Ten Plagues

are now.”

Paul looked over his shoulder at O’Shea. The man was like a rock in the middle of Higgins’s condemnation and Paul’s panic. O’Shea, who knew Keren better and had loved her longer than any of them.

“You’ve got to be crazy to be able to stay so calm,” Paul said to the grizzled veteran of countless manhunts.

“Yeah, I guess that could describe me. But the thing that’s keeping me from acting like a complete jerk”—he threw a fiery look at Higgins—”is Keren. Keren isn’t a woman to be at anyone’s mercy.”

Paul ran his hands through his hair and tried to get a handle on the careening images in his head. Keren cut. PESTIS EX TENEBRAE painted onto a death shroud. Keren trapped somewhere in the spirit-sapping dark, as he had been for those few minutes with Rosita.

Keren.

Paul remembered who he was dealing with. He looked over his shoulder and, unbelievably, found he could smile at O’Shea. “You know what she’s doing right now?”

Higgins raced his car through the busy Chicago traffic, leading a parade of five other dark sedans—sirens shrieking, lights flashing.

O’Shea grinned back. “Sure I know what she’s doing,” he said with a laugh. “Man, nothing gets the best of my little girl for long.”

“What are you laughing for?” Higgins growled. “What about any of this is amusing?”

“It’s not amusing, and if you think I’m not scared to death for her, then you’re a fool, Higgins,” O’Shea said without venom.

“Then what do you mean?” Higgins directed his question at Paul. “What is she doing right now?”

Paul rubbed his hands over his face to keep from smiling again because it was so wrong to smile. “Our little, helpless, kidnapping victim is trying to save Francis Caldwell’s soul.”

“I can lead you to the Lord, Francis. I can pray with you and you can have rest for your soul.”

“My soul is dead. Long ago.” Caldwell cut from the gaping sleeve hole all the way to her collar, then he circled the table to do it again on the other side.

“No, Francis, every man has an immortal soul, put there by God, that exists to love and serve God. ‘As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.’ It’s the nature of every human soul to long for God. You long for God, Francis. You are thirsty for Him.”

Caldwell slit more fabric on her shirt. Keren said with all the intensity in her Christian spirit, “I don’t believe I would feel the demon in you if there wasn’t hope. Francis, look at me!”

By the sheer force of her will, she brought his eyes around. He saw her. She knew Francis, not Pravus for this one instant, was in control and listening.

From her position of absolute helplessness, she said, “I’ll help you, Francis. I’ll stay with you. I’ll stay by your side through all that is to come.”

“And you can protect me from the police?” Francis asked bitterly.

“No.” Keren wasn’t going to lie to him. “No, Francis. When you get rid of the demon, you will still have to face up to all the harm you’ve done, because you’ve always had a choice. The demon in you has only had the power over you that you’ve given him. So they’ll lock you up, and you’ll find out that prison walls don’t keep God out. You can be a Christian anywhere.”

Francis looked at her, listening.

Keren said gently, “I can see your thirst, Francis. Let me go. Let me tell you about my Savior. There is joy for you in this life, Francis. How long has it been since you’ve felt a moment’s joy? There is peace and love and victory—true power, Francis.”

Francis’s eyes flickered and his breathing became uneven. She could see the struggle in him, but she fervently believed what she said. If there was no hope, then she wouldn’t have been given this gift of discernment. She prayed silently, not for her own safety,

but for Francis’s soul.

He laid his hand in hers, where it was bound.

“He loves you, Francis. God loves you, and I love you. That’s why I’m here, to tell you He loves you.”

Suddenly Francis’s hand gripped hers with violent strength.

Then, with a sudden slashing movement, her hand was free. Francis reached across her and unbound her other hand. He released her feet with a final slash of his chisel and handed the sharp metal tool to her.

“This is crazy. I’m crazy.” His whole body trembled violently. “The demon has made me into a monster. Stop me.”

Keren sat up. “Let’s pray together.”

As she prayed, Keren saw darkness seep out of him from every pore. The darkness fought to hold him. Francis held her with his gaze. She prayed fiercely as the demon that had Francis in his grip began to take shape and twist as it rose in the air. A low wail of tormented agony erupted from the black cloud that filled the room. It built and built until Keren wanted to cover her ears from the shriek of fury. The evil wrapped itself around her throat.

The shriek turned to a roar and a window shattered as the black cloud streaked away and vanished.

“It’s gone. I felt the weight lift off me.”

“Yes, it’s gone. Now we need to pray. You need to accept Jesus into your heart. Simply believe in Him to have eternal life.”

His hand tightened on hers. The power of being set free didn’t gleam in his eyes like it should. “Without the demon, I can see clearly for the first time in years, and all I can see is an evil world—a father who couldn’t love me.”

“But God loves you. You can’t have lived through what just happened here and not believe in Him. God has shown Himself to you.”

“Yes, He has.” A smile twisted Francis’s lips. “And God took away all my strength.”

“Francis, it’s important that you turn to God.” Keren thought of the verse that said if a demon left a man but God did not enter in, then more demons would return, more powerfully than ever. “You can’t deny His love. You’ve experienced it in a beautiful way.”

“I did experience it. I do believe it. But I don’t accept.” Francis jerked as if something—or someone—struck him.

“Francis, no, listen to me. Listen to God.” Whatever went on inside of Francis, she had to fight her way past it to reach him.

“I liked myself.” Francis’s voice changed again. His eyes gleamed until Keren could see the flames burning in his soul.

“It’s my choice, and I don’t choose the path your God has for me.” He reached for her.

Keren threw herself backward, diving off the table. She landed with a thud on her neck and shoulder. She rolled to her feet as Francis rounded the table, a roar of evil joy coming from him.

He slammed into her. They both reeled backward. The apartment wall kept her on her feet. She ran for the door.

Francis was on her, knocking her to the floor. He landed all his weight on her back. Flipping her over, he straddled her stomach. His hands closed on her throat. She knocked his grip away with an upward sweep of her arms, caught the front of his shirt, and rolled, throwing him over her head. On her feet instantly, she turned just as he charged forward and backed her into the wall. His hands tightened on her neck.

She caught his wrists to take the pressure off her windpipe. He wasn’t that big. She was trained in self- defense.

He bore down on her. She pushed against the strangling grip. Fighting to draw in a breath, she used every ounce of her strength against him. With a sudden twist, she broke his grip and shoved him sideways. His head hit the wall with a stunning crack.

She dived away from him, clawing at her ankle holster. She pulled the gun free and brought it up just as Francis grabbed the chisel that had fallen to the floor. He hurled it at her with the same deadly accuracy he’d used on LaToya.