Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

316 :: JOHN R. MABRY
Kat watched him as he did his own sort of magic. “I exorcise
thee, creature of water, by the living God, by the holy
God, by the omnipotent God, that thou mayest be purified
from all evil influence, in the name of the Holy One who is
master of angels and of men, whose majesty and glory filleth
the whole earth,” he prayed, reading from the Liturgy. “O
God, look upon this thy creature of salt and water, pour
down upon it the radiance of thy blessing and hallow it with
the dew of thy lovingkindness, that wherever it shall be
sprinkled and thy holy name shall be invoked in prayer,
every noble aspiration may be strengthened, every good
resolve made firm and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit
vouchsafed to us who place our trust in thee; thou who with
the son livest and reignest, in the unity of the same Holy
Spirit, God throughout all ages of ages. Amen.” He finished
and set the liturgy book aside. The bowl of water, however,
he kept in his lap, as ready defense against demonic forces.
“So that’s holy water, now?” Kat asked.
“It is,” Dylan answered.
“I thought it would be more...ornate. The ritual, I mean.
Or, like, something a cardinal or something had to do.”
“Waal, technically, a cardinal can be a layperson, so
there’s been some cardinals that can’t make holy water. But
any priest can do it. Ah wonder if deacons can? Ah’ll have to
look that up.”
A sudden gust of wind buffeted the converted porch, and
the temperature plummeted within a few heartbeats.
“Ah, shit,” said Dylan through his teeth. “We got company.
This is such a fucking bad idea.”
“Calm down, grasshopper,” Terry said, not looking up
from the book he was reading. “Wards are set. Dicky is the
only person here in any real danger.”
“Thet’s supposed to make me feel better?”