“He tore my robe up the back, exposing my bare back and legs. ‘You will not cry out, Travis. After each blow a Hail Mary. Now,’ he said. Then I felt the whip across my back and I thought I would scream, but instead I said a Hail Mary. He threw a rosary in front of me and told me to take it. I held it behind my head, feeling the pain come with every bead.

“‘You are a coward, Travis. You don’t deserve to serve our Lord. You are here to avoid the war, aren’t you, Travis?’

“I didn’t answer him and the whip fell again.

“After a while I heard him laughing with each stroke of the whip. I did not look back for fear he might strike me across the eyes. Before I had finished the rosary, I heard him gasp and drop to the floor behind me. I thought — no, I hoped — he had had a heart attack. But when I looked back he was kneeling behind me, gasping for air, exhausted, but smiling.

“‘Face down, sinner!’ he screamed. He drew back the whip as if he were going to strike me in the face and I covered my head.

“‘You will tell no one of this,’ he said. His voice was low and calm. For some reason that scared me more than his anger. ‘You are to stay the night here, polish the silver, and pray for forgiveness. I will return in the morning with a new robe for you. If you speak of this to anyone, I will see that you are expelled from Saint Anthony’s and, if I can manage it, excommunicated.’

“I hadn’t ever heard excommunication used as a threat. It was something we studied in class. The popes had used it as an instrument of political control, but the reality of being excluded from salvation by someone else had never really occurred to me. I didn’t believe that Father Jasper could really excommunicate me, but I wasn’t going to test it.

“While Father Jasper watched, I began to polish the candlesticks, rubbing furiously to take my mind off the pain in my back and legs, and to try to forget that he was watching. Finally, he left the chapel. When I heard the door close, I threw the candlestick I was holding at the door.

“Father Jasper had tested my faith, and I had failed. I cursed the Trinity, the Virgin, and all the saints I could remember. Eventually my anger subsided and I feared Father Jasper would return and see what I had done.

“I retrieved the candlestick and inspected it to see if I had done any damage. Father Jasper would check them in the morning as he always did, and I would be lost.

“There was a deep scratch across the axis of the candlestick. I rubbed at it, harder and harder, but it only seemed to get worse. Soon I realized that it wasn’t a scratch at all but a seam that had been concealed by the silversmith. The priceless artifact from the Vatican was a sham. It was supposed to be solid silver, but here was evidence that it was hollow. I grabbed both ends of the candlestick and twisted. As I suspected, it unscrewed. There was a sort of triumph in it. I wanted to be holding the two pieces when Father Jasper returned. I wanted to wave them in his face. ‘Here’, I would say, ‘these are as hollow and false as you are. I would expose him, ruin him, and if I was expelled and damned, I didn’t care. But I never got the chance to confront him.

“When I pulled the two pieces apart, a tightly rolled piece of parchment fell out.”

“The invocation,” Brine interrupted.

“Yes, but I didn’t know what it was. I unrolled it and started to read. There was a passage at the top in Latin, which I didn’t have much trouble translating. It said something about calling down help from God to deal with enemies of the Church. It was signed by His Holiness, Pope Leo the Third.

“The second part was written in Greek. As I said, I had fallen behind in my studies, so the Greek was difficult. I started reading it aloud, working on each word as I went. By the time I was through the first passage, it had started to get cold in the chapel. I wasn’t sure what I was reading. Some of the words were mysteries to me. I just read over them, trying to glean what I could from the context. Then something seemed to take over my mind.

“I started reading the Greek as if it were my native language, pronouncing the words perfectly, without having the slightest idea of what they meant.

“A wind whipped up inside the chapel, blowing out all the candles. Except for a little moonlight coming through the windows, it was completely dark, but the words on the parchment began to glow and I kept reading. I was locked into the parchment as if I had grabbed an electric wire and couldn’t let go.

“When I read the last line, I found I was screaming the words. Lightning flashed down from the roof and struck the candlestick, which was lying on the floor in front of me. The wind stopped and smoke filled the chapel.

“Nothing prepares you for something like that. You can spend your life preparing to be the instrument of God. You can read accounts of possession and exorcism and try to imagine yourself in the situation, but when it actually happens, you just shut down. I did, anyway. I sat there trying to figure out what I had done, but my mind wouldn’t work.

“The smoke floated up into the rafters of the chapel and I could make out a huge figure standing at the altar. It was Catch, in his eating form.”

“What’s his eating form?” Brine asked.

“I assume from the deal with the flour that you know Catch is visible to others only when he is in his eating form. Most of the time I see him as a three-foot imp covered with scales. When he feeds or goes out of control, he’s a giant. I’ve seen him cut a man in half with one swipe of his claws. I don’t know why it works that way. I just know that when I saw him for the first time, I had never been so frightened.

“He looked around the chapel, then at me, then at the chapel. I was praying under my breath, begging God for protection.

“‘Stop it!’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of everything.’ Then he went down the aisle and through the chapel doors, knocking them off their hinges. He turned and looked back at me. He said: ‘You have to open these things, right? I forgot — it’s been a while.’

“As soon as he was gone I picked up the candlesticks and ran. I got as far as the front gates before I realized that I was still wearing the torn robe.

“I wanted to get away, hide, forget what I had seen, but I had to go back and get my clothes. I ran back to my quarters. Since I was in my third year at seminary, I been given a small private room, so, thankfully, I didn’t have to go through the dormitory ward rooms where the newer students slept. The only clothes I had were the suit I had worn when I came and a pair of overalls I wore when I worked in the seminary fields. I tried to put on the suit, but the pants were just too tight, so I put the overalls on and wore the suit jacket over them to cover my shoulders. I wrapped the candlesticks in a blanket and headed for the gate.

“When I was just outside the gate, I heard a horrible scream from the rectory. There was no mistaking; it was Father Jasper.

“I ran the six miles into town without stopping. The sun was coming up as I reached the train station and a train was pulling away from the platform. I didn’t know where it was going, but I ran after it and managed to swing myself on board before I collapsed.

“I’d like to tell you I had some kind of plan, but I didn’t. My only thought was to get as far away from St. Anthony’s as I could. I don’t know why I took the candlesticks. I wasn’t interested in their value. I guess I didn’t want to leave any evidence of what I’d done. Or maybe it was the influence of the supernatural.

“Anyway, I caught my breath and went into the passenger car to find a seat. The train was nearly full, soldiers and a few civilians here and there. I staggered down the aisle and fell into the first empty seat I could find. It was next to a young woman who was reading a book.

“‘This seat is taken,’ she said.