12
Father Collins smiled at me. “We should venture inside before the rain starts.”
I let him lead me inside, and just as we entered through the front doors a soft, chilly breeze blew past me and swept into the vestibule. The wind brought with it the familiar scent of rain. At least in this strange world, there was that familiarity in which to find comfort.
The church was quiet but for the soft murmur of the brothers as they moved to and fro, preparing for the coming storm as they ushered people home and battered down the window hatches as the wind picked up. The good father led me to my room and stopped in front of the door to turn to me.
“You needn’t worry about Ros,” he assured me as he examined my face. “Though I do worry about you.”
I blinked at him. “Me? Why?”
“You do not
