Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

70 :: JOHN R. MABRY
gonna stand up to the bastards. He has a thing against
rockin’ the boat.”
“Fucking Bible-belt pricks,” Mikael muttered. “I’ll bet my
ass it’s those Tridentine Mass nutcases in Texas. They hate
us.”
“Eh, the feeling is kind of mutual,” Dylan admitted.
“Their bishop don’t ordain women, and thinks that all sexual
minorities are headed straight to Hell, except for the celibates,
o’ course.”
“Yeah, but we’ve never tried to excommunicate their fundamentalist
asses!” Mikael said hotly.
Dylan chuckled. “They’re still brothers, even if they
do...have it all wrong.”
Just then, out the window above the sink, a young woman
strode into view across the street. She was slight, dressed in
a short poodle skirt and a black leather biker jacket, her long
black hair waving in the wind. She appeared to be pacing,
and, it seemed, staring right at their house. “I sure like her
style,” Mikael whistled. “Do you see her?”
“Huh? Who, ‘her’?”
“Her,” Mikael pointed out the window, but the woman
had gone out of sight again. In a moment, though, she was
back. “There,” he nudged at Dylan.
The portly priest squinted. “Oh, yeah. Cool jacket. Is she
looking at us?”
“That’s what I was thinking. She looks kind of upset.”
Dylan nodded. She did. “If she was spying on us,” he reasoned,
“she’d be more careful ‘bout it. Maybe she’s still
makin’ up her mind whether to come across....” Then it hit
him. “Wait! She’s tryin’ to approach the house and can’t.
Terry!” He yelled.
Terry came running from the living room. “What? What’s
wrong?”
“That girl out there—the one looking at us but definitely