“Ezekiel Daniels was not a monster.”

  Pastor Sam Daniels paused and swept his eyes over his audience.

  “He was my little brother.” A picture of a dark-haired baby with swarthy skin and piercing dark brown eyes was projected onto the screens to either side of the pulpit.

  “The thing I remember most about him was his big heart. He couldn’t stand to see anyone suffer, not even animals. When we tried to teach him to hunt, he couldn’t pull the trigger. When our sister, Esther, took a fever and died, he took it harder than any of us.”

  Sam brought his hand to his chest.

  “He was so intense, so driven. He was an Eagle Scout by the time he was twelve—one of the youngest Eagle Scouts ever. Everyone loved Ezekiel from the moment they met him. We used to joke that he would be President one day, and if things had gone differently I’ve no doubt he would have been.”

  He shook his head. “I think back to what I might have done to avert the tragedy that took place in this very spot, four years ago, and I realize now there were signs. There was the argument with father. A tea pitcher exploded. I figured it was some sort of flaw in the glass, but now I know better.”

  “There was the softball game two weeks before he went mad. Ezekiel hit all home runs. Every single time he hit the ball, it flew out of the park. He didn’t miss a catch that entire game. He’d always been good, but never that good.

  “Back then, we didn’t know much about the afflicted. Now we know Satan can strike that deal with anyone, and they might not even know it.”

  His voice rose. “When Jesus returns, the afflicted are going to be recruited into Satan’s army. Exodus 22:18 states that we shall not suffer a witch to live. We faithful know the end times are here, and the powers of evil are growing. We are at war. These afflicted wield the power of Satan. Make no mistake, there are witches alive today. And my little brother was one of them.” He bowed his head. “Let us pray.”

  Xeke shifted in his seat. I shouldn’t have come here.

  His plan had been to let his brother know it had all been an accident, that he’d had no control over it—that he was still alive.

  What was I thinking? Sam was just like their father, always rewriting history to fit the message. Xeke hadn’t hit a single home run in that softball game, and the tea pitcher had fallen when he bumped into the table. He remembered because his father had yelled at him for an hour afterwards. He didn’t even have powers then.

  Sam opened his eyes, grabbed the edges of the pulpit and leaned forward. “How could Satan have gotten ahold of someone as good as Ezekiel—someone raised in the fold, who was protected, right here in the arms of the Faithful?”

  “Ezekiel was a good kid, but he questioned God’s plan. He questioned the Lord’s wisdom. He argued that we should put our trust in medicine, not in God. He blamed our beliefs for our sister’s death, and never accepted it was simply the Lord’s time for her, that it was wrong to fight God’s plan with science and hubris.”

  “Amen!” A man shouted in the congregation. A dozen voices joined his. Sam waited until there was silence again.

  “He seemed like one of us, but every time God tested his faith, he failed, and it opened the door for Satan to come in.”

  His voice softened. “But God is merciful. Through tragedy He makes our faith stronger. God still saw fit to give Ezekiel a legacy. From the evil he wrought, good was born. My brother is dead now, and he took 327 of the faithful with him, but their deaths were not in vain. They are in heaven. In a better place. My father doesn’t have to live in this broken, fallen world. His sacrifice, and the sacrifices of all our brothers and sisters, gave us the momentum we needed to get the Safety Act passed, and the outpouring of generosity that followed made the ministry you see before you possible.”

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  He lifted the Bible in his hand. “Who are we to question God’s plan? For every soul sent to its reward that day, hundreds more have been saved. Our nation is awake now. All Americans have the right to protect themselves from Satan’s chosen, but you must do your part. If you have questions about your own brother, sister, friend, or loved one, you can stop them before they destroy themselves, before they …”

  Xeke shouldered his backpack and stood. The sermon continued, but he’d heard enough. A few people stared at him, but he knew no one would recognize him. He’d seated himself near several Hispanic families knowing his brown skin would render him invisible to most of the congregation.

  And he’d changed a lot since that day anyway; he was taller now, and his rugged lifestyle had put muscle on what had been a lanky frame. A neatly-trimmed beard completed the disguise—he’d barely started shaving last time anyone around here had seen him.

  Besides, I killed pretty much everyone who knew me, and the rest think I’m dead.

  The exit was blocked by the largest man Xeke had ever seen. He was holding an unconscious girl in his arms. They were under-dressed for the service and—Xeke’s nose wrinkled up—they needed a bath.

  He rolled his eyes. The girl looked like she had one foot in the grave, and these yokels were here for prayer instead of going to a doctor. Just like his father had done with his sister … and with Gracie.

  “Excuse me.” Xeke tried to keep the venom out of his voice as he edged past them. The big man grabbed his arm.

  “Please, mister, we broke down on the highway. My sister is sick. Do you know where I could find some water, or a doctor?” The man’s eyes darted back and forth.

  “These people don’t believe in doctors,” Xeke said in a low voice. “I’d help, but I’m on a motorcycle. Maybe you should try to catch a ride into town when the service is over.”

  Sam’s sermon reached a crescendo. “Brothers. Sisters. Close your eyes and picture the terror that happened here, four years ago today. Picture the building and the people being torn apart in a whirlwind of evil. Imagine the pain they felt, the betrayal.”

  As the congregation bowed their heads, the girl moaned. Her eyes opened. Xeke heard a scream, but it wasn’t in his ears. It was a banshee wail inside his head. Fear overcame him. The girl disappeared.

  An usher saw her vanish. “Afflicted!” he shouted. “They’re here!”

  The usher pulled a gun from his belt holster and pointed it where the girl had been.

  “No!” The big man’s skin turned silver. He tried to shield her with his body, but the gunman had already gotten several shots off.

  Xeke reached out with his power and halted the bullets. The usher kept firing until his gun was empty.

  “God help us! They’re everywhere!”

  “We should probably get out of here,” Xeke said to the big man. More bullets whizzed by them. “Your sister … is she still here?”

  The big man nodded. “I’m carrying her. Are you going to help us?”

  “Of course,” Xeke said. “Follow me.”

  He led them outside. They ran between two secondary buildings. A group of armed men came toward them from the opposite direction. Xeke stretched his arm out.

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I’m not going to let you stop us ...”

  The men ran past him without a glance.

  Xeke looked back at his new companion. “Invisibility? That’s handy,” he said.

  “It’s not me,” the man said. “It’s Teri. I’m Ruddy, by the way.”

  “Xeke. Nice to meet you.” They heard more gunshots from behind them. “There’s no telling what those idiots are shooting at. Let’s finish the introductions later. I know a place where we can hide until things calm down.”

  Ruddy had no idea who this guy was, or what he had been doing at the church, but right now, he didn’t care. He looked down at Teri. She was unconscious, and yet she was somehow managing to make all three of them invisible. Thinking about how she might be doing that made his brain hurt.

  They reached the back of the compound, but an eight-foot fence ringed the whole place. “How are we going to get …” Ruddy felt his feet leave the ground, and the next thing he knew they were sailing over the top.

  “Woah, that was awesome!”

  “We need to keep moving,” Xeke said. “Try not to step on any branches, or do anything else that might help anyone track us. And duck between the branches if you can, unless you want to get ticks.”

  “Wait.” Something clicked in Ruddy’s mind and he went cold. “Xeke … as in … Ezekiel Daniels?”

  “Yep. That’s me.”

  “That’s impossible—you’re dead!”

  “Obviously not. Is your sister okay? I still can’t see her, but she didn’t look like she was doing too well back at the church.”

  “No, she isn’t. Her stitches keep coming open, and we’ve been on the run, and no one will leave us alone and I … I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid she might … might ...” Ruddy’s lip quivered.

  Xeke frowned. “I spent a lot of time alone out here when I was a kid. There’s an old tornado shelter nearby. The farmhouse it was built for burned to the ground before I was even born. There aren’t any roads near it and I don’t think anyone else knows about it. We can stop there, get some rest, and make a plan. I have some … friends who might be able to help us if we can get to them.”

  Ruddy nodded.

  “Let’s go,” Xeke said.

  Ruddy hesitated, then followed. Ezekiel Daniels, the mass murderer. Alive. And he’s … helping us. Woah.

  “Thanks for this,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Thank me later,” Xeke said. We’re not out of this yet.”