I didn’t dare break eye contact with him, but he was right. After Jennie had died, my mom had said lots of prayers. Hundreds. Thousands. None of them had made a difference; she’d still cried herself to sleep at night for years.

“What none of you understand is that sending focused energy out into the universe, which is in many ways exactly what a prayer is, can be quite powerful. Can it cure cancer? Bring someone back from the dead? Most certainly not. But the Bible details many instances of desperate people making sacrifices to gain favor with God. And there are similar ways of making sacrifices to endear oneself to Lucifer and his legion of fallen angels.”

A chill ran up my spine.

“So, what? You counsel your parishioners on how to make bargains with God for profit?” I asked.

“Not in the slightest.” Father Fahey finally sat down at the table with us and shook his head. “If someone comes to me in a state of despair, asking for help, I provide them with instructions for how they might request special consideration from the Lord, or at least reshape their thoughts about their predicament so they can more clearly see God’s intentions for them. There are no guarantees. I’m not a warlock.”

“What about the money?” Violet asked with an arched eyebrow. “Does the Catholic church know that you’re running a little side business here at St. Monica’s?”

“The money I accept for offering this type of advice goes directly toward the hospital bills of a little boy in Ortonville named Aaron Somer. He suffers from myelomonocytic leukemia. I donate it anonymously, and I don’t particularly care if the three of you believe me or not,” Father Fahey told us.

My heart was steadily breaking. I had been so convinced that his guilt would be a slam dunk. I needed him submit to our demand that he help us, but with each word that left his mouth, it was becoming clearer that he considered himself to be some kind of Good Samaritan. He’d justified all of his actions long ago, and my hope was draining as our case against him fell apart.

“And what about gaining Lucifer’s favor, for those times when God isn’t taking care of business?” Trey asked with an edge in his voice. “Because it seems to me that whatever kind of advice you gave to Violet’s grandmother, it wasn’t very heavenly.”

Father Fahey folded his hands and set them atop the table before fixing his eyes on Trey. “My boy. I have a master’s degree in theology from Trinity College. Don’t you think that someone who yearns to know as much as possible about God would also want to learn as much as possible about God’s greatest enemy?”

None of us had a response for that, and I, for one, was not eager to keep talking about the devil. Violet was the first to break the silence in the kitchen by asking, “What about me? Why do you think the spell you gave my grandmother actually worked?”