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feeling of joy, exaltation. Not like someone inserting a cold and creepy hand into the back of your head and down your spine. Like a worm insinuating itself in your flesh.

It felt like being possessed by a devil. Not that Word had ever had such a thing happen before.

But how else could it feel? Or like having some alien creature get inside your nervous system and take over your body.

Only here he was, praying, reading the Bible, all those things that were supposed to make devils uncomfortable, and nothing was happening. At the same time, didn't he still feel it down his spine? A

kind of thickness at the back of his head? An extra little hitch in his shoulders when he moved his arms? Or was that all his imagination?

Does the Spirit of God feel like a passenger? Does it ride you like a pony?

A pony. Word thought back to when he was a little kid and somebody had a pony ride at their birthday party. For some reason the pony decided Word was a pushover. Or maybe the pony was just done for the day. Whatever the reason, it took off out of the front yard and started off down Cloverdale, right at the steepest part. Went right past the Williamses' house and the pony's owner was yelling for him to stop, but Word had no idea how to control the pony. He kept kicking it and telling it to stop, but it just went faster, and it was scary because the road was so steep. Finally the horse scraped him off on a street sign, knocking him to the street.

Or was that what his rider wanted him to think? Had that memory been inserted in his mind like those things he said yesterday?

How could he explain to people that it wasn't him, and it might not even have been God?

The New Testament had those stories about Jesus' enemies saying, "He casts out devils by the power of the prince of devils." But the whole point of the stories is that it was stupid to think that good works could come from evil sources.

But common sense said that if you were evil and wanted to insinuate yourself into a community, you'd come on as really nice and helpful. What community wouldn't welcome a healer?

He shook his head. Why am I resisting this? Isn't it what I dreamed of? There's a congregation that will look to me now to show them the will of God. To bring them his healing blessing. How can I disappoint them?

But if this is some kind of poison, some trick, then how can I continue to deceive them?

Another knock on the door.

"Please," said Word. "I'm not done."

To Word's surprise, it wasn't Rev Theo. "Word, it's me, Mack Street."

Mack Street - the one who had known about dreams. Why didn't Word think of him before?

He might have the answers Word needed.

When he got up and let Mack in, though, Mack wasn't alone. He had a woman with him. And when Mack said her name, Yolanda White, Word remembered. The motorcycle-riding bimbo who was getting all the old farts in the neighborhood so upset because she didn't have the right dignity. And here she was with Mack showing her off as proudly as if he had just invented her.

He had all the earmarks of young love. Trouble was, she didn't. She just regarded him calmly and steadily as he invited them to sit down.

Mack came to the point pretty quickly. "We want to get married."

"I'm not licensed yet," said Word. "You got to talk to Rev Theo."

"That's the point," said Mack. "We don't have a lot of time. And even though I'm underage on the books, I'm not really. I've spent at least a whole year wandering in Fairyland while only a few hours passed here in this world."

"Maybe as much as two years."

Word tried to make sense of that one. And failed. "So you're saying that somehow you're really over eighteen but not in a way you could prove to the authorities."

"And she'd have trouble coming up with a birth certificate," said Mack. "So what we want is a kind of unofficial marriage. As far as the government is concerned, no marriage at all. But in the eyes of God, a real one. That's as much as I need."

"That would be great," said Word. "I'm a minister for so short a time I only gave my first sermon last night, and already I'm being asked to