He mutters something into the phone, but does not take his eyes off me. Grunting, he tucks the phone away, cracks the shotgun and pulls out the unspen... cartridges.“If this turns out to be bullshit, I don’t need a gun to break your fucking neck,” he says.“That’s fine,” I say.“Of course it’s not fine. Just don’t be a bullshitter.”“All right.” “Get up, and don’t move. The ambulance will be here in ten minutes, and we need go and get him so we can meet it down here.”Still carrying the shotgun, he. ”“Rose was the realty agent,” Britney answered, her voice thick with ecstasy.“And Father Augustine knows how you think,” Abigail hissed. “I hope Rosa has a big enough car.”Damien nodded. “And we'll let Rosa choose our next lair. The priest doesn't know her at all.”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The agony ended. Father Hyrum Augustine regained his consciousness.He lay curled in the back of the gray church van that had served as the mobile command post for hunting. He had spent many tense hours. More

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