Faith power

His eyes flicked down to the candle and then back up, to the darkness beyond. "Faith, Harry." Then he reached to his side with his broad right hand, and slowly, silently, drew Amoracchius from its sheath. I found it a tad more encouraging than his words. The great blade's polished steel gave off a lambent glow as Michael stepped forward to stand beside me in the darkness, and the air fairly thrummed with its power - Michael's own faith, amplified a thousandfold.
“Where are the nurses?" he asked me in a hoarse whisper.
"Spooked off, maybe," I answered, as quietly. "Or maybe some sort of glamour. At least they're out of the way."
I glanced at the sword, and at the long, slender spike of metal set into its cross guard. Perhaps it was only my imagination, but I thought I could see flecks of red still upon it. Probably rust, I reasoned. Sure, rust.
I set the candle down upon the floor, where it continued to burn pinpoint-clear, indicating a spiritual presence. A big one. Bob hadn't been lying when he'd said that the ghost of Agatha Hagglethorn was no two-bit shade.
"Stay back," I told Michael. "Give me a minute."
"If what the spirit told you is correct, this creature is dangerous," Michael replied. "Let me go first. It will be safer."
I nodded toward the glowing blade. "Trust me, a ghost would feel the sword coming before you even got to the door. Let me see what I can do first. If I can dust the spook, this whole contest is over before it begins."


Grave Peril Chapter 2, Page 9