“You mean to tell me every single exorcist in this city is gone?”
Perched on her crude stone chair like an ancient Greek actor shadowed in darkness and smoke, Alessandra rolled her luminous green eyes to the ceiling. “Why is it everyone who stands before me must repeat everything I say?” Because you say the craziest things?
I thought, keeping a straight face.
Under the bowl-shaped seat, a bundle of laurel leaves smoked in a copper basin wedged between thick tripod legs. The fine material she wore over her head and shoulders caught the sweet-smelling smoke rising from...