But unlike much of the town, the church had a stone roof, so it had been undamaged by fire. The oldest part of the church dated from the fourteenth century, and had been built without wide and smashable windows, so its exterior had been largely spared by the war. Everything breakable or burnable had been broken or burned at the outbreak of the war, however, so the inside was a dark, cavernous space. There were no signs outside the building to state the hours of mass and confession, much less where the priest was to be found. Elena pushed open the heavy door a little hesitantly. She had never seen the church in the middle of the week before. It was unlit, except for a few guttering candles, and, coming from the bright daylight outside, her eyes took a few moments to adjust. The smell was an odd mixture of old fires and new incense. She took a few steps forward, her shoes echoing in the dark silence. “Hello? Is anyone there?” No one answered, and she turned to leave. Her hand was already on the door when she heard a clunk in the darkness behind her.
