“Father Bob and Bobby” is his most recent journey into the darkest regions of a tortured soul. A Strieber story never shies away from what is truly terrifying. The church stank of dead incense and the thick perfume of old women. The school reeked of floorwax and the tang of overheated children. The walls of the rectory were infused with cigar stench, and the portraits of pastors that lined the staircase were stained yellow by years of nicotine laden smoke.He hated it all. No, loathed.He loathed the church, the school, the rectory and, above all, their smells. He loathed with the infamous zeal of the convert. For he once had been a lover of all these things, even the damned cigars, which he had smoked because his pastor and his bishop smoked them. He’d been thrilled when he administered the sacraments, felt a quiet warmth at being called father, gratitude that the people brought him their problems. He’d coached basketball and soccer, taught Catechism, visited the sick and polished off ten masses a week.
