it.
It stepped forward down the aisle leading to the altar, and it recognized the hated sign, the sign of the cross. It had memories of that sign, when it had last walked the earth. Many of those who had sent it back had carried that sign. It felt wrath and rage burn from within it like a furnace. There was an alcove in the back of the church, with an open door leading to the altar, and glass windows making up the top section of the way on each side. It strode forward and smashed his fist through the middle section of windows. Glass flew everywhere, splintering and shredding into a billion pieces that embedded themselves on the floor, on the walls, and even in the ceiling. The sound was like music to it. The thing that had been its human contact woke up on his neck and looked at it in puzzlement, wondering why the endless burning had ceased. But now the demon Wrath wanted to make it more personal, more hands on, at least for now.
It walked through the glass wall, shattering the waist-high wood and plaster wall and walking right through several rows of pews. It looked at the cross at the back of the altar. That was its prize.
But as the demon stepped forward to pluck its prize, it felt a sudden barrier, weak at first, but definitely there. It stopped and probed ahead with its mind and its powers. There was no life. But power. Definitely power. It let out a deep, throaty grunt that sounded like fires churning from deep inside a volcano.
It stepped forward again, ruining another row of pews. The force was stronger now. It pushed back harder.
The demon growled once again. From deep inside, it relit the fire within itself. Time to put this place to the torch. The fire grew slowly, and the demon’s fires ignited. Its solid, black form turned orange, and became fluid. The human twin on its neck began to scream once again, and the demon laughed. Its body turned into a living volcano of superheated lava. It looked at the cross on the church’s altar and shot its hand forward. A piece of fire flew forward, like a meteor.
It all happened so quickly that an ordinary human eye wouldn’t have seen what happened. But the demon saw. Before it had traveled the fifty feet or so to the altar, the fireball had cooled, become solid, and turned into a rock-solid cube of black ice. The crystal stopped just inches from the cross, stopped dead in its tracks. It hung suspended in the air for several seconds, then dropped to the floor and shattered into a thousand harmless pieces each no larger than a grain of salt.
The demon stood in stunned silence. Even its human attachment stopped screaming, though the fires still burned at him. It felt its rage and wrath burn within itself, heating to a crescendo. Then, the tiny ice crystals reassembled themselves, magically, into a rock solid shape, the ice cold shape of a cross. The demon roared but could not find the strength to move forward. The cross then shot across the room and fastened onto what would have been the demon’s chest. The cherry-red fire turned white in the shape of the cross, and went out, cooling the area around it. Within seconds the demon had returned back to the black volcanic rock it had come in with. Only this time the transition wasn’t of its own choosing.
The cross burned it with the ironic fire of ice, an upside down cross that melted into its very chest like the cross of an ancient crusader, and a poet’s words lingered in its mind. “Some say the world will end in fire, and some say of ice.” The demon had courted fire. This new scenario had caught it by surprise.
It snarled in anger and found that it could not break any more pews. Its body had become cold and lethargic. Its will was even going.
“No!” it screamed. “Hellfire and brimstone will win. But for now the ice will suffice.”
Furious, it walked out of the church. This place was too strong. At least for now. And he had other things to attend to. But he would come back and mess this place up when he became stronger. And each new life made him strong. So now he would go and kill some more. He’d kill children. And he’d take that baby that was just about to be born.
3
Once he had left the church behind, Erik did not look back. He knew that the thing could be just inches behind him, waiting to destroy him and his family in some steaming wreckage. He wasn’t going to let that happen, though. He was going to go home, meet the others, and figure out what to do.
Vickie’s contractions were becoming worrisome now. Though her due date was a couple of weeks away, Erik knew that nature was very unpredictable. He also believed in all of Murphy’s Laws and their corollaries that basically said that things went wrong and usually at the worst possible time.
His breathing and heartbeat didn’t even begin to slow down until they were turning onto Farmington Road.
“Is everyone all right?” he finally asked.
Vickie nodded rapidly, fighting off a contraction.
“Yeah, Dad,” Todd said softly. “We’re fine.”
Erik passed the shopping center and noticed a few National Guard soldiers in the parking lot. He sped past before they could flag him down. He noticed a smoldering ruin where Dovecrest’s cabin had been. He could only assume that Mark had called after the place had been destroyed and that they hadn’t been already killed.
Finally, he saw the comforting sight of his home ahead on the left. Though this new home hadn’t been much comfort, he thought. The tiny place where they’d lived in the city was looking better and better now.
He pulled his car into the driveway behind Vickie’s SUV, then just sat back in the front seat for a long moment to catch his breath. He looked up and saw Mark and Dovecrest running over to meet them.
“Thank God you’re all right!” Mark said.
“It was headed for the church. Did everyone get out in time?”
Erik shook his head. “It got Vera. I don’t know what happened after that.”
The two men were silent. “Poor Vera. She was a good woman,” Mark said, finally.
“So what do we do now?” Erik asked. “I’m sure this thing’s rampage isn’t over. It’s not going to just go away, is it?”
Dovecrest shook his head. “It gains power with each life it takes.”
“I still say it cannot stand up to God!” Mark said. “We must stand and fight it.”
“You are right, Pastor. It cannot stand up to God. But it can stand up to men. We cannot fight it alone. We need to have God on our side.”
“He is on our side,” Mark insisted. “God will not allow evil to rule over the earth. We must cast it out in his son’s name.”
“Perhaps we can cast it out. But then we must destroy it. To do that we must first arm ourselves.”
“How do we do that?” Erik asked.
“We arm ourselves with God’s wisdom and power. We ask his guidance and his help. And we join together, the three of us, through Him and his strength. If our faith is not strong enough, the demon will prevail. Like all evil, it will find the smallest chink in our armor and invade.”
“Then let us arm ourselves in His name,” Mark said.
Erik led them back into the house so they could prepare.
CHAPTER TWENTY
1
The icy upside-down image of the cross had burned itself into the demon like a fossil embedded into hard rock. At first the cross had burned like frostbite, sinking deep into its rock-like body. Then it had become accustomed to the pain-after all, its entire existence had consisted of pain, the all-consuming agony of anger and wrath that could never be cooled. The pain was always there, whether the demon was imprisoned and unable to reek vengeance, or whether it was in the process of inflicting pain and suffering of its own. It was an addiction, a curse, a disease that had been inflicted upon it by the evil one himself. The suffering of others gave it meaning,
