The Faithful had started a new church in the abandoned building. Thin shafts of sunlight burst through the boarded-up windows, leaving most of the room in shadow, but that did not matter. They had candles in little, glass jars and cushions spread across the concrete floor. The old wooden table served as well for an altar as any other Raphael had used. But most importantly, they had each other.
In his stained trousers and frayed jacket, he stood before them with a wide smile. His eyes were their natural shade of green today. He had not consumed sin in over twelve hours, and the super strength he gained from doing so had long since faded. That was all right. He did not need the Almighty’s power to preach; he could do that just fine on his own. Even his sore hip was of little concern on this
