The Vatican had a radio station as well. At that moment, the radio on the desk was broadcasting an interview program.
A priest named Palila was complaining that exorcism services had become far more common in recent years, mainly because people's reverence for Divination had given the devil an opening.
The exorcists trained by the Vatican were all equipped according to standard procedure: a crucifix, holy water, oil, salt, and a thick black folder. The folder was specifically used to document exorcism incidents. If necessary, the entire exorcism had to be recorded in audio and video, after all, cases like Annalise's could be presented to a judge as evidence.
After every case, a great deal of paperwork had to be filled out, reviewed, questioned, and archived. Joseph had returned to the Vatican this time to submit those documents.
He had never been good at writing reports, nor at dealing with all those tedious interrogations. He had originally wanted to listen to music while working, but instead heard a pile of stale platitudes, so he switched off the radio.
But after turning it off, he did not return to his report. He sank into his armchair and looked up at the snow-white ceiling. It was nowhere near as magnificent as the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
The last time the consecrated wafer at Orvieto Cathedral bled was in the thirteenth century. At the time, a priest in the church had questioned transubstantiation. Like a Buddha statue closing its eyes, it was regarded as an ominous sign.
If warnings worked, so many people would not drown every year.
The sacrificial offerings prepared in every church became the body of the same Christ in heaven after consecration and offering.
In the mystery of the Eucharist, once bread and wine transformed into the Lord's body and