She raced to Jethro and Rebekkah's house after daybreak—before her resolve wavered. She stormed up the front porch steps and pounded on the oak door."Jethro,” she shouted. “Get out here."Moments later she heard heavy footsteps, then the old man stood in the open entry, still in his nightshirt, wide-eyed and wrinkled from sleep. Rebekkah peeked from behind Jethro, her normally impeccable bun gone, her iron gray hair draped in shiny waves over her shoulders."What's wrong? Is Joey sick?” Jethro craned his neck to see beyond Charlene.She put her fists on her hips. “I don't know. You tell me. He ate two pounds of raw beef last night and nearly snapped my fingers off. You think that's normal?” She held out the holy books. “What are these doing at my house? What do they mean?"Jethro sucked in his breath, his eyes flared green, and he took a step back.Charlene moved in, matching him step for step. “What's happening to Joey? And, who the hell is Oblis?""You want answers?” Jethro spat out.
