Crane accepted the proffered device, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he saw the images that the chief had captured. "Oh, dear, this is unfortunate indeed," he muttered, almost to himself. "And most unexpected. I don't believe I've heard of this occurring before, it must have been an unforseen side effect of the original incantation."

      "Unfortunate?" Potter responded. "That's like saying Mark Zuckerberg knows 'a little something' about programming! This is totally intolerable, something has to be done!"

      "Crane, what's going on?" Diana inquired.

      He handed her the phone, and it was passed around the room so everyone could see what had disturbed the veteran officer so greatly: Someone had removed the covering from the old mirror, exposing the mottled, darkened surface, and offering a slightly warped reflection of the patrolman standing in front of it, along with the image of a white-haired, bearded man, dressed in an outdated brown suit, whose face displayed a desperate, haunted expression. What made this unusual was the fact that there was no one of that description in the room to cast such a reflection.

      "That's the minister, isn't it?" Jinxx questioned, and Potter nodded.

      "Yeah, that's Eli Horton. I was just a little girl when all this happened, but I remember him very clearly. He was a good person, one of the few at that time who actually treated my folks like they were his equals, instead of putting off the impression that he thought he was better than them. He went out of his way to help anybody who needed it, and he doesn't deserve to be stuck wherever the hell that is, instead of being able to rest in peace with his wife, and the rest of his family."

      "I completely agree with you, Chief, but I see a slight problem with resolving the issue," Diana responded. "Look again, Crane, and tell me if you see what I see in this picture."

      He took the phone once again, reflexively rubbing his arm as he inspected it, his face tightening. He turned back to Potter, and inquired, in a strained voice. "Would you object to having this photograph enlarged on the computer, so everyone can see what Agent Thomas has discovered?"

      "Go ahead, I'm curious myself."

      As Joe proceeded to transfer the image, Jake Wells asked, "You didn't leave that uncovered, did you?"

      "Not a chance!" Gibbs replied. "I put the cloth back myself."

      "And I promised a two-week suspension to anybody who takes it off again," Potter added.

      "Okay, I've got it, guys," Joe announced, prompting everyone to gather around the computer desk. He brought up the picture, and the larger screen made it possible for everyone to finally spot what had caught Diana's eye. In one corner of the mirror, a third figure leered at Eli Horton,as he gazed forlornly out of the mirror. This figure, caught in a right-profile pose, was another bearded, white-haired man, dressed in white, who stared at the minister with a contemptuous expression which was obvious even without a full view of his face. But the thing that struck everyone was the air of absolute evil that seemed to exude from him, even from a photograph.

      "Dude, what the fuck?" Andy muttered. "Who the hell is that?"

      "Dunno, but I don't think I'd like to run into him in a dark alley," Yanni replied. "That's one scary-lookin' fucker."

      Leaning in to peer more closely at the image, Jake Pitts observed, "He sort of looks like a psycho Colonel Sanders."

      "Oh, you have no idea, Master Yanni," Crane said, his voice so soft that it was nearly inaudible. "Actually, Master Andy has the right of it, for all intents and purposes."

       Almost as if it had been choreographed, the members of his team snapped their heads around to stare incredulously at him. "Crane, are you telling us that's him?" Diana sputtered.

      "Indeed I am, Agent Thomas. It seems that he has not forgotten us since Lara and I paid our little... visit, as it were, to his realm."

      Everyone stared at them in confusion, and finally Hawley drawled, "So, would somebody care to clue us in on the identity of Mystery Man here? Anybody?"

      After several seconds where the group merely stared at each other, Crane sighed deeply as he gazed at his friend. "He has been referred to by many names, Master Hawley. The Dark Angel, Old Scratch, The Father of Lies ..."

      As they all gaped in astonishment at Crane's words, Gibbs found his voice and blurted, "You're not seriously be trying to tell us that's Satan, are you?"

      Before anyone could respond, their attention was once again riveted to the computer screen by the eerie laughter which suddenly erupted from the speakers. As they watched in amazement, the man turned to fully face them, revealing the left side of his face, which was covered with jagged cracks, glowing brilliant red, like molten magma. He gave them a mocking, malicious smile before pealing out another high-pitched, maniacal titter, and vanishing as though he had never been there.

      Joe pushed himself away from the desk, rolling several feet away. "Th-that can't fucking happen!" he stammered.

      "You're right, it can't," Jon responded. "But... it just did."

      No one else uttered a word for several seconds, until Chief Potter finally said, "Well, Roy, I think that answers your question."

      "Yeah, guess it does at that, Char."

      After another brief period of silence, Alex turned to Crane and inquired, "So, where does this leave the other guy? Can we get him out of the mirror, or would we let... that out, too?" 

      "Oh, no, Miss Alex, don't think for a moment that he would need us to escape from the mirror," Crane replied solemnly. "He was merely attempting to taunt us, I'm sure. He simply seeks to assure himself that I have not forgotten our previous encounter, hoping that we will be intimidated. Rest assured, we will find a way to release the good reverend from his unjust imprisonment."

      "We still have that book that talks about the mirror, y'know," Hawley reminded them. "Maybe there's something in there that deals with some sort of corrective measures."

      This statement seemed to rouse everyone from their confusion, and Crane, Jenny, Hawley, and Jake Wells made their way back to the stacks of books, as the rest of the group formed a loose semicircle around them. Hawley placed the book on the table, the brittle binding leaving flakes of ancient leather on the wooden surface as he opened it, carefully turning the pages until he found the passage he sought. Placing a finger on the page, he slid the volume toward Crane, saying, "You're a bit better with the language than I am, Professor, so have a look and tell me if it actually says what I thought it did."

      Crane carefully picked up the book, scanning the pages intently before he passed it to Jake and Jenny, who read it through, and then passed it back, both of them nodding decisively.

      "So, what does it say?" Chief Potter burst out, sounding somewhat exasperated. "Can you get him out or not?"

      "Yes, I believe that we can," Crane replied.

      "Yeah, this passage that Hawley found actually talks about someone accidentally getting sucked into the mirror, and what had to be done to get them out," Jake Wells explained. "We just have to figure out a way to modify it a bit, since that dealt with a living person, and not a ghost, basically."

      "That shouldn't be too hard," Jenny added. "I saw something similar done once when I was in Mozambique, so I'm pretty hopeful it'll work in this case, too. There's just one thing, though..."

      Everyone, including Crane, looked at her expectantly as she trailed off, and after a brief pause, she continued. "The ceremony that I observed required someone who was familiar with the dead person to be involved in the ritual. Since he's been gone for so long, how many people are left who really knew Reverend Horton?"

      Potter thought for a moment, and replied, "I can think of a few, but since I'm assuming that you want somebody who isn't going to think you're a pack of raving lunatics, that pretty much narrows it down to two: Uncle Bert, and me. And I'm not going to put him in that sort of situation at his age, especially since he's not in great health now. So I guess you're stuck with me."

      "Are you sure you want to get involved with this, Chief?" Hawley inquired. "Some of these things can be a bit tricky."

      She turned to look at him, and replied, "First of all, Mr. Hawley, I made a promise when I took this job to do whatever I could to help the citizens of this town, and as far as I'm concerned, Eli Horton still fits that description. Secondly, you weren't here when I explained this to the others, but my grandmother was a Voodoo priestess, so I'm well aware of how 'tricky' these things can be. So yes, I'm sure. When can we get started, Mr. Crane?"

      "We will need a bit of time to prepare, and I believe that all of us are in desperate need of rest, after today's events. So return here tomorrow, and we will go back to the house, and release Reverend Horton. The ceremony will begin at noon, so I suggest that you be here by at least eleven o'clock, to allow enough time to go over your role."

      She retrieved her phone from the table and moved toward the door, with Gibbs following closely behind. As she reached for the doorknob, she looked back and said, "Good night, everyone. I'll see you in the morning."

      After she and Gibbs drove out of sight, Blasko looked around the room and announced, "Okay, then. I guess that means that we should all slam down some sandwiches or something and get some sleep, it sounds like we've got another busy day tomorrow."

      He walked to the kitchen, with the band members following him. They proceeded to form a sort of assembly line to put together a large platter of roast beef sandwiches and veggie wraps, while Crane's team gathered around the table to discuss their strategy, and the BVB crew members performed various other tasks around the house. After everyone had eaten, Jinxx called the hospital again, and finally succeeded in speaking to both Ashley and Faith, and arranging to pick them up the following morning, before their return trip to the ruins of the Horton home.

      Finally, everyone made their way upstairs and collapsed into their beds, exhausted by the day's events, but still finding it difficult to go to sleep, both from the thought of what was scheduled to take place the next day, and because of what they had seen on the computer screen. But eventually, the house was quiet, as everyone slept. 

      Everyone, except Crane, who lay in his bed, gazing at the dull glow of the pentagram branded into the flesh of his left arm, the constant reminder of the sacrifice he had made in order to defeat Malcolm Dreyfus, which, despite his confident words to Diana, he still had no idea how to fix.