The strokes on the flyleaf appeared slowly, as though some unknown presence were obstructing them, leaving the words crooked and uneven.
"3 Witt Street."
Just as I thought, that dream was influenced by supernatural forces. It wasn't merely a dream.
It must have been some kind of revelation, meant to send me to 3 Witt Street.
What exactly happened to this body's original owner?
One thing was certain: the original owner's spirituality had died completely. Joey's spirituality had fused perfectly with this body, even influencing his personality to a degree.
His memories from childhood onward were all intact, except for everything involving encounters with the supernatural, especially those two weeks at sea. Those memories seemed to have been erased out of thin air.
Every attempt to recall them brought a splitting headache.
Should I go?
The moment that thought arose, he rejected it. For something supernatural like this to happen at Lia Pier, where the Orthodox Churches held sway, whatever lurked behind it was clearly troublesome.
I'd better stick to keeping my head down. With that thought, he left the gray fog, and his spirituality returned to his body.
Just then, someone knocked on his door from outside.
He opened it to find two uniformed sheriffs. Joey recognized one of them; he had met him once in the hospital room.
"Sorry to bother you again!"
Surprise flickered across Joey's face before he stepped aside and invited them in.
"Officer, has something happened?"
The man he had met before turned his gaze toward his companion and spoke in a low voice.
"This is Sanctuary investigator Harvey Jeffrey."
The Sanctuary? They're under the Church of Light. They've already tracked this down?
Joey shook his hand politely, watching the two men with suspicion.
Harvey looked to be around thirty. He cleared his throat