The shriek turned to a roar and a window shattered as the black cloud streaked away and vanished.
“It’s gone. I felt the weight lift off me.”
“Yes, it’s gone. Now we need to pray. You need to accept Jesus into your heart. Simply believe in Him to have eternal life.”
His hand tightened on hers. The power of being set free didn’t gleam in his eyes like it should. “Without the demon, I can see clearly for the first time in years, and all I can see is an evil world—a father who couldn’t love me.”
“But God loves you. You can’t have lived through what just happened here and not believe in Him. God has shown Himself to you.”
“Yes, He has.” A smile twisted Francis’s lips. “And God took away all my strength.”
“Francis, it’s important that you turn to God.” Keren thought of the verse that said if a demon left a man but God did not enter in, then more demons would return, more powerfully than ever. “You can’t deny His love. You’ve experienced it in a beautiful way.”
“I did experience it. I do believe it. But I don’t accept.” Francis jerked as if something—or someone—struck him.
“Francis, no, listen to me. Listen to God.” Whatever went on inside of Francis, she had to fight her way past it to reach him.
“I liked myself.” Francis’s voice changed again. His eyes gleamed until Keren could see the flames burning in his soul.
“It’s my choice, and I don’t choose the path your God has for me.” He reached for her.
Keren threw herself backward, diving off the table. She landed with a thud on her neck and shoulder. She rolled to her feet as Francis rounded the table, a roar of evil joy coming from him.
He slammed into her. They both reeled backward. The apartment wall kept her on her feet. She ran for the door.
Francis was on her, knocking her to the floor. He landed all his weight on her back. Flipping her over, he straddled her stomach. His hands closed on her throat. She knocked his grip away with an upward sweep of her arms, caught the front of his shirt, and rolled, throwing him over her head. On her feet instantly, she turned just as he charged forward and backed her into the wall. His hands tightened on her neck.
She caught his wrists to take the pressure off her windpipe. He wasn’t that big. She was trained in self-defense.
He bore down on her. She pushed against the strangling grip. Fighting to draw in a breath, she used every ounce of her strength against him. With a sudden twist, she broke his grip and shoved him sideways. His head hit the wall with a stunning crack.
She dived away from him, clawing at her ankle holster. She pulled the gun free and brought it up just as Francis grabbed the chisel that had fallen to the floor. He hurled it at her with the same deadly accuracy he’d used on LaToya.
The razor-sharp chisel hit her arm. The stabbing pain made her drop the gun.
Francis was already on it, raising it with a wicked laugh.
The door behind them flew open. Francis turned, his gun’s aim shifting. Higgins was the first in the door. Keren dropped to the floor as Higgins fired.
Francis’s body jerked and staggered into a wall. Higgins fired again. The smell of sulfur was like brimstone, overwhelming everything in the room.
Paul ran into the room. Keren noticed he had her gun, the one Francis had knocked out of her hand when they’d found Rosita, tucked in his waistband. O’Shea was right behind him with his sidearm out and ready.
Francis sank to his knees, clutching his bleeding chest. Blood poured from two bullet wounds. He turned to look into Keren’s eyes, the evil fading.
Keren ignored the chisel in her arm and crawled to his side. “It’s not too late.”
“Yes, it is.” Francis’s chest was soaked and red. He slid sideways against the wall until he slumped onto his back. “I made my choice. I lived with it, and I’ll die with it.” A look of horror crossed over his face as if now he was realizing just what his choice meant for him, for all eternity.
“Francis, please, listen to me.”
Suddenly Francis’s eyes popped open, and a look of pure satisfied evil was on his flaccid face. A voice, deep and ugly, came from Francis, even though his mouth didn’t move and his chest had quit rising and falling.
“Francis isn’t here.”
Paul lifted Keren away from the dead man and pulled her into his arms.
“Be careful of her arm,” O’Shea shouted.
Higgins was calling for an ambulance.
Paul carefully picked her up and strode out of the room.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried.
CHAPTER TWENTY–SEVEN
Keren still couldn’t stand the thought of going back to her apartment, and she hadn’t had any luck finding a new one, so she worked all day and kept long hours at night with LaToya. The coma wasn’t as deep as before and LaToya occasionally stirred and responded to sound without fully waking up, but Keren hoped and prayed it would happen soon.
Keren’s arm, where the chisel had stabbed her, was healing.
The lieutenant had put her on sick leave, but she’d prevailed on him to let her do something, using the argument that she would go out of her ever-loving mind if she didn’t keep busy.
For now she was assigned to desk duty. She’d been forbidden from anything active until her doctor released her.
The long days and short nights caught up with her as she kept her bedside vigil.
“Keren?”
Keren’s eyes flickered open. Her vision was filled with Paul. She hadn’t seen him for days.
“How’s the arm?” His movements as gentle as his voice, he lowered himself into the chair beside Keren.
“Fine, if I’m careful.”
“Which you never are.” Paul sounded grumpy, but he didn’t have much room to talk. He’d stayed with her at the hospital until she’d been treated, then he’d vanished. It had been four days.
Keren straightened in her chair and ran a hand over her face in case she’d been drooling in her sleep. She couldn’t imagine what a mess her hair must be.
Which reminded her… “You put a tracking device in my hair tie?”
“Yeah.” He smirked, completely unrepentant.
“Why didn’t you just tell me it was there? Why the sneaking around?”
“You’re stubborn, and it was pretty obvious that Caldwell had decided to come for you and Rosita at some point. I gave Rosie the necklace and told her to keep it on at all times.”
“Why didn’t you do that for me?”
“I didn’t trust you. You’re kind of bent on taking care of yourself.”
“When did you put it on me?”
“That morning.” Paul rubbed both hands over his face. “I thought I had time. I knew you were at risk, but I was being a coward. I was hiding. I had the tracker, but I hadn’t even given it to you yet. I almost left it too late.”
“Just that morning?” Keren’s eyes narrowed. “When you kissed me? You kissed me as an excuse to get close enough to—”
“No, I didn’t kiss you for any other reason than because I wanted to. But I’d intended to get it to you somehow that day. I’d have just flat out told you if I couldn’t figure out a way to sneak it into your barrette. I had it made so it matched one of the pins that held the barrette in.”
“Why didn’t you have one on?”
“I did.”
She fell silent at that and stared and thought how much she’d missed his faith and support, and even his strange split personality.
“What?” he asked.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You smiled.”