“Even if I wanted to show myself to you…” She paused. “I think it’s the way God changed humans after the eviction.” She paused for a second, tapping her chin. “Well they saw Uriel at his post outside the garden, and Gabriel announcing...” She laughed again. “Sorry, sometimes I open my mouth, and everything comes out.”
Seeing the distraught look on his face, she came to him and rubbed his shoulder. The touch was electrifying. Every nerve in his body jolted.
She sat next to him and put her arm around him. The tremors ceased. All the frustration and confusion in his mind evaporated. Suddenly, he knew everything she said was true.
Cody took a deep breath, and then said, “Ok, so what now? What are you intervening against?”
“Ghosts and demons.”
“What? Why?”
“Good questions,” she said.
“You don’t know.” His head popped up. He stared at their reflection in the TV. “Doesn’t surprise me, actually, but why?”
“I do know someone bad is interested in you.” She paused, taking her arm away from around his shoulder. He shuddered, losing her warm comfort. “Gabriel didn’t feel that I needed more details. I’m only a Watcher after all.”
“Wait a second. I thought you were my Guardian Angel?”
“Same thing.”
“Oh.”
Silence took the room for what seemed like an eternity. Cody turned to look at the digital clock reading 6:32.
“P.M?”
She nodded. He moved to her.
“What’s with your eyes?”
Hector chuckled. “The only thing of my true form you see. And the only thing I can’t suppress, or I’d explode.”
He stood, and went to the window, peering out between the drapes. The sun receded into the horizon, followed by darkness close on its heels. Cody hated this time of year when the world was teased with warm light, but it was taken away before he could go outside to enjoy it.
“What was the thing from the other morning?” he asked without turning from the fading parking lot outside.
“A revenant. Nasty things. They are demonized ghosts in a way. When they were living, they were despicable people, and are looking for ways to come back among the living so they can have what they had before they died. The Fallen Ones can control revenants, and have them possess people.” She shook her head with disgust. “Of course, they can be unleashed, but their Master has some control. They are ugly.”
“Yes, they are,” Cody agreed.
“Never take anything from them, or make a deal with them. They take it seriously.”
Cody bowed his head, rubbing it.
“What?”
Turning from the window, he said “It said, I owed it for fixing my car.”
“You must be starved,” she said, bouncing from the bed, changing the subject. “Get dressed, and we’ll get you something to eat.”
“What about?” He nodded to the window.
“We’re far enough away. They won’t find us right away.”
Chapter Ten
And he shall cleanse the house with the blood of the bird, and with the running water, and with the living bird, and with the cedar wood, and with the hyssop, and with the scarlet.
Leviticus 14:52, KJV
The next morning Cody woke, his blurred vision found Hector standing watch at the window. She didn’t turn when he yawned and stretched, then make his way to the bathroom. Everything she had told him into the late hours filled his mind; things he’d never learned in church. He had no idea the Holy Realm had a hierarchy—Cherubim, Seraphim, and Thrones were the nearest to God in the first sphere. In the second were Lordships, Strongholds, and Authorities. The third sphere has the Principalities, Archangels, and Angels—when she told him each has a specific duty, it left him speechless.
The Fallen Ones maintained their rank though they were no longer in Heaven; she didn’t like talking about them, even on an informational basis, which worked out as Cody didn’t want to know more than he already did about the ones who opposed God.
He wished to return to the day before when he thought she was a crazed stalker who had abducted him; the confusion that had filled him had been easier to rationalize when he hadn’t known she was an Angel. His biggest concern was why the Fallen needed him. He wasn’t important. His power was his charm and good looks, but wanting him for his charisma made no sense. He had no influence in politics, or in any church, or, really, with anything mattering in the grand scheme of things.
Returning from the bathroom, showered, and partially dressed, he asked, “How long do we need to stay here?”
“I had the same question,” Hector said, breaking her gaze from the world outside. Her light brightened the room. “It’s strange. There’s no sign of them. I thought they’d be on the trail by now, but nope, nothing.”
“Maybe it’s a good sign.” He pulled on his shirt. “Then I can go home.”
“I didn’t say it was safe for you to go home yet.”
“Oh, I just figured.” Cody paused, staring at the floor. “Actually, I’d feel safer anywhere else but here. If someone is following—” He shook his head, then continued, “Or something, I’d rather not be ambushed or trapped, if they do arrive. Besides, I can’t hide from them forever. Eventually, they will find me.”
Covering her face with her hands, she shuddered. Is she crying? He wondered. After a minute, she uncovered her face. If she had been crying, he didn’t see any evidence. However, she did look different somehow. Her skin was no longer as youthful as it had been, dulling her vibrancy. Cody had never considered Angels being so similar to human beings. He assumed they didn’t show emotion the same way, and he now saw he was incorrect. She was upset. He came to her, putting his hand on her shoulder, feeling a pulse of energy tingle his fingers, radiating up his arm.
She looked up at him, regaining their fervor. “You might be right,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this before, and I don’t want to mess things up. I can’t let them down. They entrusted me with this.” Glancing over her shoulder through the narrow separation between the drapes, she continued, “Let’s get out of here.”
After driving for a while in silence, Cody asked, “Why, Hector?”
“I like the sound of it,” she replied, then looked at him with a large smile. “Why, Cody?”
He laughed. “My mom had a crush on Buffalo Bill Cody.”
“Did she have an affair with his ghost?”
He looked at her, eyebrow cocked, unsure if she were serious. She burst into laughter, drowning out the music, for a change not blaring through the speakers. The infection of her melodic laugh filled him, and soon he had joined. Abruptly, he stopped, forced himself to regain composure, focusing on the road ahead.
“What’s wrong? Did you see something?” She stared at him, the joy slipping from her face. “Oh.” Pink brightened her cheeks. “I wasn’t lulling you just now.” She sighed. “I promise. You know I can’t lie.”
“Why did you do it the first time?”
“It was the first thing that came to mind and was the easiest way to get you away from them. The truth seemed less believable then.”
“Not at all. I don’t know what to expect anymore.” He turned on the headlights as dusk began sending smoky tendrils into the air. “It’s not every day you find out Fallen Angels are after you.” He tapped the steering wheel to the beat of the music. “I can’t believe how far I drove under the influence of Angel.” He chuckled, then was silent for over a minute. “I think I will call him when I get home.”
“Oh good,” she said, beaming. “And do you forgive him?”
“Not yet.” Cody paused as he mulled over Tyler, and what he had done to cause the rift between them; everything from him never standing up for Cody, to him squandering the meager inheritance they had received when their parents died on a get rich quick scheme. The fact remained, they were brothers, and deep down it meant more to Cody than any amount of money. After a moment
, Cody broke the silence, “We can work it out, I’m sure.”
Three minutes after nine, he put his key into the lock on his apartment. As he opened the door, his neighbor came rushing down the hall.
“I think someone broke into your apartment,” she called out in an excited voice. “I heard all sorts of racket in there, and I knew you weren’t home.”
“Oh?” He glanced inside and saw someone had been inside. The living room was chaos of destroyed tables and chairs, shards of glass from photos once hanging on the walls, and shreds of paper. The sofa had been slashed, its stuffing bulging through gaping wounds looking like white cotton candy.
“I’ll call the police,” she exclaimed, peering into his apartment. “You shouldn’t go in.”
“No,” he said, feeling his face warm. “It’s ok.” She stared at him with a dumbfounded expression as he stepped inside. “Thanks for letting me know.” He began closing the door, but she didn’t move. “Have a good night.”
The door shut, and her mouth popped open, then closed to open again. “Well,” she said, looking at the elevator, then down the hall to her open door. After a few seconds, she stomped away. At her door, she glanced back down the hallway. Shaking her head, she closed the door.
Hector hadn’t joined him or at least wasn’t able to see her. Putting things back in their chosen places and cleaning up as much as possible, Cody again pondered the question of why a demon or Fallen Angel wanted him.
Demonic movies he’d seen came to mind, and he shuddered. The idea of dark entities wanting his soul made him sick to his stomach. Paranoia filled him, feeling imaginary eyes watch him clean his apartment. Several times, his own shadow made him jump, though no one else was there. His feet on the floor, and his hands moving strewn items made the only sounds.
“Maybe I need a priest or a demonologist,” he mumbled, shuffling in exhaustion into the bedroom, which surprisingly had been barely touched by whatever hands had destroyed the rest of the apartment. Lying on the bed, he was whisked into sleep.
Chapter Eleven
And now, my daughter, fear not; I will do to thee all that thou requirest: for all the city of my people doth know that thou art a virtuous woman.
Ruth 3:11, KJV
Jen stood at the dining-room window, watching for Tyler to return which seemed to be her only duty since they arrived. At least the previous day he had stayed for breakfast before running out to explore his hometown. Today, however, he had left before she stirred in bed without so much as a note.
The evening before, Carol had announced she was leaving Jen and Tyler in charge of the hotel, and they should move into the manager’s apartment. Tyler had hooted hearing the news and kissed and hugged the woman in acceptance. Jen screamed in her mind, but her mouth refused to say her unwillingness to the proposal. Without wasting a second, Carol grabbed a small overnight bag sitting by the back door and disappeared into the graying evening.
Her mind went to the strange thing Dorothy said—thinking of the woman in the tub with blood gushing into the water still didn’t faze her—what did she mean ‘suppressed’? And by whom? The man they had met when they appeared mysteriously in his hotel room? Since that night, she hadn’t seen him or gave him much thought. In the lobby, she heard the door to the room near the reception desk close. She trotted across the living room, hoping Tyler had returned, but when she flung open the apartment door it was the strange old man who lived there.
“Hello?” she called after him. He stopped, hand on the glass door, as she came toward him. Her face was flushed, and her heart quickened in her chest. In a panting voice, she said, “Good morning. Have you seen Tyler?”
His waxy face lost some of its jaundiced hue, and his hand at his side shook. Veins attacked the brown iris behind the glassy layer of tears.
“Sorry, I haven’t,” he said, pulling the door open to escape into the morning air, and be away from her questions.
Before he stepped outside, she replied, “If you see him, will you tell him—”
“I won’t see him,” he barked, rushing out the door.
Her brow scrunched together. She didn’t bother watching him and returned inside the suite. A flutter of movement from the living-room window caught her attention. A trio of sparrows tussled in midair outside. They stopped their disagreement for a moment, and their dark, beady eyes stared at her. In a flash, they darted away as though they realized they were in the wrong place.
The short amusement over, she closed the door. The coldness of the brass doorknob held her hand longer than it should have. A pulse from the knob surged through her as though it were alive and trying to communicate with her. The sound of it was no more than the soft breathing of a single person, or blood coursing through her veins. Strong and vibrant colors flashed in her head; green, yellow, orange, pink, exploding to white. A strange, elongated face came toward her through the door.
Whispers filled her head in a jumble of words she didn’t understand as the multitude of voices spoke at once. Her head pounded. Her vision blurred. With no little effort of will, she forced her hand from the cold brass with a short shriek.
“God dammit!” she yelled at the door. At last her emotions had returned, and whatever had been in the door was the reason for her release. “Tyler, where the fuck are you?” she demanded with a grin, turning back toward the empty living room. “Fuck it! I’m getting out of here. I’m not sitting around waiting for your ass any longer.”
The yellowed sheer drapes tried to escape their confines between the window and the queen-sized bed in front of it. Their trying to be eerie aggravated her, but there was no sense taking her frustrations out on defenseless curtains. Her heavy steps echoed in the bedroom and walk-through dressing area as she made her way to the bathroom. At the sink, she twisted the knob marked ‘H’ in red, then stripped off her clothes.
Her formerly bridled emotions exploded with every splash of water hitting her skin. Tears poured as she seethed with anger over everything wrong in her world. As she blotted her body with the towel, the tears dried, but her foul mood had not evaporated.
Back in the bedroom, she pawed through the clothing in the low dresser. The fact that everything was her size angered her more—did they expect her? Was this whole adventure planned?—not being current fashion pushed her rage to the next level. She flung the clothing out of the dresser, covering the bed and floor. Even the dainty floral chandelier was not immune to the explosion of clothing; a bra swung lazily from a rose petal.
Her reflection in the mirror on top of the dresser stopped her childish behavior. Never before had she seen an expression of vile hate on her face. Lines gashed across her forehead, the short hairs of her eyebrows all but touched the opposite side. Her eyes were slits, teeth bared in a thin-lipped grimace.
Startled by her image, she stumbled backward, collapsing on the bed. A moan escaped her, followed by a sigh. Then taking a breath, laughter flowed from her. The whole situation was ridiculous, and was riddled with a million questions she was determined to have answered, but by whom?
Grabbing whatever came first into her hands, she dressed. Shaking her head, she left the bedroom in disarray, then out of the manager’s suite. Jen glanced at the stairs as she crossed the lobby, but was determined not to be in the confines of the hotel any longer. The fresh, spring morning air greeted her, tinting her cheeks with prickly delight.
To the east, the highway stretched from town toward an unappealing desert. The west had buildings along the roads intersecting Shoshoni, and she decided to go in the direction as she assumed is where there were people. The short distance to the corner brought her into the sunlight, and she looked up into the pale-blue sky without a wispy cloud on its canvas.
Across the street, a pale green building stood with a faded sign reading, ‘Geyser Drug.’ She surveyed the pocked street looking like it had been hit with mortar shells. Each building was in disrepair. Some looked as though a strong wind had the power to blow them over with little effort.
The front of one, about halfway down the block had a peeling painting of a Native American. Most of the windows around it were boarded, so she had no idea what had been in the storefronts.
She crossed the street toward the Geyser Drug and back into the shadow. Walking along she glanced around her looking for some sign of life. Across the street was a long gray building with tall leafless trees behind it, and towering dead weeds approached the fence holding them in their prison.
A small white building stood amid the weeds near the sidewalk. The windows she walked near, showed the items for sale in the Thrift Store. The handwritten sign taped to the glass stated, ‘Be back around 10:00 if I’m sober.’ She smirked, hearing the playful tone of whoever had written the message.
Before crossing the alley with a bar on the other side, she noticed the Public Library. She climbed the two concrete steps to the door, where she cupped her hands to either side of her face and peered inside. A few rows of shelves stood from the wall on the left side, one came toward the door from the back wall, and another lined the wall to the right. The interior was dark except a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling above the door on the rear wall.
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