Free Rooks and Romanticide by J.I. Radke

the back of the pew as he met Cain’s eyes in the dark sanctuary. His voice cut through the silence again, this time far more serious.
    â€œDo you trust I’ve come alone?”
    â€œI trust no one,” Cain replied with well-mannered contempt. “Did you really think I’m alone?”
    â€œWill you join me?” Levi invited, smiling innocently and drumming his fingers on the back of the pew like a trouble-making schoolboy.
    Cain narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. He didn’t drop his guard entirely yet, but in the silence, the sounds of metal and movement were cold and sharp, footsteps echoing as he lowered his gun and moved to the pew across the aisle from Levi. He sat down, leaned forward on his knees, and cradled his revolver between them, watching the young man with lashes lowered on a critical glare. Ah, he was still as good-looking and cool as the night before, unfortunately. Cain had been hoping for a reason to detest him, but even in the tense dark of the sanctuary, he wanted to be near him. Fuck. The hymnals and scripture were yellowed and dog-eared, tucked neatly in shelves on the pews before him, and the smell and the chill of the vast room rank with bad memories.
    Cain shrugged idly. He glanced at the man across the sanctuary, still praying alone. What if he was no stranger? What if he was undercover backup? No. A gunslinger needed a contractor more than backup. Cain was overthinking things. He would die before letting the Ruslanivs turn him to paranoia. Without looking back to Levi yet, Cain murmured, “It’s an unconventional setting, but it’s still a meeting you requested. Speak.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Levi complied gaily, and Cain grunted, unable to determine if it was mockery.
    Again Levi became suddenly and drastically serious. The shadows danced from the candles in the prayer corner as the stranger wandered out of the church, tucking a small cross necklace back into his pocket. He nodded to Cain and to Levi on his way out. Judging by his faded and dreary appearance, he was a working-class man. It was uncomfortably obvious he’d been crying over the prayer candles.
    â€œTo be honest,” Levi said in a low and ragged way, his stony eyes hooded, “I wish the feud between houses didn’t place such a margin on who is trustworthy and who is not. It makes for a rather difficult living as an arbitrary citizen.”
    There was a pause. Whether he was thinking carefully over what he said or building the courage to say it, Cain couldn’t tell. Then Levi drew a breath and went on, eyes flashing as they met Cain’s bitterly.
    â€œI’m no more a follower of you than I am of the Ruslaniv family. In truth, I’m not sure I have a purpose on this earth beyond my guns and who pays me to shoot them. I was trained, you see, from a young age, and I don’t really know any other kind of life. But recently, I’ve decided to follow my whims and see where they take me. I’ve been praying again, you see—”
    â€œAh. Thus, we meet in a church.” Cain’s heart gave a greedy little jump. A nonpartisan, huh? Trained from a young age? Praying, you see…. God, Levi was lovely in the worst way.
    â€œI’m a poor excuse for a man, I know.” Levi offered a tiny chuckle of chagrin, face darkening. “I suppose I’m a little different , for a gunman. Look, the other day a man dropped his invitation to the Dietrich ball out on the street, and…. Well, I wasn’t going to just give it up. And I’m glad I went, because you and I became acquainted….”
    Acquainted , yes, through tongue and teeth and gently groping fingers. The ghost of Levi’s kisses still flitted across Cain’s mouth.
    â€œI confess now there is just this constant nibbling at my mind and soul,” Levi continued. “It won’t let me move on. So I thought, perhaps it’s the strings of fate I feel moving? Following