Up ahead, two figures in white come into view, standing just outside the thick door to the metal room. It's Pastor Ezekiel and Zack, deep in conversation, but when they hear us approaching they both glance up.
Zack moves closer, waving me to go in. "The Archangel will appear when you enter the room."
"Wait," Pastor interrupts, "hold out your hands." He tells me, pulling out a white bottle from his pocket. He sprinkles holy water into my palms, "rub it in," he instructs, holding my hands in his with his eyes closed, his mouth moving in silent prayer.
Seconds later he glances down at me, "Now stand still for a moment." He squeezes several more drops on each side and then down the front and back of my cloak.
I look up at Dominic and he nods, "I will not leave this spot." His fingers wra
