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Chapter 23: 132 Hours Left

A knock sounded on the door of the tiny cleaning closet next to the first-floor bathroom. I hadn't been assigned a room to sleep in, and the door had been unlocked. After years of working in the baptismal, I was used to cramped quarters. In fact, I preferred it. Maybe one of Hendry's medical books touched on psychology and had a name for that.

When I opened the door, Hendry stood there, both palms braced against the sides of the frame, his hazel eyes lit by flames from the candle chandelier hanging behind him. The light's gentle leaps and sways rushed moving shadows in behind him.

"What did you do?" he asked.

I blinked, searching my memory for what I might've done and when. There was so much, a good chunk of it worthy of inspection. Like the lemon candles to which I'd added a touch of sandalwood for a richer smell.

Then it came to me. "Oh, that."

He nodded, a trace of a smile on his mouth. "Yes, that."

"I did what you asked. I sang for them."