Ten Plagues

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, even 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!”