by Vox Day
“This was the guy who almost hit us?”
Christopher nodded slowly and turned towards Pastor Glen.
“I know it looks like an accident, but I can tell you, it wasn’t. It was intentional. There were evil spirits leading that man to do what he did.”
The two older men looked at each other. Pastor Ladd seemed to be asking his friend a silent question, when, to her surprise, Ed Powell nodded affirmatively.
“There’s no way to prove it, of course, but I believe him. Here’s why. Glen, will you look at this?”
There was a moment of quiet broken only by the crackling of the paper as Mr. Powell turned the pages. When he stopped, Jami looked up at him, startled.
“The obituaries? Why? Did somebody die? I mean, someone you know?”
The red-haired man shook his head, his thin eyebrows drawn close together as he peered down at the page.
“Here,” he said, jabbing at one name with his finger. “…and here.”
The names he indicated were unknown to her. Both names were accompanied by a picture, but Jami still didn’t recognize either of the dead men. Boone and Woodhouse… they were old, which you’d expect, naturally, but when she glanced at the ages of some of the other people on the page, she realized that the two men weren’t nearly as old as most of the eighty and ninety year-olds who were listed there.
“Notice anything about them?” Mr. Powell asked them all as he stroked his mustache.
“Mmm hmmm,” Pastor Glen said, closing his eyes with a pained expression on his face. His lips moved silently, and Jami wondered if he was praying.
“They’re kind of young?” Christopher guessed. “Well, not all that young, but I mean, compared to everybody else who died.”
“Right, but look again,” Mr. Powell told him. “Look at what they did.”
Jami checked the first obituary. Before getting killed in a car accident, Ron Boone had been a pastor, at Calvary Baptist. Hey, she knew that church! It was in Roseville, right across the street from the old Bridgeman’s ice cream parlor. Mom used to take them there when they were little. She’d always wanted to order the big Lollapalooza by herself, but Mom always said it would be too much for her.
She looked at the man’s picture more closely and shook her head. Poor Pastor Boone must have been a very handsome man when he was younger. Earl Jamison was the second listing. She pursed her lips as she read more about him, and learned that he’d died of a heart attack. She thought back to last week. A heart attack. It seemed that these particular Fallen weren’t terribly imaginative, or at least they didn’t mind repeating themselves.
“They’re pastors,” she answered. “A Baptist and a Lutheran. Sounds like the beginning of a joke, doesn’t it?”
“I’m afraid that there’s one more death which the newspaper hasn’t published yet,” Pastor Glen broke in. “Father Keane, from Saint Cecilia’s. He died while giving a sermon last night. The doctors say it was a brain aneurysm, but….”
“You don’t think so?” Mr. Powell asked.
“No. One of his parishioners called me from the parking lot. There were definite indicators of demonic activity—poltergeism, as there were a lot of broken windows apparently, and a possible possession as well. The man was a little shaken, so I’m not entirely sure about what he said, but I think it was something to the effect of a woman rising up and cursing the father to his face, right before he fell over and died.”
“God bless!” his friend replied, apalled, and Jami knew he wasn’t swearing. “Glen, this is much worse than I’d thought! What’s going on?”
“It doesn’t seem possible, does it,” replied Pastor Glen, staring out at the bright rays of light glinting off the expensive cars and sports-utility vehicles filling the parking lot. “Not now, and certainly not here. And yet, we are told there is evil everywhere under the sun.”
“That’s his banner, after all,” Christopher shrugged.
“What’s that?” Mr. Powell gave her brother a funny look.
“Oh, nothing,” Christopher replied quickly. “So, do you think the local Fallen are up to something, then?”
“Fallen?” Now Pastor Ladd was staring at Christopher too. “What does that…oh, as in fallen angels, I see. Well, I think it is extremely odd for three ministers to die in a single week.”
“What’s so strange about that?” Jami demanded.
Ed Powell chuckled mirthlessly.
“Three pastors don’t usually die in an entire year, around here. There’s only fifty-nine churches in this part of town, all in all.”
“Is that all?” Jami was surprised. “I guess I thought there were more.”
“I don’t know, sixty is quite a few when you consider the area. Shoreview, North Oaks, Arden Hills, Roseville, Vadnais Heights…” Mr. Powell counted on his fingers. “You’re probably looking at a population of less than fifty thousand people in the whole area. Three out of almost sixty is significant, particularly in five days.”
“It was supposed to be four,” Christopher said, glancing at Jami. “There’s Pastor Walters, from Elim Baptist. He had a heart attack last week too.”
“Not Charlie Walters!” Pastor Glen exclaimed.
“Christopher was with him,” Jami said. She was strangely reluctant to mention her part in what had happened that night. “It wasn’t normal, either.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Completely,” Christopher assured him.
Pastor Glen glanced at his friend, then looked back at Jami and her brother. He tapped his fingers on the fake wood of the table.
“Look, it’s very clear that you know a lot more about all this than you’re telling us. Maybe it would help if you would just begin at the beginning.”
Jami looked doubtfully at Christopher.
“Are you sure about this? They’re not going to believe us.”
Her brother nodded.
“Just give them a chance. They might surprise you.”
“We might,” Pastor Glen agreed.
“Well, okay then,” Jami said dubiously. “But what would you say, Pastor Glen, if I told you that after you prayed for us that night, we went back in time to this other planet, rode on the back of an angel in the shape of a lion, got attacked by a dragon, barely escaped getting wiped out with the last believers in the place, and then were taken up to Heaven just in time to see Satan lay siege to it.”
Pastor Glen and Ed Powell were both staring at her with wide eyes and open mouths. Ed Powell was the first to reply. He sounded more amused than skeptical.
“Well,” he chuckled softly,“the first thought that crosses my mind is that you are in dire need of a psychiatrist, to be honest. But I have spoken to your brother once or twice, and he does seem to be unusually attuned to the realities of the spiritual world as I understand them.”
He turned to her brother.
“Do you believe what she’s saying? Did you see any of this yourself?”
Christopher made a thoughtful face and made a popping sound with his lips.
“Yeah, I believe it. I didn’t see what she saw, exactly, but then, I was on the other side at the time.”
“What do you mean by that?” Pastor Glen asked, frowning. “I don’t understand.”
“I was with the angels sieging Heaven. I was with Prince Satan.” Her brother shrugged and smiled regretfully. “I got better.”
“Good, good,” Pastor Glen assured him absently. He spread his hands and shrugged at Ed Powell. “This sounds very… well, unlikely, to say the least. I can’t help but feel extremely skeptical about all of it. And yet, I don’t get the sense that either one of them is lying.”
“And there does truly appear to be events of overt spiritual dimensions occuring in this town lately,” his friend added. “This obviously will require prayer and some careful discernment, but I don’t see any harm in giving the children the benefit of the doubt for now.”
Gee, thanks, Jami thought sarcastically. The children?
&nbs
p; “Good enough for me,” Christopher said, kicking her shin under the table. “If we’re crazy, you can always tell our parents later. If we’re demon-possessed, you’ll probably figure that out soon enough. But if we’re telling the truth, and we are, then you should probably help us figure out what the Fallen are up to around here so we can stop them.”
“Out of the mouths of babes, wisdom.”Pastor Glen nodded appreciatively. “Very well, Ed, we will give them the benefit of the doubt for the time being. So, what do the two of you recommend?”
Jami personally had no ideas, so she sipped at her smoothie and watched as Christopher thought for a moment. He seemed to be having an internal debate over something.
“Well, for one thing,” he finally spoke. “I think it would be good if we could get ten or twelve people to start praying for protection for all the pastors and preachers in this town. I mean specifically, by name. It looks like they’re trying to wipe out the spiritual leaders, which makes a little sense, although I find it hard to believe they can get away with wiping out every pastor in town without waking up the whole world to their existence….”
His voice trailed off.
“You said,‘for one thing’, Ed Powell pointed out. “Was there a second?”
“Yeah,” Christopher answered slowly. “I guess the other thing would be to go talk to this woman at Saint Cecilia’s. If she was possessed last night, then the demon is probably still there inside her.”
Jami put her face in her hands. Oh, this day was just getting better and better. It had been hard enough to just get out of bed and drag herself here. Watching an exorcism was about as close to the bottom of her list as she could possibly imagine. Visions of spinning heads and projectile vomiting filled her mind, and she shook her head. Man oh man, bunnies and ducks were looking better all the time.
Chapter 12
Broken Wings
But the eyes of the wicked will fail, and escape will elude them; their hope will become a dying gasp.
—Job 11:20
Melusine stood with her arms folded under her breasts, chewing her bottom lip as she wondered where she might find a crack in the Lewis family that she could exploit. She watched from the rooftop of a nearby school as the two children emerged from the coffee shop, accompanied by two older men. Her spiked tail lashed back and forth, reflecting her irritation. This shouldn’t be so hard, especially for a temptress who’d once set three mortal kingdoms at each other’s throats using just a single child. And still, the key eluded her.
It was obvious that the direct approach wasn’t going to work. The one good thing about Pandaema’s foolish attempt on Christopher and Jami was that it was now clear that the Divine were not about to countenance any slaying of their so-called warriors. That left only two options, co-option or corruption. Considering that she’d been working on the latter for the last three months without getting anywhere, corruption obviously wasn’t going to do the trick. That left co-option.
Christopher’s green Explorer pulled out of the parking lot, and Melusine couldn’t help smiling sarcastically.
“Have a nice time, Baal Phaoton.”
It was too bad the boy just wasn’t going to find what he was looking for. She had no intention of allowing herself to be subjected to an exorcism, from all the tales she’d heard, the whole process was most unpleasant. She didn’t understand those angels who had to be dragged kicking and screaming out of the flesh. Those cursed believers! It was so much easier dealing with people who didn’t really believe in the supernatural; these days you just had to use a little restraint and you could pretty much possess anyone you wanted.
She sighed. It really was wonderful to see what the Prince had wrought. You could send some poor soul over the edge and lead him on the most vicious spree of murder and mayhem, and not one single mortal would ever think to look for you. Not that she ever had herself, since carnage wasn’t really her thing, but still, it was amazing what you could get away with. Of course, the times weren’t bad for an angel of her proclivities either, in fact, until Christopher had unexpectedly switched sides, she hadn’t needed to exert herself much in three mortal decades.
Now, she had a problem, though. It would have been a lot easier for her if Lord Kaym had chosen someone else’s charge to drag through time. Now that she thought about him, she wondered how Lord Kaym had managed to conceal himself so well? Until he’d shown himself to her, she’d had no idea that Balazel was anything but what he seemed to be, an archangel on a mission. Lord Kaym seemed to have taken his failure with Christopher quite personally, and she considered how the great fallen angel might seek his revenge. She’d received more instructions from him last night, but like those he’d given previously, they were too specific for her to discern the larger intent behind them.
She heard a disturbance in the air above her, and looked up to see Maligor and Boggie flying down towards her, their faces strained with the effort of restraining the angel they were holding between them. Boggie, in particular, was having a terrible time keeping the prisoner’s left hand pinned to her side. As they came closer, Melusine winced as she saw the captive angel slash at the dryad and rip several shards of bark off his face.
The odd threesome landed, none too gracefully, right in front of her, and an irritated Maligor hurled their captive at Melusine’s feet. It was Dandaela, and the dark bruise on Maligor’s cheek explained his lack of consideration for the black-haired temptress. Interesting, Melusine mused. I wouldn’t have thought she’d be much of a fighter.
“How dare you!” Dandaela shrieked.
Melusine wasn’t quite sure who the blonde temptress was yelling at, and she didn’t really care. Dandaela hadn’t carried her own weight for years, and with Pandaema out of the picture now, the moment seemed right to get rid of the useless angel once and for all.
“Do you even know where Holli is right now?” she demanded.
Dandaela drew herself upright and tried to affect an imperious pose.
“Is it any of your business, Melusine?” she sneered.
Melusine replied by smashing her fist into Dandaela’s face. The temptress cried out and dropped to her knees, and Melusine followed up her advantage by seizing a handful of butter-colored hair and using it to jerk the angel’s head back into a painful position.
“Where is Holli?” she repeated.
“I don’t know!” Dandaela wailed. “Let me go, Melusine, you’re hurting me! I don’t know!”
What a surprise. Dandaela never knew what was going on with her wretched charge, she never had. But there was one more thing Melusine needed to know before she decided what to do with her.
“Did you know about Pandaema?” she asked harshly. “Did you know she was trying to kill Christopher and Jami?”
Tears began to appear in Dandaela’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything.
“Tell me, or I’ll drain you dry right now!”
Melusine relented a little as the temptress started crying, and when she released her hold on the other’s hair, the angel collapsed in a sobbing heap.
“I… I didn’t know what to do! Pandaema wanted to try for all three of them, but I was afraid of Aliel. She’s so mean! And I was afraid that if the guardians stopped us, we’d get in trouble.” She paused and looked up at Melusine with reddened eyes. “Actually, I was afraid if they didn’t stop us, we’d get in trouble then too.”
She raised up her hands imploringly.
“I just told her to leave me out of it. So that’s all I know.”
Melusine nodded thoughtfully.
“But you didn’t tell me about what she was up to.”
“Why should I have? And Pandaema told me not to. Besides, I didn’t know she’d actually try anything.”
Melusine nodded again, and looked up at the white-golden brightness of the sun. It had no mercy, and neither would Lord Kaym if the children messed up his plans again. Melusine didn’t really have much against Dandaela, but in this particular instance, the lazy temptress could be a
real danger to her. She couldn’t afford to leave Holli unwatched, the girl might be shallow, but she had a childlike faith that was at times the most dangerous of all.
She reached her decision, and extended a hand to wipe away Dandaela’s tears.
“It’s not your fault, Danda. It’s just that you’re too stupid to live.”
The temptress eyes widened as Melusine’s black talons tore open her throat, exposing the green fire of her spirit. She screamed hoarsely, almost like a doomed mortal soul at the moment of its damnation, but her shrieks were soon cut off as Melusine stepped back and pointed at Boggie.
“Drain her,” she commanded.
“Me?” the little dryad gawked at her. He glanced over at Maligor, who only shrugged.
“Just do it,” Melusine told him. “Suck her dry. Now!”
She didn’t have to tell him again. The dryad’s eyes lit up and he leaped upon the convulsing body of the stricken angel. He latched onto Dandaela’s throat, and inhaled the green flames, growling and snarling as he ingested her meager power. It was only a matter of seconds before there was a soft bang, and Dandaela’s once-lovely form disappeared altogether.
Melusine grinned as Boggie lurched backwards and fell awkwardly on his backside, his eyes closed in dreamy satiation. Then his eyes popped open and green flames flared out of them. The startled dryad’s body swelled rapidly, and for a moment, Melusine feared that even Dandaela’s scanty spirit had been too much for the little demon. Then, as he mastered the fire, his features changed, and he stood before her, tall and well-formed. His skin was still bark-brown, and both his hair and his wings were leafy green, but he was beautiful now, a veritable god of the forest.
He bowed to her, and she leaned forward and kissed him on both cheeks.
“You need a new name,” she told him. “I don’t think Boggie quite cuts it anymore.”
He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth.
“Call me Boghorael,” he said. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Oh, it’s quite all right,” Melusine said with a thoughtful smile, running her hand over his powerful chest. “So tell me, Boghorael dear, is it possible that you might be partial to young blondes?”