by Mary Nealy
And when he killed her and her child, for a while it had been enough. He might have never struck again if the reverend hadn’t wielded his power so corruptly. True, Pravus was a murderer, but the reverend didn’t know that. The reverend accepted that it was an accident. But he’d brought his crushing boot down on Pravus’s neck out of spite.
While he’d sat in jail, the anger had burned. It ate at him. Grew in him along with the beast. He’d have let the reverend go if it hadn’t been for prison. Pravus had spent his time behind bars planning what he’d do when he was free. How he’d free himself and his creations—and use the reverend to do it.
Once Pravus was out and his death had been accepted, he made his preparations to punish the reverend. It was no longer about a woman’s foolish decision. It was between the beast and God, with Pravus fighting on the side of the beast, fighting for power and the right to create. The right to have his people set free and revered by all the world.
Pravus would earn the right to be God.
It was time for the end to unfold for his father. No. Pravus shook his head. The reverend. This was about the reverend.
The last three plagues would rain down so hard the reverend would be grateful for death.
Pravus couldn’t wait to begin the end. He should have waited, done his painting, made his carving, but he couldn’t wait to share his good news about Rosita. He reached for his new cell phone.
Paul lifted his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
Based on his actions, Keren guessed he’d keep kissing her while he decided. Her arms tightened around his neck so she could be comfortable while he was thinking.
“I’ve decided I like your hair tie, too.” Sinking his hands into her hair, he seemed to play with it, as if he really did like the terrible mess. Smiling against his lips, Keren decided she liked her hair, too.
His phone rang.
He reached for it and almost answered before Keren snatched the phone out of his hands. “Do this right.” Her voice was husky, but her thinking was still functional.
Paul shook his head as if to clear it then nodded as he fumbled for his second cell phone. He speed-dialed Higgins. Higgins set up the trace and began to track down the caller ID number. Keren worked on the recorder buttons and was waiting when Paul said, “Higgins is ready to triangulate.”
She nodded. “I’m ready, too. Go.”
Paul answered his phone.
“Hello, Reverend. Have you missed me?”
Keren’s phone beeped. Seeing Higgins’s number, she switched to him.
Higgins hissed, “He’s not on a cell. It’s a landline. We need more time to trace it.”
Keren mouthed to Paul, Keep him talking. She switched back to Caldwell’s call.
Paul’s eyes flashed with understanding. “No, I can’t say that I have, Francis. I would’ve preferred it if I never heard your voice again.”
“You don’t seem to have the correct attitude, Reverend,” Caldwell purred. “I’ve decided that’s my fault. I faltered for a time when I chose my victims.”
“All of this is your fault.”
“Put the pretty detective on, please.”
“What are you talking about, Francis? You called me, so you talk to me.”
“She’s standing right beside you. She’s wearing a tacky, ill-fitting brown blazer. Are you listening, Kerenhappuch? Brown really isn’t your color. With all that flyaway brown hair, you look like something dirty.”
Keren looked up sharply at the mission’s front window. She looked at Paul, and they both nodded. Caldwell was watching them, looking in this window.
She touched her hair then pulled her hand away and pushed MUTE OFF on her cell.
Paul grabbed for her phone, shaking his head.
Keren dodged him. “All right, I’m here, Francis. I can’t thank you enough for the fashion advice.”
“I just wanted to let you know you’re next, pretty girl. You’re my choice for the plague of darkness.”
Keren felt a cold chill crawl up her spine, but she didn’t let so much as a breath of it sound when she responded. “You’ll never try for me, Caldwell. You pick on defenseless women. You wait until their backs are turned and grab them.”
“They come willingly every time, Kerenhappuch.”
“I’m sure Melody Fredericks came willingly.” Keren’s voice dripped with disdain. “And Talking Bertha, a homeless woman who couldn’t even be convinced to stay in the mission overnight, came willingly with you. Hah.”
“I honor a woman when I choose her, and they all know it by the time I’m done.”
Keren remembered that she’d thought the time might come when she’d have to offer herself up as bait to catch Caldwell. That time was now, and she was ready. “Guess what? I think you’re a lousy artist, Pravus. And I think you’re too much of a coward to ever come for me. I think you’re an insect. That’s why you’re obsessed with acting out this pathetic version of the plagues of Egypt. You see yourself in creepy, crawly things.”
“Like locusts?” Caldwell suggested.
Keren looked up at Paul and their eyes met. Keren glanced at her watch.
“Why have you called, Pravus?” Paul asked. “What stupid, cowardly thing have you done this time?”
“This time?”
A high-pitched scream nearly slit Keren’s eardrum. She jerked the phone away. The sound was quickly muffled, but they could still hear it. The pain, the terror. Keren felt tears burn her eyes. They had to find him! They had to stop him!
“No screaming, my dear. No one pays attention to such things in this neighborhood, but still, I must ask you to refrain, or I won’t let you talk to your precious Pastor P.”
The voice returned, and, through broken sobs, they both heard, “Pastor P? He told me you sent him. I believed him. It’s—” Her voice was cut off.
“Rosita?” Paul shouted. “Rosita, is that you?”
Color drained from Paul’s face, to be replaced with sheer terror. He clutched the phone until Keren was afraid he’d snap it in two.
“Of course it’s her. I took someone precious to you. Someone to get you involved again. Perhaps, when the plagues are over, I’ll just start at one again. The plague of blood. Oh, but wait, who will I call? You’ll be dead, Reverend.”
“Let me talk to Rosita. Put her back on.”
Rosita continued crying in pain.
Caldwell crooned, “The only reason I’d let her talk is so you could hear her scream. Is that what you want, Reverend? Do you want me to make her scream?”
“No! Stop! Please, don’t.” In anguish Paul cried out, “Rosita!”
“Pestis ex locusta. Intriguing, isn’t it? I think, instead of letting her provide the paint for my work, I’m going to cut her open and fill her belly with them while she’s still alive.”
The muted screams increased. Paul covered his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. Keren saw tears seeping out from under his fingers.
“It worked didn’t it, Reverend?” Caldwell crooned. “You’re involved again.”
“It worked, Caldwell,” Paul said furiously. “I’m back in.”
The phone cut off. It wasn’t long enough. Keren slapped her phone shut with a growl of rage.
Her phone rang again. It was Higgins. “We’ve got him! We got him a minute in.”
“How? It wasn’t long enough.” Keren went to look out the window. Hundreds, maybe thousands of apartments where the front window of the mission could be visible. He was in one of them.
“I’ve already got cars en route. We had them stationed in the neighborhood.”
“Where? Tell me.”
Paul’s eyes sharpened and he moved close enough to listen to Higgins.
“We didn’t need to trace him. Morris had us hide a bug on Rosita to trace her. We’ve been watching it ever since we identified her on the phone.”
“He did?” Keren shot Paul a look. “He didn’t tell me he did that.”
“I have
n’t had a chance.” Grabbing her phone, Paul said, “Just tell me where she is.”
“He’s in that brownstone across and one south of the mission. GPS places him on the top floor.”
“Of course it’s the top,” Paul said. “Caldwell likes the penthouse.”
“Get over there,” Higgins ordered. “Seal off that building as best you can, but don’t go in. We’re only minutes away.”
They both ran. Keren hit the button that dialed O’Shea. He answered on the first ring. “Has the FBI clued you in?”
“Yes, I’m on the way—”
“We’re almost there.” Keren cut him off. “Right across the street from the mission. One building to the south.”
“We should have kicked in every door in that area.” O’Shea was running, breathing hard while he talked. “We knew he was close.”
“There are ten thousand doors, O’Shea.” Keren knew Caldwell was looking right at them. There was no way he wouldn’t see them rushing across the street. He knew. He’d be moving. He’d be killing Rosita.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“He’s got Rosita.” Keren picked up her speed.
“The little cook from the mission?”
“We heard her screaming, Mick. And Caldwell was watching us, looking right in the front window. He told me what I’m wearing. We’re not waiting until you get here to back us up. We’re going in now. We’ve got to stop him from killing her!”
“Keren, don’t! You know he was ready for us last time. You could be running straight into a trap!”
Paul pulled the door to the brownstone open and began sprinting up the stairs. Keren felt the demonic presence the instant she stepped inside. The call from O’Shea dropped in the concrete stairwell, but she couldn’t talk and run anyway. Jamming the phone in her pocket, she picked up her speed to stay with Paul. Four flights. Every second they were closing in on him, but he had another stairway to use to get away, besides the fire escapes. Caldwell might evade them, but he’d have a hard time doing it with Rosita tossed over his shoulder.
They charged on until they reached the top. Paul began kicking in doors. Keren said, “Don’t waste your time. He’s in that one.” She ran straight for the door at the far end of the hall. The evil was so thick she had trouble inhaling. The door practically vibrated with the contained demonic power.
Keren pulled her weapon and kicked the door in. Rosita lay in her white death shroud, her arms spread out at her sides, blood and locusts everywhere. “Paul, she’s here!”
Paul ran past Keren. He was already on the phone, calling an ambulance. Keren entered the room with her gun held in two hands, extended straight in front of her. A locust landed on her face. She ignored it.
She turned quickly in a circle. He was here, but she couldn’t pinpoint the evil. It was everywhere. She turned again, gun ready. There was a door ajar that led to the kitchen. There were four other doors in the apartment, all closed. Closets, bedrooms, bathrooms, Keren studied them, still turning, still trying to cover them all. Her heart pounded until she thought it might explode out of her chest. The evil was choking her. She prayed for strength as she waited, trying to keep Rosita safe until help could get here or they could get out. Releasing one hand from the gun, she pulled out her phone to tell Higgins exactly where they were.
Paul finished shouting directions into his phone. He tugged a knife out of his boot. Keren had known he’d arm himself somehow.
Rosita had been cut, but it didn’t look life threatening. Locusts swarmed everywhere and flew thick in the air. Keren hit the speed dial for O’Shea’s number then swiped her upper arm across her face to knock the locust away, all without letting go of her gun or stopping her rigid watch on the doors that hid Caldwell.
Paul slit the tape on Rosita’s arms and ankles. She flailed as if she were fighting Paul’s help. He got to her mouth last and very carefully pulled at the corner of the tape. Rosita grabbed at the tape and ripped it away with a scream of pain.
“Get out,” she screamed. “He’s here!”
The lights went out.
Keren realized in a split second that the windows in the room were boarded over. The hall door had swung shut whether by accident or design. She’d bet on design.
Suddenly the evil had a direction. Keren heard the slight squeak of a door opening. She whirled around to face one of the closed doors.
Rosita shouted, “Pastor P, the killer is …” A crushing blow to Keren’s hands knocked her gun to the floor. Her phone went flying. “Paul!”
The dull thud on her head cut off her cry for help.
“Stretch out your hand toward the sky so that darkness will spread over Egypt—darkness that can be felt. “
EXODUS 10:21
Pravus felt it, and he made sure Kerenhappuch felt it, too. At least she’d be able to feel it when she woke. He pulled the rough wool over her head and tossed her over his shoulder. He felt the strain of it. Yes, he’d honed his muscles, but he’d also drained his own blood when he needed to create. It was telling on his strength.
But he managed. He did what he had to do.
He vanished out of the apartment through the passage he’d spent so much time creating. It was the work of seconds to secure her with tape. He dumped her limp body in his trunk, was out of the garage and driving toward the expressway before he heard the first police sirens.
Paul heard it all.
Over Rosita’s shouts, he heard the squeak of a door opening. A quick rush of footsteps on a loose floorboard …
Keren yelling his name …
The whoosh of something solid swinging through the air … The clatter of a gun hitting the floor … The sickening thud that cut off Keren’s words …
Then silence.
Darkness. The plague of darkness.
“He’s here, Pastor P. He’s doing all of this. He killed Juanita.” Rosita broke into sobs. “He hurt LaToya.”
Paul ran toward the sound Keren made, but there was only darkness. “Keren,” he roared. “Keren, answer me.”
But she didn’t, and he knew that could only mean one thing. She couldn’t. Fighting down panic, he groped wildly, trying to latch onto something, anything. Rosita crashed into him, sobbing and crying out the identity of the man who’d taken her.
I’ve nurtured a viper.
And now he’d taken Keren. A woman he thought he could love. A woman he already did love.
Paul held Rosita to support her as he went toward the sound of the door he’d heard squeak. He was so disoriented in the stygian darkness that he wasn’t even sure how to get out of the apartment.
When he began to despair of ever escaping the pit created by a demon, a door crashed open and men came running into the room. O’Shea was one of them. There were seconds of confusion and the lights came on, blinding Paul. Then he saw Rosita, wearing the ghastly painted dress, shaking violently as he held her upright.
“Where’s Keren?” O’Shea roared. “What happened in here?”
One of the policemen slid an arm around Rosita and said, “Let’s get you out of here, miss.”
Sobbing, Rosita walked out, well supported by the patrolman.
Two other cops came in, then five more. They fanned out into the apartment, covering the whole thing in seconds.
“Where is she, Paul?” O’Shea grabbed him by the front of his shirt as if he’d beat the answer out of him if Paul didn’t start talking.
“Gone,” Paul said helplessly, now studying every corner of the room. Locusts flew and crawled everywhere. Paul heard the crunching under the feet of the searching officers. “She’s gone.”
“Gone where? Did she go after Caldwell alone?” O’Shea shook him again.
“He took her.” Paul wrenched away from O’Shea and began slamming open doors, seeking, finding nothing. “The lights went out. I heard Keren yell. And then she was just gone.”
“Think! You must have seen something!”
Paul checked every closet feverishly, e
ven though the police were already doing it. “It was dark. Pitch dark. With that door closed, there wasn’t a shred of light in this room.”
“Then you heard something. You know something. Quit whining and try to think like a cop! Give me a report!” O’Shea’s voice cracked like a whip, and Paul felt the sting.
“I never saw Caldwell. I have no idea how he got out of here.” Paul gave up. She wasn’t here.
O’Shea grabbed Paul with surprising strength and spun him around so they were face-to-face. O’Shea’s face burned dark red with fury. His teeth gritted and his fists clenched. Paul thought O’Shea might attack him, and if he did, Paul would take whatever beating was handed out. He deserved it, every second of it.
Wishing O’Shea would hit him so he could be punished for leading Keren into this nightmare, he said, “All I know is what Caldwell said on the phone. We were just off the phone with him when Higgins called us with his address. He was making Rosita scream. We had to come.”
“You should have waited for backup,” O’Shea roared.
Paul shouted back, “We couldn’t wait for backup while he was killing her.”
“So you disregarded procedure,” O’Shea growled.
Paul shoved O’Shea hard. “And saved Rosita’s life.” He knew he was asking for a fist right in the face. He knew it was what he wanted—deserved.
O’Shea shoved back but didn’t take a swing. “And now Keren’s gone, and Caldwell is still on the loose!”
“I know,” Paul roared as he clenched his fists and shoved his face right up to O’Shea’s. “But we’ve still got a chance to stop him.” “What chance to stop him? Stop him from doing what?” Paul’s head dropped with the weight of his fear. “On the phone, he said … he said …”
“What did he say?”
“He insisted on talking to Keren. He said she was next.” “Next? Next for what?” O’Shea demanded. “What did he say?” “He said Keren is his choice for the plague of darkness.”
CHAPTER TWENTY–FIVE
Total darkness covered all Egypt for three days. No one could see anyone else.
