The Rev. William Pearson stood in the shadow of the church staring across the lawn to the frail wood-framed parsonage. The bricks dripped in the heavy evening dew. Dimly, he could see Ella's cheekbones and forehead intermittently washed with the pale light of the street lamp as she rocked in and out of shadow on the porch. The dark blur of the forsythia bush obscured her body, but he could hear the monotonous creaking of the chair. Odd, how contorted and ugly she seemed as she passed in and out of darkness. Her cheeks seemed hollow - her face that of a bleached skull.

A queer thrill ran up his spine and a familiar child-fear gripped him. Years ago he was the one who told the stories of ghosts and demons around the campfire. Remembered fear and excitement made his skin pop out in goose bumps. His heart thudded loudly in his ears. His stories always ended with a terrifying shout and then he would run as if the devil himself were chasing him. The littlest children always screamed in terror as they were left behind in the panic stricken rush for home. Yes, he'd always been quite effective. His flair for drama and the knowledge he could move people to tears or laughter and his conviction of the supernatural world had led him into the ministry.

The deep stillness of an empty church thrilled him. He often stayed late sitting in the sanctuary, thinking meditating. Tonight, after the Board meeting, he had sat in the last pew for an hour, savoring the dark, quiet atmosphere.

Bill moved away from the heavy door, feeling the latch again with his fingers to make sure it had caught.

An odd night, a strange, ominous night. The air was heavy with moisture.

"Ella!" he called as he strode across the lawn. She must not have heard; the rocker creaked back and forth. "Ella!" Bill's muscles knotted in his calves and he couldn't restrain his impulse to break into a trot. He took the wooden steps two at a time.

"Ella!" His wife stopped rocking abruptly, her forehead gleamed in the diffused light. Her eyes glinted.

"Didn't you hear.." A soft whirring of wings fanned the air near his face, and instinctively Bill ducked. Ella continued to watch him.

"The bats must be out again!" Bill laughed weakly.

"The roost in the belfry - I watch them circling it at night." Ella said flatly. "You startled me. I didn't hear you coming."

"You were in a different world, my dear. A different world." He paused. "Aren't you chilly? You don't have your sweater on?" He took her veined hands and rubbed them briskly between his. "Let's go in. I'll make you a cup of coffee."

"No, it's nice out here. I like it. I love the feeling before a storm. It's full of expectancy, excitement." She leaned forward. Bill could see her smiling. She caught herself. "How was the Board meeting?"

"Fine! Had quite a few out tonight. They voted to put a new furnace in. Mrs. Blaycock sent her regards. Hoped you were feeling better. They've missed you at the prayer meetings. And Doris wanted me to remind you that you're hostess at Martha Circle next month. But if you don't feel up to it, she'll do it."

Ella nodded, her express never changed although Bill thought he saw a veil come over her eyes. He wondered. She'd changed in the last few months so radically.

"Are you feeling any better, Ella?" He made his voice warm, concerned. He held her hand tightly in his.

"I think so! But I feel like my strength is just drained." Her voice vibrated in the thick air.

"You'll be fine, my dear, fine. Oh, I almost forgot," He paused a moment as if trying to broach a difficult subject. "The Board approved a Discretionary Fund for transients."

"No!" Ella's fingers grew stiff under his.

"Now, Ella!" He smoothed her unyielding knuckles with his forefinger. "They do no one any harm. And at least it won't come out of our pockets anymore."

"Bill! You know how I feel about them. I'm afraid of them! And that big man that stops here every year. I can't stand him. He's so arrogant and so false when he tries to be humble." She started to sob, a dry racking sob.

"Come now, don't get upset. They only want a free meal and then they're gone."

"But, I've found them sleeping on the pews! Bill you must not...I'm..."

"Ella! I will not argue with you!" Bill stood up. Ella stopped and her unspoken words hung heavily in the damp air. "It's beginning to thunder. Do you want a cup of coffee or not?"

"Yes please." Her voice was edged, but Bill knew she would say no more. His hand slipped on the wet frame of the screen door.

"I'll be right back." He strode through the dark house. No sense in turning lights on, it would only draw bugs. He set the water on to heat. The blue flame from the gas stove cast an eerie illumination over his features.

Ella was a remarkable woman. She had hoped for a large city church some day, but had finally reconciled herself to small town life. Bill was glad he had early accustomed himself to the idea of a small church. There was much more of a challenge in a rural area. But Ella's hopes had died harder. No one could have helped more, though. Methodically, she sought out those needing help or a good ear. She baked and cooked for the bereaved, babysat for over-worked mothers, attended the various circles, conducted programs and led prayer groups. Somewhere along the years, she had lost that indefinable excitement she used to possess. She was dry, thin and dull these days. He avoided being with her. Her eyes were always on him...following him.

The water hissed and sputtered on the stove. The pot rocked as the heat scorched its underside. Blue flames licked up around it's sides.

Ella was acting so oddly of late. Even the Chairman of the Administrative Board had made a remark this evening which worried Bill. They'd been standing at the doorway and Parker held back until everyone else had gone.

"Rev. Pearson, I surely don't want to be presumptuous, but the wife and I were a little worried about Mrs. Pearson. She doesn't look a bit good. And she's been saying some mighty peculiar things lately. Keeps talking about the power of darkness and dreams, and well, to tell you the truth. She's got my wife quite upset."

Bill's throat had constricted; his tongue went dry. He'd been dreading something like this for several weeks now.

"She's under a doctor's care, Mr. Parker. You tell your wife not to worry about a thing. Ella's been under a strain lately. She'll snap out of it. But, I o appreciate your concern."

Parker earnestly shook the minister's hand. "If there's anything we can do, anything, you just let us know. Your wife's been a real fine worker. Expect a rest will do her a lot of good. You call on me anytime - anytime you need help!"

Bill had remained in the dark sanctuary longer than usual after Parker left.

A book lay on the counter. Bill snapped on the kitchen light to read the title. It confirmed his fears. Ella had been reading about necromancy and demon-possession. She'd heard him discussing this with Tom Wayland, the other day. Tom was one of the new Pentecostals in the established denominations. A good liberal Methodist preacher for years, suddenly Tom had started preaching about the power of Satan and his demons. His comfortable church has split apart. Ella had seemed unduly interested, Bill remembered. It had disturbed him when she kept pressing.

"Tom, do you really believe there are such spirits around? Just waiting to attack a person?"

"I do, Ella! I've seen too much to believe otherwise and it's certainly Biblical. Just look at.."

"Really, Tom," Bill had interrupted. "They simply didn't understand mental or physical illness at that time. They explained this phenomenon to the best of their limited ability. You have to interpret the Gospels according to modern understanding."

"How would you know if a person were possessed" Ella was so agitated she had knotted her sweater into a wad. Bill tried to distract Tom's attention.

"Ridiculous! The whole business!"

"Maybe, Maybe not."

Bill successfully steered the conversation to more comfortable subjects and Ella had left to wash the dishes."She's sick Tom. Disturbed. Don't give her ideas. She's so suggestible lately."

Mechanically he measured out the instant coffee and stirred the boiling water into it. A drop splashed up on his hand, but he seemed oblivious to it. He carried the cups through the darkened house, pushed the screen door open with his shoulder and started to cross the porch. Suddenly something slipped past his head. He recoiled and splashed hot coffee on his shirt.

"My Lord! Those things are dangerous." He set the cups on the railing and mopped his shirt with his handkerchief.

"Did it burn you?" Ella sat up quickly.

"No! Just messed me up. I have to do something about those things." He laughed weakly.

"They aren't hurting anything, Bill. Just looking for food." The conversation dwindled into silence.

They sat on the porch, the man and woman, listening to the thunder in the distance and watching the lightning streaking in the southwestern sky.

- - - - - - -

"Ella!" Bill sat at the dinner table longer than usual. It was obvious he was uncomfortable about what he wanted to say.

"Yes, Bill." Ella was composed, quiet as usual. Her face registered no emotion. Her cheeks were drawn, but her eyes were brighter than usual.

"I've heard you've been talking rather strangely lately. Mrs. Glandon called this morning. Why, you've put the fear of the devil in that woman."

"Yes!" Ella quietly put the plates in the sink and turned on the faucet.

"Blast it, Ella! Listen to me. You can't go around saying things about Satanic power and Black Masses. They'll think you're insane."

His wife's back was rigid - her breathing was quick and shallow. "Maybe I am."

"People are talking about you..."

"There's the doorbell, Bill. I'll answer it."

Bill Pearson shook his head. His face was lined and tired. Fear tossed within him. Reality was a nightmare. His own wife...Hiw fingers shook as he straightened his tie.

"Bill come here!" Ella's voice was shrill. She passed him swiftly with a dry rattle as he crossed the living room. "Send him downtown to the cafe," she hissed.

Bill saw the man hulking in the doorway - a powerfully built man, he dominated the entire porch. Bill sensed a strength in him, a strength that almost frightened him. He kept the screen door shut between them. There was something elemental in his bearing, repelling, almost magnetic.

The big man launched into a prepared speech on his woes. Bill had heard similar stories year after year. But Bill recognized him. This same man stopped here every spring!

"You go on down to the restaurant. I'll call them and tell them to give you a good meal. My wife's ... not feeling well," He said, trying to regain his composure. The big man whined with phony gratitude. Bill watched him shuffle off the porch and followed him with his eyes until he turned the corner.

His stomach was churning, he felt a terrible urge to run, to escape to the silent church where he could be alone, almost alone.

"Lock the doors, Ella. I don't like that fellow, I'm going over to the church for awhile."

Ella stood, a wraith, at the top of the stairs. He wondered how long she had been watching him. Her eyes were so much larger, the thinner she got. She merely nodded. The hairs on the back of Bill's neck crawled. It was as if she had some power. Something lurking within her.

"What am I doing?" He slammed the door. Making up stories like a stupid kid" he muttered, but he couldn't rid himself of the foreboding danger. The sun's heat ended abruptly as he entered the cool shadow of the church structure. The welcome gloom of the sanctuary comforted him. He slid into his familiar pew.

How long he dozed, he didn't know, but only a vague light filtered in the western windows of the church He heard a stealthy sound near the doors and turned quickly. The big man stood there, staring at Bill.

"What do you want?" Bill tried to stand, but the hymn rack caught him and he sat down again."

"You!"

"What can I do for you?" Bill felt perspiration beading under his arms.

The huge man began to move across the church toward shim. Bill backed away out of the pew and down the aisle. If he could get up to the altar area, he could slip through his study door and out.

"Are you hungry again?" Despite his fear, Bill felt drawn to this ugly creature. He had to talk to him, to keep the man from reaching him.

"Naw!" He swayed down the aisle.

"I can, uh, probably, get you a place to sleep. That's what you're looking for, isn't it?" Bill kept backing up, babbling crazily, he touched the pew tops with his hands. A few more steps and then he'd pass through the communion rail and up on the chancel area. He glanced down. The pitch of the floor had changed. He was nearly there.

"Don't move another step!" Bill's heart nearly stopped beating. The voice was Ella's. She stood in front of the altar. Her face was like a flame, streaked with reds, disfigured in its passion. Both men stopped. All motion, time itself was arrested.

"You shall be destroyed!" Ella screamed, her voice echoed madly in the huge area. Suddenly Bill heard the fluttering, whirring of many wings. The sanctuary filled with bats streaming in from his open study door. They swooped almost silently. Ella stood in the mist of them, her hand on the altar, oblivious to the swirling, horrid creatures. Bill looked back at the man behind him. He was transfixed, staring at Ella as if answering an unspoken challenge. He slowly started moving again. The strength in the man seemed to be an electric current passing between them. Bill couldn't move. The man walked slowly past him, up to the opening in the communion rail. There was an undefined menace in the way he arrogantly watched Ella. The bats flew crazily about the high domed ceiling. Occasionally diving close to their heads.

"I will destroy you!" Ella's voice broke through the silence. She had the heavy brass cross in both hands in front of her and had walked, as if in a trance, down to within five feet of the hulking transient. She looked not at the strange man in front of her, but at Bill directly behind him. She raised the altar cross and the man shrank from her. Ella's voice cracked as she screamed.

The man turned and rushed towards Bill. A bat brushed across Bill's face and he felt it's claws dragging across his skin. He struck out wildly and his hand connected with the warm body of the creature.

"Ella! Help! God Help me!" He fell underneath the weight of the enraged man. A tremendous pain filled his whole being. He saw the brass cross descending over him and then all sounds ceased.

Pain blurred his senses as he came to himself. Ella was crumpled against the communion rail, breathing heavily. The church was empty - except for the two of them. He wiped his eyes and saw blood on his hands. The cross lay on the floor, beside it - a dead bat, it's wings outstretched.

"What happened Ella?"

"It's gone, Bill. Gone. It can't hurt you now."

The Rev. Bill Pearson nodded. He felt a strange tranquility inside him as he picked up the cross and returned it to the altar. He left the bat lying dead on the floor.

"We won't speak of this again, will we?" he asked her gently.

"No, my love, lean on me. Let me help you" Gratefully, he felt her solid strength return. The strength his evil had nearly sapped.