2:51 p.m. Passion Ministry

Rachel pushed open the door and sang out, “Oscar? Hellooo. Anybody here?”

She was greeted by a drum roll. Then a man’s voice shouted, “Rachel Willingdon?”

“Yes.”

“Come on in.”

Rachel stepped into the studio. Froze. The room was a disaster. A warning bell chimed in her head.

“I’m Brendan,” a young man said while stepping around a snare drum. “Oscar’s in the back. Oh, careful,” he added. “Some jerk’s ransacked the place.”

Harry slouched on a piano bench, familiar blue eyes staring.

“Oh! It’s you.” Uh-oh. Rachel glanced toward the exit.

Brendan shut the door.

Rachel’s eyes raked the room, searching for a weapon. Mostly small bits and pieces. A chunk of glass glittered.

While Brendan was speaking to Harry, Rachel palmed the glass.

“What’re you up to?” Brendan grabbed her arm.

She ignored him, her focus sidetracked. Harry’s face was rigid with concentration. A bluish aura danced around him. “Hey!” she yelled. “What’re you doing?”

Rachel charged at Harry, pounding on his chest. The glass bit into her palm. “Stop it! Stop it! Leave him alone! Aaow!” she yelped, yanked back by Brendan. “Stop him, you idiot! Don’t you know who he is? Look at him! He’s evil. The Devil!”

“It’s done,” the Watcher said. He fixed his gaze on her. “Half right, my lovely.”