by Mary Nealy
Pravus hummed as he drove. Three days. Darkness had to fall for three days.
He wondered if he could be so patient. The beast was prowling, hungry, but he’d soon be fed. This time they’d make it a long, slow meal.
The pretty Kerenhappuch was so tempting. He’d thought Rosita was his most beautiful treasure so far, but he’d expected more time with her. How had the reverend found him so fast? The phone in the apartment would have been hard to trace. But the reverend had figured out where he was somehow.
He’d be more careful about calling this time.
He focused instead on the beauty of his newest conquest. He thought he heard movement in the trunk. The thrill of the power he had over her was so heady he almost swerved the car. But he had everything under complete control. He went to the third and last building he’d prepared.
He realized then that until now he’d thought it would be enough to bring the plagues down on the reverend and kill him. It would complete his work.
But now he knew it wouldn’t be enough.
When he moved on after the reverend’s death, he’d have to start over.
More blood.
More bugs.
More darkness.
More power.
He hummed as he thought of it.
Keren awakened to complete darkness. Her head throbbed. She was disoriented by the vibrations around her and her inability to move … and the dark.
The plague of darkness.
This was it. The nightmare she’d been chasing after all this time had caught her.
Panic rose in her chest, and she fought to move her arms and legs. She screamed, but her mouth was covered and no sound came out. She fought with the violence of a trapped animal for long moments, rolling in the confined space, her bound feet kicking out at anything they touched.
Tears stung her eyes and a low-pitched whine, deep in her throat, accompanied the tears. Sobs, muted behind the gag, wrenched her body.
Think! She had to quit wasting time. She closed her eyes, and, drawing on every ounce of her willpower, she shut out the pain and the discomfort of her contorted joints and began to use her head.
First, prayer. When she had enough control over herself to pray, the rest was easy. God was in control. They had saved Rosita because it wasn’t her time. Keren knew she would live or die by God’s will, not Caldwell’s.
That’s when she felt it. The evil. Pravus. She had been feeling him all along; his overwhelming evil had added to her terror.
Now she knew what it was and she could face it.
I am in Your hands, Lord. Let it be according to Your will.
She tested her arms. Tied together. Her feet the same. She lifted her hands, which were bound in front of her, and touched her face. She had some kind of a scratchy hood over her head. There was a smooth cool strip around the hood over her mouth. She recognized the feel of duct tape. She struggled with it. Her fingers were taped together until they couldn’t move, but she could rub at the tape, and finally it slipped below her mouth. Now she could talk. Cry out for help. But she couldn’t get the hood off, so the darkness remained.
The rev of a motor and the smell of gasoline told her she was in a car. The trunk.
She rubbed her leg against the floor of the trunk. Since they’d been fighting Caldwell, she had begun to wear a hide-out gun strapped to her ankle. It was still there. She curled up and tried to get at the gun with her taped hands.
She thought of all the victims. The autopsy suggested that he’d begun painting with his victim’s blood right from the first. Keren’s stomach quailed at the thought of Caldwell’s brutality and the horrible vulnerability of being in his power. Tears cut like acid across her eyes. She fought for control. She drowned out the fear with prayers for courage and faith no matter what she faced.
The car slowed. She rolled backward and knew she was on an incline. Muted sounds reminded her of her car in the police parking garage. They were parking. Caldwell had reached his destination.
She tugged against her binding one last time, scrabbled at the hood with no effect. When she was sure there was nothing she could do, she accepted it. Then she gathered herself for what was to come. The car stopped. The door opened and closed. The trunk popped open over her head.
“Hello, Kerenhappuch. Welcome to pestis ex tenebrae. The plague of darkness.”
Keren screamed. Behind the hood she shrieked with every bit of her strength. “Help! Call the police!” A hand clamped over her mouth.
Caldwell leaned close. “You can scream all you want. I’m only shutting you up so you can hear me explain. We’re in a completely private place. Now I’ll let you go back to your screaming so you’ll believe me.”
Somehow, whether from the certainty of his voice or an assurance from God, Keren believed him. “I suppose I did enough of it. If there’s anyone around to hear, the police will be on their way.”
“Yes,” Caldwell said in his crooning voice. “And if there’s no one to hear, you might as well spare further strain on your throat.”
Keren knew that with every passing moment she was being pulled deeper into Caldwell’s web. For now, there were no reasons to fight. She simply lay still and waited.
She was lifted out of the car. Her head hit the trunk lid and her legs scraped across rough metal as he struggled to drag her out. Her cop’s brain started filing information. He wasn’t overly strong. He wasn’t a big man. He set her on her feet briefly and steadied her with one hand while he slammed the trunk shut. He leaned close to her while he reached for the lid. He didn’t smell like a homeless man. She’d deliberately brushed her hand against his face. He had a short, stubbly beard. She tried to match that description with the pictures Higgins had taken. Murray had no beard. Except she hadn’t seen him lately and the picture was over a week old. He could have stubble like this.
Louie. Who’d killed his wife.
Maybe.
Buddy.
She’d seen pictures, read the police description.
Casey-Ray and McGwire had full beards in those pictures. But if they were disguising themselves as homeless, who knew? They could have shaved or worn a fake beard.
His breathing hissed, and she knew from the sound that he was about four inches taller than her. That made him five nine or ten. His hands were uncalloused. He was slender and of a slight build. She refused to believe it was Roger. She’d met him. She knew it wasn’t him. And Murray helped with the preaching. Keren would hate it if it was him.
She heard a jet coming in for a landing and she knew exactly where she was. He’d taken her out of the area surrounding the mission. She’d expected him to simply go into another neighborhood building. He’d used two of them already. But he was near an airport, which, with its open surrounding area, might explain why there was no one to hear her scream.
As she figured that out, she also knew O’Shea was not coming. She knew Paul wasn’t going to talk to someone from the neighborhood and get the final clue he needed to find this place. Higgins was not going to figure this one out in time. She was completely on her own.
Caldwell hoisted her over his shoulder with a soft “ummph.” His feet echoed on the concrete floor, taking her to the plague of darkness.
A still, small voice echoed in her head, and it was so clear and so pure that she smiled. “If I am with you, who can be against you?”
“No one,” Keren answered aloud. “No one can stand against God.”
“What?” Caldwell asked.
“God just reminded me that He is with me. You can’t do anything to me that isn’t God’s will.”
“Remember that while I’m painting my pictures.” Caldwell’s hands tightened on her.
Then she had an inspiration. It could only have come from God, because it was in complete opposition to everything in her head.
Always before when she could feel a demon, it was so she could help. She’d only thought of sensing Caldwell’s demon as a tool for tracking him. But what if she was mean
t to help him? Could she find it in her heart to try to save this evil, brutal madman? Could that be God’s will?
It was always God’s will that the lost be found. A soul be saved.
For a moment Keren clamped her mouth shut tight. She didn’t want to deliver him from evil. She wanted to get to her gun and blow him away.
She saw Jesus Christ, nailed to the cross, saying, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
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.”
“You can trace her?” O’Shea asked. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“Because I was searching for her in this apartment first.” Paul turned to Higgins. “Where’s the computer?”
At that moment, one of Higgins’s agents pulled a sheet of plywood off a window and climbed out on the apartment’s only fire escape. The distressed metal shrieked.
“Did you hear that?” Higgins asked Paul.
“No,” Paul said. “No way did he go out that fire escape. Even if he found a way out without letting light in, I’d have heard that racket. He’s gone, and he’s got Keren. She left her gun and her phone behind, but she’s still wearing the tracking device I put in her hair tie.”
A man carrying a laptop computer burst into the apartment.
“Check Detective Collins’s location.” Paul ran to where the man had set up the little computer on the bloody table where Rosita had been tied only minutes before. The computer began a relentless beeping. The screen filled with a map of Chicago, with a little white dot flashing.
“He’s stopped,” the computer operator said. “The signal just came online and it’s stationary.”
Higgins bent down to study the screen. “He’s by the airport. Several condemned buildings in that area. It’s a good bet he’s holed up in one of them. I’ll have an address by the time the GPS is done working.”
Paul grabbed Higgins’s arm. “Let’s go. They can call you with an address while we drive.”
“I’m going to put an end to this right now.” Higgins charged out of the room.
Paul glanced at O’Shea, and the two ran after Higgins.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Keren heard the fabric of her white blouse rip. She willed herself to be calm.
“Francis, take charge of your life. I’m here to give you a chance for redemption.”
Caldwell looked up from his cutting. “You’re here because I brought you here. I’m in control. I’m enjoying my power over you far more since you struck me.”
Keren wondered if she had miscalculated when she attacked him. She saw the fire in his eyes and the blood dripping from his broken nose and couldn’t regret defending herself. But, if it was possible, the feeling of evil that oozed out of him was worse.
