[Written in a terribly shaking hand]

I entered the church today to find the altar destroyed.

There is nothing left. Nothing but a heap of shattered wood. The altar cloth is a shredded ruin, the candles are broken with nothing but their fragile wicks holding the wax together. And the cross--oh, sweet merciful Mary. The cross has been smashed to pieces. I fell to my knees before the remains and pawed through them in horror, shock making me numb as I desperately searched for the representation of our Lord, but I found nothing but hammered, twisted brass and, strangely, lengths of rope.

I picked up my skirts and ran through the church, searching first the rectory, then the cloister itself, my heart in my throat as I tried to find Father Eamon. I found him at last in the cloister common, sitting before the fire. He looked like a man who had walked through hell itself, pale and drawn and with eyes so dark they frightened me. But when I tried to tell him what had happened, he already knew. He already knew because he had done it. He had taken a splitting maul from the rectory storage and destroyed St. Michael's altar, but when he told me why... oh God, my God, how could someone have done something so hideous and cruel?!

Fr. Eamon's assistant and dearest friend--our Guin, dear Guin, who has always been so kind to everyone, so quick to help those in need--was attacked in the church, lured into helping a pair of monsters who then tied her to the altar and raped her there.

[The ink is smeared, blotched by tears]

Chigaru, he told me. Chigaru and his sister. They took our Guin, hurt her and violated her, there in our beloved church. I do not know this name, but it is branded on my heart. God, give me the strength to forgive, for I cannot find it in myself.

Fr. Eamon destroyed the altar for all our sakes. As he whispered to me, there in the cloister, while I hugged the poor man and wept, there are some desecrations that cannot be healed with words and ritual. He never could have given Mass on that altar again, not knowing what was done there, and he is right that it would have been too much to expect Guin to suffer through that. She has already suffered enough, and I will pray to God every day, every hour, that these monsters will be brought to justice. Midian's justice, if possible, but God's justice above all. Let them know what it is to be helpless. Let them know what it is to be hurt and broken upon the altar of belief. Oh God, forgive me. Forgive me for these thoughts. And now, Lord in heaven, Matthew is missing. We cannot find him. No one knows where he is! First his daughter was taken, although she was found, but the father says something is wrong with her and no one knows what it is.

Then Matthew's wife went missing, and everyone thinks it was Hookum--that, that thing that keeps leaving heads and all manner of nightmares inside the church and on the steps.

[The handwriting grows more frantic.]

Fr. Eamon has gone out to speak with the police about Guin's attack, and he asked me to call Matthew's phone while he was out. A strange, cryptic note was left in the church last night, a note that said Matthew had left us, but it was more of a riddle than anything else, and quite unlike Matthew to leave such a thing without saying a word to anyone. But when I called Matthew's number, a strange man answered, and... oh God, I cannot write it. The things he said, they were horrible! Matthew dead, and on the mainland, his head severed, his... no. No, I cannot write such things. I screamed and dropped the phone--I am so ashamed! But he frightened me so much!

Oh Father Eamon. Please come home. Something is terribly wrong.

Lord, please. Please have mercy on us all...

So much has happened since last I wrote in this journal. Good heavens, I swear the parish is growing by leaps and bounds since Fr. Eamon took up his post as elder priest. And for the first time in many weeks, despite the darker events that have shadowed the church of late, I start to feel real hope that the parish and its people will survive intact. It is not only the Catwalkers now who watch over us (although many of them continue to guard the church, like furry angels standing sentinel in the dark). There are others now as well--some of them strange and fell souls, almost as nervewracking as the villains who continue their attempts to harm the parish--but their grim and determined loyalty to the Church seems so very genuine, and despite the occasional unease I feel in their presence, I couldn't be happier they are here.

The father has restored the office of the Templar Swords, a small gathering within the parish itself that exists by special dispensation from our bishop--their purpose to provide additional protection to the parish, its clergy and congregation. It is currently being headed by a new arrival to Midian, a retired police officer from Chicago named Matthew O'Keeffe. He is an older gentleman, but hale, and so very kind to everyone who has come to the parish for help. And he has been such an incredible boon to the parish! It seems Matthew owns both a construction company and an importing business. And bless the man, he saw to acquiring the supplies we needed for repairing the church! The pews, carpet, and windows have all been replaced, and the church looks more beautiful than ever.

Poor Matthew, though--his health is not the best. I keep him in my prayers, and hope he will quickly heal, but Midian is not known for being kind. He is such a great and kindly soul--I pray God will keep him safe. Matthew has also joined our tiny choir as our organist; I had the opportunity to hear him play yesterday, and his talent is truly extraordinary. We are so very lucky to have him!

Yesterday's repairs to the church went surprisingly well. It is true, what they say, that many hands make light work! We were joined by a rather interesting woman--a biomech, I believe--named Samantha Han, whose strength was truly amazing. She was able to go to the docks, to Matthew's ship, and bring all the stained glass panels back to the church in a single trip. Then between Matthew, Sam, Guin, and a pretty neko named Tae (I think? oh, I am so bad at remembering names!), they were able to remove all the wood that Fr. Eamon put up to cover the empty windows and replace them with the brand new glass. The church is so lovely now! (I'm afraid I didn't do much myself, other than hold the doors for Sam when she returned with the panels. If the church looks beautiful now, it is because of them! God bless them all!) The conversation I had with the neko was an interesting one. She seems such an innocent where the Church is concerned--trying to explain the nature of my position and the priests of the parish was an exercise in comedy and misunderstanding. But I found our conversation enjoyable, and I hope she will return.

Unfortunately, she does seem to be terribly skittish, bless her heart. Sammy seemed to set the neko on edge more than once, and Matthew's organ playing, while very beautiful to me (and I would imagine Sam as well, as she seemed very taken with the music while Matthew was playing) appeared to be making the neko nervous. To her credit, however, she did remain, and her nimbleness and skill at scaling the church's old stone no doubt eased the difficulty of replacing the stained glass windows. I hope she comes again, as I would love to talk with her more about the Church. Perhaps it would be in vain, but one never knows. The Lord works in mysterious ways. I take heart in this, our brief moment of brightness, and hope it will continue. There is such darkness surrounding the parish of late, with rumors and whispers of terrible things waiting to strike against us, but the continued determination of the father, and now the stalwart presence of Matthew and our new friends, leave me hope that we will weather this too and be stronger for it in the end.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me...