Molly peeped around the edge of the door. She gazed out at the two priests, then suddenly began crying and reached for her father. Ted swung the little girl up into his arms. "We might do better to call the police," Ted said as he jiggled Molly and she calmed down.

Janet glanced from her husband to the priest, then back to her husband. "I-I'll just call Jared," she stammered. If she didn't do something to break the tension between Ted and the priest, one of them very well might call the police. "He didn't have anything to do with what happened last night, so what can it possibly hurt?"

Without waiting for a reply from Ted, she hurried through the dining room and opened the door to the basement. "Jared?" she called. "Jared!" When there was no response, she went down the steep flight of stairs and rapped on the closed door to his room. A moment later the door opened a crack, and she could smell the musty odor of the fumes that constantly drifted up from the sump in the middle of the room. "Father MacNeill and Father Bernard are here. They want to talk to you."

Jared's expression clouded. "What about?"

"Something happened at the cemetery last night, and for some reason Father MacNeill thinks you might have something to do with it. All you have to do is tell him you didn't, and that will be the end of it."

When Jared said nothing, Janet felt her stomach tighten. If Jared refused to talk to the priest, MacNeill would assume the worst. But then Jared shrugged. "Sure," he said. "I'll be up in a minute."

By the time Janet got back to the front door, Kim was standing at the bottom of the stairs. "What do they want?" she asked, anxiously eyeing the two priests who waited on the porch.

"It's all right," Janet assured her. "They just want to talk to Jared. They'll be gone in a minute."

Then Jared appeared, and as Father MacNeill looked at the boy, a single thought-a single concept-came into his mind.

Death.

Then, for just the barest fraction of an instant, he saw a change in Jared Conway's face.

The boy's eyes seemed to turn to slits, and his nostrils flared. It was more than an expression of anger; it was as if the boy's physiognomy had begun to transform itself into something inhuman.

But as quickly as it appeared, the vision was gone. It happened so fast that a second later the priest was no longer sure of what he'd seen.

But he could no longer look at Jared.

He shivered, trying to shake off the horrible chill that had seized him, then steeled himself and once more forced his gaze to meet the boy's. He spoke deliberately. "You took a cross from the church," he said. "You vandalized your uncle's tomb, and you pinned the skin of a dead cat to a tree with the cross."

"No!" Kim cried out, her voice breaking. "Don't you dare say that! Jared would never have hurt-"

Before she could finish, though, Jared himself spoke. "Go to hell," he said softly. His eyes remained on the priest, and Father MacNeill felt an outpouring of hatred wash over him. He felt as if he couldn't breathe, and his heart began to pound. "You don't know anything about what I did last night," Jared went on. "Stay away from here. Stay away, or maybe you'll wind up with one of your precious crosses shoved right up your-"

"Jared!" Janet cut in. "Don't you dare talk to Father MacNeill like that!"

"I'll talk to him any way I want!" Jared shot back.

Molly began to scream, and Janet quickly took her from Ted. "I'm sorry," she blurted to the two priests. "I can't imagine-"

"Don't apologize!" Jared burst out. "You said he wanted to ask me some questions. So, did you hear any questions?" His eyes fixed once more on the priest, and his voice turned venomous. "You think you know what's going on around here? Well, you're wrong! You don't have a clue what's going on!" He moved forward, raising his hand to point a finger at the priest, and Father MacNeill stumbled backward, barely catching himself against one of the columns that supported the roof. "Get away from here!" Jared screamed. "Get out of my house!"

Suddenly, the finger turned into a talon, and the priest jerked away as it slashed out at him. Once again he saw the demon he'd caught a glimpse of only moments ago, but this time it was leering at him, its fangs bared, its tongue flicking toward him like a snake's, its eyes glowing with evil fury. His hands clutched at the crucifix hanging from his waist, and as he raised it, he heard a rasping voice emerge from the throat of the beast before him.

"Next time, I'll drive the cross through your heart, priest!"

Father MacNeill's nostrils filled with the sour stench of vomit, and his own gorge rose. Then, with a howling cackle of harsh laughter, the vision vanished.

"Just get out of our house," he heard Jared say again. The boy turned away and disappeared back inside.

"I-I'm so sorry," Janet stammered. "I don't know what would make him say any of that. Jared isn't like that. He-He's-" She shook her head helplessly as she tried to soothe Molly, who was crying again.

Father MacNeill barely heard her. The cold was finally releasing him from its terrible grip, and his heartbeat was starting to slow. As his breathing returned to normal, he swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. Finally, he was able to look at Ted. "I think I know what I came to find out," he said softly.

Ted's gaze never wavered. "You didn't come to find out anything. You think you already know. But you're wrong, Father. You don't know anything." Taking Janet's elbow, he gently steered her back into the house and closed the door.

Father MacNeill stared at the closed door, but instead of seeing the great oaken panel, he saw instead the demon face he'd beheld a moment ago. "Did you see it?" he asked Father Bernard. "Did you feel it?"

Father Bernard looked at him uncertainly. "I'm not sure I-"

"Evil," Father MacNeill breathed. "You can see it. You can feel it." He moved unsteadily off the porch and down the path to the sidewalk. Only when they had crossed the street and walked some distance away, did he finally turn back to look again at the house.

"Evil," he whispered. Then, with Father Bernard beside him, he began the long walk back to the rectory.

Ray Beckwith pulled his squad car up in front of Jake's weather-beaten cabin out by the lake. The rowboat was hauled up onto the narrow strip of muddy beach, and Jake's dog was chained outside. As the hound began baying, Jake opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

"Hey there, Jake," Ray called out as he got out of the car. Jake nodded, but said nothing. "How's it going? Nice afternoon, huh?"

Jake's face was an impassive mask. "Don't think you came out here to talk about the weather. What d'you want?"

"Just got a couple of questions, that's all," Ray replied. He nervously eyed the hound, which was straining at the end of its chain. "Okay if I come up on the porch?"

Jake shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He made no move to quiet the dog, so Ray circled carefully around, staying well out of reach of the animal's snapping jaws. "I just wondered what you were doing last night, Jake," he said as he stepped up onto the porch.

"Figured," Jake replied. "You're wantin' to know if I had anything to do with what happened down at the cemetery last night."

"You heard about it?"

Jake shrugged and countered, "Know anybody who didn't?"

"So where were you last night?" Ray asked.

"I was out tendin' my traps. Me and Lucky took off 'bout ten. Didn't get home till near dawn."

Ray nodded as if he were no longer listening, but when he spoke again, he watched Jake's reaction to his question. "Mind if I show you something?"

"Don't mind at all," Jake replied. If he was worried, it didn't show in his face.

Ray went back to the squad car and returned a moment later, carrying a package wrapped in black plastic. As the dog strained at its chain, Ray glanced at the open front door of the cabin. "Maybe we should go inside?"