chapter one ࿇ WELCOME FATHER RIEN

❝ It's a pleasure to meet you, Jacqueline ❞
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♱

In Spring Falls, Texas, the days crept by slow as molasses, one glistening and bright, the next wrapped up in a haze like the morning mist hanging over the hills. It was a place where the heat felt like an old quilt, heavy and familiar, pressing down on the earth with the weight of a hundred years of secrets. Folks in town moved at the pace of the sun, their lives unfolding against a backdrop of whispering trees and cracked, sun-bleached porches, each step sinking them deeper into the soil.

The heart of Spring Falls was St. Mary's Church, a sanctuary standing like a stern-faced old woman, its spire stretching up toward the blue dome of sky like a crooked finger pointing at God. The building looked as if it had been there forever, its stone walls streaked with damp, ivy clutching at its surface like a desperate lover. The church bells tolled out every day at noon and six, marking time the way only Spring Falls knew how to count it, slow and steady, like the drawl of an old man spinning yarns on a warm afternoon.

Perched up in the tangled limbs of the old oak tree, Jacqueline Cain sat hidden from the world, her white cotton dress clinging to her legs in the humid air. She had her Bible balanced on her knee, the book a shabby thing with a leather cover rubbed smooth by years of handling. She whispered scripture like a spell, the words tasting of dust and old paper. The light filtered down through the leaves, dappling her face with soft patches of gold that flickered like a thousand tiny fires in her dark eyes.

She hadn't read but a few verses when the familiar crunch of dry leaves and snapping twigs brought her attention downward. Mantis, her best friend since they were both small and wild as stray cats, was scrambling up the trunk with all the grace of a possum, her grin as wide and crooked as ever. "Jackie, I got somethin' for ya," Mantis puffed as she settled herself on the branch beside Jacqueline, "Big news. Ain't nobody talkin' 'bout nothin' else."

Jacqueline's gaze drifted from her Bible, her brow knotting slightly at her friend's tone. "Well, spit it out then, Mae," she said, not bothering to mask the impatience that curled around the edges of her voice like smoke. Mantis loved to drag out a story for the sake of drama, and Jacqueline wasn't one for games.

"A new priest's comin' to town," Mantis began, the words barely able to contain her excitement. "Name's Vincent Rein. Ain't like the ones we've had before neither." She grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief as though this was some secret they were keeping just between them.

Jacqueline stiffened, her fingers tightening around the Bible. "Vincent Rein?" The name felt peculiar, sour almost, on her tongue. "Daddy didn't mention nothin' about no new priest," she said with a faint scoff, her skepticism stirring like the wind through the branches.

"He's young, they say," Mantis continued, undeterred. "Got somethin' about him, somethin'... mysterious." She stretched the word out, letting it settle heavy in the air. "All the ladies at the shop been whisperin' like it's somethin' scandalous. Mama said he's 'bout younger  than ya' daddy."

Jacqueline's nose wrinkled, the thought unsettlin' her. "You know Daddy don't take kindly to strange men comin' round St. Mary's," she said, the edge of her voice sharpenin'. "And quit that foolish talk. Ain't proper to speak on a priest that way."

Mantis rolled her eyes, her grin broadening as she gave Jacqueline's shoulder a light shove. "Don't act like you ain't curious, Jackie," she teased, "'Sides, wouldn't hurt if he was easy on the eyes. What if he's handsome like your daddy—ouch!" Mantis yelped as Jacqueline swatted her with the Bible, her expression equal parts offense and amusement.

"Don't be nasty, Mae," Jacqueline said, though she was smilin', and that familiar tug of laughter was pullin' at the corners of her lips. "Mama'd wash your mouth out with soap if she heard you talkin' about Daddy like that. And you best remember she's already got a bone to pick with you."

Mantis waved a hand as if to swat the thought away. "Oh, Missy ain't mad at me. She's just got a mean streak like the rest of y'all Cains. I ain't worried 'bout no soap," she said, crossing her arms defiantly. "And if this new priest's any good, maybe he'll charm that streak right outta her."

Jacqueline shook her head, but her gaze drifted off past the rooftops and the scatter of oaks beyond. A new priest was indeed a peculiar thing, the kind of thing that could turn the whole town upside-down without anyone realisin' it was happening 'til they were in the thick of it. "We'll see soon enough," she said quietly, the words hangin' in the air like a prediction or maybe a warning.

The sun had begun to dip behind the hills, casting the sky in a bruised purple haze. "Let's head on home," Jacqueline murmured, her voice softenin' as she closed her Bible and tucked it under her arm. "Don't wanna keep Mama waitin'."

The two girls climbed down, their feet hittin' the dirt with a quiet thud, and set off down the winding path that led through the heart of town. As they passed the ivy-clad houses and flowerbeds overrun with wild things, the church bells began their low, mournful song. The sound seemed to drift on the air, caught up in the branches and carried away, like a secret whispered from one ghost to another.

"Reckon we'll see him tomorrow?" Mantis asked, her steps light and quick, like she was chasin' somethin' just out of reach.

Jacqueline glanced over at the church, a dark shape against the deepening sky. "Most likely," she answered. "Daddy'll wanna introduce him to the town. Make a show of it, I'm sure." But the thought lingered like a dull ache, and try as she might, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that tomorrow's service wouldn't be like all the others.

When they reached Jacqueline's house, she could see the soft glow of the kitchen lights spillin' out onto the porch, the warm scent of fried okra and cornbread driftin' on the evening breeze. She parted from Mantis with a quick hug, muttering, "See ya tomorrow," before stepping inside.

But as soon as she crossed the threshold, a strange tension filled the air, clingin' to the walls like the smell of something burnin'. There, in the kitchen, stood a man who wasn't her father. He towered over her parents, his frame lean and draped in dark clothes that seemed to drink up the light around him. His hair fell loose past his shoulders, dark as the devil's own, and his eyes... those eyes were like polished garnets, gleaming under the dim yellow glow of the lamp.

"Ah, Jacqueline," her father called out, his voice strugglin' to sound at ease. "This here is Father Rein. He's gonna be helpin' out at the church."

The man's lips curled into a smile, one that was a shade too knowing, like he'd heard all the secrets locked up inside her head and was keepin' 'em for himself. "Pleasure to meet you, Jacqueline," he said, his voice rich and smooth, like honey that's been left too long in the jar. It dripped thick, the sweetness just startin' to turn.

Jacqueline's gaze narrowed as she gave a stiff nod, her skin pricklin' with somethin' she couldn't quite name. There was a darkness to him, not the kind that came with the night, but somethin' older, somethin' that lay buried deep. She clenched her jaw, her fingers clingin' to the Bible pressed against her chest like a shield.

"I hope you'll find Spring Falls to your likin', Father," she said, the words comin' out flat and cold as the bottom of a creek. But as those crimson eyes flicked back toward her, a shadow passed across his smile.

"Oh, I think I shall," he replied softly. "This town has an air about it... a certain charm, wouldn't you agree?"

Jacqueline felt her throat tighten, as though the very air around her had thickened into a mass that was now tryin' to work its way inside. She gave a nod, her eyes flickin' to her father, who was watchin' the exchange with an expression she couldn't read.

Somethin' wasn't right, and deep down she knew it. And she don't like it one bit.