"Are you sure you don't want to transfer them into Council custody?"
"There's not a damn thing the Council can do to protect them that we can't do just as well here," Fr. Marcus said into the telephone. "I see no reason to move them, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce."
"Well," said the deep voice on the other side of the telephone, "if that is what you think is best. The Council trusts your judgment in these matters and will respect your wishes. But if I may recommend—"
"I know what your recommendations are. These girls were placed into my care and, with the grace of the Lord, I will protect them."
"In that case, Father, I hope your Lord is feeling gracious. Good luck." There was a click on the line.
Fr. Marcus hung up the telephone, sat down, and began to think.