If only this woman had stumbled her way into the confessional before she'd fallen down, then he wouldn't have any presumed obligations to take notice of the suspicious things that came out of her mouth.

Leave killing people (killing a Ward, because she just had to be specific, didn't she) to mom. Mom, with her dirty soul and fears of familial damnation.

God, he hoped that was all. He didn't want to have to find a constable.

(He wouldn't have anyway.)

"But I'm a priest," countered Malachi. After another glance up to ensure that no one else had entered the church, he fell back from his crouched position to sit on the floor with her. "I can't get married, mother."

Was it wrong to play along with her drunken delusions, or was it a kindness not to disrupt her?

Malachi hadn't the first idea about who Noah was, or Claude for that matter, or why this woman was so sure of the former's dark fate.

"What if I have lustful thoughts then?"