Heaven Sent

by E. Van Lowe

  The most terrifying thing about her, however, were her eyes. They were large, green, and luminescent cat’s eyes, staring at Guy, filled with murderous intent. She cried out again, and the high pitched sound nearly ruptured my eardrums.

  She leapt, and when I looked back to where Guy had been standing, he was gone, the front door now gaping open, like a wound. Amanda wasted no time scrambling out the door after him.

  I ran to the door and looked out onto the street. I watched in horror as Amanda bounded up the street in giant flying leaps. Guy was nowhere in sight. His motorcycle was still at the curb across the street from my house. He’d gotten farther on foot than any human could have travelled on the motorcycle. In seconds Amanda disappeared from view. A few minutes later I heard her distant cry. It sounded like the cry of victory. The darkness inside me hoped she had killed him.

  *

  The word “betray” is derived from the Latin tradere, which is an early form of the word ‘traitor.’ You know, like stab someone very close to you in the back. The word was first used back in the 1300s, which means the idea of betrayal has been around for a long, long time. But it doesn’t get old, does it?

  I was seated on my sofa blaming myself for being so stupid as not to see through him.

  How could Guy have become a demon?

  I remembered the talk he’d given me on the difference between falling and fallen and realized why he knew so much. Guy had fallen. I mean, really fallen. “But why?” I said out loud. “And why lead me on the way you did? What could you possibly gain from this?”

  Angry tears washed my cheeks. I wanted answers. I needed answers. I sighed deeply as it occurred to me that Matt had been trying to warn me about Guy for nearly three weeks. “Thank you, Matt,” I said softly.

  I was disoriented. I felt weak and wounded. Yet no matter how betrayed I was feeling, no matter what horror I had discovered, I still had to go to work. I’m sure I could have called in sick, but I needed something to keep me from going to pieces. Slinging cappuccinos would fill the bill.

  Once I arrived at the cafe, however, I realized what a bad idea it was. I couldn’t concentrate. I kept going over every moment of my relationship with Guy in my mind, wondering when he had turned, when he had decided to betray me. Had it occurred during his trip to hell?

  “Is something wrong?” Three different people asked me the same question, and for each of them I smiled and made a lame excuse: “No. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

  At two p.m. my phone hummed. It was text from Maudrina:

  How’d it go?

  Crazy. I’ll call you after work

  While I didn’t want to talk about it, I couldn’t keep it from her. My life had become a web of secrets, and I had been ensnared by one of them. I needed to get everything out into the open. Maudrina was my best friend. If I couldn’t trust her, who could I trust?

  Certainly not Guy.

  My shift dragged on like the last day of school, feeling more like twelve hours instead of eight. Fifteen minutes before the shift was about to end, I received another text.

  Please let me explain. Meet me in our spot. No harm will come to you.

  My heart nearly stopped when I saw the text from Guy. Fresh anger began bubbling inside me like a dormant volcano come to life, and as it did, a light breeze wafted through the café. Several of my coworkers looked up, puzzled, because the door was closed and yet wind was blowing.

  “That’s strange,” said Bob, who was working next to me at the bar. The chandeliers overhead swayed back and forth.

  “Yeah, it is. I think it’s coming from the back room. I’ll go check and see if someone left the back door open.”

  I hustled from the front of the store, breathing deeply as I tried to get my emotions under control. I entered the back room and slumped into a chair. The breeze was stronger here.

  It’s all right Megan. It’s going to be fine. Just hear him out… and after he’s said his piece, you can release the furies upon him.

  I smiled at the idea of unleashing my anger on Guy, and the gentle breeze increased to a stiff wind. A handful of napkins were snatched from a dispenser and took to the air, fluttering around me like doves. A stack of paper coffee cups toppled over.

  Fortunately I was the only one around to witness the indoor storm. My thoughts moved to my innocent coworkers, Bob and Andie and Jennifer, and all the others who’d been so kind and helpful to me. I could hurt them if I didn’t get it together.

  It was these thoughts, my concern for my friends, that allowed me to get my feelings under control. The wind slowed and eventually faded along with my anger.

  I wasn’t afraid of him. I knew I should have been. I was about to confront a demon, but I wasn’t, not one bit. Guy owed me an explanation, and I was hell bent—excuse the pun—on getting one. Several minutes after the wind had died down, I went back out onto the floor and finished my shift. When it was over, I said a calm goodbye to my coworkers.

  “Get some sleep,” Bob called.

  “I will. Tomorrow I’ll be back to my old self.”

  I plastered a smile on my face, calmly walked out the door, and without stoking the fire that was once again raging within, made a beeline for school.

  *

  He was sitting in our spot in the bleachers.

  I saw him there, in his stupid tee shirt and dumb jeans, before I started across the field. The breeze sprang up again as if out of nowhere. The term ill wind, came to mind. It accompanied me across the field, rippling my clothing and mussing my hair. I didn’t try to stop it. I allowed the wind along, as if it were a suitor that I’d put off and was finally giving in to. The track and field were empty, no one around for my mood to harm except for Guy. So I let the winds blow. And if he gets hurt—good. It would be nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

  A smile appeared on his lips as I neared. “Crazy weather we’re having,” he called. It was a cautious smile, and I could tell from the look in his eyes it could vanish at any moment.

  “It’s like a storm of lies,” I called back as the wind gust tossed his hair. “I see my cat didn’t destroy you. Shame.”

  He winced, ever so slightly, yet clung to the smile so as not to give me the satisfaction of wiping it off his face. “I love you in that uniform.”

  It was then I realized I hadn’t changed out of my Insomniacs’ tee shirt and apron. I reached the foot of the bleachers and stopped. “You said you wanted to explain,” I snapped, not giving him the satisfaction of small talk. “Explain.”

  “Yes. Of course.” The smile eased from his lips. “Would I be overstepping my bounds if I invited you to sit?”

  “You would. I don’t sit with demons.”

  Try as he might, he could not hide that my words had torn into him like a shard of glass. He let out a breathy sigh as the wind continued ripping through his hair. It rattled the bleachers.

  “Why, Guy? Why?” A swarm of questions had been hovering at the forefront of my mind all day, ever since I’d known the truth. I couldn’t hold back asking them any longer.

  “To begin with, I am not your angel, Guy Matson. I am the demon, Orthon.”

  “You’re not Guy?” I could feel the noose around my heart loosen just a bit. The wind whipping the air around us ceased. “You’re not Guy?” I repeated.

  “No,” he replied. His voice was firm, yet filled with remorse. It was the first time I‘d seen his dreamy eyes without any light behind them. “My particular skill is shape-shifting, which is why Satan chose me for the task.”

  “Where’s Guy?” I demanded.

  “I don’t know. Still recuperating in heaven, I imagine.”

  I could hardly believe my ears. Guy, my Guy was still out there somewhere.

  “So he’s… safe?”

  He nodded. “As far as I know.”

  “What is this task?” I snapped. Hearing that my Guy was safe, I was now eager to push on.

  “I had been charged with encouraging you to use your abi
lities.”

  “Why?”

  “Please, sit,” he said patting the bench next to him. I didn’t move. “I plan to give you a full explanation, and it’s going to take a while. Your legs will get tired.” He patted the bench again.

  I climbed into the bleachers and moved two rungs above him, where I sat and folded my arms across my chest. “Explain yourself… demon.” When I said the word he winced. I vowed to myself to use the word every chance I got.

  “This deception began during your battle with Satan.”

  “I defeated Satan.”

  “You did,” he replied. “But winning a battle is not the same as winning the war. No one understands that better than Satan. He loses many battles. One might say, he loses most battles, and yet he is always poised to win.”

  “Stop bragging about Satan and get back to your story, demon,” I said in a harsh tone. His eyes quivered in pain.

  “When it was clear that you had The Book of Calls and he could not win, that you had defeated him, Satan performed his most dastardly trick. He imbued you with some of his power.”

  “He did that on purpose?” I slid to the edge of my seat.

  “Yes, he most certainly did.”

  It was hard to believe. All this time I’d thought the power had rubbed off by accident. “I don’t get it. What could he gain by empowering me? He must know that I’ll use my power for good.”

  A desolate smile appeared on his lips. “He knows that very well. He’s counting on it.” He looked into my eyes. “Megan, he’s not some thug off the street. He’s Satan. He is cunning. He is calculating. He knew that you would underestimate him. Mortals always do. He counts on it.”

  “But if I use the power for good, he doesn’t benefit.”

  He sighed as if exasperated with me and ran a hand through his hair. “Satan’s power contains all the darkness of hell. It is his power, evil power, and each time you use it, it draws you closer to him. That is why you must promise me you will never use your abilities again.”

  I could feel outrage darkening my skin. “First you tell me you were sent here to get me to use my abilities, and then you tell me not to use them. What kind of trick is this, demon?”

  “Encouraging you to use your abilities was indeed my mission. But, Megan, dearest, I abandoned that mission the moment I fell in love with you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Members of the football team emerged from the lockers and began jogging around the track. Summer practice would be starting up soon. Time to get in shape. I watched the runners circle the oval. They were just like my thoughts, on a hamster wheel, running in circles inside my mind. My thoughts were crashing into my emotions as they went around and around.

  I looked at the demon seated two rungs below me in the bleachers who looked like Guy and smelled of cinnamon. I sniffed the air and realized the cinnamon was there to mask a foulness about him. “Don’t speak of love, demon. Explain why you don’t want me to use my abilities.” I again saw the effects of my words on his face. Good.

  “Satan has claimed you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I spoke boldly, but when I heard what he’d said, a queasiness erupted in my stomach.

  “The more you use the dark powers inside you, the darker you become, until one day you will be as attracted to Satan as he is to you.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said.

  He nodded. “I know it is. But you are no match for the power that lurks inside you. The only way to ensure that you will not become his bride is to cease using the abilities at once.”

  My head started spinning again, this time in the other direction. “But Satan wants Erin as his bride.”

  The demon laughed. “No, that is what the Satanists want. They have no idea of Satan’s plans. They are fools… but they are dangerous fools.”

  I tried to clear my thoughts. “You wanted me to stop using my abilities because you were worried about me?”

  “Yes, of course. Megan, I love you.”

  “Stop saying that!” I barked. “You’re a demon, a demon who impersonated the angel I love to prepare me to be Satan’s bride.”

  He didn’t respond. He sat staring at me with anguished eyes, and then hung his head.

  “Your rescuing me that night was a setup, wasn’t it?”

  The anguish in his eyes increased. “It was… convenient that the roughnecks threatened you when they did.”

  “Convenient?”

  “Yes,” he replied with little emotion. “Once the Nephilim was out of the way, we waited for an opportunity to present itself, and on that night, one did.” He saw the surprise on my face and went on. “Satan had tried for quite a while to get him out of the way. He would surely have known I was not Guy.” A sad smile appeared. “We didn’t know about the hell cat, however. Clever.”

  I was shocked and outraged. A part of me wanted to claw his demon eyeballs out, but the tiny bit of rationality I clung to told me I needed to know more. I reached into my pocket and snatched out the yellowed parchment paper. “What do you know about this?”

  He raised his head and stared at the parchment a thoughtful moment before responding. “Everything,” he said in a tone of defeat. He reached over and eased the parchment from my hand. His fingertips caressed mine momentarily before withdrawing. “This was not sent to you by Guy or the angels. This note was written by Satan himself.”

  Yet another shock wave sent my mind swerving. “What? Why?”

  “He saw that you had been emotionally weakened by the ordeal in hell. Satan makes his move when man is at his weakest.” He unfolded the parchment and read: “Many sit at his right hand.” Orthon looked up. “He was talking about himself here. Many sit at Satan’s right hand.”

  “I’ve read that it’s the right hand of God and the left hand of Satan. So shouldn’t it be ‘many sit as his left hand?’”

  “Satan creates meaningless rhetoric for man to debate. He gets a kick out of it. Right hand, left hand, what difference does it make, really?” His eyes moved back to the parchment. “Two have fallen in the quest for man.” He looked up. “That should have been a giveaway for someone as intelligent as you. Only Satan and other demons are in a quest for man. Man is promised heaven. It is up to us to see that he doesn’t get there.”

  His words made perfect sense. I hadn’t deciphered the riddle. I had chosen to believe what I wanted it to mean. I was suddenly feeling very tired. I slumped forward, head in hands, using my elbows to hold my head up. “The two who have fallen aren’t Guy and Roxanne, are they? The riddle is referring to Satan and Beelzebub. I defeated them both.”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding his head again. “That is correct.”

  Two have fallen, one shall rise

  “It is Satan who has risen to help me claim the prize,” I said, as the true meaning of the riddle was now coming into focus. “But if the prize isn’t Erin, and Satan is helping me claim it, the prize can’t be me, either.”

  “Correct again.”

  “Then what is the prize?”

  “A child.”

  “No!” I cried out, jumping to my feet. Fear gripped my heart. I began trembling as I realized I had been played. Satan’s original plan was for me to have his child. He had never retreated from that plan. It was always what he wanted, what he was determined to have.

  “Do not despair, Megan. I will not allow him to have you.”

  “YOU’RE HELPING HIM!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. The runners on the track stopped running and looked into the bleachers.

  “I was helping him until I…” He wouldn’t say the words. He allowed them to die on his lips, but I saw it in his eyes. The demon, Orthon, had somehow fallen in love with me. If it were someone else at some other time, it would have been flattering. But today, with Orthon, it was disgusting. It made me sick to my stomach.

  I sat back down, smoothed my apron over my lap, and the boys went back to running around the track. “If you love me, demon, you will stop hidin
g behind the face of the angel I love and show yourself.”

  “But I am… not pleasing to look upon.” He squinted as he spoke, and I got the feeling he was embarrassed by his appearance.

  “I forbid you to use the name and face of the angel I love anymore, demon. I don’t care how you look. What does it matter to me? Show yourself.”

  “Then call me by my name. Orthon. If you address me by my name, I will show myself.” His eyes beseeched me.

  “Show yourself, Orthon.”

  “As you wish. But when you look at me, try and remember the love we shared.”

  “We shared no love,” I said in a harsh tone.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice once again laced with anguish. “We did. For a moment in time, we did. I wanted to write a love song.”

  After reciting the line from the poem, he breathed in deeply. His eyes opened quite wide and yet were empty, as if he was going into a trance. As he exhaled, his face began to transform. The eyes went first. They narrowed at the corners like alien eyes. The pupils turned a deep crimson in color. His gorgeous looks evaporated, replaced by dark leathery skin, nostrils that flared out like a flange, and a twisted mouth. His beautiful hair vanished. Orthon was bald, with a dark leathery pate and what appeared to be an extra breathing hole just above his forehead.

  When the transformation was complete, he looked at me and smiled. “Cute, huh?” he teased in his own gravelly voice.

  He was a monster, with a monstrous face and hands, and I did my best not to gasp. “An improvement,” I replied.

  “Funny.”

  “That’s me, laugh-a-minute, Megan.”

  His expression darkened. “If you go the wedding, Megan, I know there will come a time when you will be forced to use your abilities. If you use them, I am afraid you will have reached the tipping point. Once you are on the other side, it’s only a matter of time before you will belong to him. Think about it, Megan. There is no reason for you to go. He doesn’t want her.”