Immediately the demon was cringing, writhing, bellowing in terror and in pain: "It burns! It burns! Ahh, stop it! Cease, priest bastard! Cease!"

Expressionless, Karras stopped sprinkling. Hysteria. Suggestion. She did read the book. He glanced at the tape recorder. Why bother?

He noticed the silence. Looked at Regan. Knit his bows. What's this? What's going on? The demonic personality had vanished and in its place were other features, which were similar. Yet different. And the eyes had rolled upward into their sockets, exposing the whites. Now murmuring. Slowly. A feverish gibberish. Karras came around to the side of the bed. Leaned over to listen. What is it? Nothing. And yet... It's got cadence. Like a language. Could it be?

He felt the fluttering of wings in his stomach; gripped them hard; held them still. Come on, don't be an idiot! And yet...

He glanced to the volume monitor on the tape recorder. Not flashing. He turned up the amplification knob and then listened, intent, ear low to Regan's lips. The gibberish ceased and was replaced by breathing, raspy and deep.

Karras straightened. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Nowonmai," the entity answered. Groaning whisper. In pain. Whites of eyes. Lids fluttering.

"Nowonmai." The cracked, breathy voice, like the soul of its owner, seemed cloistered in a dark, curtained space beyond time.

"Is that your name?" Karras frowned.

The lips moved. Fevered syllables. Slow. Unintelligible. Then shortly it ceased.

"Are you able to understand me?"

Silence. Only breathing. Deep. Oddly muffled. The eerie sound of sleep in an oxygen tent.

The Jesuit waited. Hoped for more.

Nothing came.

He rewound the tape, packed the tape recorder into its case, picked it up and took the reel of tape. He gave Regan a last look. Louse ends. Irresolute, he left the room and went downstairs.

He found Chris in the kitchen. She was sitting somberly over coffee at the table with Sharon.

As they saw him approach, they looked up at him with a questioning, anxious expectancy.

Chris said quietly to Sharon, "Better go check on Regan. Okay?"

Sharon took a final sip of coffee, nodded wanly at Karras and left. He sat down wearily at the table.

"So what's doin'?" Chris asked him, searching his eyes.

About to answer, Karras waited as Karl entered quietly from the pantry and west over to the sink to scrub pots.

Chris followed has gaze. "It's okay," she said softly. "Go ahead. What's the drill?"

"There were two personalities I hadn't seen before. Well, no, one I guess I'd seen for just a moment, the one that sounds British. Is that anyone you know?" "Is that important?" Chris asked.

He saw again the special tension in her face. "It's important."

She looked down and nodded. "Yeah, it's someone I knew."

"Who?"

She looked up. "Burke Dennings."

"The director?"

"Yes."

"The director who---" "Yes,"

she cut in.

The Jesuit considered her answer for a moment in silence. He saw her index finger twitching.

"Would you like some coffee or something, Father?"

He shook his head. "Thanks, no." He lead forward, elbows on the table. "Was Regan acquainted with him?"

"Yes."

"And---"

A clattering. Startled, Chas flinched, turned and saw that Karl had dropped a roasting pan to the floor and was stooping to retrieve it. As he lifted it, he dropped it again.

"God almighty, Karl!"

"Sorry, madam."

"Go on, Karl, get out of here! Go see a movie or something! We can't all stay cooped in this house!" She turned back to Karras, picking up a cigarette packet and slamming it down on the table when Karl protested, "No, I look---"

"Karl, now, I mean it!" Chris snapped at him nervously, raising her voice but not turning her head. "Get out! Just get out of this house for a while! We've all got to start getting out! Now just go!"

"Yes, you go!" echoed Willie as she entered and snatched away the pan from Karl's grasp. She pushed him irritably toward the pantry.

Karl eyed Karras and Chris briefly and then left.

"Sorry, Father," Chris murmured in apology. She reached for a cigarette. "He's had to take an awful lot lately."

"You were right," said Karras gently. He picked up the matches. "You should all make an effort to get out of the house." He lit her cigarette. "You too." "So what did Burke Say?"

Chris asked.

"Just obscenities," Karras said, shrugging.

"That's all?"

He caught the faint pulse of fear in her tone "Pretty much," he responded. Then he lowered his voice. "Incidentally, does Karl have a daughter?"

"A daughter? No, not that I know of. Or if he does, he's never mentioned it."