No Devils Appear in This Story

He kept the name “Lynn Soren,” no matter how little he felt he belonged here. Lynn was currently a part-time priest, a terminally ill patient, and a theist. The last meant he followed no particular faith, but did believe that some unseen, inexplicable laws governed the world. He was right. In a way. He estimated he had only three or four months left. Neither he nor the experts he knew had come up with a viable treatment, and they weren’t even sure what exactly was causing his illness. The small town of Herron suited his needs perfectly. Its bureaucracy was little more than a formality, which meant lax oversight. And for certain special reasons, the Church’s lackeys had tacitly agreed to keep their hands out of things. He had to find a solution to his physical condition. The methods he used along the way often skirted the boundaries of law and morality. That was unavoidable. “According to a survivor who spoke to our paper, he believes the recent string of murders is all part of a devil’s plot. He was a rising star in medicine who disappeared from the capital two years ago. His name is…” “Lynn Soren.” His name would soon appear in the papers. He ought to have been born in hell. He deserved a bigger stage. He was better at it than the devils among us, watching from the audience.