Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

328 :: JOHN R. MABRY
for use. One interesting tidbit is that among the Arabs it is
called ‘The Eye of God,’ which is a cool name, but I’m not
sure it actually tells us anything. Certainly it doesn’t help us
figure out what it actually does. You’ll just have to take the
plunge and find out.”
Richard did not like the sound of that. He felt a shiver roil
up his spine to the top of his head.
“Brian, don’t give up—”
“I don’t have any choice, Dicky. They’re locking up, here.
I can go home and do some web-trolling, but that’s it.”
“Okay, okay. Thanks for trying. Call me if you find anything.”
He snapped the cell phone shut and made a left turn
onto the onramp.
:: 70 ::
Terry slowed as he passed the Lodge’s Victorian in the
lower Haight, but he couldn’t see anything. He found a parking
space around the block and quickly climbed the hill back
to Haight Street. Puffing slightly and cursing how out of
shape he was, he wound his scarf around his neck again,
pleased with the effect of the rust fabric against the black of
his habit.
He stood outside of the Victorian, and noted the light of a
single candle in the highest window. All else seemed quiet.
He tried to find a way to the back, but in true San Francisco
style, the houses were so close together that even a rat would
have a tough time wriggling between them. Terry knew he
was lithe, but even he could not squeeze through.
There seemed to be no way in except the front door, and
so, with resolve, the friar mounted the steps and rang the
doorbell.