The crucifix might have kept him safe that night, or it might have been the deal he’d tried to strike with the ghost. Jake could not be sure, but the spectral presence hadn’t returned to trouble him. Yet, he knew that making a pact with the Devil required much more than simply offering to back off. He wasn’t particularly religious, but he knew about Faustus and other stories, and if he had a soul – he felt sure he had – he wouldn’t barter it for anything.
A profound belief that the diabolical ghost would settle for nothing less than his death drove Jake back to St Wilfrid’s in search of the parish priest. Jake was disappointed not to find him mid-morning, because it was Saturday and a parishioner told him, as usual, Mass was conducted at the Shrine of Margaret Clitherow, the martyr crushe
