by Mary Nealy
“You must have been in terrible pain and you were weak.”
“How can you know that?” Roger’s voice grew loud and agitated.
“There’s no great miracle in my knowing fire is terribly painful. There’s only what’s obvious when I feel the demon in you and know a moment of weakness let it in. God sent me to help you.”
“He didn’t help me that night. He left me to die. Satan was there. He spared me and now he claims my soul as payment.”
“You’re wrong.” Keren laid her hand over his scarred hand and didn’t try to conceal the grief she felt for Roger’s suffering. “Life and death isn’t a deal Satan can make. God alone can give life and death. God saved you that night. But Satan can stand by and whisper lies in your ear. He’s the prince of lies.”
“So I gave up my soul for nothing?” Roger’s head began to sag as if it weighed too much to hold it up.
Keren let his sleeve fall back over the brutal scars and firmly raised his chin. “You didn’t give up your soul. The soul God gave you is alive in you, longing desperately to be returned to its proper place in God’s kingdom.”
“I made my choice.” He said it as if it were a matter of honor to him that he keep his bargain. “There’s no way out for me. I’ll live out my life on these streets. Then I’ll die. Life and death are both hell, it makes no difference.”
Keren forced him with sheer willpower to hold her gaze. “It doesn’t have to be that way. We can cast out the demon. God can restore joy and peace to your life.”
“Peace?” the man said with aching sadness. “I haven’t known a moment’s peace in twenty years.”
“You could rest in the Lord. Think of finally being at rest with your Savior. Aren’t you tired?”
“I’m tired,” he whispered. “I’ve been so tired for so long.”
“Pray with me.”
She began praying, softly enough no one around them could hear, but loudly enough to include Roger. She felt the war between good and evil being waged. She prayed, and then she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. She looked up at Paul. His other hand was on Roger’s back. Roger’s eyes popped open.
“Let me add my prayers to yours,” Paul said.
Roger nodded confidently, as if Paul’s presence made him stronger. Suddenly Roger began to pray along with her and Paul. Tears sprang to Keren’s eyes. Her voice broke, but she continued to pray. She felt Paul’s hand settle on her back, and his words, different than hers, different than Roger’s, blended with theirs and became a harmony of pleas to God for freedom for one man.
Keren could feel the darkness begin to lose its battle. A high-pitched shriek, one she knew from experience only she could hear, built until it cut her eardrums. The demon battled until Roger’s body began to tremble. Roger’s hands shook and Keren grabbed them and held them tight.
With a quick, loud crack—again audible only to her—and one last hideous scream of fury, the demon was gone. Keren opened her eyes and looked into the face of a changed man. Wonder filled Roger right before her eyes.
“Pastor P is going to preach a sermon today, Roger.” She kept his hands gripped firmly in hers. “You’re going to hear it with new ears. You need to replace the despair that’s inside you with love. You need to nurture the peace you’ve been given.”
“How did you do this?” Roger asked in awe.
“Not me,” Keren said. “Don’t ever think it was me. God revealed your sorrow to me and used me to pray with you. God removed that demon from you. All you’ve ever needed to do was turn to Him and simply ask for freedom.”
“That’s all I needed to do? But why did He wait so long? Why did He let me waste all these years?”
“He didn’t wait.” Keren shook her head. “I can promise you He’s tried many times before. He’s sent people before, but you weren’t ready to listen until now.”
“How can you know things about me like that?”
“I don’t know things about you. But I know God. I know He’s always trying to bring His children home.”
Roger’s eyes seemed to look back over the years, and Keren hoped he was remembering times when God had tried to bring him back.
“You’re right.” He nodded. “I know you are.”
Keren cradled Roger’s grimy hands with their claw-like nails, caked with dirt. “God loves you, Roger. He has never left you, not during all these years you’ve lived such a hopeless life. He has never quit calling to you. God asks us only to believe in Him, to believe in Jesus.”
“I do believe. How could I live through what just happened and not believe.” His hands turned in her grip and clasped Keren’s. “I’ve done so much evil in my life. I abandoned my wife and children. I’ve wasted my life hating the whole world.”
Roger looked sideways at Paul. “Can you help me….” He looked down at himself. “I want to be clean and decent. I have two children. I need to find them.”
“You know I’ll help you, Roger. I’ve been praying you’d let me help you for a long time.”
“Why would you pray for me, Pastor? There’s so much more hope with a lot of these men. Why would you pick me?”
“I didn’t pick you over them, Roger. I pray for all of you. Every one of you, every day, by name.”
Roger’s eyes filled with tears.
Paul’s hand on Roger’s back shifted. Keren knew it was an offer of comfort.
“Are all of these men like me?” Roger asked Keren. “Is a demon living in all of them?”
“I can’t answer that. God told me there was a demon in you. He may only tell me of those who are ready to listen.”
“So we can’t know for sure.” He looked around the dingy room with its dozens of grizzle-faced, raggedly dressed men and the handful of equally suffering women. “I wonder—” He looked at Paul. “Would you accept my help? If God can find me here, then He can find these other men.”
“I think God is speaking to your heart right now.” Keren patted his hand. “He’s telling you of a way to grow in your faith by helping others.”
“I would welcome your help,” Paul said. “You could speak to the homeless with so much wisdom because you’ve experienced it. You know the struggle.”
Keren, Paul, and Roger talked quietly until Paul stepped to the front of the room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Paul talked about Juanita and led them in a prayer for LaToya. The crowd seemed to nearly vibrate with the attention they paid him once the women were mentioned. Paul knew God was using this nightmare for good. After he finished his prayer, he preached a simple sermon of salvation. When he was finished, his eyes rested on Keren. She sat next to Roger, still holding his hand.
Paul felt such profound respect for her. She never shrank from Roger because of his smell or the wild look that always lurked in his eyes. She had shown the kind of compassion and courage that Jesus Christ had shown in touching the leper and eating with the tax collector.
Though Paul had reached out to Roger many times, the truth was, Paul had never held much hope. Roger seemed further gone than even the average transient.
Keren had seen the demon in him.
Even more, she’d seen a way to deliver him, and she’d seen Roger’s longing for deliverance. Now she sat at Roger’s side, and everyone who’d come in for breakfast stayed for a change, to listen to Paul’s sermon.
Paul didn’t know what Keren made him feel. He only knew she made him feel something for the first time in a long time. He didn’t like getting entangled with the police. He remembered last night when those bushes rustled. He’d reached for his gun. It had been a reflex. Thinking about it now sickened him.
He couldn’t deal with the things she awakened—the cop things, the man things—so he left it up to God and walked out among his congregation. He spent time talking with each of them. He saw Roger, now standing clear eyed, talking rationally, ministering to those who gave any indication of being interested.
Roger came up to him. “Can I stay here and help you? I
’ll cook or clean or whatever you need.”
“Of course you can stay. We’ll find you some clean clothes and get you a bath and a good haircut, and then I’ll help you find your family.”
The joy that flooded Roger’s expression was almost more than Paul could take. He pulled Roger close and hugged him.
Roger tried to back away. “I’m so filthy, Pastor. Let me get cleaned up before you touch me.”
Paul smiled. “No. I’m not hugging you to be nice, I’m just so happy. I’m so glad you’ve found God’s love. I’ve been dirty a few times in my life, so I’m not afraid.”
Roger let Paul hug him again.
They talked about Roger’s future for a bit, then Roger thanked Paul for speaking of LaToya and Juanita. “You know, I overheard someone in the breakfast line talking about all that gasoline being hauled into LaToya’s old hangout. I think whoever did it dressed up like he’s homeless. He just walked right in with a baggy coat.” Roger looked over at the knot of men and women.
“Do you remember who said it?” Paul asked, studying the crowd.
“No, I never look left or right. Least I never did before. It was just talking. But no one left today like some days. You could ask around.”
“I will. Thank you. Maybe someone here is a witness.”
Rosita came up and asked Roger if he was ready to get settled.
“Where’s Murray today, Rosie? I thought he was going to preach.”
“I don’t know, Pastor P. But I’m glad you came. I wasn’t in the mood for him. And Louie was supposed to show up. He hasn’t gotten his hours in this week. If his parole officer calls, he could be in trouble. This place doesn’t run as well when you’re not around.”
“What about Buddy?”
“He’s been comin’ and goin’ a lot lately.” Rosita was suddenly very earnest. “You know he likes the roof over his head and the food in his belly, but he’s never really come all the way with us, Pastor. I’m afraid we’re going to lose him back to the streets.”
“I don’t want to judge him, Rosita. We can’t know what’s in his heart.” Frowning, Paul said, “We just have to keep praying for him.”
Roger went with Rosita to find some clean clothes in the mission storeroom.
The crowd was slower to disperse than most days. They talked quietly on one side of the room, and Paul and Keren had a chance to visit alone.
“You spoke so beautifully, Paul. It almost broke my heart to listen to you comfort these folks. They’re all concerned for LaToya and saddened by Juanita’s death. It was a wonderful choice to talk about them.”
“I didn’t choose it. It’s not what I planned to say this morning. I was thinking about Roger and trying to get him to see how God can come to anyone anywhere.”
“That’s the message he needed to hear exactly. It’s the message everyone needed, including me.”
“Roger just told me there was talk in the crowd today about the bombs. We need to see if anyone here knows about it.”
“Okay, we can—” Keren stopped talking and whirled to face the group of people near the door. She froze only for a moment, then she charged toward the crowd. She began moving quickly through the tight bunch. Paul was a little slow to react, but then he was right after her. He didn’t know what she was doing, but he knew it was important.
“Did someone just come in?” Keren asked. “Did another man come through that door?”
The homeless folks looked around. Paul could see they wanted to help her. But none of them had noticed if their number had grown by one.
Keren seemed to draw into herself, concentrating on something. Then she pushed on through the crowd and went outside. When Paul got to her, she was looking up and down the sidewalk.
“He was here.” Keren turned in a circle, totally focused on the area around her.
“Who?” Paul looked for anyone slipping down an alley or crouching behind cover.
“Pravus.”
“Pravus was here?” Paul turned to her. “How do you know? Did you recognize his voice?”
“No, I felt him.”
Paul stared in astonishment at Keren. “Are you sure?”
Keren turned to him and snapped, “Of course I’m sure. Why would I say such a thing if it wasn’t true?”
Paul nearly shouted. “But that’s great. If you can sense the demonic presence, then maybe you can find him from a distance. Concentrate. Maybe we can figure out which way he went.”
Keren slammed her fists onto her hips and glared at him. “Don’t you think I’m trying?”
Paul fell silent. She was right. He was only distracting her. He waited and watched and prayed.
Finally, Keren shook her head in disgust. “Nothing.” With a sudden burst of impatience she growled, “Why did God give me that moment of recognition if He wasn’t going to let me catch him? What’s the point?”
Paul turned to her and smiled right into her fire-breathing face. “Don’t you dare question the ways of God, missy.”
“Missy?” Keren said with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.
Paul laughed. “I saw what you did in there for Roger. Whatever God just revealed to you must be exactly what you need.”
Keren relaxed and took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay sure. You’re right. I know it. But it doesn’t make any sense.”
Paul knew Pravus was out there, watching. No sense letting the lunatic know Keren mattered personally to Paul. But his eyes locked with Keren’s and she quit talking. So what he was feeling, the thrill of what he’d seen her do for Roger, must have shown in his face.
“Let’s go back in the mission and find out who might have seen a homeless man around that crack house. Maybe we can get a description.”
“The mayor has called for a task force and there’s a meeting today. Then we need to finish looking at the files.”
Paul’s heart sped up. “Maybe we’re going about the files all wrong. Maybe you could sense evil in a file.”
“I’ve never been able to do such a thing before,” Keren said.
“Yeah, but this guy is broadcasting on a real powerful frequency. It could work. Let’s swing by the frog pond while we’re on our way. And I had another idea. Let’s see if we can get surveillance, just for tonight, since tonight is when he’s most likely to strike, on as many ponds and reptile houses as possible. How about the Lincoln Park Zoo?”
“That’s a little far north. He seems to be working in this area.”
“Yeah, but his stunt with that bloody pond was a cry for attention. And you managed to tone it down so the press didn’t even mention it. He might go outside the area if he thought it would get him the spotlight he craves.”
“I can ask about Lincoln Park.”
Paul began shepherding her back into the mission. “I know Chicago PD, they’re all dying to stop this nut before he makes a career out of attacking this city. We could probably get a boatload of officers to volunteer—maybe they’d even forego overtime.”
“Okay, we can try.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The frogs died in the houses, in the courtyards and in the fields. They were piled into heaps, and the land reeked of them.
Pravus packed them carefully, almost sad to say good-bye to his second plague. He dressed LaToya in the shroud with care, took a long, loving look at the painting he’d created, then he hoisted her still form into his car trunk and waited for darkness.
She hadn’t moved for hours now. He had been boiling with rage when his explosion didn’t happen and the reverend wasn’t able to get them to let his people go. The beast within him drove him to his most exquisite creation yet and he’d needed everything LaToya could give to make it perfect.
He had an odd moment of wondering when the beast had first come—when the voice had first spoken and given him strength. At first, the beast had the voice of his father. But it was different now. It had become a snarling, wolfish howl.
The noise only quieted when Pravus was under complete control of himsel
f, and that came when he created. He turned his attention to LaToya for a moment.
She slept.
He was always frustrated when his sculpture wouldn’t be still, but her motionlessness was boring. Perhaps he’d taken too much, perhaps his rage had reigned over the artist this time, which meant a lack of control. But he looked at the gown and he knew he’d done something wonderful. He couldn’t regret it. All in all, it was high time to be finished with this one.
Keren believed firmly in a day of rest, but she wasn’t getting one this Sunday. Not with LaToya still missing and a meeting of the mayor’s task force. She and Paul headed into the precinct soon after the mission church service with no new information about anyone carrying gasoline into the crack house.
“We’ve got a bigger meeting room.” O’Shea was at his desk when Keren got there.
“Good, we need it. Let’s go.” Keren led the way, with Paul and O’Shea right behind her. When she entered the room, she saw the same four FBI agents as yesterday, plus two other detectives and Dr. Schaefer.
Keren nodded a greeting to Dee, surprised to see her there. The department really was pulling out all the stops.
Then the front of the room drew Keren’s eye. A bulletin board stretched nearly the whole length of the room, covered with pictures. Her eyes were drawn immediately to Roger, his photo snapped as he entered the mission.
“Pastor Morris, good. You’re here.” Higgins stood at the front of the room, clearly in charge. “We have pictures of everyone who entered the mission this morning.”
Keren glanced at Paul and saw his distress. These people weren’t cold statistics. He knew their stories, knew that each one of them had come to the lowest place on earth in his own way. And each needed help as individuals. Now their faces were on a wall, their photos taken without permission. Their privacy about to be deeply violated.
“With the profile we’ve created, we’re working on the theory that one of the people who hangs around the mission is our perp. We’re cross-checking everyone for priors, especially a history of violence. And we’ve got our eyes open for fanatical religious beliefs, since this loon is quoting the Bible constantly.”
