Things got worse when they started to have their flush of post-war babies and wanted us back out again, back where we belonged, and we had to tell them there was no "back"—they had conjured us from the blue sky, from nowhere, from their own minds, to win their great war.
"Wrong on both counts," I told Cardinal Galloway, swirling the brandy to disperse my blood through it. "First, I was the one who showed people visions." I offered him the chalice. "And second, they weren't illusions. Have a drink, and see for yourself."