Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

:: 2 ::
Fr. Richard Kinney didn’t mind the rain. It was turning out
to be Berkeley’s wettest winter in decades, but he smiled as
he turned his nose to the sky, quietly relishing the tiny
splashes on his nose and cheeks.
It was a cold mid-morning, though, and he thrust his
hands deep into the pockets of his jeans as he walked. He cut
through to Spruce Street and turned right at All Saints’
Episcopal.
He was a middle-aged friar habited in a black Anglican
cassock, yet no one seemed to think his attire out of place—
there were plenty of people in the vicinity of the Graduate
Theological Union in religious dress. His hair was tonsured—a
round bowl of skin poked through his already thinning
hair on the very top of his head—and though his frame
carried a few extra pounds, he carried them well.
The wind seemed to pick up when he reached busy
Shattuck Avenue. So did the rain, and he suddenly wished
he’d brought his hat. He didn’t dwell on it, though. The Old
Catholic Order of St. Raphael, of which he was the prior,
had just finished a very successful series of exorcisms for the
Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Oakland. Not only had they
succeeded in banishing a whole host of demons from a
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