by J. R. Rain
Did he say the Devil?
As in Satan?
I got up and paced and thought about what I had to do, thought even longer about what I should say to my sister, and then made the call. She picked up on the third ring.
“How’s the trip, Sam—”
“Something’s wrong.”
“What? Is everything okay?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Sam, what’s going on?”
“That’s the problem, Mary Lou, I don’t know, but I think the kids might be in danger. And you, for that matter.”
“You’re joking.”
“No joke, Mary Lou.”
“You’re being serious?”
“Sweetie, I am. More than I ever have before. There is something very weird going on, and I’ve been having a bad feeling about the kids for the past few hours now. I just spoke to Kingsley and he echoed the same feeling.”
“Someone might hurt Tammy and Anthony?”
The gut-wrenching feeling gripped me again, tearing at me from the inside. I didn’t know if this was a psychic hit or a mother’s intuition. “I think so, yes.”
“Jesus, Sam. Should I call the police?”
I thought about that, too, then told her to give Detective Sherbet a call at the Fullerton Police Department. To let him know my concerns and where she would be with the kids. She digested that last part.
“You want us to stay at Kingsley’s house?”
“Yes.”
“With his butler?”
“He’s more than a butler.”
“Sam, I’m scared.”
“So am I.”
“What will you do?”
I took in a lot of air and said, “I have no clue.”
Chapter Thirty-one
I next spoke to each of my kids.
I let them know the game plan, let them know that they would be staying over at Uncle Kingsley’s house. Tammy snorted. “Don’t lie to us, Mom. I read Auntie Louie’s mind. She’s totally freaked out right now.”
I rubbed my forehead and shook my head. It was, after all, impossible to keep anything away from my kids these days. The truth was, I didn’t know what, exactly, I was keeping away from them. Only that I needed them somewhere safe. And fast.
I told Tammy to give the phone to her brother and she did. I told Anthony, who was now almost as tall as his sister—his recent growth spurt was alarming, to say the least—that it was his job to protect her.
“I’m on it, Mommy,” he said. “If I have to.”
“You have to.”
“She’s kind of a butthead, though.”
“Butthead or not, she’s still your sister.”
“My ugly sister, you mean.”
“I love you guys,” I said, suddenly choked up. God, I even missed their bickering.
“We know, Mommy. You say it all the time. Sheesh.”
“Because it’s true,” I said, drying my eyes.
“But it’s embarrrrrassing.”
“Maybe so, but you need to hear it.”
He sighed loudly. “Fine.”
“Well?” I asked.
“Well what?”
“You know what I need,” I said.
He sighed again, and, ever so softly, whispered, “I guess I love you, too, Mommy.”
I would have laughed if the tears didn’t come to my eyes again.
He added, “Don’t let the bad guys get you, Mommy.”
“I won’t, baby.”
“Bye, Mommy.”
And he hung up...and I wiped the tears from my cheeks, and took a deep breath and set my jaw. I had been clenching my hands so tight that my sharp nails had punctured my palms. I opened my hands and watched the small wounds heal before my eyes.
Whoever this motherfucker was, Devil or no Devil, he was not going to hurt my kids, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to keep me from seeing them, again.
Whoever the hell he was.
Chapter Thirty-two
“I need some air,” I said to Allison when I stepped out of my bedroom.
“But it’s pouring out there.”
I glared at her as she leaped from the couch. “Let me get my jacket.”
Soon we were heading away from the bungalows, along a dirt path that led deeper into the surrounding woods. The island itself was sort of long and narrow. The ocean would be only a half mile or so on either side. Although not huge, the island was choked with evergreens and ferns and something called stinging nettles, which Tara had warned us about.
I could give a damn about stinging nettles.
Even though it was only midday, the woods were dark. But here, under the canopy of evergreens, the storm was nearly non-existent, reduced to only a persistent, howling wind—and a few heavy drops.
The path before us was mostly dirt. I could see deer tracks in the mud, and what was surely a dog’s tracks, although they could have been coyotes. I frowned at that. I didn’t think coyotes were on the island.
Allison looked miserable and cold. She buried her face in her oversized jacket. Myself, I was wearing only a light windbreaker. I was fairly certain my body temperature was even lower than the surrounding wind and rain.
I veered off on a smaller side-trail, and there we found a massive tree with the widest trunk I’d ever seen. I stopped and turned to Allison, who’d been following with her head mostly ducked, doing her best not to trip over the many exposed tree roots.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“I figured that.”
“We might be in some deep shit.”
“I figured that, too.”
“I just talked to Kingsley.”
“The werewolf.”
“Yes.”
“Your ex-boyfriend.”
“Yes.”
“You do realize that a vampire dating a werewolf is a little too...clichéd?”
“Allison...”
“Sorry, sorry...you were saying?”
“There’s some scary shit going on here. Kingsley’s coming out.”
“What? Why?”
“He thinks I’m in way over my head.”
“Sam, from what you’ve told me, you’ve faced some crazy shit.”
“Maybe none crazier than this.”
“Even crazier than me?” asked Allison.
I laughed. I needed that. The tree branches high above us swished and swayed violently. Never had I seen trees like this. So tall, so beautiful. Now as I stood there in the forest, I noticed little balls of light moving about. These bright balls stopped often at plants and at the bases of trees. I watched one stop near a toadstool.
Allison caught my thoughts, and said, “I see those lights, too, sometimes. At parks, and sometimes on my balcony garden at home.”
“What are they?”
“If I had to guess, I would say fairies.”
I snorted.
“Scoffs the vampire,” said Allison, shaking her head. “You, better than most, should know that there are some strange things under the sun...or under the moon.”
“But fairies?” I asked. “With little wings? Like Tinker Bell?”
“Think of them as nature spirits, Sammie. And no little wings, as far as I can tell. Just peaceful, loving entities that tend to Mother Earth.”
I watched the lights flit around the forest some more, dozens of them. Many dozens. They were often the same size, each no bigger than a tennis ball, and their colors ranged from light blue to burning white. One sidled up next to us, slipped between my legs and moved over to a dying fern. It moved carefully over the plant, touching down on each outstretched branch, and then moved on. I sensed, on some level, that it was comforting the dying plant. Weird, yes, but I found the gesture oddly touching.
“So, what do we do, Sam?” asked Allison after a moment or two.
“We don’t do anything. I need to find out what the hell is going on here. You’re going to stay in the bungalow—and stay out of trouble.”
She was about to protest when s
he saw the look in my eye. “Fine, I’ll stay out of trouble, but I want you to know that I’m lodging a formal complaint.”
“Duly noted,” I said.
“So, then, what are you going to do?” she asked, ducking as a particularly large glob of water splattered on her nose.
“I’m going to have a little talk with our client.”
“Tara? But isn’t she one of them?”
“Exactly,” I said, and turned and headed back through the forest, with Allison stumbling and cursing behind me.
Chapter Thirty-three
As I left Allison in the bungalow, confident that she would be safe for the time being, trusting my inner alarm system—and my own gut feeling—I paused just outside the door.
As rain battered me, I decided to change plans, at least for the time being.
Instead of talking to Tara, I hung a right and headed back into the forest, and found a side trail that I had seen from high above the night before. The trail, wide at first, soon narrowed considerably. I didn’t know much about forests or hiking or even trails, but I figured this to be a game trail.
I continued on, pushing through massive ferns that seemed almost prehistoric. Thorny blackberry bushes were in abundance as well, all filled with juicy berries that probably tasted heavenly. The trail angled up, as I knew it would.
Stinging nettles snagged my jeans as I carefully stepped over fat banana slugs—and even the occasional toadstool. I marveled at the mushrooms that clung to moist tree trunks. Nature at its weirdest. Water dripped seemingly everywhere. Lightning suddenly flashed above, zigzagging through the treetops, followed by an angry grumbling of thunder.
I continued on, slipping once or twice in the sloshing mud, winding my way up the trail that would lead to the highest point of the island.
Soon, as the trees opened and the wind and rain lashed me violently, I found myself on a steep switchback trail that afforded a majestic view of the manor far below. The trail soon led to a rounded rock dome high above the island. I didn’t know if it had a name, but I called it Dome Rock.
Rain drove straight into my face, down inside my jacket collar. I didn’t mind the rain all. It made me feel alive. Human. Normal. Rain didn’t judge or discriminate. Rain fell on everyone...mortal or immortal. Living or dead.
Or some of us in-between.
I slipped and slid my way over the moss-covered rock and soon looked out over the Puget Sound, to distant islands and churning seas. It was so beautiful and epic and alive that it was nearly impossible to believe that a family was being terrorized by a body-jumping demon.
Nearly.
I knew one thing, though: I wanted answers.
And I knew just where to find them.
God.
Chapter Thirty-four
I sat cross-legged at the apex of the dome, completely exposed to the storm.
At times, the wind blew so hard that I thought it might lift me up and blow me off the rock mound. But it didn’t, try as it might. Instead it tugged and pulled at me like an angry thing, as I remained seated and focused.
My eyes were closed tight; my hands rested on my knees.
The wind thundered over my exposed ears. Yes, my hood was down. I didn’t want any barrier between me and God. I breathed in and out, slowly. Now, the wind blew even harder, rocking me further and, in the far distance, I heard the pounding of the surf against the rock cliffs.
I continued breathing, slowly, deliberately, deeply.
It took a minute or two of focused concentration, but soon enough, I felt a sensation of rising up, as if I’d entered a tube of some sort. A glass tube, because in my mind’s eye I could see myself rising up. But, interestingly, not so much rising above the earth. No. Instead, I sensed myself rising up through what appeared to be levels.
Dimensions.
How I knew this, I didn’t know. But the word felt right. Yes, I was rising up through the dimensions, even as the rain hit me full in the face. The sensation of being wet and cold seemed to be happening to someone else. Certainly not me...after all, I was rising, rising.
Rising...
The dimensions swept past me. On many of them I sensed entities, or beings, watching me, observing me while I came and went. Spiritual beings, I knew, highly evolved beings that existed in realms that we, as humans, could not comprehend...and yet, I sped past even them.
Higher and higher.
Until...
I was back. Not above the Earth, or even above the Universe. I was outside of the Universe. Outside of space and time. I was observing creation as God would have. As God did so now.
Welcome back, Samantha Moon, came a thought deep inside my head. No, not exactly in my head. All around me, vibrating through me.
I sensed that I existed in the space between space, and it was a concept that was difficult for me to understand.
You are doing fine, Samantha Moon.
Thank you. You are doing fine, too, from what I can gather.
There was a gentle laugh inside me. Kind of you to say, Sam. Do you mind if I call you Sam?
You’re God, you can call me anything you want.
More gentle laughter. God, I was discovering, had a nice sense of humor. I understand that you think that, Sam. But I am, more accurately, the Source.
Source?
The Source of life in this universe.
I see, I thought. I think. That’s still pretty much God to me.
I will not argue the point, Sam. Either way, it’s a pleasure to have your company.
I sensed the vastness, the emptiness, the peace.
Do you ever feel lonely out here? I asked.
Your question implies that I might find myself alone.
Well, yes, I guess. Are there many others like you? Other Sources?
There are a handful of us, yes.
How many?
Twelve, to be exact.
And from where do the twelve originate?
Exactly that, Sam. From the Origin.
And what, exactly, is the Origin?
My Creator.
I see, I thought. And you are my Creator?
You are my creation, yes.
And what do the other twelve Sources do?
They watch over their own multiverses, of course.
Of course. And why did the Origin create twelve of you?
To learn more about itself.
And why did you create me?
So that I can learn more about myself.
And thus, what? Report back to the Origin? I asked.
You are correct, Sam.
I thought about this as the rain and wind pummeled my physical body a universe away, as I gazed out over the slowly-moving cosmos that rotated around a galactic center of some sort.
That’s pretty heavy, I thought.
It’s as heavy or light as you want it to be. But, yes, I understand that these are new concepts for you in the physical world.
Is there evil? I asked suddenly.
There is the potential for others to show you the opposite of light, yes.
I had a sudden insight, sudden clarity. I wondered if this insight came from the Source.
The darkness is necessary to appreciate the light, I said.
Well said, Sam.
Can darkness ever destroy light?
There was a slight pause before the voice vibrated through my being again: Remember this always, Sam: A small match can illuminate the darkest room.
I got the meaning and felt myself nod way, way back there on that rock dome, high above Skull Island.
So, I should never fear darkness, I thought.
Live in light, Samantha, but acknowledge the darkness.
For without darkness, there cannot be light.
Very good, Sam.
Is there a Devil? I asked suddenly.
There was a long pause. You are asking if there is an entity that delights in causing mischief, who tortures souls for all eternity, who causes the good to falter, and the bad to be worse?<
br />
Well, yes.
No, Sam. No such entity exists.
I nodded. Perhaps here in space, or perhaps back on the dome, I said, I have a question about a group of beings I have come across, one such being is, in fact, residing within me, and undoubtedly hearing this very conversation.
Maybe she needs to hear this conversation, Samantha. Maybe you are her answer, too.
I don’t understand.
Maybe you are her way back to the life.
I never thought of that. I paused, formulating my thoughts. I feel she is evil.
She—and others like her—have certainly made choices that might appear evil.
But they are not evil? I asked.
They operate out of fear, Sam. Fear of moving on, fear of giving up power, fear of retribution. They are, quite simply, misinformed.
Misinformed about what?
That life is eternal, that I am eternal. That they are eternal. That power is temporary, that love is everlasting.
Lightning flashed in the heavens above...until I realized that it had flashed directly above my body. I was about to ask another question, until I felt myself slipping back...or down through the dimensions. As I slipped down, down, God’s words sang through me and around me.
Love is everlasting.
I opened my eyes and looked out over stormy seas and wondered again if I’d completely lost my mind.
Chapter Thirty-five
As I hiked back from the dome, still reeling from yet another encounter with God—or, perhaps more accurately, the Source—I sent a text message to Tara Thurman:
We need to talk.
Her reply came a few minutes later, as I slid and skated down the muddy trail.
I know.
Meet me at my bungalow in twenty minutes.
Where are you?
Nature walk, I texted and shoved my phone in my hip pocket before the rain could short-circuit something. I might be able to do a lot of things, but magically fix my iPhone wasn’t one of them.
Back at the bungalow, I let Allison know we were expecting a guest. Allison read my mind, shook her head, and went immediately into the kitchen and took out a big carving knife.
“She’s one of them, Sammie,” she said, slipping it inside her waistband, and then yelping loudly when the point bit her.