The Priest's Graveyard Read Online Free PDF

saying that. And yet”—Danny spread his hands—“I am doing it.” His mind ticked through his options in customary fashion.
    Choice: Forever change Birch’s life as planned now, or give him more time.
    Consider: The man wasn’t likely to change his ways, ever.
    Consider: Countless women and children had paid a terrible price to feed the man’s sickness.
    Then again… Consider: A few hours more with Birch, no matter how disturbing or painful, was a small price to pay for the slight chance he might
     change.
    On balance, the moral thing to do here was to give the man a fair shake, as planned.
    “I’m going to give you some time to persuade me that you have changed, heart and soul. If you fail to convince me, then I
     will feel obligated to prohibit you from fulfilling your role as a congressman. That will mean forever altering your life.”
    Paul Birch was trembling. He believes me, Danny thought. That’s a start .
    “You have the floor,” Danny said.

3
    I couldn’t have been unconscious more than a few minutes, because when my mind crawled out of that dark fog, the man who’d swept in to rescue
     me was still running. How long could a man run while carrying a body, even one that weighed a scant one hundred or so pounds?
     I’m five foot two if I wear five pairs of socks, and I’m light as a toothpick, but even a world-class athlete would have trouble
     running with a body over his shoulder for more than a minute or two.
    Unless, of course, he’s an angel with superhuman powers, which I considered but doubted. I believed in demons because I had
     been hearing them all night, but I’d never met anyone who treated me like I imagined an angel might. Angels were the stuff
     of childhood dreams.
    I was hardly lucid and unable to move, but I remember thinking that something had changed, and for a few long moments I couldn’t
     place it. Then I realized that I was no longer hanging over his back, bouncing, but was cradled like a child in his arms.
    The rain had lightened but I had to squint to keep it from falling in my eyes. His face came into focus. His jacket and shirt
     were soaked. A thick silver chain hung around his neck.
    He twisted his head back over his shoulder and I knew there was danger behind us. But my mind was working slowly, and I was
     still captured by the look of this man who cradled me in his arms as if I were his Raggedy Ann doll and he wasn’t going to
     let anyone touch me.
    I saw it all in slow motion. His jaw was strong and his hair was trimmed neatly above his ears. When he swung his head back
     around, drops of water flew off his hair and there was a look of urgency above that flexed jaw, but he wasn’t frantic.
    I managed a feeble word. “Hello?”
    He looked down, face stern. Dark brown eyes. “It’s okay, honey. Just keep your head down.”
    Keep my head down? It was already in the crook of his arm. I didn’t know how I could keep it down.
    Pop, pop! Gunshots sounded like they’d come from cap guns. Maybe my head was sticking out past his arm where a bullet that just barely
     missed him could hit me in the ear.
    I tried to pull my head in but it was hopeless. So I just hung there in his arms.
    My angel veered around a corner at full stride, then ducked into an underground parking structure. He pulled up, panting,
     and glanced behind us.
    I was in such a fog that half of these details could be completely wrong. They were moving around the edge of my mind like
     ghosts. I have to think hard to remember exactly what happened, but even those memories could be a hallucination because,
     like I said, I was overdosing.
    I remembered my broken arm and wondered how it was getting along. “Are we safe?” I asked. I know it sounded stupid, but it
     was the question on my mind.
    “Just hold on.” His voice was soft but strong. “They’ll see our tracks.”
    “I think I’m going to throw up,” I said.
    “Do what you need to, honey, just don’t die on me.”
    He was hurrying