Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

244 :: JOHN R. MABRY
It was dark when she picked her head up. She turned on
the light, but couldn’t bring herself to look at the body.
Instead, she paused at the mirror, and drew the mussed
strands of hair back over her ears, fighting hard not to cry
again at the sight of her swollen eyes.
Oddly, a faint blue glow obscured her chin in the mirror.
She thought it was a trick of the light, but as she moved, she
found that it remained where it was. She reached out and
touched the glass, but it was set back a couple of inches. If it
had been a reflection of something, it would have been hovering
about three inches in front of the mirror, but instead it
seemed to be hovering behind it. She turned off the light,
sure that whatever it was would be extinguished with nothing
to reflect. But the blue violet glow endured.
:: 50 ::
Richard crossed Cedar and headed up windy Arch Street
toward the backside of the Pacific School of Religion. He
wasn’t sure what drew him, but he followed his instincts,
exercising a well-honed professional skill of getting out of
the way and letting God work. God seemed to want to wander
up Arch Street, and Richard did not argue. A wail went
up, piercing the air, and Richard headed toward the sound.
He walked toward an open garage, and there, on the floor,
beside a steel cage, a familiar figure sat, keening and rocking
back and forth.
It was Mr. Kim, the owner of the Gallic Hotel. Richard
stopped short, assessing his feelings. Mr. Kim was far from
his favorite person in the world. Once he had even tossed
Richard out for not having enough money for another cup of
coffee, shouting that he had taken up space in his shop long