Chapter 47
No one in the little office had anything to say after Terrill left. The only sounds were the splintering of wood and the huffs of exertion from Grime as he smashed the drawers.
Sylvie had realized she couldn’t stop Terrill from trying, though it was obvious there was little he could do. It was what he had become. For him to run, to hide behind his friends, would be to betray his very being. For him to avoid death meant he was denying his humanness.
Brosterhouse sat in the chair behind the desk, his gun in hand. Father Harry seemed almost happy to be confronted by real, concrete evil. He lifted the water bottle, and Sylvie could almost see an idea bloom behind his eyes. He went to the door and poured a little of the holy water along the bottom. Then he frowned and looked aroun
