“You can’t promise that. Nobody can.”

“Okay. Ninety-nine per cent, then. How’s that sound?”

“I believe that.” Jay smiled sheepishly.

“Good. You must be missing your family?”

“I miss Mummy. We went to Lalonde so we could get away from the rest of our family.”

“Oh.”

“I miss Drusilla, too. She’s my rabbit. And Sango; he was Mr Manani’s horse. But he’s dead anyway. Quinn Dexter shot him.” The tenuous smile faded, and she glanced back at the stars in a hunt for reassurance.

Ione studied the young girl for a moment. She didn’t think a foster family would be much use in this case, Jay was too clued up to accept a substitute for anything. However, Dr Giddings had mentioned bribes . . . “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, I think you’ll get on very well with her.”

“Who?” Jay asked.

“She’s a friend of mine, a very special friend. But she doesn’t come down into the starscrapers; it’s tricky for her. You’ll have to come up and visit her in the park.”

“I ought to wait for Father Horst. We normally have lunch together.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind just this once. We can leave a message.”

Jay was obviously torn. “I suppose so. I don’t know where he’s gone.”

To see Tranquillity’s bishop, but Ione didn’t say it.

•   •   •

“I wonder why you saw the demon as red?” the bishop was asking as the two of them walked the old-fashioned grounds of the cathedral with its century-old yew hedges, rose beds, and stone-lined ponds. “It does seem somewhat classical. One can hardly credit that Dante did actually get shown around Hell.”

“I think demon might be a simplistic term in this instance,” Horst replied. “I’ve no doubt that it was some kind of spiritual entity; but given the clarity of hindsight, it seemed to be more curious than malevolent.”

“Remarkable. To come face-to-face with a creature not of this realm. And you say it first appeared before the Ivets performed their dark mass?”

“Yes. Hours before. Though it was definitely present at the mass; right there when possession started.”

“It was the instigator, then?”

“I don’t know. But I hardly think its presence can be a coincidence. It was certainly involved.”

“How strange.”

Horst was disturbed by how melancholic the old man sounded. Joseph Saro was far removed from the tough realist of a bishop Horst had served with back at the arcology; this was a genteel jolly man, whose subtlety was perfectly suited to an undemanding diocese like Tranquillity. With his almost-white beard and crinkled ebony skin, he had evolved a cosy dignity. More of a social figure than religious leader.

“Your grace?” Horst prompted.

“Strange to think that it is two thousand six hundred years since Our Lord walked the earth, the last time of miracles. We are, as you said earlier, so used to dealing in the concept of faith rather than fact. And now here we are again, surrounded by miracles, although of a singularly dark countenance. The Church no longer has to teach people and then pray that they come to believe in their own way; all we have to do today is point. Who can refute what the eye beholds, even though it doth offend.” He finished with a lame smile.

“Our teachings still have purpose,” Horst said. “More so than ever now. Believe me, your grace, the Church has endured for millennia so that people alive today can know Christ’s message. That is a tremendous achievement, one we can all draw comfort from. So much has been endured, schism from within, conflict and assaults from outside. All so His word can be heard in the darkest hour.”

“Which word?” Joseph Saro asked quietly. “We have so many true histories now; old orthodoxies, revelationist scrolls, revisionist teachings; Christ the pacifist, Christ the warrior. Who knows what was really said, what was altered to appease Rome? It was so long ago.”

“You’re wrong, your grace. I’m sorry, but the details of that time are irrelevant. That He existed is all we need to know. We carried the essence of Our Lord across the centuries, it is that which we’ve kept alive for so long, ready for this day. Christ showed us the human heart has dignity, that everyone can be redeemed. If we have faith in ourselves, we cannot fail. And that is the strength we must gather if we are to confront the possessed.”

“I’m sure you’re right; it’s just that such a message seems, well . . . ”

“Simplistic? Fundamentals are always simple. That is why they endure for so long.”

Joseph Saro patted Horst’s shoulder. “Ah, my boy, I envy your faith, I really do. My task would be so much easier if I believed with your fervour. That we have souls is of no doubt to me; though we can be assured our scientist brethren will seek a solid rationale among the grubby shadows of quantum cosmology. Who knows, perhaps they will even find it. Then what? If our very souls are given a scientific basis, what use will people have for the Church?”

“I don’t believe the Church’s ethos can change simply because we have learned more of ourselves. The love of Christ will be no less valid for us now than it has been for the billions of past believers who lived in ignorance. His message uplifts the spirit, no matter what the substance of that spirit is revealed to be. If anything, the message becomes more important. We must have some hope as we face the beyond.”

“Ah yes, the beyond. Purgatory indeed. It frightens people, Horst. It certainly frightens me.”

“It shouldn’t, your grace. There is more than purgatory awaiting us. Much more.”

“Goodness me, you believe that as well?”

“Yes.” Horst half smiled, as though he had only just realized it himself. “We can’t pick and choose what parts of Christ’s teachings to believe in; those sections which are convenient, or comforting, and disregard the rest. Above everything, he gave us the hope of redemption. I believe in that. Completely.”

“Then the heavenly city awaits?”

“Some version of it, some sheltered haven for our souls where we can be at peace with our new existence.”

“Did any of the lost souls you talked to happen to mention seeing such a place?”

“No.” Horst smiled. “To demand proof is to lack faith.”

The bishop laughed heartily. “Oh, well done, my boy. Teach the master what he once taught. Very good.” He sobered. “So how do you explain the different faiths? Their myriad versions of the afterlife, and reincarnation, and spiritual development. You are going to have to think of that now. God knows, others will. Now spirituality is real, religion—all religion—will come in for scrutiny as never before. What of the others who claim theirs is the true path to God in his Heaven? What of the Muslims, the Hindus, the Buddhists, the Sikhs, the Confucians, the Shintoists, even the Starbridge tribes, not to mention all those troublesome cultists?”

“The origin of each is identical, that’s what’s important. The notion that we are something more than flesh and mind alone. People must have faith. If you believe in your God, you believe in yourself. There is no greater gift than that.”

“Such murky waters we are adrift in,” Joseph Saro murmured. “And you, Horst, you have grown into a man with the clearest of visions. I’m humbled, and even a little frightened by you. I must have you deliver the sermon next Sunday; you’ll bring them flocking in. You may very well be the first of the Church’s new evangelists.”

“I don’t think so, your grace. I’ve simply passed through the eye of the needle. The Lord has tested me, as He will test all of us in the months ahead. I regained my faith. For that I have the possessed to thank.” Unconsciously, his hand went to his throat, sensitive fingertips feeling the tiny scars left over from when invisible fingers had clawed at him.

“I do hope Our Lord doesn’t set me too hard a test,” Joseph Saro said in a forlorn tone. “I’m far too old and comfortable in my ways to do what you did on Lalonde. That’s not to say I’m not proud of you, for I certainly am. You and I are strictly New Testament priests, yet you were set a decidedly Old Testament task. Did you really perform an exorcism, my boy?”