Demon Possessed
“In deference to Justine the white candles had been replaced with black ones; the pale faces of the others rose solemn from dark collars. Megan too wore black, not that she had much choice; a plain long-sleeved, knee-length dress she thought was subdued enough to look as if she cared. Which she did, at least for the most part. She cared that the angel—she had no doubt it was the angel—had attacked another demon and had succeeded this time. She cared that Justine was dead; despite her dislike of the woman, she was still capable of being sorry. Her gaze wandered to the empty chair where Justine had sat the night before, now draped in black fabric. But she just didn’t have room for any more sorrow. She was full. Winston cleared his throat when she sat down. “So. We all know what’s happened?” There were a few general nods before Baylor spoke. “I’m not actually clear on the details.” “It was that FBI agent,” Gunnar said. “She went crazy, it appears.” “It was the angel.”
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