The air on James's arms stood on end as heavenly light illuminated Phanuel, bleaching everything a sickly white. The temperature in the hotel room shot above one hundred degrees. "Head's up!" he shouted to Derek over wind that spun the curtains in the windows, flipped up the bedspread, and knocked over the table lamps. A piece of framed art crashed into the headboard. He grabbed the ice bucket from the mini-fridge and tore out the plastic bag, then got on his knees at the edge of the circle to wait for whatever would come out of Penny. The lid was ready in his right hand.