Kiss of Pride by Sandra Hill

Trond.
    Father Peter shh-ed at them.
    He and Trond shrugged in apology, but then Trond grinned and added in an aside, “I can’t wait to see the look on the clerks’ faces at Mickey D’s when more than fifty vampire angels show up en force, swords in hand.”
    “You could leave the swords hidden.”
    “What would be the fun in that?”
    Vikar stood then, and after bowing his head and genuflecting, made his way back to Alex. “You could have come in,” he told her.
    “I don’t do religion.”
    He arched his brows at her, even as he led her down the corridor toward the kitchen.
    “I was born Catholic, and was a churchgoing pick-and-choose Catholic as an adult, but then . . . well, I got clobbered with enlightenment.”
    He assumed she referred to the death of her husband and child.
    “Are you all Catholic? I noticed a priest in there.”
    He shook his head. “We are no precise religion. A bit of this and a bit of that.”
    “Like Unitarians?”
    “Hardly. We are way more conservative than that.”
    “I don’t believe in God.”
    He flinched at her words. Apparently, she was farther along than he’d thought. All it would have taken was a bit longer of a demon fanging, and she would have reached her tipping point. He still didn’t know what mortal sin she was contemplating. That was a subject he would address later. For now, he needed to get the vangels out of the house so he could launch his one-week makeover project with an empty castle.
    “Your voice is incredible,” she remarked. “All of you. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such magnificent hymns. Are you famous singers I’ve never heard of?”
    “Hardly.”
    “You sounded like angels.”
    “Exactly.”
    She cast him a scoffing frown. “Not the vampire angels again!”
    Now wasn’t the time for this argument. “Why don’t you go up and shower? Then we’ll break fast. And talk.”
    “Is there a working bathroom in this place? The one attached to my tower prison has only a trickle of water, and the toilet appears to be circa 1900.”
    “It probably is that old,” he said. “Use the bathroom next to my bedroom on the second floor. You can take the servants’ staircase here off the kitchen. It’ll be the first room on the right.”
    She hesitated. “What you did to me last night . . .”
    “Everything will be all right, I promise.” I hope. “Just give me a half hour to get some things taken care of with my brothers in the VIK, and—”
    “The VIK? You mentioned that before. What is it?”
    “Later.” He steered her up the first step. “There are plenty of towels, soap, hair products, even a robe, I think.” He and Trond had showered earlier using that bathroom. He hoped there was still hot water left. He’d soon find out if he heard a shriek from above.
    She went up several steps as he watched, then turned. “If I don’t get some satisfactory answers, I’m out of here,” she warned.
    “Absolutely,” he said. Not until you are purified.
    An hour later, he sat on a stool at the counter in the kitchen, a laptop in front of him and a cordless phone at his ear; cell phones didn’t get any reception through all this rock. Thankfully, the old landlines still worked here, although he would eventually upgrade them, and he’d been able to get DSL service. Vangels today depended on the Internet for many of their supplies.
    He was on the phone with a Harrisburg contractor he’d found online. J.D. Donovan & Sons had recently lost a big job at Penn State due to decreased public funding, so their schedule had a sudden hole. He was speaking to J.D. Sr. himself.
    “Is this a joke? You have a seventy-five-room house you want renovated in seven days?”
    “No joke. I don’t need everything done right away, but the specialized stuff has to be completed. Construction of some rooms with new walls”—he was thinking of the dungeon/dormitory—“plumbing, heating, electricity, tile work, some floor finishing and plastering or sheet