Armor nodded, but Thrower could see that he was worried about something. “What is it?” Thrower asked. “What is it that you want to ask me?”

Armor’s eyes widened. “Can you hear what I’m thinking9”

“If I could, I wouldn’t have to ask you.”

Armor smiled. “Reckon not.”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know, if I can.”

“I heard you praying,” said Armor. He waited, as if that were the question.

Since Thrower didn’t know what the question was, he wasn’t sure what to answer. “I was in despair, because I failed the Lord. I was given a mission to perform, but at the crucial moment my heart was filled with doubt.” With his good hand he reached out and clutched at Armor. All he could touch was the cloth of Armor’s trousers, where he knelt beside him. “Armor-of-God,” he said, “never let doubt enter your heart. Never question what you know is true. It’s the doorway to let Satan have power over you.”

But that wasn’t the answer to Armor’s question.

“Ask me what you want to ask me,” said Thrower. “I’ll tell you the truth, if I can.”

“You prayed about killing,” said Armor.

Thrower had not thought to tell anyone about the burden the Lord had placed upon him. Yet if the Lord had wanted the secret kept from Armor, He would not have allowed the man to be there in the church to overhear. “I believe,” said Thrower, “that it was the Lord God that brought you to me. I am weak, Armor, and I failed at what the Lord required. But now I see that you, a man of faith, have been given to me as a friend and helper.”

“What did the Lord require?” asked Armor.

“Not murder, my brother. The Lord never asked me to kill a man. It was a devil I was sent to kill. A devil in man-shape. Living in that house.”

Armor pursed his lips, deep in thought. “The boy ain’t just possessed, is that what you’re saying? It ain’t something you can cast right out?”

“I tried, but he laughed at the Holy Book and mocked my words of exorcism. He is not possessed, Armor-of-God. He is the devil’s own kin.”

Armor shook his head. “My wife ain’t a devil, and she’s his own sister.”

“She has given up witchcraft, and so she has been made pure,” said Thrower.

Armor gave one bitter laugh. “I thought so.”

Thrower understood, now, why Armor had taken refuge in the church, in the house of God: His own house had been polluted.

“Armor-of-God, will you help me purge this country, this town, that house, thatfamily, of the evil influence that has corrupted them?”

“Will it save my wife?” asked Armor. “Will it end her love of witchery?”

“It may,” said Thrower. “Perhaps the Lord has brought us together so we can purify both our houses.”

“Whatever it takes,” said Armor. “I’m with you against the devil.”