But none of that stopped her from this feeling of . . . uneasiness that came over her whenever she saw a priest. It was like seeing a policeman. She couldn’t help but feel guilty as soon as she came into their periphery, even when she’d done absolutely nothing wrong. It was so stupid. And priests . . . well, being around a priest made her think that God’s eye was upon her because she was in such close proximity to one of His chosen. That she should go to confession, say a few “Hail Marys” and ask for the priest’s blessing.

All bollocks, she knew. At least it was for her, more power to those who still got comfort from the church. But even feeling this way, respect for the clergy had been so ingrained in her from before her first communion that, while the passing of time had faded the edges on any number of her memories, the expectation of being respectful still reared up inside her, sharp and clear, whenever she saw a priest’s collar.

Even now. Even in this stupid place that shouldn’t exist, with a priest who made a mockery of everything he was supposed to believe in.

He made a sudden grab for her, and she dodged under his arm. She kicked him in the back of the knee as he went by—cursing this weak little body she was in as she did—but he still went down. While he was off-balance, she kicked him again. Once, in the side of the head, but that didn’t do more than shake him up. He turned to her, and she kicked him a second time, in the solar plexus. All the air went out of him. She watched his face go white as he tumbled to the grass, turned and gave him one last satisfying kick in the side of the head.

She stood in a defensive position, ready, for long moments, watching his still body. When he still didn’t move, she let herself relax a little. If she ever got out of this and back to the gym, she was going to have to give Johnny a big thank you, since he was the one who insisted she learn footwork as well as the hand-to-hand and defensive techniques she’d been more interested in. In this body, a blow from a little hand couldn’t do nearly as much damage as a foot with the weight of her body behind it.

Carefully, she went over to the priest. With the toe of her shoe, she lifted his head from the ground. When she pulled her foot away, his head fell limply back to the grass.

Okay, she thought. So, either he didn’t have the time to work the mojo, or he didn’t have it in the first place, either of which pointed to Del being the really dangerous one.

She looked toward the house where he’d taken Jilly.