The room’s atmosphere shifted, and it caught Rose so off guard that she gasped. She spun around and saw him standing there in her kitchen. Green eyes and white suit, his face clear even in the darkened room.

“Sylous,” she whispered.

He was in her home, without warning, in the place where her children slept. They always met in the church. Yet here he was, standing before her, cold and consuming. Her stomach turned.

“The boy must be found,” Sylous said, taking a step toward her.

She placed both palms on either side of the sink behind her, feeling his seduction pull at her mind.

“We’ve searched everywhere,” Rose said, keeping her voice just above a whisper.

“Search further, search again.” His voice was low and deep, the anger in his tone barely contained. “Haven Valley will suffer if he isn’t found in time.”

Three days. Less now. There had to be another way!

“The old man’s dead,” Rose said. “The boy’s not inside the perimeter.”

Sylous glared at her, eyes sharp and accusing. “I don’t think you appreciate what we’re dealing with here.”

“Surely there’s a way you can kill him beyond . . .”

Sylous closed the distance between them in one movement, one hand on her chest, pinning her against the sink. He gripped her neck from behind and held her face close to his own. She could smell his sweat, feel his breath.

“Haven’t I made it clear that I have no control over the Fury except to protect you from them?”

“Then protect us from him!” she cried, aware that she’d crossed a line.

“I am,” he thundered, and she winced, hoping no one had heard. “I am protecting Haven Valley from the boy through you! Are you no longer my worthy servant?”

Rose couldn’t answer. Fear had closed her throat and stolen her words. Sylous’s anger seemed to be reaching into her chest and squeezing her heart.

He eased his grip on her neck and spoke in a soft voice. “This Fury comes as a boy feigning innocence and wonder to compromise your holiness. You must know by now that even my survival depends on your holiness.”

His assertion confused her. He depended on them? She’d always seen it the other way around.

“It goes both ways, like any relationship,” he said, calming. “The bride’s holiness is the air I breathe. By following the law of God, you’ve established a well of righteousness in this valley that is deep and rich. Its aroma rises to please the divine. But if that purity is compromised in this last hour, the world falls to the Fury. Trust me when I tell you, my love, that as long as the boy lives, the final remnant of God’s bride are in grave danger. The demon must be killed.”