Margot Douaihy

Sister Holiday is back with a newly minted PI apprentice certificate, a twisty mystery to solve, and something to prove in this fast-paced, blistering follow-up to Scorched Grace.

Tattooed from her neck to her toes and sporting a gold tooth as sharp as her wisecracks, Sister Holiday struggles to stay on the righteous path. Never one to make things easy for herself, she’s committed to taking her permanent vows with the Sisters of the Sublime Blood and joining former fire inspector Magnolia Riveaux’s latest venture, Redemption Detective Agency—both in service of satisfying her eternal quest for answers.

When Sister Holiday and Riveaux set out to bust a philandering husband, they instead find the body of a priest floating in the swollen Mississippi River, and with it, Redemption’s next case. It’s significantly more gruesome than their orig­inal mission, but Sister Holiday feels called on by God to hunt down the murderer and keep her community safe.

As a torrential rainstorm drowns New Orleans for three harrowing days over Easter weekend, Sister Holiday and Riveaux follow the clues. With the stakes rising alongside the relentless floodwaters, our favorite punk nun-sleuth throws herself into the deep end yet again.

A lacerating and lyrical plunge into obsession, deception, and the questions that hold us captive, Blessed Water is a lights-out mystery that will leave you breathless.

A Sister Holiday Mystery

Blessed Water

Kraig Beyerlein

Our schools, our grand social institutions, our healthcare, housing, and justice systems failed the people who needed them the most. The top guns were quick to throw vulnerable kids out and keep them locked away.

All the effort and orthodoxy of the Church. This life. The Papacy, the rules, the sacraments, the vows. Was Prince Dempsey right? Was religion a vestigial organ? Still inside us but no longer needed. And prone to rupture. The mystery of faith. We say hold space for the mystery, but space is something that can never be held.

THERE THEY WERE, right on cue. The Diocese, a trio of thugs in expensive robes. The bishop and his two vicar cronies had arrived to exploit our congregation, ask for more money, and expertly capitalize on yet another tragedy. They were rewarded handsomely for their greatest skill, shaming people. Rubbing our noses in our imperfections. Frailty. Humanity.

People wanted a foundation and hungered for community but we’re denied because starfuckers and power holders—at the top, at the altar—refused to evolve. Nasty things were going to happen again. God doesn't cancel out all the badness. But real faith reminds us that we aren't in this dumpster fire alone. Thes is bigger than any of us.

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