“Yes, he was asked to bless the house of the deceased on the day of the funeral. As he walked around the perimeter, praying and sprinkling holy water and blessed salt, some women screamed. This caused him to jump quickly aside to avoid being struck by a large black snake which seemed to launch itself from under the eaves, directly at Father Corinth.”
“And how do you know this was diabolic?”
“Well, it’s unlikely that it was a natural phenomenon. There are no large snakes native to the area, and certainly not snakes which climb,” the Cardinal explained. “And, though several people saw the serpent fly through the air, no one saw it hit the ground. It disappeared.”
The pope nodded, and looked away for a moment without speaking. For a moment he seemed lost in thought. The he roused himself and spoke matter of factly.
“This phenomenon which you have observed in your diocese is widespread,” he said sadly. “We have reports of this and far worse. We wish to put the resources of the Holy See to work providing the proper training for priests to combat this.”
The Cardinal nodded.
“The office of exorcism has been neglected for more than 50 years. The few that we have are in their 80’s, brave men and good who have been nevertheless treated by the Curia as pariahs, embarrassing vestiges of the Middle Ages. We need young men to take up this work. Tell me, how did Father Corinth come to be an exorcist?”
The Cardinal sighed.
“He told me that he was a farm boy in the Midwest, and as a teenager became involved in the occult through popular ‘heavy metal’ music. This was before the internet, so the spread of this was more limited. Apparently, though, at university he witnessed horrific sexual violence connected with the occult, and was so thoroughly repulsed that he ran straight into the arms of the Dominicans.”
“Yes, we know of their good work and their growth in America.”
“He worked on the streets of Boston with the homeless after ordination, which is where he started to see the effects of occultism, mixed with drugs and organized crime.”
The pontiff nodded grimly.
“He came to my attention when I asked the religious superiors in my diocese to identify the most prayerful men in their communities.
I interviewed them all, and chose three to begin training with a Dominican priest in his 90’s who has been quietly working in this field since before the Council.”
The pope’s expression lightened.
“Is that true, Cardinal?”
REGINA | 93
“You have to assert control,” she had said, severely. “The universe will respond to your will, but only if you take control of this.”
As desperate as she had been, Michelle had declined the offer. When she had later jokingly told Dyson about it, he’d turned unexpectedly grim.
“Devil worship,” he had snapped. “Stay the hell away from it. And stay the hell away from that person, if you know what’s good for you – and us.”
If she hadn’t just lived through the last horrendous months of Dyson’s trial, Michelle knew she would have bristled at his suggestion. In all their years together, Dyson had known better than to comment on Michelle’s choices – on anything, really.
In truth, up until the charges had been filed, Michelle’s world had been a cozy, secure one, centered on their parish school in their affluent suburb. Michelle was Catholic because she was born and raised that way.
There had been no ‘choice’ involved; likewise, she had no interest in proselytizing. The Faith had always been there, part of her family’s way of life, and she saw no need to explore it, or to deepen her attachment.
But that was before the months and months of agony had pried open Michelle’s closed world. Once she disclosed her agony, she found that her friends either made themselves scarce -- or shared their own. That was how Michelle learned about the cancers –physical and spiritual – that were eating away at the fabric of life all around her.
There were the living widows. That’s how she thought of the wealthy women whose husbands had deserted them for porn habits, prostitutes and other lovers, both male and female. Both sides stayed in the marriage for fear of the ruinous consequences of divorce, at least for a time, rendering their elegant homes a living hell.
Then there were the children lost to cults, strange sexual proclivities or lonely lives lived on the internet, with dogs and cats as their offspring.
And everywhere, there were the drugs – the recreational drugs, plus the prescriptions handed out like candy to a population that was trained to ask for them for every possible reason, real or imagined.
And as the stress of this life ramped up, so did the cancer rates. She had been attempting to counsel yet another woman friend with a breast cancer diagnosis when the news appeared abruptly over her cellphone.
The text was brief: Dyson had been convicted. Game over.
The night he’d left for prison, she’d taken her rosary beads outside into her garden.
As the dusk gathered, she’d sat on the lawn, knees drawn up to her chin, telling the beads and trying to regulate her too-rapid breathing.