The interior of the church was dark. Naomi peered in through each window she could reach from the street, knowing she looked suspicious but too distracted to care. She hated to have left Georgie and Miriam alone together ever for a few minutes, and she was tempted to scry on them just to know whatever they were talking about.

Georgie said she wouldn’t tell her, but how can I believe that? Naomi’s heart pounded as she turned back and saw Miriam heading her way. She doesn’t look any different, but I might not know until… She took a deep breath and waited until Miriam approached. “Everything all right?”

“Of course.” A little smirk played at Miriam’s lips that Naomi wasn’t sure she liked, but she had no idea how to ask. “How is it? We’re clear?”

“Yes, all the lights are out.” She followed Miriam around the side of the building. If I had ever been inside I could scry the interior, she thought. I could still try, but it would take a while, and I wouldn’t be able to explain to Miriam what I was doing...not after I made a big deal about “needing” the map and candles and such. A narrow alley separated the church from the real estate office next door, and toward the back was a short overhang over a side door. A small lamp alongside glowed a soft orange, the only light detectable anywhere on or in the building, but Naomi didn’t think anything of it. 

I should have come to the cafe sooner, Naomi continued to ponder as she watched Miriam dig through her purse. Who would have thought Darby of all people would be there early! There’s no telling what he told her. She fidgeted. “Miriam?”

“Hm? Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Miriam giggled, sounding almost sinister as she retrieved a pair of slim metal picks. 

Naomi watched in astonishment as Miriam crouched down and slipped her utensils into the door’s keyhole. “You can pick locks?”

“Of course! Taught myself when I was twelve. How else was I supposed to get into the library’s restriction section?”

She gave the tools a twist, and the lock disengaged with a click. Grinning to herself triumphantly, Miriam pocketed her tools and straightened back up. “Go wait by the corner so you can see both doors,” she suggested. “If you see anyone—”

“Stall them as long as I can until you’re out,” Naomi said, nodding along. Without thinking she grasped Miriam’s hand in both of hers and squeezed. “Be careful.”

Miriam’s blush was only faintly visible in the lamplight. “O-Of course! You, too.” Miriam squeezed her back and then slipped free. “I’ll be quick,” she promised. She ducked inside and closed the door quietly behind her.

Naomi took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I could scry on her while she’s in there, she thought as she moved back to the mouth of the alley. But what if someone does come and I’m too distracted to notice? Oh Miriam, be careful! As she picked her spot to wait, trying to think of a convincing story if anyone happened by, her gaze was drawn down the street to the corner Georgie was waiting behind. And you, stay out of this!

***

As soon as Miriam was inside, she wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t even in the sanctuary proper and it already smelled like a church, bringing back unwanted memories. 

The side door had led her into the small administrative area of the building: a narrow hallway that connected the narthex at the front of the church to the office at the back, lined with a few supply closets. As she made her way back toward the rear, she reached another door to the interior she couldn’t place at first. Then it hit her: it was the priest’s entrance to the confessional. Childishly she held her breath as she passed.

The offices were just as she remembered--very neat and orderly, portraits of various holy figures on the walls that spooked her in the dark more than she would ever admit. She hurried into the sanctuary in the hopes of escaping their gaze, but once there, the feeling of eyes on her didn’t abate at all. In fact, as she stepped out onto the raised platform at the heart of the church, she felt their judgement weighing on her more heavily than ever.

Miriam stood by the altar and looked out over the darkened church. The pews in their crisp, perfect rows stared back at her, as piercingly as if they held their congregation. It reminded her of those past Sundays, the few that she’d been forced to attend, sitting alongside cold shrew Irene Usher, watching each member rise to accept the Eucharist. “You’ll have your turn, once you’re confirmed,” Irene once whispered in her ear, as if it were an occasion to be anticipated with great enthusiasm. Instead, Miriam had only regarded it with dread; surely, with that many eyes on her, someone in the congregation would see through her. One of them would pluck the truth from her mind: that she was not nearly so pious as them and didn’t want to be.

Miriam gave herself and shake and then stepped down from the dias. Focus, Miriam. You’re here for your revenge! She tried to spur her wicked glee back into form as she marched over to the corner pew where Irene had staked her claim. Sure enough, the same old bible and book of hymns was tucked under the seat. Miriam tugged the bible free and checked the inside cover just be certain, there finding Irene’s name.

As she flipped through the pages, the worn paper scraping lightly against her thumb, a strange revelation came over her. It’s all real, she thought, exhilarated, humbled, and vindicated all at once. Angels and demons, Heaven and Hell, it’s all real--and it’s nothing like this. They’re out here, falling in love and putting on shows and being lying jerks. She pursed her lips as she thought of Georgie waiting for her back at the car. There’s a whole world of them that’s not in this book, and I’m going to be a part of it.

Miriam tugged one of the pamphlets out of her purse and pressed it into the center of the bible. She tried to squeeze it as flat as possible, while still ensuring that it would flip open to the pornography as soon as Irene searched for the first bible reading at her next service. There was no way that old goat would be able to keep her mouth shut when she came across it. Even if she and the entire congregation rightfully determined that it had been a planted prank--even if she figured out that Miriam was behind it--the embarrassment it would cause her empowered Miriam like nothing else. Trying not to giggle outright, she tucked the bible back into place and hopped to her feet.

It would be simple enough to stop there, but Miriam wasn’t quite finished. She hurried back the way she’d come, and once back by the offices shot a glare at each of the portraits that still seemed to be watching her disapprovingly. The doorway that led into the basement was closed and bore a lock, but when Miriam turned the handle, she found it open.

If they find another kind of “bible” tucked in among Usher’s study materials, that will get people gossiping, Miriam thought as she opened the door. Even if she wouldn’t get to see it, she hoped that word would get back to her via Odelia’s friend. Her imagination would gladly fill in the rest. It’s what she deserves.

Miriam froze. There were lights on in the basement.

There was nothing to see. The stairs were too steep and the ceiling too low for her to make out anything of the hallway beyond, other than there was light creeping out over the linoleum. With the door open she could even make out muffled voices, coming from one of the few meeting rooms. There aren’t cars outside--did whoever is down there walk? Miriam wondered, taking a slow step back. Is that why the side door lamp was on? But then why are the offices dark? She looked behind her in sudden paranoia and was rewarded with the sound of a toilet flushing deeper in the building.

Go, Miriam ordered, but her feet stood rooted for a beat too long; by the time she could get over her surprise to move, she heard the sound of the office’s bathroom door opening. She would have to pass in front of the office itself to get back to the side door and Naomi, and that would definitely mean being spotted. Miriam hastily weighed her options. Not everyone who goes here will recognize me. Unless it’s Usher herself, there’s no reason why I should hide, other than...why are there people here in the dark, in the middle of the night!

Footsteps--heavy, male footsteps. Without wasting any more time on thought, Miriam slipped through the basement door and closed it behind her as soundlessly as she could. Whether or not she succeeded didn’t seem to matter, though, because the footsteps were still coming closer. If someone attending the meeting below had ducked out for a break, they were absolutely on their way back.

There was nowhere to go but down. As the stranger moved closer, Miriam took the stairs as quickly as she dared, and as soon as she reached the bottom she kept going: one sharp turn, then into the supply closet. 

Please don’t have seen me. Miriam shut the door behind her and then leaned into, brain scrambling for some kind of plan or excuse, in case the man had reached the top of the stairs before she was out of view; not to mention if someone in one of the study rooms had seen her go by! You did your piss, now go back to whatever is going on down here so I can get out!

The stairs creaked with someone descending. Miriam pressed her ear to the door to follow their progress, not that expecting them a moment before they opened the closet would help her any. The interior was already pitch dark so she closed her eyes and concentrated entirely on each step, making their way down. He reached the floor. He headed toward her...and then continued on, past the closet. Never the wiser.

Miriam let out a long but cautious breath. She didn’t hear any shouting, just the muffled voices of a group of people all agreeing together. After another minute she felt safe enough to open the door a crack--no one was in the hall. The coas to the stairs was clear.

Miriam slipped out of the closet and then paused again, just to be sure. Time to leave, she thought, but as she listened to the voices coming out of the bible study room, she recognized the voice of Irene Usher. It didn’t sound like she was leading a normal chat about whatever parable of the day, rather more like a sermon. Fire and brimstone, probably, Miriam thought, and curiosity got the better of her; she tip-toed closer to the door of the study room. Maybe she’s ranting about this morning, that baby. She had better not be thinking of going back to Quigley’s. Poor Wilma.