Chapter Thirty
Father Gregory knelt in the front pew of his church in silent prayer. As he gazed up at the statue of Jesus which towered over him from behind his altar, he mouthed the words of the Our Father for the umpteenth time as he gripped the single bead from his rosary, before moving on to the next Hail Mary.
His experience at the Jeffersons’ house earlier that evening was not one that he was ever likely to forget, and even cloistered within the safety of his church, the priest could not help but acknowledge the sheer terror he felt just before his accident.
Although it became apparent that no one else in the house heard the malevolent voice which screamed at him to leave the premises just before the strong gust of wind sent him tumbling backwards down the stairs, he had heard it
