Mary Nealy - Ten Plagues

She saw the apostle Paul persecuting Christians, even killing them, and going on to become one of the mightiest disciples in the history of the world.

Yes, God wanted to save Francis’s soul. Of course He did.

“I can feel the demon in you, Francis. I can help you be free. Don’t you want your life back? Don’t you want to be rid of this enemy who has invaded your soul?”

“Shut up!” Caldwell shook her and began walking faster. He was breathing hard from effort and anger.

“I know you think I’m here with you because you kidnapped me. I know you have a plan that you began formulating long ago.

I know you want to hurt Paul.”

“I did hurt him. It has been glorious watching him suffer. Killing his wife wasn’t enough. I wanted to do worse to her, but she was dead. I didn’t make her suffer enough. Then her husband interfered in my life and I found someone else who needed to be punished.”

Keren didn’t bother arguing with him, she just kept saying what that vision of Christ on the cross led her to say. “But Francis, I’m not here by your will. God sent me here.”

“Did He tie you up and take you into darkness?”

“He didn’t do it, Francis, but He allowed it.”

“My name is Pravus!” He walked faster. His arms were like coiled rattlesnakes ready to strike.

“God did all of that because He wants me to talk to you. He loves you.”

Suddenly she swung wildly forward and slammed down on the hard floor. Her skull cracked hard on the cement. Stars danced in her head.

Caldwell leaned over her and snarled, “My father is the only one who loves me. He saved me from the evil that wanted to rule me. He made the evil let me go, just as I’m trying to get evil to let my people go.”

There was a violent tug on her head. She wondered if she’d pushed him too far and he intended to kill her right now and be done with it. Then the hood was gone and she could see.

“Buddy!”

Paul had talked about him some, she’d seen his picture on the bulletin board—but she’d never met him. Then she thought of the one time she’d seen him—he’d been with a group from the mission at the park—when they’d found Wilma. When she’d sensed the demon. But she hadn’t been able to pinpoint him as the source of that evil.

“My name is Pravus.” He slung her over his shoulder and began walking again.

He hadn’t replaced the hood. Keren wondered if he had intended to give her this respite from darkness. Somehow she suspected Caldwell’s vision of this plague had included her being plunged into darkness and left there until she died in darkness. She wondered how long it would take him to get back on course with his plan.

Silently, she thanked God for letting her see, although there wasn’t much to see. She looked around and saw Murray’s car, with the bullet hole in the back window. The echoing enclosure must be some sort of parking garage, but it was a shambles. The cement was cracked. The ceiling had caved in at one spot. She heard a jet take off nearby and suddenly knew exactly where she was. There was an old apartment building left standing near the airport. It was remote because all the buildings around it had been demolished already. Not even the homeless would come in here. There was no one here but her and Caldwell.

They entered the building, and Caldwell began carrying her up the stairs. He was unusually strong for his size. Keren felt the corded muscles in his lean arms. But even so, he was testing his limits. Breathing hard, walking slower.

“Your father punished you. He told you he would drive the evil out,” Keren said gently, hoping to start him talking again.

“Shut up. I’m not listening to you.”

“He hurt you and called you evil until you believed him. But it wasn’t true. He was wrong.” She felt such compassion for the little boy who had been so warped, that she no longer had to force herself to do God’s will. She found it easy to reach out.

“You don’t know anything about me. My father saved me!”

Caldwell opened a door and went in. He walked to the middle of the room as Keren studied her surroundings from her upside-down position.

He flipped her off his shoulder and she landed with a thud on a hard wooden table. She tried to slide off the table, but Caldwell made such quick work of fastening her feet to a metal hook embedded in the wood that she knew he’d done it many times before. She thought of her gun strapped to her ankle. He didn’t notice it, and Keren wondered if God had closed his eyes to it.

She’d never killed a man. She didn’t want to do it now. But she would. God forgive her, she’d kill if she had to. She knew it was in her to kill someone to save the lives of innocent victims.

“Francis, God has sent me to you.”

“No, He hasn’t!” Caldwell lost his cultured voice.

“I am here with you because I have a special gift.” Keren looked at him, staring into his eyes, willing him to listen to her. “I have a gift that lets me see the demon inside of you, and that lets me see the sad, hurt little boy who doesn’t want to do this bad thing.”

Caldwell leaned down until his face was inches from hers. “I’m doing God’s will.”

She shuddered but quickly controlled herself. “You don’t have to let this demon tell you what to do. I can make him leave. All you have to do is want it, Francis. All you have to do is reach out for God.”

Caldwell produced a delicate tool from a smaller table beside the one where she lay. She recognized the chisel. It was identical to the one they’d found in LaToya’s back.

He used the chisel to slit the duct tape from her hands. For a moment, she hoped she might have reached him and he was setting her free. But he wrenched one hand straight out to her side and deftly wrapped tape around it. She saw that the table was specially made so her arms could be extended straight out at her sides and secured.

Even as he did it, she knew the demon had him firmly in his grip. Why did You let me feel him, if not to free him from the demon?

There was no answer. Maybe this wasn’t about Caldwell. Maybe this was her test.

He rounded the table. When he reached for her hand, she was ready. She rammed her fist into his face. With a howl of pain, he recoiled from her. He crouched down, mewling like a wounded kitten, until he had nearly curled into a ball on the floor. Keren desperately reached for her gun but her bound arm wouldn’t let her get to it. She rolled sideways to loosen it. With a snarl of rage, Caldwell leaped from the floor and lunged for her. She slammed the back of her hand into his jaw and he staggered back. Recovering instantly, he grabbed at her hand and she landed a solid blow on his nose. Blood spurted out. She caught a hank of hair and slammed his head on the wooden table.

With a shriek of pain more animal than human, Caldwell threw his whole weight on her free arm. He pressed it back and she couldn’t hold out against his weight. He fumbled for his tape and bound her free arm out at her side. She couldn’t move.

She was completely at the mercy of a demon.

The demon found his chisel where he’d dropped it and brought it to the table. His nose was bleeding. When he saw the blood dripping off his chin, he dabbed at it and said, “You drew first blood, Kerenhappuch, but I’ll draw last.”

He began slitting the arm of her shirt.

Paul was waiting for O’Shea to throw a fist, when Higgins rushed into the room with a half dozen FBI agents.

“Do you have the location on Keren?” Paul strode toward Higgins.

“Location?” O’Shea was right beside him.

“Yes,” Paul said. “I bugged her just like I did Rosita.”