“Me next,” Juliana told him.
The assistant looked at her. She hadn’t paid much attention to him before, focusing on the preacher like everyone else. The assistant wasn’t much older than her, and he was handsome despite his scratchy, fuzzy attempt at growing a beard. His intense blue eyes took her in, and something fluttered in her stomach.
“Do I need to carry you, too?” he asked, with an amused smile.
“I can manage on my own, thanks.”
“I don’t think you’ll make it to the stairs.” He tilted his head to the far end of the stage. Dozens of people, crammed tightly together, blocked her path. “It’s my way or no way.”
“Then be a gentleman about it.” She held up her arms and let him grab her around the waist and lift her to the stage. For a moment, her body was pressed against his, and the sensation of his strong, firm chest through her clothes made her flush red. He set her on her feet.
They waited while the preacher finished healing a man who’d lost a finger harvesting grain—it grew back, to the great delight of the crowd, who shouted lots of “Hallelujah!” So did the chorus of three women. The piano player kept the tempo moving fast.
“Who else comes for the Lord’s healing?” the preacher asked, scratching his head through his odd-colored curly hair.
“You’re on,” the assistant whispered in Juliana’s ear. He steered her toward the smiling preacher. As he did it, he pushed back her sleeve and laid his fingers on her bare arm, before she realized what he was doing.
She gasped and tried to pull away, but he held tight. Incredibly, his fingers did not boil and blister where they touched her, and he did not cry out and leap back in pain. The boy’s touch was warm and gentle, and caused no unpleasantness for either of them.
Her eyes widened in awe. This was truly a place of miracles, because no one had ever been able to touch her without suffering infection. She understood now that God truly was in this tent, and now He could cast the demon plague out of her forever. She would no longer be a freak, and she would be free to touch anyone she liked. She was more than happy to start with the preacher’s young assistant, whose hand lingered on her arm even as she faced the preacher.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Lord has brought us another sweet lamb,” the preacher said, eying her up and down. He smelled like sweaty armpits and chemical hair dye. “And what is your name, little angel?”
“Petra,” she said, giving her old, long-abandoned birth name.
“Petra, Petra. Will you let me lay my hands upon you, Petra? Will you open yourself to receiving the Lord’s blessing?”
“Yes...” she replied uncertainly.
“And what is your affliction, dear lamb?”
“I have...all kinds of diseases and plagues,” she told him.
“Afflicted!” the preacher shouted to the audience. “Afflicted by many diseases, many plagues, ladies and gentlemen? And do you know who afflicts with many diseases at once...a legion of plagues?”
Some in the audience shouted back their opinion that “Satan” or “the Devil” might be responsible.
“I said, do you know who causes such affliction?” he shouted, his face turning red.
“Satan!” more of the audience shouted back.
“Satan, Satan, Satan!” the preacher howled. “That’s right! And do you know who drives out Satan? Can you say His name? Can you, say, Oh, Lord, cast out these demons?”
The crowd shouted it back. The preacher and crowd shouted back and forth several times, the preacher giving them an “Oh, Lord, cast out these demons!” The crowd repeated it back to him each time: “Oh, Lord, cast out these demons!”
Emboldened by the power and energy of the crowd, and the little boy’s healed leg, Juliana slipped off both her gloves and held her bare hands high.
When the crowd was at a fever pitch, the preacher turned, seized both of her hands, then closed his eyes and shouted one final “Oh, Lord, cast out these demons!”
Juliana clutched his hands, closed her eyes, and threw back her head, waiting for God to finally break her evil curse.
A wave of quiet rolled over the room, displacing the shouting, singing, and loud praying that had accompanied all the other healings. She didn’t feel any different. She opened her eyes.
The preacher stood in front of her, squeezing her hands, his jaw hanging open. Diseased sores had opened all over his face, and dark blood drooled from his lips. His face and jaw swelled and change shape, as if tumors were sprouting all over his skull. His hands, still gripping tight to hers, had turned rotten and leprous.
Juliana gasped and released him, realizing too late that the preacher didn’t have any power over the demon plague, after all. It was eating him up. The preacher staggered toward the front of the stage, groaning and raising his decayed hands. He fell to his knees, and the audience screamed and drew back. The chorus girls grabbed each other and screamed.