The Great and Terrible

by Chris Stewart

  He could feel her breath and tiny dots of spit across his cheeks. If he understood her words, he didn’t show it; his expression didn’t change. She lifted her hand, jerking her thumb toward her dead cows. His eyes followed lazily to where she was pointing, then turned back, lids half closed. She pointed over her shoulder and he tracked her gesture toward the dead dog.

  Behind her, Caelyn and Ellie were running toward the house. The men pointed at them and started shouting. “ALTO! ALTO!” they screamed angrily across the open field.

  Caelyn cried, her legs beating across the dry ground. The dark clouds piled deeper, seeming to blacken out the entire sky. It came so fast, all jumbled together now, everything a blur of fear and dread. Caelyn running, Ellie against her chest. Short gasps of breath. Ellie crying. Caelyn’s feet kicking the loose dirt. A shot across the open field. A burst of dirt spouting up beside her. The over-pressure from another bullet. A high-pitched vibration that stung her legs.

  Caelyn hesitated, almost stopping. Another shot, this one closer. Her eyes opened wide in horror as she took a final step. Another buzz, this one right beside her, the bullet whipping past her ear.

  She froze. She was holding Ellie so tight that it was hard to breathe. If she ran again, they were going to kill her. She put her daughter down and slowly turned around, shielding the little girl with her body.

  Three of the men were running toward her now. Back at the trucks, another had her mother wrapped up, his hairy arms around her neck. Caelyn started to scream, then held it. Kneeling, she turned to Ellie and pushed her. “Run,” she whispered. But Ellie didn’t move, clinging desperately to her mom.

  Five seconds later, it was over. The three men had gathered around them. Two of them had her by the arms. The last one picked up Ellie. Working together, they pulled them back toward the other members of the gang.

  * * *

  Lucifer knew he didn’t have much time. If he gave the mortals a chance to think, they wouldn’t do it. As evil as these men were, even they would need a reason before they’d kill human beings, and since there was no reason, he had to push them to act before they had time to think.

  “Kill them!” he sneered inside the leader’s ear. “Do it. Get it over with. Go on, you coward, raise your gun!”

  * * *

  Huddled beside her mother, Caelyn felt the wind begin to blow, a cold blast against her face. She shivered visibly. The afternoon was dark, the thick clouds blocking the setting sun. The hair on her neck stood on end and a feeling of foreboding, deep and penetrating, settled over her. A warning. She knew it. She’d felt the feeling too many times before. She glanced in terror at the men around her and pulled Ellie close. She shot a look toward the Mexican women who stood among the dead cows. They were so young. Fifteen. Maybe sixteen. The closest girl looked at her but didn’t move. The smaller one—her little sister?—turned away. She knew what was going to happen and didn’t want to watch.

  * * *

  “Kill them!” the Master screamed again into the mortal’s ear. He had his arms around him, holding him in a cold and deadly grip. “Kill them now. Kill them all!” He cried with rage and fury.

  The mortal hesitated.

  “DO IT!” Satan commanded.

  * * *

  Caelyn dropped suddenly to her knees, driven to the earth by the sheer force of the Evil Master’s will. It was so oppressive, so dark, so evil, so deadly to her soul. She felt as if the oxygen was being pulled from her chest, as if the core of life inside her was being sucked into a black and swirling hole. Her mind went blank and then black, and she had to close her eyes. She drew her hands up to cover her head, cried out, then rolled over, her hands reaching to the sky above. Darkness. A shrill voice. Laughing and cursing in her mind. Hate and rage and blackness. She felt her blood run chill. Her heart raced and then slowed, and for a moment she thought that she would die. It was so powerful, so evil. She didn’t know if she could fight it. She didn’t know if she had the will.

  * * *

  Lucifer turned the full force of his burning rage upon her. “I WILL KILL YOU!” he screamed, his voice powerful and shrill. “I WILL DESTROY YOU. I WILL KILL YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR CHILD. I WILL PULL YOU ALL TO HELL.”

  Then the Dark One, lord of all the darkness, master of every secret, king of every evil, creator of every pain, rose up in even greater rage and power, his back straight, his arms rising, his eyes on fire, his lips curled back to show his teeth.

  Turning away from Caelyn, he rushed toward the mortal. “KILL HER NOW!” he screamed.

  * * *

  The gang leader faltered, a burning in his chest. He was taken in the moment, his brain turned completely off. Yes, he had to kill them. If he didn’t they would . . . he didn’t know, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t take the chance. He had to kill them and he had to do it now.

  But he didn’t. He hesitated.

  “Why should I kill them?” the tiny fragment of good still left inside him seemed to say. “Why do I need to kill them? I have never killed a man.”

  The little girl was curled up on the ground, completely terrified. Her mother knelt beside her, looking up at him in fear. They were related, he could see that, a mother and her child. The mother was young and beautiful. How much was she worth on the trading block along the border? An awful lot, he knew.

  Kill her? No. He wouldn’t kill her. But he might do something worse.

  Reaching down, he touched her blonde hair and she jerked away in fear.

  * * *

  Lucifer leaned so far toward the mortal leader that their two spirits almost met. The mortal didn’t fight him, inviting him inside. “I will do it then,” the Dark One whispered to him, exerting himself to take complete control of the man.

  Lucifer felt the warmness of the body, the flesh and tissue, the blood and bone. He almost cried, partly from joy of taking control of the mortal’s body, but mostly from the deep frustration of knowing that such a sacred temple would never really be his.

  Slipping further into the man, he sensed the control he was gaining. He almost had him. He cried with passion. He was going to kill the woman with this man’s hand.

  Then he felt the unexpected power and suddenly he stopped. An angry groan welled up inside him. Screaming in fury, he departed from the man. The other dark angels stopped their dancing. They felt the power too.

  Three angels of the Savior approached them from the line of trees.

  Looking at them coming, the dark angels pulled back as if withdrawing from a flame. Too painful now to face them, too painful to hear their words.

  Balaam turned and pulled a dry breath. It wasn’t fear that leapt inside him. They had already hurt him beyond measure, leaving no reason now to fear. The only emotion he felt toward the angels now was hate. Raw and cruel, it cut him to the core and set his guts on fire.

  Lucifer turned to face the angels of light, his lips pulled back, exposing yellow teeth.

  He held his ground, his back straight, his eyes dark flames, his arms across his chest. Balaam saw a moment’s hesitation and he quivered inside.

  Yes, Mayhem was the master of this world, but in the presence of the Light Ones he was nothing but a slave.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Teancum moved out from the trees, two other angels of light at his side. As they emerged from the shadows, it seemed that time stood still. The mortals froze around them, the words that they were speaking left hanging in the air. They didn’t move. They didn’t breathe. It seemed as if their mortal hearts almost froze inside their chests.

  Teancum approached them, paused, glanced toward the house, then moved toward the women and little girl. As he drew closer, he saw the anguish in Caelyn’s face and groaned, hating to see her in such pain. He viewed her almost as a child—so vulnerable, so young, wanting to be strong but falling short, then feeling guilt and disappointment at her weakness and her fear. “It’s not true, Caelyn,” he thought. “You’ve done everything we could expect of you. You’ve done your be
st. That’s all we ask. And you have always been strong.” He reached out, hoping she would know somehow that friends were near. Then he turned toward the Dark One who was standing to his right.

  The lesser spirits cowered but Lucifer stood his ground, defiant fury in his eyes. Moving slowly, he positioned himself between his mortal servants and the Savior’s angels. “This isn’t your battle.” He nodded to the women. “They aren’t your family. These aren’t your children.”

  Teancum thought before he answered, “We all are family, Master Mayhem. Have you forgotten that?”

  Lucifer only scowled.

  Balaam watched, then took a quick step forward. “What have you to do with us?” he sniffed.

  “Silence!” Lucifer hissed to Balaam, shooting a deadly glare in his direction. The other dark angels fell behind their master, seeming to hide behind his presence.

  Teancum looked around again, taking in the scene of death, then turned back to face the Dark One. “It is not your time,” he said.

  The Dark One nodded to the mortals. “Maybe not. But it is theirs.”

  “Their missions are not over. There are great things yet for them to do.”

  Lucifer sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It doesn’t matter. Today. Tomorrow. I am patient. Either way, they are going to die.” He swept his arms around him, taking in the darkened world. “There’s not a soul left here worth saving. You are wasting your time.”

  Teancum shook his head. They both knew that wasn’t true. He nodded toward the women. “It’s worth saving them,” he said.

  Lucifer almost grunted, piglike and mean. “Go ahead. It doesn’t matter. I’ll still get them in the end. Soon there will be no one left upon this miserable earth except for the mortals I have captured and the spirits who have always been on my side. You not only lost this battle, you have lost the war.” He started laughing, an ugly roll from deep inside his chest. “How many years now have you fought me, all to be defeated in the end? You thought it couldn’t happen, but we both know that you have lost.”

  His wicked servants gathered closer, seeking power from his rage. Lucifer stood before them. Tall. Prideful. Withered with blackness but always deep and strong.

  Balaam was the only one who fell back. He knew the Master was lying. He knew they couldn’t win.

  Lucifer shot another angry look toward Balaam as if he had read his thoughts, then turned to face his enemy. “You cannot hurt me now,” he whispered, feeling strength from those around him. “Not with just the three of you. My forces outnumber you at least fifty to one. And I alone am powerful enough to stop you. You are weaker than you once were.”

  Teancum almost smiled. “My authority is enough to stop you, Master Mayhem.”

  Lucifer smirked, then turned. Lifting his arms, he beckoned to his hidden slaves. Another host of dark angels appeared, moving forward to his side. They seemed to slip out from the shadows like mist rising from a swamp on a cold and bitter morning. Hundreds of them. Maybe more. They were angry. Lustful. Jealous and full of rage. Lucifer laughed at the presence of his followers, then turned to face the angels. “I don’t think you can control me. Not here and not now—especially, Teancum, with so many of my dark ones willing to stand here at my side.”

  Teancum took in all the enemy’s servants. “They that be with us are more than you might think,” he said. He raised his hand and gestured. Behind him, along the tree line, angels of light started emerging from the dark. From the very end of heaven they came. Then, walking together, they came forward: ten, twenty, then a hundred, then more than they could count. Lucifer stared at them in horror, cowering at their light. They were so great. They were so terrible. It cut him to the core to see them, to feel them, to sense their glowing power. They were everything he would never be, full of mercy, peace, and power. He shrank, lifting his hands against his eyes to protect them from their light.

  “You must go now,” Teancum commanded as the crowd of heavenly angels gathered at his side.

  Lucifer hissed, then nodded to his mortal servants, who were huddled around the women, lust and killing in their eyes. “Even if I go, it doesn’t matter. They will kill them anyway.”

  Teancum ignored the comment. “You must go now,” he said again.

  Lucifer tried to hold his ground but it was pointless and he screamed in futile fury. He glared at the other angels a final time. So bright. So powerful. So full of grace and truth. Sneering, he cursed them, then slowly, painfully, hunched in fear and shame, the Master of All Darkness slunk away.

  His other angels followed, crying and complaining and cringing from the light.

  “O that we had repented in the day that the

  word of the Lord came unto us; for behold the land is cursed. . . . Behold, we are surrounded by demons, yea, we are encircled about by the angels of him who hath

  sought to destroy our souls . . .”

  —Helaman 13:36—37

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The violent gang of men seemed to pause. They couldn’t hear, they couldn’t see, they couldn’t understand the battle that had taken place on the other side of the veil, but they knew somehow, deep inside them, that something had changed. They sensed the sudden loss of power, the loss of authority that had slipped into the dark. Worse, they sensed the unseen presence of the light now. To the west, the clouds had parted and a narrow beam of sun was shooting through.

  The leader of the men turned toward the women. He was going to take them along. “Come,” he shouted to his men. “It’s time for us to go. Load the meat up, fill the trucks, and let’s get out of here.”

  The gang hesitated and he glared at them, disgusted. The truth was that they were cowards and he was ashamed to lead these men. “COME ON!” he screamed, his fat gut pulling tight. “Get the meat. Leave the dead cattle. Grab the women and the little one and let’s get out of here!” He was scared now. His courage had left him. He felt exposed and alone.

  His men stared another moment, then sprang into action. Working together, it took them only half an hour to quarter up the two cows, wrap the meat in black tarps, and throw it in the back of their ancient trucks. They moved like scurrying rats, anxious to move on.

  Caelyn watched them work. She understood what the leader had in mind. They would take them. They would destroy them and then sell them. It would be far worse than death.

  But she wasn’t frightened any longer. The evil had evaporated as the darkness before the sun. She felt the power of the light around her and she stood, her face determined, her eyes bright.

  * * *

  Teancum walked toward her, looking directly into her eyes. “I am with you,” he whispered to her. “All of us are with you, Caelyn. If you could see us, you would know that. But still, you have the faith. You have the power. Everything will be all right.”

  * * *

  Holding Ellie tight, Caelyn leaned toward her mother. “They’re going to try to force us to go with them,” she whispered. Hearing her, one of the younger men ran toward her, thrusting his gun into her face. She cringed, twisting to place her body between him and Ellie. Gretta gritted her teeth and stepped toward him. “Are you kidding me?” she shouted. “If you think I’m going with you, you’ve got holes in your head. You’re going to have to kill me and throw my body in the truck because that’s the only way, little man, I’m going anywhere with you!” The Mexican stared, not understanding but shrinking at her rage. She raised a hand as if she would slap him and he took a quick step back.

  The gang leader heard Gretta screaming and ran toward them, an ugly frown across his lips. He knew enough English to understand most of what she had said and he grabbed her arms and threw her down. “You true,” he sneered at her in a rage. “You not going with us. You old. No good. You die here, hermana. ”

  He turned to the young man, gesturing for his gun. The kid, pock-faced and dark-eyed, hesitated, then extended the old 30.06 bolt action weapon. The man took it, checked the chamber, and turned to Gretta, who was lyi
ng on the ground. Looking up at him, she threw a handful of dirt in his direction, then stood and rushed toward him. Caelyn screamed as she tried to hold her back, but Gretta pulled out of her grasp. She beat upon the leader’s chest and he pushed her to the ground again. Raising his weapon, he checked the safety . . .

  Caelyn pushed Ellie toward the truck, then rushed forward, placing herself between her mother and the shooter. She stood there, her eyes burning, her hands clenched into tight fists at her side. And as she stood there, a sudden sense of power settled from the heavens, white and electric and more mighty than anything on earth. It seemed to lift her up and square her shoulders. She was taller. She was lighter. She almost glowed with righteous anger, and she lifted her hand toward the man. “You will go now!” she commanded, her voice as full and rolling as the thunder of a coming storm. “You will go now. You will leave us!” She gestured toward the other men. “All of you will leave us. You will leave us, every one!”

  The man froze, his face contorted with pain and uncertainty and rage. He took a breath, shot a nervous look toward the others, then glared in rage and raised his gun again.

  Caelyn’s face was white and peaceful. There was an incredible power there. Commanding. Great and terrible, she stood her ground. Then she took a step toward him, filling him with terror from the power of her eyes. “I tell you now,” she whispered, her voice softer now but sure. “If you raise that weapon again to hurt us, my God will strike you dead. He will take your life and puff it out as if it were a candle in the storm. He is my Master. He is my Father and He has sent His servants here. You know it. You can feel it. The darkness has left you. There is nothing here but light. You are alone now and you will die here if you threaten me again.

  “Now you will leave us. And you will never come back here again.”

  The man dropped his head and mumbled.

  “Go now or you will die.”

  He turned toward the others, his eyes low, always looking at the ground. Terrified to even look at her, he gestured to his men. The others felt it and they too cowered before her presence.