This Present Darkness

by Frank E. Peretti

  Suddenly the room was dead quiet. Everyone’s gaze was upon Kaseph as his eyes scanned slowly across the whole group.

  Susan could feel a terror starting to form deep down inside, a terror she had always tried to push down, avoid, control. She could feel the one thing she feared most of all slowly stalking up on her.

  Kaseph continued, “Only a few of you are aware that in the course of transferring the files from the head office we discovered that several of our most sensitive folders were missing. Apparently someone with high privilege and inside access thought those files would be of value … some other way.” The people began to gasp and murmur. “Oh, don’t be alarmed. I have a happy ending to this story. The missing files have been found!” They were all relieved, and chuckled amongst themselves. This, they seemed to think, was another one of Kaseph’s little teasers.

  Kaseph signaled to some security men toward the back of the room, and one of them picked up—what was it? Susan rose from her chair just a little to see.

  A cardboard box. No! The cardboard box? The one she had hidden behind the linens? He was bringing it toward the front, toward the head table.

  She remained where she was, but she thought she would faint. Her whole body trembled with fear. The blood drained from her face; her insides were riddled with horrible pain. She had been discovered. There was no way out. It was a nightmare.

  The security guard lifted the heavy box onto the table, and Kaseph flung it open. Yes, there were all the materials she had so painstakingly sorted out and hidden. He lifted them out, and held them up for all to see. The whole crowd gasped in astonishment.

  Kaseph threw the materials back into the box and let the guard carry it away.

  “This box,” he announced, “was found hidden in the Maidservant’s linen closet.”

  All were stunned. Some remained frozen with shock. Some shook their heads.

  Susan Jacobson prayed. She prayed furiously.

  THE MESSENGER ARRIVED back in the valley, and Guilo was voracious for news.

  “Yes, speak up!”

  “He is gathering the prayer cover for the operation tonight. He should be here any moment.”

  “Any moment may be too late.” Guilo looked toward the buildings below. “Any moment and Susan might be dead.”

  TAL WATCHED WHILE the gathered people prayed intently as the Holy Spirit led them and empowered them. They were praying specifically for the confounding of the demonic hosts. It just might be enough! He slipped out of the house, shrouded by the darkness. He would pass quickly through the town and then fly to the Strongman’s Lair, hopefully in time to save Susan’s life.

  But no sooner had he stepped into the narrow and rutted alley behind the house than he felt a sharp pain in his leg. His sword flashed into view in an instant, and in one quick movement he beheaded a small spirit that had been clinging to him. It dissolved in a puff of blood-red smoke.

  Another spirit clamped onto his back. He swept it away. Another on his back, another on his leg, two more slashing and nipping at his head!

  “It is Tal!” he heard them squeak and chatter. “It is Captain Tal!”

  Much more of this noise and they would bring Rafar! Tal knew he would have to vanquish them all or risk exposure. The demons around his head went quickly enough. He swept his sword up and across his back and dismembered the one clinging there.

  But they seemed to multiply. Some of them were quite sizable, and all were greedy for the reward Rafar would give for whoever revealed Tal’s whereabouts.

  A large, laughing spirit flew in close for a look at Tal, and then shot straight into the sky. Tal followed after him in an explosion of light and power and grabbed his ankles. The spirit screamed and began to claw at him. Tal dropped back to earth like a stone, dragging the spirit down with him, the spirit’s wings flapping and fluttering like a torn umbrella. Once under the cover of trees and houses, Tal’s sword sent the spirit into the abyss.

  But more demons were coming upon him from all directions. The word was spreading.

  TWO POWERFUL AND muscular guards, the same two men who had once been her tuxedoed escorts, dragged and carried Susan between them, hardly letting her use her own feet to carry herself, across the grounds, up onto the porch of the big stone house, inside, up the ornate staircase, and down the upstairs hall to her room. Kaseph followed, cool, collected, perfectly ruthless.

  The guards threw Susan down in a chair and held her there with their full weight, preventing her escape. Kaseph took a long, icy look at her.

  “Susan,” he said, “my dear Susan, I am not really shocked at this. Such problems have happened before, with many others, many times. And every time we’ve had to deal with it. As you well know, such problems never remain. Never.”

  He moved in close, so close his words seemed to slap her like little whips. “I never trusted you, Susan, I told you that. So I’ve kept my eye on you, I’ve had the others keep their eye on you, and I see now that you have rekindled your friendship with my … rival, Mr. Weed.” He laughed at that.

  “I have eyes and ears everywhere, dear Susan. Since the moment your Mr. Weed went to the Ashton Clarion, we have made his business, every aspect of it, our business: where he goes, whom he knows, whomever he calls, and whatever he says. And as for the hurried and careless call you made to him today …” He laughed loudly. “Susan, did you really think we wouldn’t monitor every phone call going out of here? We knew you would make your move sooner or later. All we had to do was wait and be ready. An undertaking such as ours is naturally going to have enemies. We understand that.”

  He leaned over her, his eyes cold and cunning. “But we most certainly do not tolerate it. No, Susan, we deal with it, harshly and abruptly. I had thought that one little harassment would silence Weed, but now I find that, thanks to you, he knows far too much. Therefore, it will be best if you and your Mr. Weed are taken care of.”

  All she could do was tremble; she could think of nothing to say. She knew it would be useless to beg for mercy.

  “You have never been to one of our blood rituals, have you?” Kaseph began to explain it to her as if giving a short lecture. “The ancient worshipers of Isis, or Molech, or Ashtoreth, were not too far afield in their practices. They understood, at least, that the offering of a human life to their so-called gods seemed to bring the gods’ favor upon them.”

  “What they performed in ignorance, we now continue with enlightenment. The life-force that intertwines itself through us and our universe is cyclical, never-ending, self-perpetuating. The birth of the new cannot occur without the death of the old. The birth of good is created by the death of evil. This is karma, dear Susan, your karma.”

  In other words, he was going to kill her.

  A WARRIOR ASKED Guilo, “What is that? What are they doing?”

  They both listened. The cloud, still stirring and swirling slowly about the valley floor, was trickling and babbling now with a strange sound, an indefinable noise that gradually rose in volume and pitch. At first it sounded like the rush of faraway waves, then it grew into the roar of a numberless mob. From this it crescendoed into an eerie wailing of millions of sirens.

  Guilo slowly brought his sword out, and the metal of the blade rang.

  “What are you doing?” asked the warrior.

  “Prepare!” Guilo ordered, and the order was spread among the group. Ring, ring, ring went their blades as each warrior took his sword in his hand.

  “They’re laughing,” said Guilo. “There’s nothing we can do but go in.”

  The warrior was willing, and yet the thought was unthinkable. “Go in? Go into … that?”

  The demons were strong, brutal, savage … and now they were laughing with the smell of approaching death like sweet perfume in their nostrils.

  TRISKAL AND KRIONI came swooping into the valley, swords blazing and sweeping in lethal arcs of light as demons disintegrated on all sides. Other warriors shot into the sky like flares from a cannon, plucking fleeing demons
out of the air, silencing them.

  Tal was in a real bind, wishing he could release his fighting power full force and yet needing to remain subdued lest he draw attention to himself. Thus he could not vanquish the spirits now clustering on him like angry bees in one violent attack, but rather had to pluck them off one by one, hacking and chopping with his sword.

  Mota entered the scuffle and came in close to Tal, swinging his sword and plucking demons off his captain like bats off a cave wall. “There! There now! And another!”

  Then came one infinitesimal moment when Tal was clean of demons. Mota quickly slipped into his place while Tal vanished into the ground.

  The spirits were enraged by the fighting, and at first continued to flock and circle about the area; but then they realized that Tal had somehow slipped away and they were only placing themselves in the hands of heavenly warriors to be destroyed for no reason.

  Their numbers quickly dwindled, their cries ebbed away, and soon they were gone.

  Several miles outside of Ashton, Tal shot out of the ground like a bullet from a rifle, streaking across the sky, a trail of light following him like the tail of a comet, his sword held straight out in front of him. Farms, fields, forests, and highways became a blur beneath him; the clouds became rushing mountains passing by on either side.

  He could feel his strength building with the prayers of the saints; his sword began to burn with power, glowing brilliantly. He almost felt it was pulling him through the sky.

  Faster and faster, the wind screaming, the distance shrinking, his wings an invisible roar, he flew for the Strongman’s Lair.

  A VERY STRANGE-LOOKING, black-robed and beaded, long-haired little guru from some dark and pagan land stepped into Susan’s room at Kaseph’s bidding. He bowed in obeisance to his lord and master, Kaseph.

  “Prepare the altar,” said Kaseph. “There will be a special offering for the success of our endeavor.”

  The little pagan priest left quickly. Kaseph returned his attention to Susan.

  He took one look at her and then gave her the back of his hand.

  “Stop that!” he shouted. “Stop that praying!”

  The force of the blow nearly knocked her out of the chair, but one guard held her firmly. Her head sank and she began to sob in very short, shallow gasps of terror.

  Kaseph, like a conqueror, stood above her and boasted over her limp and trembling form. “You have no God to call upon! With the nearness of your death you crumble, you fall back upon old myths and religious nonsense!”

  Then he said, almost kindly, “What you don’t realize is that I’m actually doing you a favor. Perhaps in your next life your understanding will be deeper, your frailties will have fallen away. Your sacrificial gift to us now will build wonderful karma for you in the lives to come. You’ll see.”

  Then he spoke to the guards. “Bind her!”

  They grabbed her wrists and held them behind her; she heard a click and felt the cold steel of the manacles. She heard herself screaming.

  Kaseph went to his office, now a bare room except for a few remaining shipping crates and travel cases. He went directly to a small case covered with fine old leather and tucked it under his arm.

  Then he went down the big staircase to the lower floor, through an imposing plank door and down another stairway into the deep basement below the house. He turned one corner, passed through another door, and entered a dark, candlelit room of stone. The strange little priest was already there, lighting candles and moaning some strange, unintelligible words over and over. Some of Kaseph’s closest confidants were present, waiting quietly. Kaseph handed the little case to the priest, who laid it beside a large, rough-hewn bench at one end of the room. The little priest opened the case and began to set out knives—Kaseph’s knives—ornate, jeweled, delicately wrought, razor-sharp.

  TAL COULD SEE the mountains ahead. He would have to stay in close to their rocky sides. He must not be seen.

  Guilo and his warriors remained in the darkness, unglorified, stalking step by step downward toward the complex, concealing themselves behind rocks and old snags. Just above them now, boiling and towering like a thunderhead, the cloud of leering, laughing spirits continued to swirl. Guilo was sensing some prayer cover; surely the demons would have noticed them by now, but their eyes were strangely unseeing.

  Down below, parked very near the main administration building, was a large van. Guilo found a spot from which he could see the van clearly, then had his warriors fan out, keeping one warrior close by for special instructions.

  “Do you see the upper window in the big stone house?” Guilo asked him.

  “Yes.”

  “She is there. On my signal, go alone and get her out.”

  CHAPTER 29

  IN THE STRANGE dark room below the house, Alexander M. Kaseph and his little entourage remained transfixed in deep meditation. Before them, just behind the rough wooden bench, stood the Strongman, flanked by his close guards and assistants. His sagging face was spread now with a hideous, drooling grin that bared his fangs as he chuckled with demonic delight.

  “One by one the obstacles are falling,” he said. “Yes, yes, your offering will bring you good fortune, and it will please me.” The big yellow eyes narrowed with the command. “Bring her!”

  Upstairs, sitting helplessly between the two guards, her feet and hands bound with manacles, Susan Jacobson waited and prayed. With all that was within her, she cried out to the one true God, the God whom she did not know but must be there, had to hear her, and was the only one who could help her now.

  TAL REACHED THE mountains and soared up their steep face, climbing, climbing, easing back his speed. He continued to slow as he neared the top, and then, just as he crested the summit, he stopped all motion and all sound, and let himself glide down the other side silently, invisibly. He noticed with concern that the cloud had grown even more since he’d been away. He could only hope the prayer cover would at least be sufficient to blind these foul creatures.

  Guilo had been watching for the captain, and his sharp eyes saw Tal descending like a silent hawk toward them.

  “Get ready,” Guilo told the warrior at his side.

  The warrior was poised, his eyes on that upstairs window.

  Tal dropped down so low he was almost skidding along the ground. He finally came to rest right beside Guilo.

  “We have the cover,” he said.

  “Go!” Guilo commanded the warrior, and the warrior half-flew, half-ran toward the big stone house.

  THE LITTLE PRIEST, his eyes darting about with anticipation, made his way up the big staircase, humming and muttering a mantra to himself.

  Kaseph and his people waited downstairs in a hushed silence, Kaseph standing right next to the knives.

  Susan Jacobson tried to work the shackles loose, but they were clamped on tightly enough to cut into her even if she didn’t struggle. The guards only laughed at her.

  “Dear God,” she prayed, “if You are truly the ruler of this universe, please have mercy on one who dared to stand for Your sake against a terrible evil …”

  And then—as if she were no longer in that room, as if she were slowly waking up from a nightmare—the agonizing, heart-twisting fear began to ebb from her mind like a fading thought, like the slow, steady calming of a storm. Her heart was at rest. The room seemed strangely quiet. All she could do was look around with very curious eyes. What had happened? Had she died already? Was she asleep, or dreaming?

  But she had felt this way before. The memory of that one night in New York came back to her; she thought of that strange, buoyed-up feeling she had had even as she clambered desperately through that window. There was someone in the room. She could sense it.

  “Are you here to help me?” she asked in her heart, and the faintest little spark of hope came to life again somewhere deep inside her.

  Clink! Her feet were suddenly released and could swing unbound from the chair. The shackles lay on the floor, opened. She felt someth
ing break loose from around her wrists, and she pulled her arms free. The manacles clinked to the floor, just like the shackles that had bound her feet.

  She looked at the two guards, but they were just standing there looking at her, still smirking, then looking elsewhere as if nothing had happened.

  Then she heard a click, and looked just in time to see the window latch twist loose and the big bedroom window swing open all by itself. The cool night air began to waft into the room.

  Whether this was illusion or reality, she accepted it. She jumped up from the chair—the guards did nothing. She ran for that open window. Then she remembered.

  Still keeping a wary and unbelieving eye on those guards, she hurried to the bed, reached under it, and pulled out the suitcase that Kaseph and his people had not found, even in such an obvious hiding place! It felt strangely light for all the papers she had loaded in it, but nothing at this moment made much sense anyway, so she simply accepted how easy it was to carry the suitcase to the window and set it on the rooftop outside. She looked behind her. The guards were smiling confidently at an empty chair!

  Feeling as if someone was lifting her, she climbed through the window and onto the roof. A thick vine grew up one side of the house. It would make a perfect escape ladder.

  Outside the administration building, some security people were talking in hushed tones about the fall of the Maidservant and her imminent fate when suddenly they heard footsteps running across the parking area.

  “Hey, look there!” someone shouted.

  The security men looked just in time to see a woman dressed in black scurrying for one of the trucks.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “It’s the Maidservant!”

  They ran after her, but she had already reached a big moving van and climbed inside. The starter growled, the engine came to life, and with a lurch and a whine the van started rolling away.