by L. J. Amodeo
I tapped on the window. He turned his face in my direction. His beard was long and tangled and his were eyes dark, expressionless. Something told me to run, but instead I pulled open the car door. “Umm,” I said after a moment of silence. A creepy smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.
“I . . . I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest town.” I stuttered.
“Git in. I’m headin’ that way.” It was more of a demand than a request.
“Thanks,” I hesitated, climbing into the cab. I broke out in a sweat, despite the chill that hung in the air. He drove away quickly, eyeing me from time to time.
“Wut brings ya out this late barefut and alone?” He gritted through his missing front tooth, smelling of a mix of gin and urine.
“Excuse me?” I gasped fearfully.
“Not common for a young girl to be runnin’ off with no shoes on ‘er feet. You runnin’ away or sumtin?” he asked in a nasally southern or midwestern drawl. I wasn’t quite sure.
“No,” I replied suddenly frightened for the small life that grew inside. I unconsciously caressed my belly that seemed to have formed into a small bump overnight.
“Ya pregnant?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
My mind ruminated like wild ivy. Twisting, contorting and desperately searching for any signs of life beside the creepy guy sitting next to me. “How much longer before we get to town?” I asked, avoiding his question.
“Why—ya in a hurry to git sum where?” His voice became eerily sinister. Had I walked into a trap? Was he an angel; a Tracker; a Watcher? I fretted the latter. I shifted closer to the passenger-side door, securing my hand on the door handle. If I had to make a run for it, at least I’d be quick enough to jump out of the moving vehicle. I was the fastest runner on Houghton’s track team. It had been almost a year since my last meet, so it was possible that my skills were a bit rusty, but sitting in the truck, debating what to do, wasn’t going to help me much.
“Well, are ya!” He growled breaking my concentration.
“Yes, I am. My . . . my boyfriend is waiting for me in town!” I replied, trying to sound confident.
“Really, now. Wut kinda boyfriend lets his womin walk these dark roads barefooted and pregnant?” The dark smile that crossed his lips made me shiver. Bad idea! My head screamed, but I didn’t care. I was determined to find Freddie.
Up ahead, a sign read N. Old Trails Rd Bridge. The bearded man drove over the rickety, decrepit bridge till he came up to a sign pointing toward Spokane, Washington. He gave me a quick sideward glance before turning left. I knew there was something inky behind his razor sharp eyes.
“Washington,” I whispered barely inciting a breath. “Is Spokane the nearest city?” My voice trembled, wondering how a boat ride from who knows where, had somehow put me in the state of Washington.
“Yup. It’s about two miles past Dragon’s Promenade,” he replied, wearing a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Unable to hide my disappointment, I clutched my heart, trying to pull myself together. There was no turning back from here. I knew I’d screwed up, again. With or without the angels’ help, I put myself in this terrible situation, so I had no choice but to find a way out.
“Wut brings yer boyfriend out to Spo’kane? Curiosity?” The driver posted in his accent. If I planned to make it out of Spokane alive, I had to stay calm and never show this stranger my fear.
“Research,” I said curtly, looking out the window into the dark road, avoiding his eyes. I thought about Matthew, and wondered if he had alerted Michael and the others that I went missing. By now they would be looking for me. I couldn’t let them find me. Not until I found Freddie. I needed to take responsibility for what I’d done. It wasn’t anyone else’s battle but my own. I had to search for my friend and if it meant hiding out from all of them until I did, then I would. Even if it took the entire span of the triskel to find Freddie, I’d hide out somewhere remote until the baby was born. I could only pray that it wouldn’t be too late by then.
He slowed his pickup truck down to a stop under a dim streetlamp with a sign that read Welcome to Dragon’s Promenade. An old-broken down shack leaned against a tree. Its windows were boarded up and the word condemned was spray-painted in red across the front door. Across the road was a house with one light on. The yellow glow of light illuminated the single window pane from the inside. My eyes darted left and right. This couldn’t have been the entire town. There had to be a mistake.
“Why are we stopping here . . . why aren’t we going to Spokane? Where are all the people?” I stuttered as fear rose in my chest.
“Yur lookin’ at ‘em.” He narrowed his mean, dark eyes at me.
“This was a bad idea. I . . . I really should be going. My boyfriend is going to worry and he’s going to send a search party out for me, maybe even call the cops,” I rambled, reaching nervously for the door handle. Without hesitation, I opened the truck door, but the stranger pulled me back in with hurting force and determination. My stomach knotted and my mind reeled as my heart shifted into high speed.
“Let go or I’ll scream!” I growled at him trying to free my hand.
“Go ahead. Scream all ya like, aint nuntin ‘round heya fow miles,” he laughed.
“Someone will hear me!” I continued to fight him off my wrist.
“An’ dat someone will be me. In this heya ole town, I am the nayber, I am the poo-lees,” he hissed in his drawl, “An’, I am the judge and jury.” He continued moving closer to me as he tucked a strand of my hair behind my shoulder. I jerked away from him.
“Yur a purdy lil’ thang. Back where I com’frum, in Oklahoma, the gurls aint so purty.” he hissed leaning his repulsive body on me.
“Get off of me!” I bawled, finally lifting my foot and jamming it into his groin with a force I never knew existed inside me. As my foot struck him a bolt of lightning exploded outside the vehicle. Armisael, voices chanted. The man fell forward, barely catching his breath, and gargled obscenities at me as I pushed my way out of the truck and ran down a steep muddy hill away from him.
Tonight, the moon cast an eerie glow, as I ran through the black silhouettes of twisted vines and lifeless trees. My feet burned beneath me and my belly ached with every deep breath I took. Winded and gasping for air, I rested against a tree large enough to conceal me, holding my small bump, listening to hear if the stranger was pursuing me. My limbs burned and my pulse raced, too tired to run much further. In the distance, snaps of twigs or flicks of a rock faintly echoed through the trees. Night insects buzzed and chirped, making it difficult to determine the direction in which the footsteps were coming from.
“Baby gurl,” his guttural voice chanted. “Come out, come out where ever ya’are.”
I cupped my mouth, fighting the urge to let out a gasp of horror.
“Don’t be li’dat, Liz’beth. I won’t hurt ya. Nat yet at least.” He sneered mumbling his last words. At the sound of my name coming from his lips, I choked back a whimper, feeling the blood draining from my body. I was instantly frantic and ice cold.
Through the moon’s faint glow, I could see his shadow making its way toward me, a crescent-shaped tool in his hand. I recognized it: a boline knife used in Wiccan rituals. I knew now he wasn’t some random guy picking up a lost hitchhiker. He was a Tracker.
Several steps away, there was a hollow cavern large enough to hide in. Quietly, I tiptoed toward the opening, avoiding anything that would give away my location.
I crawled into the hole and curled up against the cold earth, biting down on my hand to hold back sobs of terror.
His footsteps crushed soil several measures from where I hid. “Liz’beth,” he sang in a wicked whisper. “Ya can’t run fo’eva. I won’t let ya!” His voice turned violent. “We all-ways knew you’d play the purfect part. Ya pathetic, weak minded gurl! Ya’ll come out soon enuff. Either ya’ll starve to death or the packs of dawgs will ea’cha. Yur choice—O sancta damnatio,” he growled his fina
l words in Latin.
I cradled myself, holding my knees as close to my chest as possible, feeling the small bump in my belly somewhat more than I ever had. Shuddering, I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my cheek against my bent knees, rocking in quick short motions fighting to hush my fears. Tears drenched my face as I waited and prayed for him to leave. He continued his search for me, every so often cutting weeds or deformed vines with his curved blade. I continued to watch him move through the dark woods, disappearing and reappearing every now and then. For some time he moved about, calling my name, shouting obscenities and making threats.
“It’s lookin’ lyk ur friend Freddie is waitin’ fur ya,” he snorted, directing his voice to no one in particular but meant for me to hear. “Aren’tcha concerned to know if he is alive or wheya he’s at? Don’tcha wanna go to ‘im? I can take ya there.” His voice antagonized me. “I’ll tell you wut—his life is clingin’ close to death.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice.
Cradled inside the cavern, I calculated my escape, waiting for the stranger to make his next move. For some time, he circled closely to the area in which I hid. Celox, Freddie’s voice frantically urged me. Run!
Although I knew the time was right to run, since the man was several hundred feet away, I couldn’t move my limbs. Outside the hollow of the ground, a football-sized stone laid perched against the roots of an overgrown tree. With trembling hands, I reached out to grab the stone. Its weight was significant enough, making me struggle to roll it toward me and out of plain sight. I could hear the man sloshing through the wet mud, kicking stones as he did.
“Yur startin’ to piss me off, O Chosin Wun. An’ although, I wus ordered not to kill ya, it doesn’t mean I won’t hurt ya once I find ya, ya lil’ . . .” he muttered some foul words under his breath. Knowing he couldn’t kill me, I planned my next attempt to free myself from his prowl. I had to patiently wait. I knew the big rogue would eventually tire out.
The footsteps settled several yards away from where I hid. The grotesque man sat down with a thump on the muddy ground, leaning against a tree, his boline still clutched in his hand and a flask in the other. I quietly observed him watching and guarding the desolate woods for any sign of me while he gulped mouthfuls of whatever filled the flask.
I hid in the nook, rubbing my eyes, fighting the exhaustion. I couldn’t fall asleep for fear I’d miss my opportunity to run from the Tracker.
I sat for some time, waiting for the man’s movements to cease and his breathing to dither. Exhausted and famished, I positioned myself on all fours, occasionally peering out to look at him. His bald head rested against the tree and his mouth propped slightly open. Every so often he’d give a snore that ruffled his sleep. Like a predator, I observed the stranger until I knew he had slipped into a deep, intoxicated slumber.
I crawled out of the crook in the ground, picked up the stone, feeling a knot twist in my stomach as I did. The idea of killing this man flitted across my mind. Live or die! My own voice screamed in my ears. Do it! My conscience forced me closer to the sleeping abductor. Without remorse, I lifted the stone above my head and brought it down with all my strength on his skull. He suddenly slumped over, his body twitching on the ground. A trickle of blood coursed its way down his eyebrow. Horrified and sickened, I dropped the stone taking several steps back. His body convulsed, springing a new fear in my bones. I ran with all my strength in the direction of the road.
Sometime even the flight of an angel hits turbulence.
~ Terri Guillemets
THE BARN
Freddie dropped to the floor with a hard thump, moaning in agony. His once lively eyes rolled back in his head as he panted for air. Seth carefully approached Freddie’s bruised and broken body, nudging him with the tips of his designer shoe. “Get up, you waste of an angel!” he spat at him.
Freddie weakly raised his hand to his face, blocking Seth’s saliva as the vile man cursed at him. Charlee stood by, holding the wood logger in her hand.
Freddie stumbled to his feet, his head weighed heavy with fog, struggling to focus on Seth and his daughter. Never given a warning, Charlee’s strong leg struck a powerful kick to the center of Freddie’s back, sending the angel buckling to his knees. She laughed and pointed her long, polished finger at him. “Freak! You’re getting your ass kicked by a girl!”
Seth glanced at his daughter and nodded his head in a silent exchange. What occurred next, neither Charlee nor her beast of a father saw coming.
In a silent plea for help, Freddie reserved enough angelic energy to call upon his brethren to locate him. Unnoticed by the Bates, the angel balled his fists and, in a raging fury, rebounded onto his feet with force and vitality. Charlee and Seth snapped a terrified look at one another, making Charlee take the first defensive stance. Freddie spun around pulling Seth over his shoulder first, slamming the man down hard onto his back, causing Seth to cry out in pain. In two quick steps, Charlee swung the steel logger above her head, missing Freddie’s skull by inches at first, but coming around in full circle to strike him hard against his spine, snapping his vertebrae. Freddie suffered a blow, squealing in pain as he crashed to the floor. Charlee quickly straddled the angel, pinning him down on his stomach, grabbing a firm hold of his head by the back of his hair. Seth sat up against the wall rubbing his aching head. “I’m getting too old for this.” He muttered to his daughter, who had the look of something fierce and hungry in her eyes.
“Well, I’m not!” she growled, as she bit down on Freddie’s neck, breaking his skin and sucking back a mouthful of the angel’s sacred blood. Freddie’s face paled as his eyes widened, then rolled back, causing him to lose consciousness. Charlee dropped his head, smashing his face against the dusty ground.
Pulling a small vial tucked into her breasts, Charlee spat Freddie’s blood into the tubular container, mixing it with a blackish substance. Seth grinned, crawling on all fours toward his genius daughter. The two stared at one another without saying a word, their eyes shimmering with grim excitement.
Charlee rose, handing the vial to her father before finding a piece of black coal on the ground. Slowly, she drew a pentacle around Freddie’s broken body. As she closed the circle, Freddie jerked. His eyes fluttered open, making him alert of what was happening, but he couldn’t move. Hearing the unthinkable, the whispers of Seth’s incantations over his paralyzed body stunned the angel.
“Sanctus Satanas, Sanctus . . . Dominus Diabolus Sabaoth . . . Satanas—venire! Satanas—venire! Ave, Satanas, ave Satanas. Tui sunt caeli, Tua est terra, Ave Satanas! He chanted while Charlee chanted back, “Satan Holy, Holy Devil Lord of Hosts. Satan—come! Satan—come! Hail, thou Satan, Hail Satan. Thine are the heavens. Yours is the earth, Hail Satan!” Freddie continued groaning, knowing perfectly well what the Trackers were doing to him.
“Please don’t,” Freddie pleaded with them.
“I consecrate thee,” Seth’s incantations echoed, as he poured the dark blood onto Freddie’s forehead. As the blood trickled down his face, it burned his skin, making the angel scream and growl, clawing at the ground as his body heaved and shuddered in a beastly way.
Seth stood up, amused at the sight of the angel transitioning. Charlee moved away, her eyes wide with fear, yet walloping with excitement as she witnessed, for the first time, a White Knight becoming a fallen angel. For a split second, Seth looked at his daughter, taken by her reaction and distracted by her cat-like beauty.
Charlee’s expression immediately wavered, but it was too late by the time Seth turned back to the circle. Freddie was gone. In a sharp blow to her chest, Charlee’s body was catapulted fifty feet across the barn, sending her flying into the air against the far wall of the structure, echoing the snaps of her bones in her body. Instantly, something spiked her chest like a volleyball, thrusting her to the ground twenty feet below. Every bone in her body had been crushed as she lay there, bloodied and mangled, her lips spilling blood as her life slipped away.
“Noooooo!” Se
th’s cries echoed as he watched his daughter’s life fade away. In a frenzy, he spun around, looking for Freddie, twisted and angered that his precious little girl was dead. Like a ghostly wind, Seth felt a chill brush past him.
Faith, Emmanuel and Abigail stood magnificently before him, smiling and smirking at the sight of his beloved Charlee. Seth knew he was outnumbered, suddenly feeling his doom. The trio surrounded him, floating in circles, rising above him as they chanted the forbidden Enochian language that no mortal had ever lived to speak about, “Koh-rah-mah-peh . . . ess-dee-voh. . . . koo-ee-ee-en . . . tah-beh-geh-sah . . . dloo-gah-rah . . . oh-deh . . . ah-ah-ee . . . Elohim Elohim Elohim!” Their voices erupted causing a violent tremor in the earth. Seth cupped his ears as blood spewed from every orifice of his body, sending him into a violent convulsion. Seth desperately clutched his chest, falling to the floor as his eyes bled out and his immoral life faded away to nothing more than an empty corpse.
Faith looked at the other angels, directing their attention back to Freddie, who huddled crouched in a corner. Abigail was the first to run to the frightened angel’s side. “Freddie, we are going to help you. I promise, we won’t let you transition. Do you understand?” she asked turning his face to concentrate on hers. Shivering, confused, salivating and wild with fear, Freddie’s eyes shook involuntarily, as if he’d lost all muscle control.
“Emmanuel, take Freddie back to Safe Haven until we’re permitted to take him to the Crystalline Cavern to have him cleansed. Abby, you will go look for Elizabeth. Find her, bring her to Safe Haven, and when you do, break the news gently. She’s with child.” Faith whispered faintly, staring painfully at Freddie.