“And looking like something out of a gothic mystery novel,” Mary Helen couldn’t resist saying.

The interior of the ornate building was dark except for a light on the first floor. Sister Eileen checked her wristwatch. “Eight-thirty, Sunday night. That is exactly where Luis should be cleaning. We’d better make sure he’s all right.”

The three nuns hurried up the moon-flooded driveway. The loose gravel crunching under their feet was the only sound breaking the stillness.

On the top step, just outside the main entrance, a slight young man leaned against one of the lions flanking the doorway. He was trembling. Beads of perspiration wet his forehead.

“Luis, are you okay?” Sister Anne reached out and pried the pushbroom loose from his clenched hand.

“Yeah, Sister.” Thick eyeglasses magnified Luis’s terrified eyes.

Gently Sister Anne led him to the top step. “Sit down. You look pale.”

Pale! To Mary Helen, his thin face looked absolutely green. As a matter of fact, in this grotesque lighting, they all looked a little green.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Anne asked, settling down on the stone step beside him.

Luis had just opened his mouth when a scream ricocheted through the blackened foyer. Mary Helen’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. Eileen whirled toward the front door just as a young woman burst through.

“Marina, dear, what is it?” Sister Eileen recognized Professor Villanueva’s secretary immediately.

“Come, please! Quick!” Marina pulled at the old nun’s jacket, urging her into the building. “The professor’s hurt.” As she spoke, her slim body began to shudder.

Eileen grabbed the young woman by the shoulders and eased her onto the top step next to Luis. “Breathe deeply,” she ordered, her chubby face close to Marina’s. “Put your head between your knees. Try to relax. We’ll get some help.”