HALLELUJAH!“Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hal-le-e-lujah!”AT A VIGOROUS NOD FROM MS. TEMPLETON, Bridget leaned forward and flipped the top edge of the score; the pianist’s nimble fingers didn’t miss a single orchestrally transcribed note. Handel’s famous chorus ticked along under Mr. Vincent’s baton. The choirmaster bounced on his toes as he conducted, his baton pattern square and regular as a military band.“For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”Bridget yawned. She couldn’t concentrate. Her mind kept drifting to the state mental institution in Sonoma County where Milton Undermeyer was confined. Why would her dad want her to see the man who killed him?Rule Number Five: They lie. Yeah, yeah, she’d seen plenty of that. But the demonic presence of Penemuel was different, somehow. It was flying solo, clearly not a part of the chaotic infestation she’d been brought there to cleanse. “He calls you Pumpkin Bunny. He says you will know.” Of course it was possible that a demon would know her dad’s nickname for her; Monsignor had warned her that demons gain power over their victims by promising them visions of the future and knowledge of the unknown.
