His path had been filled with innumerable detours thus far, but none could be considered a waste of his time. Diversions strengthened him, reinforced his belief in divine influence. The incident at the abandoned house the day before had been a shining example of a deviation resulting in the fortification of his faith. Being able to make an example of misguided fools a day earlier had proved a worthwhile endeavor. The deaths of teens tampering with witchcraft would surely save lives in the future. Others seeking to summon dark forces, as well as full-blooded witches who walked among them, would learn of their demises and heed the warning they signaled.
Taking the lives of the teens had not been a direct order from God. His Maker’s words had not commanded him. In fact, he had not heard the speech of the Lord in several days. So Howard had been forced to infer what God would have wanted him to do, his decision based on countless other situations when he had been instructed to example others, others who hadn’t been true vessels of evil, but had been pupils of evil. He knew the Lord would have wanted the teens destroyed, just as He had in the past. Howard also felt confident that, despite the taciturnity of God, despite the numerous tests and obstacles presented to him, he would do what was right for humanity.
Tests were not new to Howard. He had been tested his entire life, beginning when he was a boy. His father had been a soldier of God as well, had fought to rid the world of evil. But the law of man had seen fit to take his father from him at a young age. The law did not understand what his father had been up against, still did not understand. Every law-enforcement agency on the planet shared the limited view that only human beings killed and committed atrocities against other human beings. They did not embrace the existence of the underworld, that demons of every kind roamed the earth and hunted humanity. But he embraced that wherever lightness existed, darkness followed; with good came evil. Howard had the vision, and so had his father.
When Howard had been just eight years old, his father had been arrested and sentenced to life in prison for murdering a family who had just moved to the neighborhood. Kneeling before the altar of his church conjuring the painful memories of long ago, he squeezed his eyes shut and remembered his father’s arrest, how police had punished and locked away a servant and soldier of the Lord. His father, Howard Kane, Sr. had been incarcerated for dousing the new family’s house in gasoline, boarding the doors shut and setting it on fire. The blaze had burned for hours, consuming everything it had touched except for the concrete foundation it had sat upon, including a husband and wife and their three small children. The family had been black; a fact that had only been of importance to the rest of his neighborhood, law-enforcement agents and the media of that time. The police department and newspapers had fixated on the color of their skin, had accused his father of a racist act. The men with him had been members of a discriminatory group called the Ku Klux Klan and the police had claimed his father had been a member too. Others in the neighborhood had alleged to have seen his father fraternizing with Klan members, and had charged he had been an active participant in their organization. But Howard had known better. He had known his father had shared his prophecy. His father had told him as much.
He had visited his father in prison. Guards had the patriarch of his family dressed in a bright-orange jumpsuit, shackled and cowed like a common criminal. He remembered the sickliness of his father’s pallor, the pale clammy look of his skin. But neither had left as lasting an impression as his words had on that fateful day. Strong and clear, his father’s voice had resounded with truth when he’d told him not to believe the newspapers or idle gossip. He’d told him the family he’d killed had been corrupt and that he had done a service to mankind by cleansing the world of their existence. Howard had listened intently to his father, especially when he’d told him that God had instructed him to kill the family, that they had been pure evil.
Howard had never bothered to ask if they had been witches. The thought had never occurred to him, not then. He hadn’t heard God’s voice in his ear yet. All he had been told was that his father had destroyed evil, and that was all he’d needed to know. But his father’s explanation hadn’t ended there. His father had more wisdom to share. He had told Howard that he would have to make a very difficult decision in the near future, that he would be put to a test. Howard had asked what that task would be, but his father had said he could not tell him.
A few weeks after his visit to the state penitentiary, his father had been killed by other inmates. As it had turned out, other inmates, black inmates, had been fooled into believing his father had been a racist who’d killed an upstanding family. His father had died, unceremoniously, stabbed to death in the shower room. The other inmates hadn’t known the truth; that the color of evil’s skin had been, and always would be, irrelevant. So they had taken the life of one of God’s warriors, his father.
At eight years old, Howard had been left with only his mother. Still, his stomach churned at the thought of her. After his father’s death, his mother had transformed into a sinful woman who had poisoned her body with drink and drugs and had allowed her body to be used by any junkie who had offered her a nightly fix. Relegated to his room, he had begun reading the only book he’d owned: the Holy Bible. Night after night he had read from it, and just shy of one month after his father’s murder, he had read the Bible from cover to cover. Certain sections of it spoke to him more than others. Exodus, Deuteronomy, Galatians and Revelation had been of particular interest to him. He had absorbed the vital messages communicated in each. They condemned witchcraft and sorcery, and the evocation of spirits. They denounced heresy. Every single night he had read the word of God, had absorbed it like a dry sponge absorbing water. He had prayed each day and night, begging God for strength and guidance, all the while his mother had panted and moaned in the next room with a different overnight friend. Every day that he’d prayed, he’d thought he’d felt something, an inexplicable sensation that had filled him with utter peace. That peace had calmed him daily, and had made sleep possible while his mother had become inebriated and cavorted with a steady flow of men.
One night, however, his peace had been interrupted abruptly. He had awoken to strange sounds unlike the sighing and huffing he’d usually heard in other parts of the house. The light bulb above his head had begun flickering. He had wondered whether it had been an electrical surge, or something more nefarious. When the bulb had hissed and sputtered, he had believed his unspoken question had been answered. He had leaped from his bed immediately, had felt a cold sheen of sweat cover his entire body and he had dashed down the hallway to the living room. Experience had taught him to never surprise his mother when she was with a man. She had not liked it when he’d done that, and had beaten him badly on more than one occasion. She had even allowed one of her friends to beat him as well. He dared not surprise her again and incur her wrath, or anyone else’s for that matter. He had crept slowly to the den and saw that his mother and two men had gathered around a board, a Ouija board, he’d learned later. He had stared in shock and horror as he saw his mother chanting to spirits, summoning them from the pits of hell. They had laughed as though their godless actions had been a joke. But in that moment, when Howard had looked into his mother’s eyes, he had seen the truth. She had been one of them, one of the evil ones that stalked humankind.
His father had warned him of the evil that lived among them. Howard had run off to his room, away from the incantation, away from his mother. In the safety of his room, he had dropped to his knees and implored God for guidance. And on that day, God had answered. God had given him his first order.
With his task fresh in his mind, Howard had waited several hours until his mother and the friend she’d selected to share her bed had slept before he had snuck downstairs and selected the largest, sharpest carving knife from a drawer in the kitchen. He had snuck back upstairs and stole into his mother’s bedroom. Howard had hovered over the sleeping man first then drove the knife into his heart. The man’s eyes had opened for an ins
tant. He’d flailed and shouted, waking Howard’s mother, before life had escaped him. His mother had awoken and had been shocked. She’d begged him to put the knife down, to leave her unharmed. Though he had not threatened her immediately, her inhuman sense had told her otherwise. He had drawn back the blade and, trembling, had plunged it into her chest. He had pulled it out, only to return it again and again, thrusting the sharp blade in and out of her flesh.
Killing his mother had been the toughest job he’d ever undertaken. He had stood beside her bed long after her lifeblood had left her. Only when he had been certain she had been dead did he leave the room and return to the kitchen. He had picked up the telephone and called the police to tell them what he’d done. When the police had arrived, they had stared at him in disbelief, had marveled at his ability to compose himself at such a young age after he had killed his mother and her lover. They had been fools, all of them. They had not known he had been chosen by God to war with evil on Earth. He had heard the words “psychopath” and “sociopath” mentioned several times that night. He had not known what those words had meant when he had been eight years old, but he knew now. He had not suffered from a personality disorder then and he certainly did not suffer from one now. His missions had never been spontaneously violent or aggressive acts for which he hadn’t felt remorse. They had been well thought out, well planned acts for which he hadn’t felt remorse. God had charged him with destroying wickedness. He neither mourned nor repented the death of the wicked. And evil still walked among man, prowling in the shadows, scavenging for souls. The Sola, a seer of the devil himself, lied in wait. She was the lone huntress, sent from the depths of hell by Lucifer himself, to unite those who bowed to darkness on Earth and overtake humanity. But Howard would not allow that to happen.
Kneeling before the altar of his church, a feeling began to stir. Familiar and welcome, it spread from the center of his body and traveled, tingling and prickling, to the tips of his fingers and toes. The sensation pulsed from his core, shivering and vibrating to every part of him, invigorating him with renewed conviction and faith in his mission. God was not speaking to him, but he could feel Him, feel His divine commands, and feel His righteous might. Howard Kane knew he must find and kill the Sola, utilize his Lord’s support fast, and rid the world of her foul existence.
Chapter 11
More than twenty-four hours had passed since Arianna had kissed Luke in his garage. Twenty-four hours that had included a restless night of sleep followed by a school day. School had been uneventful and the day had lapsed painlessly, and quickly; perhaps too quickly. Now, she stood in her room and was charged with the task of deciding what to wear to a nightclub in the neighboring town of Shadow Hills with Luke and his friends.
Typically, Arianna did not concern herself with fashion trends or what other people wore. She’d always worn what she liked and what she felt looked best on her. Price always had a hand in her decision making as well and often dictated where she shopped, or if she shopped at all. To her, her wardrobe was just a compilation of stuff, necessary elements of her existence like eating and sleeping. Of course, she wouldn’t refuse nicer clothes if they were to ever magically appear in her closet, but such a phenomenon was out of the question, as unrealistic and unlikely as her landing a date with Ryan Gosling. Besides, she’d learned early on that pining for things she couldn’t afford was nothing more than a painful waste of time. Still, as she looked at her clothes she couldn’t help but feel a little depressed. All had been affected by time. Some had faded, while others had not maintained their original shape. She did not own an outfit she could get excited about, or one she felt Luke would get excited about. So she settled on a spandex miniskirt and a striped top that hung off one of her shoulders. She slipped into her black motorcycle boots and stepped back to appraise her appearance. Unexciting and comfortable at best, her outfit would never place her on a best-dressed list, but she felt at ease in it. She didn’t feel as if she were pretending to be something she was not. True, the black fabric of her skirt had washed out somewhat, as did the black in the stripes of her shirt. But the lighting in clubs was usually dim and she highly doubted anyone would notice.
Satisfied that her outfit was as good as it could be, she ran a brush through her hair and was about to start her makeup when a knock at the door startled her.
Within seconds of the knock, her mother’s face appeared in her doorway. “Hey baby,” her mother said. Going out tonight I see.”
“Yep,” Arianna said, terrified her mother would ask to come along as well.
“So I take it that adorable guy who came to my rescue will be there?”
She didn’t bother correcting her mother that it was her who had paid for the gas and drove her home because she had always been too absent-minded to keep tabs on the fuel gauge. “Yep, he’ll be there,” was all she said tightly.
“Does he have a name?” her mother continued.
“Luke. His name’s Luke.”
“And does Luke have an older brother, or young uncle who will be joining you tonight, or, maybe perhaps in the future?’
“Mom!” Arianna groaned. “Seriously?”
“What? Can’t a girl ask if her daughter’s boyfriend knows any available cuties?”
“Luke is not my boyfriend, first of all. Second of all, and I want to be really clear about this, I am not going to ask him to fix you up with anyone, okay? And lastly, the term is hotties, not cuties. If you insist on using slang, get it right.”
“Okay, okay. No need to go getting all huffy, baby. Jeez, what’s your problem today?”
Arianna could easily rattle off a list as long as her arm about what was troubling her. At the top of it would be that her mother had refused to grow up and she was getting tired of bailing her out of jams like kicking out slovenly overnight guests who’d slept on their couch for the entire day, or meeting her in a bar parking lot to refuel the car she’d intended to operate when drunk. Throw in the fact that she couldn’t get in touch with the only friend she’d made in her gypsy life of moving from place to place after each of her mother’s failed romances and the reason for her alleged huffiness became clearer. But she knew her mother was incapable of handling difficult or profound discussions. She never had been. Even now as she looked at her mother pouting over her refusal to play matchmaker with a boy she’d just met, she couldn’t help but pity her, how even the slightest hint of confrontation sent her into a complete tailspin. Her mother was used to getting her way. But that didn’t stop Arianna from feeling bad for being sharp with her.
“I’m sorry, mom. Things have been rough the last couple of days,” Arianna admitted.
“I know what that’s like,” her mother said. “I’ve been climbing the walls with loneliness these days; just stuck here, all alone, day after day. I could really use some companionship.”
Her mother’s strong suit was certainly not subtlety. She intended to guilt Arianna into fixing her up with someone. But what her mother didn’t know was that Arianna had no intention of giving in to guilt as she so often did.
“You’ll make friends, mom,” Arianna consoled and felt as though the roles should have been reversed. “Once you start working you’ll meet people, women and men.”
Her mother offered a weak smile.
“By the way,” Arianna continued. “How did you make out with the job search yesterday?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” her mother brightened. “I got a job at Super Mart! I start on Monday.”
“That’s great, mom. You see, things are already getting better.”
“Yeah, and let me tell you, the assistant manager is a hottie, as you say,” her mother said and winked. “And I didn’t notice a wedding band, not that that ever stopped me.”
“Oh jeez,” Arianna muttered.
“Did you find a job after school yesterday?”
Arianna arched an eyebrow at her mother, shocked that she’d even remembered that she’d planned to look for a job, let alone directed
the conversation from herself to her daughter. She was tempted to look outside to see if pigs had begun flying as well.
“Well don’t look so shocked, baby. I listen to you when you talk,” her mother said and beamed with pride.
Arianna leveled a gaze at her and she quickly qualified her statement, “Okay, most of the time I listen when you talk,” her mother said and rolled her eyes like a child who’d been caught by his mother with his hand in the cookie jar.
“No,” Arianna answered honestly. “I didn’t.”
“How come? That little savings you got stashed in the toilet tank is not going to last you much longer,” her mother warned.
“I know,” she said then added, “But I had an accident with the bike and it’s totaled.”
“What!”
“Yesterday morning, I was on my way to school and I thought I saw something on the side of the road. I turned after I’d passed and lost control of my bike. The bike is totaled.”
Her mother’s face was aghast, horror etched her every feature. Arianna’s chest tightened immediately as worry marked her mother’s face. It wasn’t until her mother began to speak that she understood the horrified look she wore. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me! Why didn’t you call me? Why am I the last person to know? I’m always the last person to know everything!”
“I’m fine, mom, by the way. Thanks for asking,” Arianna mumbled.
“Well of course you’re fine. You’re sitting right here talking to me! I, on the other hand, think I lost a few years of my life just now,” her mother said and placed her hand over her heart dramatically. “My chest is hurting all of a sudden. I hope I’m not having a heart attack.”
“Should I call an ambulance?” Arianna said and called her mother’s bluff with syrupy concern in her voice.
“No, no,” her mother panted. “I think I’m okay, for someone who was just told that her daughter had an accident and she wasn’t told about it until the day after.”
Arianna's Awakening (Arianna Rose Part 1 & The Awakening Part 2) Page 10