polished pews. The towering stained-glass windows were dark and somber
with only night beyond them, except in a few places where an errant beam
from a streetlamp outside managed to find and pierce a cobalt blue or
brilliant red piece of glass. Everything here was big and
solidlooking-the huge pipe organ with its thousands of brass pipes
soaring up like the spires of a smaller cathedral, the great choir loft
above the front portals, the stone steps leading up to the high pulpit
and the brass canopy above it-and that massiveness contributed to the
feeling of safety and peace that settled over Rebecca.
Penny and Davey were in the nave, a third of the way down the center
aisle, talking excitedly to a young and baffled priest. Penny saw
Rebecca first, shouted, and ran toward her. Davey followed, crying with
relief and happiness at the sight of her, and the cassocked priest came,
too.
They were the only four in the immense chamber, but that was all right.
They didn’t need an army. The cathedral was an inviolable fortress.
Nothing could harm them there. Nothing. The cathedral was safe. It
had to be safe, for it was their last refuge.
In the car in front of Carver Hampton’s shop, Jack pumped the
accelerator and raced the engine, warming it.
He looked sideways at Hampton and said, “You sure you really want to
come along?”
“It’s the last thing I want to do,” the big man said. “I don’t share
your immunity to Lavelle’s powers. I’d much rather stay up there in the
apartment, with all the lights on and the candles burning.”
“Then stay. I don’t believe you’re hiding anything from me. I really
believe you’ve done everything you can. You don’t owe me anything
more.”
“I owe me. Going with you, helping you if I canthat’s the right thing
to do. I owe it to myself not to make another wrong choice.”
“All right then.” Jack put the car in gear but kept his foot on the
brake pedal. “I’m still not sure I understand how I’m going to find
Lavelle.”
“You’ll simply know what streets to follow, what turns to make,” Hampton
said. “Because of the purification bath and the other rituals we
performed, you’re now being guided by a higher power.”
“Sounds better than a Three-A map, I guess. Only . . . I sure don’t
feel anything guiding me.”
“You will, Lieutenant. But first, we’ve got to stop at a Catholic
church and fill these jars”-he held up two small, empty jars that would
hold about eight ounces each-“with holy water. There’s a church
straight ahead, about five blocks from here.”
“Fine,” Jack said. “But one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Will you drop the formality, stop calling me Lieutenant? My name’s
Jack.”
“You can call me Carver, if you like.”
“I’d like.”
They smiled at each other, and Jack took his foot off the brake,
switched on the windshield wipers, and pulled out into the street.
They entered the church together.
The vestibule was dark. In the deserted nave there were a few dim
lights burning, plus three or four votive candles flickering in a
wrought iron rack that stood on this side of the communion railing and
to the left of the chancel. The place smelled of incense and furniture
polish that had evidently been used recently on the wellworn pews. Above
the altar, a large crucifix rose high into the shadows.
Carver genuflected and crossed himself. Although Jack wasn’t a
practicing Catholic, he felt a sudden strong compulsion to follow the
black man’s example, arid he realized that, as a representative of the
Rada on this special night, it was incumbent upon him to pay obeisance
to all the gods of good and light, whether it was the Jewish god of the
old testament, Christ, Buddha, Mohammed, or any other deity. Perhaps
this was the first indication of the “guidance” of which Carver had
spoken.
The marble font, just this side of the narthex, contained only a small
puddle of holy water, insufficient for their needs.
“We won’t even be able to fill one jar,” Jack said.
“Don’t be so sure,” Carver said, unscrewing the lid from one of the