Fire Of Heaven 03 - Fire of Heaven

by Bill Myers

  Katherine was right behind him. The best she could tell, the footprints looked like blood. Then she saw the soaked carpet near the bathroom entrance and the rose-colored water on the bathroom floor. She heard splashing as Brandon reached into the tub and then she saw him rise up, holding Sarah’s limp body in his arms. The young woman’s face was the color of snow. She wore a blue work shirt stained crimson, the same color as the water streaming down her pale white legs and arms. And then she saw the wrists.

  Brandon carried the dripping body past her. “Sarah …” he cried softly. “Oh, Sarah.” He brought her to the bed and laid her down. “Sarah … Sarah, can you hear me? Sarah!”

  Finally Katherine could move. She crossed to the bed stand and picked up the phone.

  He looked up. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling the front desk for a doctor.”

  “No.”

  The response surprised her. “What?”

  “Not yet.”

  “She needs help.”

  “Not yet.”

  Katherine hesitated, not understanding — then she started to dial.

  Brandon’s hand shot to her arm and gently held it. “Please …”

  “If we don’t call now, she’ll —” That’s when she felt the heat from his hand. She looked down. It was wet with water and blood. But the palm felt like fire. She looked back up at him.

  “Please,” he asked, “just give me a few seconds …”

  She knew she should refuse. But there were those eyes. They were full of absolute knowing, of intense passion. Against her better judgment, she slowly lowered the phone.

  Brandon turned back to Sarah. He’d already pulled one of her arms from the wet shirt. Now he removed the other, bringing the sliced, bleeding veins into full view. Katherine winced at the sight, but Brandon barely seemed to notice. Instead, he began applying pressure to the wounds. But on closer look Katherine saw he wasn’t applying pressure. He was merely holding them.

  She looked back up at him. His eyes were closed and his lips silently moved. She looked down at the arms. Was it her imagination, or had the flow of blood stopped? She tilted her head for a better look. As best she could tell the wounds under his hands were no longer bleeding. It was amazing. But that wasn’t all. Because as she watched, Katherine saw something even more astonishing.

  At first she thought it was an illusion, the play of light and shadow on Sarah’s arms. But it wasn’t. Instead, the collapsed veins, the very ones Brandon was holding, actually began to swell. Not a lot, just enough as if they were filling back with blood. The swelling continued to move up her arm, until it began branching out into other vessels. And, as Katherine watched, she could actually see color returning to the arms, then the shoulders and chest.

  “That’s incredible,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  Brandon didn’t answer. His eyes remained closed and he continued praying.

  She looked back down. The color was moving into Sarah’s abdomen now, then her thighs, and up into her face. She could actually see the arteries in the woman’s neck plumping up. The process continued, lasting well over a minute, until Brandon was finally done. At last he opened his eyes. And when he removed his hands, wiping the sweat from his forehead, Katherine saw another amazing fact. The cuts in both of Sarah’s arms were gone. Completely.

  “Let’s get her under the blankets,” Brandon said.

  Katherine nodded. She pulled back the sheet and blankets while Brandon slipped her under the covers. But Sarah’s head had barely touched the pillow before her eyes began to flutter … then slowly open.

  Katherine touched his arm. “Look …”

  He already saw.

  It took several seconds for Sarah’s eyes to focus. When they did, she recognized Brandon smiling down at her and closed them again, obviously thinking it was a dream. But this was no dream. When she reopened them, he was still there, still smiling.

  Her lips quivered, trying to smile back.

  Katherine glanced up at Brandon. He was practically beaming.

  Sarah tried to speak.

  “Shhh,” he whispered. He brushed the matted hair from her forehead. “Just rest.”

  “I thought …” Her voice was a breathy crackle. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  He grinned. “You were wrong.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Bran …”

  “Shhh … I’m right here.”

  They streamed down her cheeks and onto the pillow. “Don’t leave me …”

  “Shhh …”

  “Please …”

  He bent down and kissed her forehead. Then he rested his face on the pillow beside her. He was crying, too. “I won’t leave you,” he whispered, his own voice breaking. “I won’t ever leave you.”

  Sarah gave a faint smile. Then she closed her eyes and slept.

  CHAPTER 17

  IN SOME WAY SARAH felt like they had never been apart — as if her loathsome behavior were from some other life, from some other Sarah. It was almost like she was once again the clean Sarah, the Christian Sarah, the Sarah her husband had cherished and adored. For Sarah his presence was like a cool wind blowing through a hot, stench-filled room. A breeze that filled her sails, lifting her, reminding her how she could soar with his love as her only support. But those feelings soon gave way to heavier reality. A reality that tasted like tarnished metal in her mouth, that felt like an overcoat soaked in her own sweat, reeking with her own filth and odor, so heavy with failure that she could barely move, much less fly.

  And she knew Brandon knew. Those eyes knew everything. That’s why she avoided them, why she found excuses to look around the room, out the window, anywhere but at him. She knew he knew. And, regardless of what happened, things would never again be the same between them.

  She’d barely slept an hour. When she awoke, other than being ravenously hungry, there seemed to be no other side effect. Even the hangover was missing. Brandon figured it came with the fresh blood supply, though he joked that it shouldn’t be a recommended cure for too much partying. Sarah returned the humor by mentioning the scar still remaining on her face. “What’s the matter?” she’d teased. “You couldn’t make it a package deal?”

  At Katherine’s insistence a doctor had come up and given her a quick look over. As far as he could tell everything was fine. And, once she’d been assured that Sarah was okay, Katherine headed for the Temple Mount to find her son.

  Now, Sarah sat on the edge of the bed finishing off a lunch, courtesy of room service, as Brandon filled her in on his travels through Turkey. He described what he’d seen and learned, and explained how an unquenchable fire to warn and prepare the church had returned and continued to burn in his soul.

  “It’s like the fire I felt in L.A., but different.” He paused, then shook his head. “No, no … I’m what’s different.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve given up.”

  Sarah frowned.

  “I’m not running my life anymore, Sarah. I’ve given up and died. No more agendas, no more trying to make God’s will happen, no more anything.”

  “And this is good?”

  “Yes. Because when I’m dead, that only leaves Christ. Remember that verse Gerty gave us. Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds? Well, that’s what’s happened. I’ve died. I’ve traded my life in for his. And, if you ask me” — he flashed a grin — “I think I got the better end of the deal.”

  Sarah returned the smile, a little less sure. “How does that tie in with the fire?”

  “Now I’m letting it burn however it wants.” He rose to his feet. “I’ve stepped out of the way, Sarah. I’m letting God do it. It doesn’t matter how stupid or ignorant it feels, I’m letting God call the shots. To be honest, I’ve never been so free, I’ve never felt such peace … and power.”

  “It sounds a little frightening.”

  “Of course it�
�s frightening, but if you’re dead, what difference does it make? And I’ve noticed something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When I get out of the way and let that fire do its thing … there’s a lot less chance of me getting burned.” He gave her another grin and she responded in kind. But it lasted only a moment, before the guilt rose up again and began pulling her down.

  It was true, during their time apart Brandon had gone through some obvious changes. He’d left a boy and returned a man. But it was more than that. He was freer. He was more at peace than she’d ever seen him.

  And what changes had she undergone?

  Whore of Babylon!

  The voice was still there. Even Brandon’s presence could not remove it. Oh God! she cried out in silent prayer. Can you forgive me? Can you ever forgive me? Can Brandon?

  He reached out and took her hands. “Hey,” he whispered. “I missed you.”

  She glanced away, fighting back the tears. He knew. And yet he still loved her, he still treated her with adoring respect. Was it possible … was it possible that God … did he feel the same way toward her? Even now?

  “You up for more food?” Brandon asked, reaching for the phone.

  “Yeah …” she answered hoarsely.

  “What’ll it be this time?”

  After placing the order, Brandon urged her to tell him what she’d been through since they’d been apart. It was hard, but through the tears, the anger, and the self-hatred, she told him … everything.

  She could see by the workout he was giving his jaw that it wasn’t easy for him. She could also see the hurt in his eyes. But she saw no anger, nor any condemnation. When she finished she was exhausted, feeling much like a limp and very dirty dishrag.

  Nearly a minute passed before Brandon finally spoke. “So … where do you want to go from here?”

  “Where do I want to go? Where do you want to go? You’re the one I’ve wronged. You and God. I’m the one that’s ruined everything.”

  “You’ve ruined nothing.” Brandon’s voice was soft but firm. “There’s nothing you’ve ruined that God can’t restore. If you let him.”

  “Brandon, it’s not that simple.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “What about your emotions, your feelings of betrayal? You have the right to be furious with me.”

  “If I had any rights, I might be.”

  “Brandon …”

  “But dead men don’t have rights.” He knelt down at her side. “Sarah, you’re God’s gift to me. Whatever he gives of you to me, I rejoice in; whatever he withholds, I accept. When you’re dead everything is a gift.”

  “But what about your feelings? Your emotions?”

  He paused a moment, thinking it through. “They’re like children,” he said. “When they’re good, I enjoy them. When they misbehave, I don’t let them rule my home. Like every other part of me, they are subject to Christ.”

  “Brandon …” She closed her eyes in frustration.

  “What?”

  “Feelings are important … you just can’t repress them.”

  Brandon smiled warmly. “I’m not repressing anything.” He reached out to her face and gently brushed back her hair. “Christ is in charge, Sarah. Not my feelings. Christ has already paid the price for your sin. He’s already forgiven you … how can I do anything less?”

  And then it happened. Almost before she knew it. A deep, heaving sob. And then another. And another. Suddenly the floodgates were opened. It was as if all the bile that had been building up over the weeks, over the months, was suddenly coming up — doubts, ambitions, adultery, attempted suicide — all of it — and with an intensity that completely overwhelmed her. “I’m sorry!” she gasped between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

  She felt him sit beside her, his arms gently wrapping around her. He pulled her closer. “I know,” he whispered softly into her ear, his own voice filled with emotion. “I know … and I forgive you.”

  At that exact moment she knew the Lord had forgiven her as well. For as her husband continued to hold her, she could feel the arms of Christ gently wrapping around her, tenderly embracing the depths of her soul. The experience was so intense, so powerful, that she could not speak. She didn’t have to. All she could do was cry — each silent sob bringing another failure to the surface, another failure that the Lord instantly removed and discarded. It was as if she was taking a long, refreshing shower, but from the inside … as if the water was loosening and washing away the filth of every failure, cleansing and forever rinsing away the foul stench that had been clinging to her for so many months.

  How long they held one another like that she did not know. But when they were finally finished, she was exhausted. As she pulled back, wiping her cheeks, she saw her husband’s own red eyes and wet face. “Sorry about that.” She sniffed as she reached out to wipe his cheeks with her hands. He grinned and did the same for her. Now it truly was as if they had never been apart.

  Eventually, the conversation resumed. Soon they began talking about Eric. Sarah recapped all that she had discovered, speaking of the tests she’d run, what they’d revealed, and about the long delta brain waves that were recorded whenever Heylel was present.

  Brandon slowly nodded. “So we’re talking about basic demon activity?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Not so basic. Don’t forget, the genetic structure of his blood has been altered. According to the lab reports, his DNA is like no other in the world. There’s no telling what combination of hormones and neurotransmitters his blood is triggering his brain to release.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, it could just be creating some sort of unknown connection between the physiological and the spiritual.”

  Brandon whistled softly. “Poor kid, he got it from both ends, didn’t he?”

  Sarah nodded. “The worst science has to offer and the worst of the spiritual world.”

  “We’re agreed then,” Brandon asked, “that Heylel is demonic?”

  Sarah paused. “I think … Brandon, he might be more than that. I think the evil is more powerful than just a demon’s.”

  “More powerful than a demon? The only evil more powerful than a demon is …” Brandon slowed to a stop. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  She nodded and watched as he fought off a shiver. The same shiver she’d experienced the first time she’d worked through the possibilities. But something else was running through Brandon’s head as well. She could see the wheels turning. Once again he rose to his feet.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He started to pace, trying to piece it together. “You’re saying we have a person like no other in the world.”

  “Correct.”

  “A human who has been biologically manipulated and now may be hosting Satan himself.”

  “That’s only speculation.”

  He nodded. “But he is a multiple murderer, and he does offer supernatural counsel to the Cartel.”

  “Yes.”

  “The very organization that’s ushering in this one-world peace thing, that’s setting Lucas Ponte up as its figurehead.”

  “I don’t see the connection. What’s that got to do with —”

  “I’m not sure, but somehow it’s connected to the Imperial Cult.”

  “Imperial what?”

  “The one-world government that was killing off Christians for not worshiping their Caesars. That’s what they thought the Antichrist was back then, back when Revelation was first written, back when they believed 666 was the code for Nero’s name.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m not certain. But here we are, the two witnesses in Revelation —”

  “At least one of us.”

  He ignored her and continued. “We’re in Jerusalem where we’re supposed to have some kind of showdown with the forces of hell … and there’s supposed to be an Antichrist and a false prophet and —”

  “That’s only if you’re
taking everything literally.”

  Brandon turned to her.

  She continued. “We’ve always agreed that some of Revelation was to be interpreted historically, like your Antichrist Caesar stuff, and that some of it was to be interpreted spiritually, and that only some of it was to be taken —”

  “— literally. Yes, the three views of Revelation, that’s how it’s always been interpreted.”

  “So … what are you saying now? I mean which is it, historical, spiritual, or literal?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “It’s all three!”

  “At the same time?”

  “Yes.” Brandon grew more excited. “Don’t you see, you’re the one who’s always talked about a multidimensional God. One that’s everywhere at the same time.”

  “Omnipresence is one of his characteristics; the Scriptures make that clear.”

  “So if he’s omnipresent, if he’s multidimensional, why can’t his writings be, too? Why can’t he be talking about a historical event as well as a spiritual event as well as a literal future event … all at the same time?”

  Sarah’s head began to spin.

  Brandon crossed the room back to her. “That’s what I learned in Turkey. Even though those seven letters were written to seven specific churches in history, they also have deep spiritual and symbolic significance, while at the same time applying to issues facing today’s church.”

  “Yes, but —”

  “That’s what Scripture always does with prophecy, even the ones about Christ! That’s why nobody figured them out until after he came. Yes, they pointed to events in Old Testament history; yes, they pointed to spiritual events; and yes, they pointed to very real and tangible future happenings … all at the same time! Don’t you see? A multidimensional God writing on multidimensional levels!”

  Sarah forced herself to speak calmly. “So you still believe there’s a literal quality to all of these events in Revelation?”

  “There’s something. We’d be fools if we thought we could figure it out before it happens. I mean, that’s what they did with Christ’s first coming. Nobody got it right. Three hundred prophecies and not a single Bible scholar got it right. Nobody can figure out prophecy until after it happens. But there’s too much here just to be coincidence. Eric … the Imperial Cult … Ponte …”