Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 345
ers were cowering in confusion, bringing up the rear of the
Howler’s escape.
Richard knelt by the Gunthers. “Hey, little guys, it’s
okay.” They seemed to be breathing, but their eyes were
glassy and sightless. Richard felt sad in his soul for them. For
all of them. He stood and addressed them, even as they tumbled
out the tall windows.
“Where are you going? God is out there, too! Where can
you go to escape him? What are you afraid of? Everything is
fine! Everything is going to be okay! You’re going to be
okay! I’m not going to hurt you. The ring won’t hurt you!
No one is going to hurt you!” He had walked right up to
them, gregarious, pleading, and unafraid. The closer he got,
the more they cowered, the more frantically they scrambled
over one another to get out of the windows.
Rather, what once had been windows—they were now
shambles. Broken glass spilled out onto the lawn outside,
and great chunks of the wall had been taken out where two
largish demons had refused to take turns exiting.
Richard walked to the wall and switched on the lights.
“No need for all this gloom,” he said, to no one in particular.
By now the last of the large demons was gone, and the
smaller ones were trailing out.
Richard walked back to where his friends were standing.
They were still huddled together, mouths open, and Dylan
was shaking his head. “Dude, you got fucking nuts the size
of a monstrance.”
Terry broke from the pack and rushed up to him, taking
his hands in his. “What happened, Dicky? What did you
see?”
Richard stopped and looked up, remembering. He smiled.
“I saw everything. I saw it as God sees it. And I loved it. All
of it.” He turned and looked at the damage left by the fleeing
demons. “Even them.” He turned back and poked Terry