INT. - RICHARDS HOUSE - NIGHT

Father Harry Schaefer's heart wasn't as young as it used to be. And he hadn't had a real possession to deal with in over ten years. What started out as a pretense to calm the parents had evolved quickly into this thrashing, screaming mess on the bed, a boy with the eyes of a demon.

Dear God, Father Harry thought. Protect me from my own foolishness.

A faint breeze washed over the back of the priest's neck from the open window as the ...