I put away the brevier and went out of the chapel. The liturgy of the hours were something strange at first, but now I seem to have gotten used to it. The more often I do it, the more I understood how to pray with it: You are not just singing the psalms, but you also have to listen closely to the others. Prayer is not just about saying what you want, but also about listening to what comes to your mind. What is God’s voice?

As I walked past the garden that protects the chapel from any distracted souls, I thought about prayer in singing. Or singing in prayer. It is easy to do when everyone around you does it. Maybe that is why many people are regularly visiting convents. They yearn for more, but need to re-learn how to pray. Or are they just escaping?

My meditation on prayer was interrupted by the voice of an angry officer. Well, you can’t fully escape every day life. As my curiosity took hold of me, I went to the source of this voice.

“Excuse me sister, but this is an urgent business! I need to talk to Father Phillip!” The man seemed to insist on meeting a priest. Urgently. I wonder how you could urgently need a certain priest.

He was talking with the guest sister who apparently was just doing her job: Receiving people. But she just kept shaking her head. “Officer, I told you already. Father Phillip does not want to see anyone. He even told me specifically not to bring you to him.”

“But why???” The officer’s high voice slowly turned to a quiver. “There is once again a demonic attack in the Lotus District, and Father Phillip is the only one who is allowed to exorcise!”

The sister was just shaking her head. “Father Phillip also told me about how you would tell me that there is a demonic attack in the Lotus District.”

“He even foresaw that!” The Officer dropped himself on the chair. Now, he just looked like a pouting school boy. “He knew that we would be in trouble and still went on with his ‘Spiritual Exercises’! Catholics!” He put his hands on his face, as if silently crying. “Tell me, Sister,” he then turned to his conversation partner, “did he say something else?”

“Yes,” she replied. “It is not a demon. Tell the family of the deceased to pray a rosary together, and offer two masses for the poor soul. Father Francis should be available.” Then she went on with her other tasks. She intentionally let the door to the reception open, knowing that the officer might need to take a rest for some time. I heard her light footsteps fading away as she approached and talked with the other guests of the convent.

I knew Father Phillip. He was my spiritual director until I moved away from Nethertown. Some friends of mine told me that he started helping the police handle demonic cases in their town. It was not like that when I was still there, and we suspected it was because of the rising popularity of weird rituals. My friend Paul said that he saw how those rituals call on demons without the people knowing. Kind of scary, if you ask me.

The officer was now sitting on a bench in the reception room. He looked a little lost and confused, but seemed to have calmed down from before. “Hello, Sir,” I greeted him. “I heard you say the name of Father Phillip. I was his pupil some years ago.”

“Ah, are you also one of those weird kids who dote on him?” He seemed to be fed up with Father Phillip and just letting it out on me.

I shrugged. It is not untrue that we were all a little special. We liked Father Phillip a lot. For some, he was the father figure we didn’t know we needed. “Well, I could say that.” I stretched out my hand to him. “My name is Cecillia. Nice to meet you.”

The man smiled, but he kept his answer short. “Dawson.”

We proceeded to talk about Netherworld. He told me all about the new changes that happened since the last time I was there. The police always wanted to avoid collaboration with religious institutions, but lately all kinds of scientist and other learned people seem to be less and less helpful. They also tried to keep it fair and hire several people from several institutions. Nevertheless, only Father Phillip could help them solve most of the new cases. If it weren’t for his holiness, as the shamans say, it was just because he had a calm mind. It was a nice talk with Officer Dawson, but he had to go soon after.

Days went by, and as I was wandering in the garden after the morning prayer, I heard someone call my name. I knew his voice too well. I smiled as I turned to the person greeting me. “Father Phillip! How are you?”

“Well, I just finished my retreat. Are you still being the thinker that you are? What are the new things that you heard recently?”

“Hm,” I tried to recall the past few days I spent in the convent. “There was this Officer Dawson who looked for you. A demonic attack was happening in the Lotus District. He was astonished that you knew about it. Have you gotten in touch with him yet?”

The priest nodded. “Yes, there were no complaints anymore. The family listened and did what I told Dawson to tell them.”

I got impressed, and my curiosity arose. “How did you know?”

My former spiritual director laughed. “If I may be honest, I learned some things from you, Cecillia.”

I did not reply and gave him the space to continue.

“I listened.” He patted me on the shoulder and went away.