50 Chapter 50: Fishers of Men, Part 8

I felt dizzy. I took a step back. Detective Sears caught me. He shook his head, and pulled me out of eyesight. He rolled up his sleeve, and showed me his arm. Its wound had completely healed, its hairy flesh solid and devoid of scars. He opened and closed his hand with ease.

"All of them," he said in my ear. "Every sick and dying patient that you visited this afternoon, they've all been magically healed, and are practically dancing the cha-cha. Do you see why they want you now? Come on, we have to go."

We turned, and came face to face with five priests, none of whom I recognized. Like Father Roger and his mute friend, they were all Adonises with identical crewcuts and black sunglasses. Sears spun me around just in time to face three more. The gorilla in the middle stepped forward, and cracked his knuckles.

"My God," said Sears, "it's Franciscan Phil!"

"Who?"