"Then you can't read my mind."
"You may have it as you wish... as you wish."
Try the holy water? Now? He heard the squeaking of the tape-recorder mechanism. No. Just keep digging. Get more of a sampling of the speech. "You're a fascinating person," said Karras.
Regan sneered.
"Oh, no, really," said Karres. "I'd like to know more about your background. You've never told me who you are, for example." "A devil," rumbled the demon.
"Yes, I know, but which devil? What's your name?"
"Ah, now what is in a name, Karras? Never mind my name. Call me Howdy, if you find it more comfortable."
"Oh, yes. Captain Howdy." Karras nodded. "Regan's friend."
"Her very close friend."
"Oh, really?"
"Indeed."
"But then why do you torment her?"
"Because I am her friend. The piglet likes it!"
"She likes it?"
"She adores it!"
"But why?"
"Ask her!"
"Would you allow her to answer?"
"No."
"Well, then what would be the point in my asking?" "None!"
The demon's eyes glinted spite.
"Who's the person I was speaking to earlier?" asked Karras.
"You've asked that."
"I know, but you never gave an answer."
"Just another good friend of the sweet, honey piglet, dear Karras."
"May I speak to him?"
"No. He is busy with your mother. She is sucking his cock to the bristles, Karras! to the root!"
it chuckled softly, and then added, "Marvelous tongue, your mother. Good mouth." It was gleaming at him mockingly, and Karras felt a rage sweeping through him, a tremor of hatred that the priest quickly realized with a start was directed not at Regan, but at the demon. The demon! What the hell is the matter with you, Karras? The Jesuit gripped calm by its edges, breathed deep and then stood up and slipped the vial of water from the pocket of his shirt. He uncorked it.
The demon looked wary. "What is that?"
"Don't you know?" asked Karras, his thumb half covering the mouth of the vial as he started to sprinkle its contents on Regan. "It's holy water, devil."
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.
