small weekday congregation waited, eight elderly parishioners, two altar servers (young men in white albs who had no idea what waited inside their priest), and the sacristan lighting the last taper. But the incubus was already there. He had never left.

Bida's voice wavered," I can't do this. I can't face the people in the church and how they stare at me so hard and cold. It is almost worse than when we go to the Market. I won't go Samael. I won't go to stand before their scrutiny and hypocrisy, you can't make me." Bida's eyes pleaded with Samael to drop this foolishness about attending church. She never had been able to tolerate the pomp and circumstance of the ceremonies or the way the villagers presented such pious faces on Sunday but did as they pleased through the week. The new priest was the worst yet. The way he carried himself as if he himself were Jesus, taking such pride in the things he did and in his pretty voice as he led the h

"Stop prying, Mom." "Why? You're already divorced." "Enough. Let's finish up here—I have to go back to the office soon." Helen ignored Gina and started eating. Sean returned just then, and Gina promptly asked, "Mr. Wesley, who were those people?" Sean appeared somber. "That's Tidus Simmons, Gerald Simmons' son. With him are the chief of Riverton's commerce guild and the master of Skyblade Dojo, while the old man is the owner of Flora Hall. It seems that Gerald Simmons is suffering from a terrible affliction and has come to consult a miracle healer."

“I wonder what happened?” Priest nods. “Yeah, hopefully, it’s nothing bad. We should go. Sage and I have dinner plans. You alright?” He asks me. I look at Corbin, who gives me a warning frown. Corbin is almost a mirror image to Priest at two inches over six feet, with his dark hair, silver eyes, and brooding good looks. According to my sister, Santana, and the other Confradia wives, one of the requirements of being a Confradia member must be that we’re all good looking. We find that thought to be wholeheartedly real and quite amusing.

The priest announced it for the third time, and the church remained quiet. Sandra let out a deep breath. "Since no one is raising their hand, we should continue," the priest began. "With the power behold on me, I hereby join Sandra Warren and..." "No. I'm against their union," a voice cut off the priest, and his eyes traced the voice. The priest suddenly noticed some unrest at the church entrance. A man was attempting to rush into the church, but some men were holding him back. Everyone in the church turned in that direction with questioning eyes.

My fingers twitched with the sudden, violent urge to reach out and see if his skin was as cold as his gaze. "You’re late," I whispered as he stepped onto the dais beside me. "I had to wash the smell of your basement off me," Julian replied, his voice a razor-thin blade. "Though I doubt this house will ever be truly clean." The priest, a man who had been on the Moretti payroll for twenty years, didn't bother with the traditional homily about love. He knew the stakes. He hurried through the Latin, his voice trembling as he reached the final vows.

He has straight, black hair, his haircut has shaved sides and on top his black strands flow down to chin height. His arms and neck are covered in tattoos, and he looked like that kind of cold, hot bad boy, but it's not those features that impress me most, what impresses me is that he appears to be a... a priest? He wears a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the shirt has a Roman collar. Something I've only seen priests use. He also has a wooden crucifix hanging around his neck, something that reinforces my thoughts. "She's definitely Susan, Connor." The priest says and I despair, nodding. “No, no! My name is Sammy, please help me!”

Serra's POV I waited and waited for the old priest to show his self before me. As he appears from the doors, I plaster a smile to welcome him, his eyes wide like of his servants. "Clairra," he called. No matter how much I recall there was nothing significant about him other than the pressure he put Clairra through, sending her happily to her death. "Old priest, Heliu," I greeted. "I believe you have not heard of it yet... my name is not Clairra. I am Serra, the new Priestess of the East."

"And apparently, he's kidnapping priests now." Sofia froze mid-flip, giving me a sharp look. "What?" I sighed. "Long story," I breathed. She narrowed her eyes. "Does this priest go by the name Father Elijah?" I blinked, unsure. "I haven't exactly heard the details." "It has to be him. He's causing some kind of uprising against top mafia dons. He says he wants to exorcise their souls and chase out the devil." My eyes went wide. "W-what do you mean? How long has this been going on for?" I asked her.

said the doorman with a thuggish face. “But what do you think you are doing? Look who you are talking to; it's as if you were not in charge. What's wrong with you? Aren't you Catholic? I am. Since I was a child, my parents instilled in me devotion to our Lord Jesus Christ, the savior of the world. Let them pass. Please, Father, excuse these heretics,” said the old man, letting them pass. The priest sprinkled holy water in every part of the farm, before the pleased eyes of the butler, who finally took him to the amphetamine laboratories, where Ximena's parents were, and when they saw her, they said very excitedly,