No, but Marc does.

Author's Note: I'm using the public domain World English Bible to avoid potential legal issues. Therefore, it's not exactly what you would hear in a Catholic Mass, but it's close enough.

Marc felt the mild brain zap from Joan's use of magic and tightened his hand around hers. «Don't do anything you'll regret.»

«We regret more from our inactions than from our actions,» Joan told Marc.

«Not from where I'm sitting at the moment,» Marc replied.

«Why, because you impregnated me or because you got caught?»

A flood of thoughts came at Joan. She saw visions of Marc's former domestic life with Laura: the good, the bad, the growing, unvoiced need and anger and desperation over their repeated failure to reproduce. Mounting tension that finally reached a breaking point. «Joan, if I knew we could keep it, I would impregnate you all over again, but then you had to go and piss off a goddess. Don't do the same with God.»

«I'm not going to piss Him off, just get His attention. Besides, the God I know is much more forgiving. Not to mention we're old friends.»

«I hope you're right about that.»

Joan tuned back into Mass as a middle-aged lady spoke the first reading, "Now when the day of Pentecost had come, they were all with one accord in one place. Suddenly there came from the sky a sound like the rushing of a mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. Tongues like fire appeared and were distributed to them, and one sat on each of them. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak with other languages, as the Spirit gave them the ability to speak. Now there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men, from every nation under the sky. When this sound was heard, the multitude came together and were bewildered, because everyone heard them speaking in his own language. They were all amazed and marveled, saying to one another, 'Behold, aren't all these who speak Galileans? How do we hear, everyone in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and people from Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt, the parts of Libya around Cyrene, visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabians: we hear them speaking in our languages the mighty works of God!'"

Pentecost. Joan should have known when she saw Father John wearing red. Before the middle-aged reader could take her seat, Joan swirled the air in front of the altar, creating a deafening noise. With every ounce of focus she could muster, she shredded the altar's tablecloth and distributed the shreds over the heads of every member of the congregation. She set them alight, and they burned for a few seconds. Several people bolted for the doors, but many remained frozen in place.

Now, if only Joan could get the languages part down. She heard Oswald speaking in Gaelic and others throughout the church testing their native tongues, but it all sounded like gibberish. She hadn't thought this through. Maybe, with a little more focus, she could –

"Joan," Mokuba gasped, "please stop." The pounding in his and Marc's heads faded with the flames. Glazed looks crossed their faces as they recovered.

The rest of the congregation continued to chatter, oblivious to the conversation in Joan's pew, while Father John attempted to establish order.

"So you were serious about the magic thing," Oswald whispered to Joan.

"Yeah," Joan whispered back. "It's all because of this ring. It takes a toll on the guys, though."

Once they realized they couldn't understand foreign languages, the people began complaining about the smoke from the tablecloth. Several people, including George, coughed and left the building. It wasn't much worse than incense from Joan's standpoint, but then again, her dad couldn't tolerate incense either.

Marc massaged his forehead. "Well if this hubbub doesn't get God's attention, I don't know what will."