“Exactly. Faith-based symbols don’t work, because not only do demons have no faith, they’re not in spiritual opposition to any faith either. In the land of opposites, demons and the Church would not stand on opposing sides. Demons and humanity would stand on opposing sides. All of humanity. Sinners and saints. Men and women. Children and adults. Consecrated and civilians. It’s not just the Church versus demons. It’s us versus demons. All of us.”

“Wait. So then…” I couldn’t finish that thought. My mind was blown. The world no longer made sense.

The Unified Church was the final authority. It had been since the demon horde had killed off two-thirds of the world’s population—devouring many of its souls—and devastated three-quarters of the American landscape. The Church was strict and cruel and domineering, but it had saved us when no one else could. It had exorcised the demons, and walled in the surviving cities to protect us from the remaining degenerates roaming the badlands. That was why people had put the Church in charge in the first place.

If it hadn’t exorcised the demons, then…“How…? Why…?”

Finn pulled the detached lid from the can of stew, then gestured at me with it. “I like you. You ask all the right questions.”

“So, what are the answers? If the exorcists are fakes, and the Church can’t fight demons any better than anyone else, why are they in charge?”

“Great question.” He tilted the open can over the empty pot on the right burner, and thick beef vegetable stew poured out in chunky globs. “And if I had the answer, I’d give it to you.”

“Okay. But…the Church used to have real exorcists, right? Otherwise, how would we ever have won the war?”

“Exorcists aren’t born every day, but I think it’s reasonable to assume the Church had a few at one point.”

“Like Katherine Abbot, right? The naturalist?”

“Naturalist.” Finn shook his head and tossed the empty can into a plastic trash bin against the wall, where it landed with the clatter of can against can.

“You’re saying she wasn’t a naturalist?”

“I’m saying there are no naturalists.” He twisted a knob on the front of the tiny, shin-high stove, then lit a match and stuck it through the burner. Fire flared in a ring beneath the pot, and he adjusted the height of the flames by turning the knob again. “Or, more accurately, there are only naturalists. You can’t be trained to drive a demon from a stolen body by scorching its life force with the power of your own.”

Was that really what I’d done? How was that even possible?

“You have to be born with that ability.” His gaze met mine across the indoor campsite, and flames from the stove made shadows dance on his face. “And you were born with that ability, Nina.”