The Moore House had again changed hands. This time it was Bishop Kenneth Gilroy who stood waiting in the chapel for potential investigators to arrive. Some time had passed since the last Midnight Mass and it would be a little longer still. Tonight was not about ceremony or sacrament. The small circle of folding chairs in the center of the room said that. Gilroy hadn’t set this up to preach, though undoubtedly there would be some who thought that despite him not using the pulpit.
He had tried to make the announcement as simple as possible. Come, learn, discuss. How successful the endeavor would be would depend entirely on turn out and Gilroy admitted nervousness. Midnight Mass could at least draw a crowd with pomp and unspoken moral requirement. That crowd had been less than sincere in Kenneth’s mind, though. He hoped the offer of critical examination would bring the genuinely curious. However, there was just as much chance for it to attract those eager to ridicule.
The skinny fanged worm picked up one of the Testaments he had placed on a table in the foyer and waited.