The fog was Lucifer's first clue that something was off. He wasn't sure when exactly it appeared; when he thought back after everything was over, it seemed like there had been wisps of fog even before he noticed them, clinging to the edges of the doorway as if they were afraid to enter. It must have grown gradually bolder; on the day they met, it seemed that the fog had always been there.

Odder still was the rosary. Made of some ancient, dark wood that Lucifer couldn't name, it appeared on the bar one day, but disappeared before Lucifer got back from work. He thought it might belong to the new cleaning staff, though if they felt it necessary to pray while cleaning, he might have some cause for concern. He hadn't even had any wild parties lately, after all, and was generally tidy when he wasn't partying, so they didn't have too much to do.

Two days later, he spotted it on his table and moved to study it. Some of the beads had been worn down by years of handling, he noticed, though the crucifix itself seemed near-new.

He reached for it, then hesitated. No, the rumors were only that; he'd have no trouble touching it. Still, he rested a finger on a bead with some trepidation.

Nothing. Only wood. Lucifer smiled. Of course he could touch it, though he wouldn't have put it past his some of the more mischievous of his siblings to leave him booby-trapped religious jewelry as a joke.

Still, he avoided the crucifix as he picked up the rosary, allowing the beads to pool in one cupped palm. Picking up the image of his brother would just be odd. "Who left you here, eh?" He found it hard to believe that the cleaning person had forgotten it again.

"Ah, I did."

Lucifer whirled to see a pale, wispy-looking young man standing at the entrance to the balcony. He wore faded jeans and a t-shirt that showed some signs of wear. Still, seeing as how it looked to be a shirt from the first Queen tour, Lucifer understood the appeal. The man's clothing seemed fine for the early October weather, maybe even a little warm, though he might be chilly at night.

"Who are you?"

"Sorry that I keep forgetting it," the man said, though he made no move to come forward and claim the rosary. His accent was odd, similar to Lucifer's own, but the vowels were a bit off. "Didn't think you could touch it. Are you… ah, never mind."

"Who are you?" Lucifer repeated, his voice increasing in intensity, though not in volume. It wasn't one of his siblings, he knew, but the stranger didn't seem quite right. "When did you come here? Have you been hiding on the balcony all this time?"

Not that Lucifer minded surprise visitors to the penthouse - or, well, he didn't before he and the Detective had become an item, and the man was attractive enough - but he preferred that they announce themselves in some way rather than lurking.

The young man grimaced, though he shifted position as if trying to see the rosary without getting closer. "Henry. Sorry. I didn't mean for you to know I was here."

"Well, then, announcing yourself probably wasn't the best idea," Lucifer said, sounding snippy even to himself. "Must I repeat each question for you to answer it?"

With a spark of temper, Henry replied, "I wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't picked up my rosary. It's all I have left, and I thought you -"

"What, that I'd steal it?" Lucifer asked. "Well, it was left in my penthouse - twice!"

"But you didn't touch it last time," Henry said. "Look, is it - did you -" He fumbled over his words, then finally said, "Can I have it back?"

Lucifer extended the rosary, the beads dipping and curling around his fingers. "Be my guest."

Henry hesitated, then nodded and came into the room. He took the rosary carefully, then ran his fingers along the beads in a practiced gesture. "It's all right," he said, sounding startled.

"Well, why wouldn't it be?" Lucifer replied, exasperated.

"Because you're the Devil! Can you touch all of it? Even the crucifix?" Pale eyes wide, Henry extended the rosary, and Lucifer resisted the urge to bat it away. Perhaps deciding that Lucifer wouldn't touch it, Henry turned back to the balcony entrance.

"How do you know I'm the Devil?" Lucifer asked, ignoring the questions.

That drew a laugh from Henry. "Well, it's not like you keep it a secret. Lucifer Morningstar? If you wanted to stay hidden, you should have gone with a subtler name. Besides," he added, indicating the penthouse with an upraised hand. "Who else would live here?"

"Yes, but you believe me," Lucifer persisted. "Most people think I'm odd, or insane, or playing a role, but you don't seem to question it. Why?"

Henry shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it defies logic and common sense. Who would think that I'm telling the truth?" Lucifer was torn between disbelief and frustration. After years and how many times telling Chloe who he was, it had taken proof she'd been unable to deny to get her to admit that he was the Devil. Why would this person just believe him?

But Henry just smiled, his pale lips opening to show a flash of teeth. "I would, because you are. God cursed me, just as he cursed you."

Cursed by God. He'd heard it from his siblings, even from demons back in the early days in Hell. He'd thought it countless times. Somehow, hearing it from this stranger, said in such a matter-of-fact way, twisted the knife a little too far. "Out," Lucifer demanded. "Leave my home. You're got your trinket, now go."

Henry's smile turned a little sad, and he nodded, but stepped out to the balcony. In the time it took Lucifer to follow, intent on apprehending him, he'd disappeared.

No screams sounded from the street below, and Henry wasn't anywhere on the balcony that Lucifer could see.

He'd vanished.

Lucifer kept a wary eye out, but the rosary didn't reappear in the penthouse and he didn't see anyone who looked like Henry hanging about Lux. Still, the fog persisted, and Lucifer grew used to it, soon forgetting that there hadn't always been wisps curling about the corners of his bedroom.

He thought he saw Henry a few weeks later at the precinct, but ended up chasing down a startled witness.

"What was that about?" Chloe asked when Lucifer returned to her desk with an amused Maze in tow. "I mean, I know you hate paperwork," she added, her voice taking on a note of teasing, "but that was a little extreme even for you."

"Sorry," Lucifer said. "Thought I knew the fellow who just passed by, but I was mistaken."

"Who did you think he was?" Chloe asked, setting aside her tablet.

Lucifer shook his head. "Just someone who showed up to the penthouse the other week. I'm still not sure why."

"Is whoever it is the reason your place feels so weird?" Maze asked, hitching up a hip to perch on the corner of Chloe's desk.

"There are chairs," Chloe suggested, though without any heat.

Maze shrugged.

"How do you know how my place… feels?" Lucifer asked, eyebrows lifting. "Stop by for a visit, did you? For that matter, how does it feel?"

"I was missing a knife. Thought I might have left it there." Perhaps feeling that she'd made her point, Maze slid down from the desk and pulled a chair closer, easing into it and then putting her feet up on the spot on the desk where she'd been sitting. "It's… not cold, but sort of."

"Cool?" Chloe suggested, but Maze shook her head.

"Like… spiritually cold." Maze hesitated, then added, "It's like the mall on Christmas Eve, but less fun."

"I hadn't noticed anything," Lucifer observed, frowning.

"Maybe it happened gradually?" Chloe said. "When I was a kid, my mom didn't want me to cut my hair, so I did it a little at a time, and it took her a while to notice."

Maze grinned. "Rebellion," she approved, amending, "Well, for you that's rebellion."

"Hey," Chloe protested, though not without a smile. "Going against my mother where looks were concerned absolutely counts as rebellion for anybody."

Maze nodded, conceding the point. "Who showed up at your penthouse?" she asked Lucifer. Nodding toward Chloe, she added, "Thought that wasn't your thing any more."

"It's not," Lucifer agreed, though he spoke easily. He and Chloe had, after some prompting from Linda, discussed such things, and so were on the same page regarding such extracurricular activities. "Henry didn't come over for sex. He was just… there. And then he wasn't."

"What, he just disappeared?" Chloe asked, though her brows lifted when Lucifer nodded. "That didn't strike you as odd?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I kept an eye out for him, but he didn't return. And then… well, it seemed like it didn't matter so much. Not until I saw the poor fellow I accosted just now."

"Yeah, that was awesome," Maze approved, all cheerful smugness. "I thought he was going to pee his pants." Perhaps seeing Chloe's look of amused chiding, she added, "Demon, remember?"

"Good point," Chloe acknowledged, smiling at Maze before turning back to Lucifer. "If he wasn't important, why did you go after that witness?"

Lucifer was silent as he pondered his answer. Why had he done it? Really, what concerned him more was why he hadn't noticed whatever was off about his home, for he certainly trusted Maze's judgment there. Why didn't he care what had happened to Henry, who Lucifer suddenly remembered had recognized him as the Devil? When had he grown so incurious?

"I'm… not sure. I need to go," he said, as he got to his feet. "And this isn't a ploy to avoid paperwork, I swear. If Maze says there is something off with my home, I'd like to see."

Chloe nodded, though not without some concern. "Yeah, no, sure. I get it. You need backup? Though Maze noticed it," she added, with a nod toward Maze. "Maybe we should all go."

Lucifer shook his head. "Henry wasn't at all threatening," he reassured. "Looked as if a stiff wind would have knocked him over, honestly. But I'll call if I need anything."

Chloe looked a little uneasy, but nodded. "Be careful."

"He'll be fine," Maze said, as Lucifer left.

Lucifer smiled, if tightly. He would be fine. What, after all, could harm the Devil?

The penthouse was different. Now that Maze had mentioned it, Lucifer noticed it. It felt less vibrant, as if someone had used a particularly ghastly Snapchat filter on it. And fog still clung to the balcony entrance.

When had that become normal?

He took a quick look around the main room, even venturing to the entrance to the balcony.

Maybe Maze had been right. Maybe Henry was responsible. But how could he still be there? He'd looked frail, but certainly not small enough to hide away in some nook. Still, it was worth checking.

"Henry," he called. "Henry, are you here? Come out, come out, wherever you are. Olly olly oxen free."

A breeze stirred the air over his head, and Lucifer caught a flicker of movement over his head. He turned, and…

"Henry?"

"Yes."

Henry looked somehow better. He stood straighter, and his skin had lost much of its pallor. Lucifer found himself unable to look away from Henry's lips, now pink and glistening.

"Stop that," Henry said, his voice sharp.

Lucifer blinked and looked away, then back to Henry's strange, pale eyes. "What just happened?" Oddly, he didn't even take offense at Henry giving him an order.

Henry sighed. "I apologize. I didn't realize it would affect you like that."

Lucifer turned away, though not so much that Henry was out of his line of sight, and poured a drink. "Would you like one," he asked, "While you explain what's going on?"

Henry shook his head. "I'd say I never drank scotch, but that's been done before. And, well, I do. Yours is particularly good; thank you. But not just now. Perhaps later."

Lucifer took up his own glass, though he didn't drink it, not just yet. "Where were you, just now? Before I called for you."

"Oh, out on the balcony." Henry smiled, charming but still melancholy. "I do appreciate you asking me in. It's been lonely. And, well, I can't hear out there, when you watch television."

"You were not," Lucifer all but snarled. "I looked. I did not see you. Don't lie to me."

"I didn't," Henry replied quickly, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I thought you already knew. I was in the small house."

For a moment, Lucifer had no idea what Henry meant. But then he gestured to the balcony, and Lucifer caught sight of Beatrice's bat house. "You'd never fit."

Henry closed his eyes, and Lucifer had seen a similar enough expression on Chloe's face to guess that he was trying to be patient. "Look, if I show you, will you believe me?"

Lucifer inhaled a breath, the words hitting him harder than perhaps Henry had intended. All those times he'd told someone his identity, only to be laughed off. Method. Joking. Delusional. He was none of those things, not when it came to who he was.

Finally, he swallowed a mouthful of his drink. "Yes," he said, feeling the rasp of his voice. "Show me." He shouldn't need the proof to believe whatever it was, but he did.

Henry's lips tightened, and he nodded.

His outline went hazy, and he seemed to collapse in upon himself, his form darkening and contorting until he hovered in the air: a bat.

Lucifer finished his drink and set the glass aside. "Well," he breathed. "Would you look at that?"

Henry remained as a bat for a moment longer, and then elongated, stretching back to his human form. "Can I have that drink now?" he asked, his face gone a bit more pale.

Lucifer nodded. He poured a drink for Henry, handed it over, refilled his own glass. "Sit, before you fall down," he urged, fitting actions to words and sitting on the couch. Henry did the same. Lucifer studied the smaller man. "So. You're, what, a vampire? I didn't think they existed."

"Says the Devil himself," Henry replied, his lips curving just a little. "But, yes. A vampire."

A vampire. Angels and demons, of course Lucifer knew they were real, but he'd assumed that vampires were the product of the humans' imagination.

Had his father done this?

"And you can turn into a bat," Lucifer said, still trying to make sense of it. Why would his father do something like this to his creations?

Henry shrugged. "It's harder to transform back and forth in succession like that, but yes."

"But you… you had the rosary," Lucifer realized. "You pray? To my father? Why?"

Henry reached into a pocket and pulled out the rosary, looking at it rather than at Lucifer. "When I was a child, it's what was done. Mass every day, confession, say your prayers. I suppose I believed that He'd forgive me, if I asked often enough."

"My father?" Lucifer repeated, the words bitter in his mouth.

Henry nodded, meeting Lucifer's gaze at last. "He cursed me, punished me for -"

"No," Lucifer interrupted, his words sharp. "Punishment is my bailiwick. Dear old Dad doesn't care enough to do anything to you lot, on an individual level. He just -" But Lucifer cut off his own words, as Henry's expression had gone stricken. "What?" he asked, gentling his tone.

"You're sure?" Henry stammered. "Well, of course you would be. You're his son. Who would know him better?" He ignored Lucifer's scoffing sound, continuing, "I thought he did it to me on purpose, because of - well, why doesn't matter. But as punishment. And I thought that if I repented enough, maybe I would be restored, and could go -"

To Heaven. He didn't say it, not in words, but the implication was clear.

"You wouldn't want to go there," Lucifer said, his voice flat. "It's boring."

Henry didn't respond.

Great. Another human's worldview destroyed. He'd developed a knack for that, really, though they did tend to recover.

Eventually.

"What did you do that was so awful?" Lucifer asked, trying to make his voice soothing, the way the Detective had the previous week when her child had felt slighted. He wondered if he should rub the vampire's back, the way Chloe has done, or would that be weird? No, definitely weird.

"It doesn't matter," Henry repeated, his voice quiet. "I did it, and it was a sin." He fumbled with his beads, a murmur of Latin escaping his lips.

"Do you think that's what my father wants?" Lucifer demanded. "Chanting and kneeling and… okay, sometimes he did enjoy a good grovel." Henry had opened his eyes, though his lips and his fingers still moved. "Look," Lucifer said, gentling his tone. "Many of the things your church - all of the churches - say are wrong? Sins? He doesn't care about them. They're made up by humans so that one group can have power over another. For the most part, he doesn't pay attention to the details. I mean, sure, he micromanaged some in the bad old days. But most of the time, especially lately, he just doesn't care."

Henry's fingers ceased their motion. "I'm not sure why you think this is going to make me feel better," he whispered. "He's supposed to be God the Father, not God the I don't actually care."

"Well, as a father, he leaves something to be desired, so benign neglect is about as good as it gets." Lucifer glanced skyward, adding, "Trust me on this one."

Henry drew in a quavery breath. "What does it say about me that I do trust you?" he asked.

"Maybe that you're developing some common sense?"

Henry smiled wanly and tucked away the rosary again, with a final murmur in Latin.

Lucifer realized that his pronunciation was classical, rather than ecclesiastical, and had been throughout. Perhaps Henry was old-school, or perhaps…

"Henry, how old are you?"

Henry took up his drink once more. "When I was born, my father named me in honor of the king," he replied.

Lucifer managed not to roll his eyes, though he couldn't keep back a short, exasperated sigh. "Well, that narrows it down." But, whichever King Henry it had been, it meant that this Henry was far older than he looked. "So your father, your family…?"

"Gone," Henry replied, his voice dispassionate. "Of course. Oh, I have descendants, I daresay, but I lost track once I grew too old for my face. Some of the others pay attention to their families, but…" He shrugged. "It got too complicated."

"Family is complicated," Lucifer agreed, his thoughts nowhere near the penthouse. He'd almost said overrated, but he knew that to be a lie. He'd been without them for millenia, for the most part, but he found himself missing some of his siblings. Feeling that both he and Henry could use a change of subject, he asked, "How did you come to be living here?"

Henry stretched out his legs before him. "To this country? I came a few hundred years ago. Wanted a change."

"Well, I meant my penthouse."

Henry actually smiled. "Well, how could I resist -" Lucifer was all set to preen when Henry concluded, "- the lovely small house? Green is my favorite color, and it even welcomed me in, and I do like the tiny bats on the sides. And, well, I liked it here."

Lucifer smiled just a bit. "It is a nice place, yes. Lovely views."

"And you can see the stars," Henry said, his voice quiet and a bit wistful. "That's hard to come by, around here."

Lucifer nodded. "One of the advantages of being so high up."

Henry shook his head, his smile a little sad. "You don't even realize it, do you?" he asked. Perhaps noting Lucifer's puzzled expression, he added, "The stars. They shine more brightly when you're near."

Lucifer looked toward the balcony, murmuring a negative. "They shine as they always have."

With another headshake, Henry said, "They shine more for you. They remember where they came from, Lightbringer."

Lucifer got up and moved toward the balcony. Did the stars shine brighter as he approached? He couldn't tell. But it warmed his heart a bit to think that perhaps the stars remembered him. "I was proud of them," he said, more to the stars than to Henry. "Am proud."

"As you should be. Pride in one's creations is, well -" A quiet cough came from Henry, and when he spoke again, it sounded like he wanted to change the subject. "The small house. Did you make it?"

"No," Lucifer replied, his tone dry, though he did glance at the bat house before returning to his chair. "The child did, the Detective's offspring. My, ah, partner's daughter," he clarified, seeking Henry's puzzled look. "She wants to save the bats."

"As she should. They do need saving," Henry confirmed. "Too many horror movies made people dislike them."

"Yes, but vampire bats are real," Lucifer said. "Vampires are real."

With a short, exasperated sigh, Henry said, all scorn, "We are, but we don't sparkle, and we can see our reflections, and I adore garlic." Speaking more calmly, he added, "It's a blood disorder… sort of. I think. There are those of us who have gone into medicine, to learn more about it, but that's not the path I chose."

"Sort of?" Lucifer pressed. "But do you drink blood?" How had he not known that vampires were real? Wouldn't at least one of them have ended up in Hell?

Henry looked into his glass. "I do," he said, his voice quiet. "I've got some people who help: one at the blood bank, a phlebotomist who will draw extra vials, that sort of thing. Not as much as I'd like, not as tasty when it's not fresh, but I take what I can get. I don't… bite people any more. It's too dangerous."

"For them or for you?"

Henry looked away. "Well, both," he said, still speaking softly. "It's too easy to get carried away, and, well, modern technology takes note of such things as bite marks on corpses, should one lose control."

Lucifer nodded, though he observed, "It's amazing what they can explain away, though. The humans. What they just won't see, even when it's right in front of them." He eyed Henry, adding, "You do look better than you did when we first met, if I can say so. Less likely to fall over at a moment's notice. I'd hate to think you were snacking on the clientele at Lux." He let his eyes flicker red, noting Henry's wary headshake with something that wasn't quite pleasure.

"It's actually because of you," Henry admitted, though he lifted a hand in a warding gesture when Lucifer drew himself up. "No, I haven't bit you. I said I don't bite people."

"I'd like to think I would have noticed being bitten," Lucifer observed, twitching at one cufflink.

Henry smiled, looking very much like the cat that got the cream. "You would have. But, no, it's because of your…" He gestured vaguely. "You feel things. Not like that," he added, possibly sensing the off-color remark on the tip of Lucifer's tongue. "Your emotions, I mean."

Looking puzzled, Lucifer asked, "You… suck my feelings?"

Henry didn't appear to understand it, himself. "I mean, no actual sucking is involved, but just being around you, I feel better. I haven't needed as much blood. I've felt stronger. Maybe it's because of who you are."

Lucifer felt inexplicably pleased. He hadn't done anything, not as such, but being seen as a source of good, even of healing, was pleasantly novel. "I'm glad, I suppose. Did you do something to me?" he asked. "I had forgotten you were here until I saw someone who resembled you, and the penthouse feels… odd. And all the bits of fog are rather strange. Though if you could do it at Lux," he thought to add, "I'd save on decorating for Halloween."

"Not intentionally," Henry was quick to reply. "It's a vampire thing. When I used to bite people, their memories blurred. I guess something similar happened here, and the fog just tends to happen, when. I stay in one place for a time. But the rest of it, I'll stop it, now that I know it's happening."

Nodding, Lucifer said, "Well, you're welcome to stay, long as you don't cause trouble. Well, any more trouble than happens here on its own," he amended. Seeing that Henry's gaze had gone distant, he added, "Or you can move along. I won't be offended."

Henry summoned a smile. "Sorry, no, thank you. I just… I was hoping you'd know about vampires, that you could restore me so that I could go to Heaven."

"Point of fact, I never saw any vampires in Hell," Lucifer observed.

With a grim nod, Henry said, "I was told that we don't have souls. Like demons. So when we die, it's over. Better that than Hell, I suppose. No offense."

"None taken," Lucifer reassured. "I didn't exactly enjoy my time there. And there is someone I can ask who might know more. If anybody could help, she can."

"She," Henry echoed, sitting up a little straighter. "So… not your father?"

Lucifer shook his head. "As if he'd answer. And not Mum, either. She's, ah, out of range, though actually, vampires, that seems like something she'd do."

Pity she wasn't available to ask. If his mother had somehow created vampires, Lucifer was curious as to how she'd done it. He could guess at the why.

Looking stunned, Henry said, "You have a mother?"

"Of course I do," Lucifer replied, unable to keep back a short laugh. "Think Dad did the Big Bang all by himself? Here, now, take a drink," Lucifer suggested. "Sorry, didn't mean to tip your worldview. Well, again."

"Do people pray to her?" Henry asked, his voice weak.

"Mum? Well, I don't think so, no. Dad got pissed off at her, wrote her out of the story." Lucifer shook his head, setting aside his drink. "But let's see if she answers. My sister, I mean. Not Mum." He folded his hands and closed his eyes, reaching out to his sister.

"Let's give her a minute," Lucifer added, when she didn't immediately reply. Eventually, she stepped in from the balcony, her wings folding as she entered.

"Hey, Lulu," Azrael greeted.

Henry mouthed, Lulu?, then smiled at Lucifer's quelling look.

"Wasn't sure you'd show up," Lucifer said, aware that his voice had gone stiff. He'd talked with Linda about his sister, more as a precaution than anything else, but he still wasn't sure how he felt about her now.

Azrael smiled. "I'll come whenever you call. I don't want to just show up here, though," she added, her voice taking on a note of teasing. "Anything could be happening."

"Yes, well, not so much any more with the orgies," Lucifer demurred.

"He's been living like a monk," Henry confirmed. "Well, if monks had fancy penthouses and massages and grocery delivery and all that. Which they kind of did, back in the day, sometimes. But the sex thing, he's right, there. Less sex than some actual monks, really."

"Stop helping," Lucifer murmured.

Azrael turned to study Henry, her eyebrows lifting, and then she turned back to Lucifer. "You know what this guy is, right?"

"Don't be so judgy, little sister," Lucifer chided, suddenly wondering if calling on the Angel of Death had really been the right move.

Azrael's lips curved, though her expression wasn't especially pleasant. "Yeah, that's Dad's job."

Still, she cast a speculative look toward Lucifer's neck, and he said, perhaps with a touch of exasperation, "Yes, I know he's a vampire, and, no, he didn't bite me. Look, he thinks he doesn't have a soul. Is he right? I know I never saw a vampire in Hell. At least, nobody I knew was a vampire. But maybe you can't tell just by looking." Though clearly Azrael had.

"No, he's right," Azrael confirmed, and Henry deflated a little. Perhaps Azrael noticed that, as she sidled a little closer to Lucifer as she asked, "And can you blame me for checking? I mean, it's an experience. Or so I've heard," she amended, maybe catching Lucifer's startled look.

He wasn't really sure what to make of that, and so went with, "Of course not." Lucifer didn't want to think too hard about his younger sister not only knowing about vampires, but also knowing about vampire experiences.

What had she been up to for all those years?

"Look, I have to go," Azrael said, though not without an apologetic look. "People keep dying. But call again," she added, her smile warming her face. "I'll come." She hesitated a moment, then said, "Look, if anybody can help this guy, it's you. And do it next Wednesday. It'll be easier."

And then, leaving Lucifer completely baffled, Azrael left.

The silence hung, and the Henry asked, "What did she mean? Who even was that?"

"My sister Azrael," Lucifer replied, but any further answer was lost to Henry's protestations.

"Azrael? The Angel of Death? You called the Angel of Death?!"

"Well, who else to ask if you've got a soul?" Lucifer asked, nettled.

Henry took a deep breath. "Okay. Yeah. Okay. I guess that makes sense." Another breath. "I thought she'd be taller."

"She's as tall as she needs to be," Lucifer replied, with a shrug.

Henry seemed to have gotten himself under control, though he did gulp about half of his remaining drink. "What did she mean, though? That you could help me."

Lucifer shook his head. "I have no idea. And why next Wednesday?"

"Oh, I know that one," Henry said, his expression a little grim. "It's Halloween."