I’ve gotten a title finally, apparently.
The Big Bells had been pulled from the ruins of St. Mary’s and brought south just before the Council decided to turn Custer Street into a wall. Literally pulled: the three bells were undamaged by the lightning strike that had destroyed the cathedral (and the would-be ‘Lord Protector of Portland’ inside it), and were so light a single person could carry one. Their supernaturally reduced weight went away after the Big Bells were rehung at the center of PCC, but they still retained other, esoteric qualities.
Theurgic, Janet reminded herself as the bells pealed waves of blue-gold melody across the PECZ. The technical term is ‘theurgic.’ It’s not magic. It was some kind of divine power; one that even the Catholics didn’t really comprehend very well. Which meant the Council couldn’t use the Bells very often. Those waves of melody seemed to have opinions about the state of your soul, and after listening for a while one got the impression the Bells weren’t very impressed with any rationalizations the average, well, sinner might offer up as an excuse.
On the other hand, the Bells absolutely loathed whatever was in the Devilwood.