“Are you able to pass through her firewall?” Paul asked.
“My personal aura is proof against any magic she may try to inflict on me,” Reverend Dodds remarked drily. “The only reason you and your wife can go there is because she lets you.”
He went to the charred body of the old dead monk and shone an optical lamp into his eyes. “His soul still has contact.” He pressed his cross on the dead monk"s forehead. “May God readmit you into His Holy Church,” he intoned solemnly. Then, turning to Paul: “He will rejoin us in spirit.”
Their work finished for the present, the monks made their way from the churchyard, taking their dead brother with them.
“Be careful walking home, Reverend Milton,” Dodds remarked as he too turned to leave. “The world is not what it used to be.”
* * *
The next morning
