Deadly Loyalty Collection

by Bill Myers

  The following day Mike drove Becka, Scott, and Mom to the airport. The four of them had spent most of the night together. By the end of the evening, Mike had not only quit the band but had recommitted his life to Jesus Christ. And, thanks to Mom’s gentle urgings, he had even agreed to visit his parents.

  “No promises,” he said, “but I’ll give it another shot.”

  Now, as they stood at the gate ready to board the plane, Mike turned to Becka one last time. “If it’s okay with you, I really do want to be your friend.”

  She looked up at him, swallowing back the tightness growing in her throat.

  He continued, “You’re one of the few people I know who cares about me because I’m me . . . and not just because I was a member of the hottest band in the country.”

  She nodded and looked at the ground. It was important that he not see her tears. Saying good-bye was harder than she had expected.

  “Oh, and, Scott — ” he turned toward her little brother — “I’ve got something for you.” He reached into a small bag and pulled out a Scream T-shirt. “I’m afraid it got a little singed in the fire, but I think you’ll like the way it turned out.”

  He held it up. The shirt was perfectly fine . . . except that one letter was scorched. Where it had once read Army of the Night, part of the N was burned and smudged. It now read Army of the Light.

  Scott beamed as he took it. “ ‘Army of the Light.’ Now that’s cool.”

  A minute later they said their final good-byes. Becka, Scott, and Mom walked down the ramp toward their plane. Becka guessed that Mike would remain to watch their plane take off. Her eyes filled with tears. But they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of gratitude. She was grateful that they had decided to simply stay friends. But she was even more grateful that once again, Mike Parsek had found, and was getting acquainted with, his very best Friend.

  On the plane Becka couldn’t help but notice that Scott looked more like his old self. “Hey, Scotty, where are the torn jeans?” she teased. “You look halfway normal.”

  Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I kind of lost interest in all that stuff. I mean, I used to think it was, like, really being real . . . But there was an awful lot about those people that wasn’t real at all. They used all that fake booze and stuff just to psych out the audience.”

  Mom nodded. “It’s kind of strange how things turned out. At first the Scream and all of their fans were people I’d want to avoid like the plague. But if we had, then Mike might not have returned to his faith.”

  Scott agreed. “God really does care about everybody. I guess we can’t write anybody off.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we have to be like them,” Becka said, giving him a teasing smile.

  “Yeah,” Scott sighed as he rubbed his hair, which still had a touch of yellow and green in it. “I wonder what the guys on my baseball team are going to say about this.”

  In less than two hours the family had arrived at another airline ramp. Only this time they were close to home. Becka was the first to see Ryan at the gate. His jet-black hair and sparkling smile made him stand out from the crowd. In one hand he clutched an envelope, in the other a welcome-home bouquet of flowers.

  Before she knew it, she found herself running through the waiting area to greet him. As they embraced, she held him tighter than she had ever held him before. She suddenly realized how much she had missed him. When they separated, fresh tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Hey,” he asked in concern, “are you okay?”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  “Are you sure?”

  She could only roll her eyes. Men . . . would they ever learn?

  “Hey, Ryan!” Scott called.

  “Hey, Scott. Hi, Mrs. Williams.”

  “Flowers for me?” Scott joked. “Why, Ryan, you shouldn’t have.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t, and I wouldn’t.” He faked a punch at Scott and gave the flowers to Becka.

  “Ryan . . . they’re beautiful.” Once again tears welled up in her eyes.

  Ryan frowned. “Maybe it’s allergies,” he said. “You should probably have that looked into.”

  Before Becka could answer, Scott did what he did best . . . butt in. “What is that?” he asked, motioning to the manila envelope in Ryan’s other hand.

  “Four tickets to New Mexico. They came in the mail a few days ago,” Ryan said. “They’re from Z.”

  “Z?” Becka asked.

  Ryan nodded.

  “Cool,” Scott quipped. “Sounds like another assignment is about to begin.”

  Becka let out a low, quiet sigh. At that moment she’d had enough of Z’s assignments. She just wanted to go home and get some rest.

  She was glad when Ryan took her hand as they headed toward baggage claim to pick up their luggage. She had no idea what awaited them in New Mexico — or what spiritual counterfeit she’d have to face next. But for now she was just grateful to be home.

  Author’s Note

  As I developed this series, I had two equal and opposing concerns. First, I didn’t want the reader to be too frightened of the devil. Compared to Jesus Christ, Satan is a wimp. The two aren’t even in the same league. Although the supernatural evil in these books is based on a certain amount of fact, it’s important to understand the awesome protection Jesus Christ offers to those who have committed their lives to him.

  This brings me to my second and somewhat opposing con-cern: Although the powers of darkness are nothing compared to the power of Jesus Christ and the authority he has given his followers, spiritual warfare is not something we casually stroll into. The situations in these novels are extreme to create suspense and drama. But if you should find yourself involved in something even vaguely similar, don’t confront it alone. Find an older, more mature Christian (such as a parent, pastor, or youth leader) to talk to. Let him or her check the situation out to see what’s happening. Ask him or her to help you deal with it.

  Yes, we have the victory through Christ. But we should never send in inexperienced soldiers to fight the battle.

  Oh, and one final note. When this series was conceived, there were really no bad guys on the Internet. Unfortunately that has changed. Today there are plenty of people out there trying to draw young folks into dangerous situations through it. Although the characters in this series trust Z, if you should run into a similar situation, be smart. Anyone can sound kind and understanding, but their intentions may be entirely different. All that to say, don’t take candy from strangers you see . . . or trust those you don’t.

  Bill

  Read a portion of the first chapter of Ancient Forces Collection, Volume 1 in the Forbidden Doors Series.

  1

  The eagle soared through the clear blue sky. Sleek and beautiful, it rose higher and higher. Suddenly it dipped and dived, screaming through the air like a jet fighter.

  Rebecca Williams watched in delight as the wonderful creature swooped low toward the ground. Then, at the last second, it pulled up and sailed high into the sky in a graceful arc.

  And what a sky. Becka’s delight changed to wonder as she saw that the sky had taken on a dark, purplish hue. But what really mesmerized her was the weird geometric pattern covering the sky: lines, triangles, and squares swirled in a concentric pattern that made them impossible to distinguish from one another. And yet the pattern was strong and focused, making an instant imprint on her mind.

  The eagle’s harsh cry rang out across the horizon, distracting Becka from the pattern in the sky.

  “Becka! Be careful!”

  She turned to see Ryan Riordan shouting and running toward her. She looked back at the eagle. Now it was diving toward her. She threw her hands in front of her face and darted to the left. But the eagle did not follow. It swooshed past her, heading directly for Ryan.

  She turned and saw Ryan’s mouth open. He lifted his hand to protect his face. He began to scream, but it was too late. The sharp, leathery talons slashed at his neck
and —

  “Noooo!” Becka woke up with a start. Sweat dampened her face, and her breath came in gasps.

  Before she could get her bearings she heard, “Will you stop all that whimpering?”

  She spun around to see Scott, her younger brother. She was about to yell at him for being in her room when she realized that she wasn’t in her room at all. In fact, she wasn’t even in her house. She had been napping on a plane.

  A plane heading for New Mexico.

  “Honey, are you all right?” Mom looked at her from the seat next to Scott’s, her face showing concern.

  “I’m okay,” Becka said, wiping the perspiration from her forehead. “I just had . . . It was only a dream.”

  “Must have been pretty weird,” Scott said. “You were making all kinds of noise.”

  “It was an eagle,” Becka explained. “A huge one. It flew right at me and then wound up attacking Ryan.”

  Scott held her gaze a moment. There was no missing the trace of concern in his eyes. This had happened before. Her dreams. Usually they had something to do with an upcoming adventure. Finally, he shrugged. “You’re just worried about the trip.”

  She could tell he was trying to reassure her. “Yeah. It’s just . . .”

  He glanced back at her. “Just what?”

  “This whole assignment.” She hesitated, then continued, “Doesn’t it seem a little stranger than the others?”

  Scott gave a half smirk. “Stranger than fighting voodoo in Louisiana?”

  Becka said nothing.

  “Or tracking down make-believe vampires in Transylvania? Or facing down demons in Los Angeles?”

  Becka took a deep breath. Okay, so he had a point. Life had become pretty incredible. Still . . .

  “What are you guys talking about?” It was Ryan, Becka’s sort-of boyfriend. He had turned around from the seat ahead of them and was grinning.

  Becka felt a wave of relief. She knew she’d been dreaming, but it was still good to see him and know he was all right. Come to think of it, it was always good to see Ryan Riordan. If not because of their special friendship, then because of the gentle warmth she always felt inside when they were together.

  “We were talking about this trip,” Scott said. “Becka’s afraid this one is stranger than the others.”

  Ryan’s smile faded. “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Just a feeling, I guess.”

  “At least we get to stay in a fancy hotel again,” Scott said. “What’s it called? The Western Ground on the Cliff?” He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. “Sounds pretty hoitytoity to me. Like one of those expensive, something-on-the-something hotels in Beverly Hills.”

  “I’m just glad to be going this time,” Ryan said. “I went crazy when you guys were in L.A.”

  Becka was glad he was with them too.

  “Well, Becka’s right about one thing,” Scott admitted. “Something’s definitely up. Z never sends us out on boring assignments, that’s for sure.”

  Becka and Ryan both nodded in agreement. Z was their friend from the Internet. He’d sent them to help people all over the world. And yet, to this day, Scott and Becka had no idea who Z really was. Not that they hadn’t tried to find out . . . but somehow, someway, their attempts had always met with failure. Z’s identity remained a mystery.

  “Actually,” Ryan said with a grin, “I’m pretty excited to be visiting an Indian tribe. I mean, I’ve always liked reading about Native American culture. I think they’re a noble people who got a raw deal.”

  Rebecca nodded. “Taking their land was a wrong that we’ll never fully repay. Kinda like slavery. And you’re right about their culture. They’ve got a real respect for nature.”

  “I suppose,” Scott said. “But aren’t some tribes really involved in weird spiritual stuff? You know, like shamanism and séances and visions?”

  Ryan nodded slowly. “But some of that is in the Bible.”

  “So?” Scott asked.

  “So they must have some truth to them.”

  “There’s some truth in everything,” Scott countered. “That’s the devil’s favorite trick . . . a little truth, a lotta lie.”

  Before Ryan could answer, Becka called out, “Wow! Look down at that canyon!”

  Mom and Scott crowded in close to her so they could see out the window. There below them lay a beautiful canyon, its cliff walls shimmering red, yellow, and purple in the sunset.

  The captain’s voice sounded over the loudspeaker. “Well, folks, we’re beginning our descent into Albuquerque. Please fasten your seat belts. We should be on the ground in just a few minutes.”

  On the ground far below the plane, an Indian brave ran through the desert. Above him, the huge canyon walls towered and rose toward the sky. Beside him, a river flowed, its power thundering and cutting into the rock and sandstone.

  Swift Arrow ran because he wanted to crest the hill at the far end of the canyon in time to see the sunset. As he neared the top, he could see the bright yellow sun dipping behind the mountain ahead. When he arrived, he raised his hands to the sky and called, “Father, you are the master creator. I praise you for the beauty you have made.”

  Far in the distance, a rumble caught his attention. He turned and looked behind him. Dark clouds were beginning to gather. A storm was brewing. Suddenly a great lightning bolt cut through the sky and then another and another. Jagged lines seemed to fill the sky, forming triangles and squares, all arranged in a swirling, concentric pattern . . .

  Swift Arrow stared as the light from the bolts faded, his heart beginning to pound in fear. He’d seen that sign in the sky before. He lowered his head and began to pray. “Lord, deliver my people from their bondage. Free them from the snares of a thousand years. Help them to see beyond the old legends, the old fears, the ancient beliefs. Help them see your truth.”

  Another burst of light startled him, and he raised his head just in time to see the remainder of its jagged tail slice through the sky.

  Swift Arrow grimaced as a mixture of fear and concern swept over him.

  Becka lurched forward in her seat as the Jeep roared across the bumpy desert road. It had been nearly three hours since they’d boarded the vehicle at the Albuquerque airport. And judging by the bruises she was accumulating and the perpetual look of discomfort on Mom’s face in the front seat, it was about two hours and fifty-nine minutes too long.

  Of course, Scott and Ryan enjoyed every bone-jarring bounce and buck. They were busy having a great time. Red rock formations rose all around, high into the bright blue sky. To the left of the vehicle, three colossal boulders, each about three stories high, balanced on top of each other. To their right, a five-hundred- foot butte jutted upward, its smooth, flat top a stark contrast to its jagged sides. In the distance rose a vast range of peaks. Their driver pointed to those peaks, saying, “The village is in the middle of that mountain range. I can drive you most of the way up, but you’ll have to go the last few miles on foot. No one can reach Starved Rock by car or truck.”

  “You want us to climb those peaks?” Scott asked in alarm. “Are you kidding?”

  The driver laughed. “It’s not that hard, boy. And it won’t take you too long. Come Saturday, I’ll be waiting at the drop-off point to pick you up. Noon sound all right?”

  Mom nodded. “That should give us enough time to make our flight, Mr. Doakey.”

  The driver grinned. “Just call me Oakie. Everyone else does.”

  “Oakie?” Scott asked.

  “Sure, when your last name is Doakey, what else would you expect?”

  “Oakie Doakey?” Scott laughed. “That’s good.” He threw Ryan a look, but Ryan didn’t seem to notice.

  Becka frowned. Ryan had spent most of the ride in silence, his attention focused on the scenery. When he had spoken, it was in a soft and reverent voice — almost as though he were inside a huge church. Granted, he seemed peaceful and relaxed. But he also seemed preoccupied �
� as if he wasn’t entirely there. Becka wasn’t sure why this made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was just jealousy. After all, she was used to being the focus of much of Ryan’s attention. But deep inside, she knew that wasn’t it. Something else was bothering her . . .

  She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she could swear something was happening. Something . . . unnatural. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the feeling from rising up inside her. Something was wrong.

  They’d been in New Mexico for only a few hours, but already she knew something was very wrong.

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