by Jerel Law
Once they were all on the other side of the door, the voices grew louder. Jonah thought he heard three men, possibly four, talking loudly, occasionally laughing. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it sounded like some of them were arguing, while another was laughing at them.
He motioned for Eliza, Jeremiah, and David to move over beside him. They were standing directly outside of the room with the voices now, and Jonah had a strong sense that this was where they would find the prophet.
The door to the room was slightly ajar, and he could now see a group of men sitting around a table. Four very large, muscular men were in the middle of an apparently very important card game. Each one had a Mohawk of bright red down the center of his scalp. They had on black T-shirts and jeans, and identical leather sandals that wrapped around their ankles. Four long spears were leaning against the wall in the corner of the room.
One of the men played his cards, smiling wickedly, and the other three threw down their hands in disgust.
“Come on, Frank!” one of the men began to shout, standing up and pointing a finger in his face. “You won again! You’ve got to be cheating!”
Jonah watched the guy named Frank reach up lazily, grab the muscular man’s entire fist in his hand, and push him back down into his seat so hard that he toppled over backward. The other two laughed nervously.
“Come on, Frank,” one of them said. “He was just kidding.”
They were so busy arguing about their card game that they didn’t notice the quarterlings watching them through the cracked door.
Jonah couldn’t see what was on the other side of the room without opening the door wider. But if he did that, he was sure they would be spotted. He turned back to the others and took a few steps back from the door.
“There are four of them in there, playing cards together,” he said.
“Humans?” asked David.
Jonah raised his eyebrow. “I don’t know.”
David and Eliza both peered in now, studying them closely.
“The hair, the sandals,” muttered Eliza as she pulled her head back. “And the javelins. They remind anyone of anybody?”
“The bright red Mohawks . . . ,” David said slowly. Then he snapped his fingers. “Like the crest on a Roman soldier’s helmet!”
She nodded. “Roman soldiers.”
“How do you know they’re not just dudes with cool haircuts?” asked Jeremiah.
“They’re not glowing,” answered Jonah. “Since we’re in the hidden realm, we’d at least be able to see a faint glow inside them. If they were human.”
David whistled lowly. “Roman soldiers were fierce. They were some tough men. We need to be extra careful, guys.”
“But somehow we need to get them out of that room so we can see if they’re holding the prophet inside,” Eliza answered.
“How do we do that without getting caught?” piped up Jeremiah.
“I have an idea, but you’re going to have to trust me.”
She moved to the other side of the room. Grinning at them, she picked up a stapler on a desk, cocked her arm back, and threw it across the room.
It smashed into the wall, and Jonah watched as the four Roman soldiers immediately jumped up from their card game.
“What was . . . ?” one hissed, and Frank barked out orders. “Somebody’s in there. Go check it out! Get up! Now!”
Jonah stepped to the side of the door beside David, pushing Jeremiah back into a shadow against a row of shelves. One of the men shoved the door open, slamming it into the wall.
Eliza was already gone, back out of the other door and into the first room. Jonah heard another crash and knew that Eliza had thrown something else. At the sound of that, all three men, and even Frank, rushed into the room and through the next door, holding their javelins over their heads.
They pushed themselves even flatter against the wall. As the group disappeared from sight, Jonah knew that now was their chance.
“Come on!” he urged David and Jeremiah.
They rushed into the room. To the left was an African woman, her mouth covered in tape and her limbs tied to a chair so that her hands and feet were firmly fastened. The colorful dress and scarf she wore were covered in dirt and dust—it was just like in his dreams.
Jonah looked back over his shoulder at the door, then moved quickly toward her. It was definitely the street preacher who had seen him in the hidden realm in Chinatown.
Her eyes grew wide as she saw the three boys come toward her.
“Hey, are you all right?” Jonah asked, touching her on the shoulder gently. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
He pulled at the tape on her mouth, and her eyes squeezed shut at the pain of it ripping from her lips.
“So it’s you?” she said when she recovered, looking at Jonah with a mix of amazement and curiosity. “I remember seeing you on the street. There was something different about you . . . Elohim pointed you out to me.”
A bruise encircled her right eye, but even in this state, she smiled widely. “So you are the answer to my prayer? Well, Elohim always surprises. And this must be your little brother. You look just alike.”
Jeremiah smiled at her and waved.
“Hello, ma’am,” David said quietly.
She took David in. “And a fellow African for a hero as well?” She took his hand in hers and held it warmly.
There was so much Jonah wanted to ask her, so much he didn’t understand. How could she see them? How had her voice reached him across space and time—and duct tape, for that matter? But none of that was important at the moment. “Our sister has led those guys out of here. We need to get you out of this place before they come back.”
She was clearly weak and tired, but she nodded eagerly. Jonah used his angelblade to slice through the ropes with ease. The blade seemed to surprise her, but she made no comment as she pulled the bindings off her wrists and ankles, dropping them to the floor.
“Okay, we have to go, fast!” Jonah said, pulling her toward the door. All they needed was a couple of seconds and they’d be out of the warehouse.
That’s when they heard the sound of loud footsteps approaching. Jonah frantically searched for another exit, but he couldn’t find one. And they were coming through the door . . .
Two of the men walked back into the room.
“Hey!” one of them said to the prophet. “What are you doing? And who are you?”
The three boys stood beside the woman, facing the soldiers. One of them screamed a war cry and threw his javelin. Jonah swerved his head just in time to watch the spear jam into a wall and disappear.
“I told you guys,” the prophet said as she rubbed her wrists, with a calmness that amazed Jonah, “Elohim was going to rescue me, and there was nothing you could do about it. I think it’s about time we leave. What do you think, kids?”
Jonah caught David’s eye, and in unison they pulled arrows off their backs, strung them, and released. Seeing teenagers shooting angelic arrows must have caught the soldiers off guard for a split second, and they were left with no time to react. The flaming tips found their mark.
For a moment, they sat squarely in their chests as the soldiers looked down at them. And then the Romans simply began to fall apart, as if they were made of crusty clay. An arm fell off, then a leg, another arm. Finally their heads hit the floor, and the rest of them collapsed in a heap.
“Ew, gross!” said Jeremiah.
Jonah looked at them in pieces on the ground. “Glad Eliza didn’t have to see that.”
Jeremiah grabbed the prophet’s hand, and they moved quickly through the next room and back onto the street. Jonah searched back and forth along the street for Eliza.
There was no sign of her.
“Eliza!” he called out. “E! Where are you?”
Jeremiah did the same.
“I’ve got you now!” The voice echoed around the corner of the building. “Come here, you . . .”
Jonah ran around the
corner of the building to find Eliza trapped against a chain-link fence at the end of a small alley. A thug with a red Mohawk was walking toward his catch.
Jonah summoned all of the angel strength he had and ran toward the man, slamming his shoulder directly into his back. The impact sent Eliza’s attacker through the air, landing against the fence right beside her. He crumpled to the ground, holding his head, dazed. The flash of Jonah’s angelblade lit up the alleyway as it tore through the Roman soldier. They watched as he fell apart, just as the others had.
“Disgusting,” said Eliza, backing away from the mess.
“Told you she wouldn’t like that,” said Jonah, smirking, as they rushed over to her.
“Are you okay, sis?” asked Jeremiah.
“Never better,” she said, smiling. “Good plan, huh?”
They nodded together.
“You didn’t forget about me, did you?”
The voice had come from behind them. They turned to find themselves face-to-face with the last soldier. Jonah saw the coldness of death in his eyes.
“Hi, Frank,” he said. “You’re not gonna fall apart like your friends, are you?”
The soldier smiled and tossed his javelin from one hand to the other, ready for a fight. “I don’t think you’ll find me as easy to manage, boy.”
Jonah had his hand at his side, ready to unsheathe the angelblade, but Jeremiah spoke up.
“Let me take care of this, guys.”
Jeremiah stepped forward, and as he did, Jonah saw him bow his head slightly, and the silver belt of truth appeared again around his waist. Jonah was impressed that he was already learning how to make it appear.
He moved toward the Mohawked Roman, staring him down as he walked.
The soldier chuckled. “This is who you’re sending to fight me?”
But this didn’t faze Jeremiah. He continued walking and raised his voice loud enough that everyone could hear.
“The truth is, because of Elohim, there is more power in a little guy like me than a thousand of you!”
The soldier couldn’t help but begin to laugh. But in a split second, his laughter, and all of the rest of him, was erased by a loud crack, and an invisible wave that erupted from the belt hit him.
He froze, then toppled over, falling to pieces on the asphalt street.
TWENTY-SEVEN
A TROUBLING MESSAGE
Streaks of faint light were beginning to break across the sky. It would be daybreak soon. Jonah looked up and down the street, making sure they were alone.
“Hi, I’m Jonah,” he said, extending his hand to the prophet. She smiled and took his hand in both of hers, squeezing it firmly as he said, “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard your voice in my head for a long time.”
“Ah . . . that explains some of this,” she replied. “My name is Abigail Honsou.”
Eliza, Jeremiah, and David also introduced themselves, and she shook their hands warmly, thanking them for their daring rescue.
They began to walk back down the street, retracing the path they had taken to get to the warehouse. Jonah quickly told her their story, and then finally had a few minutes to ask her the question he’d been trying to figure out.
“So how did you talk to me?” he asked. “How did you know to . . . get in touch . . . or whatever, with me? Do you have some special prophet powers or something?”
Abigail chuckled, eyeing him as they walked along. “Do you really think I was calling out to you?”
“What do you mean?” he said, confused by her question. “I heard you talking to me.”
“Yes, but did you ever hear me call out your name?” she asked. “The first time I learned your name is Jonah was a few moments ago.” Her eyes twinkled at him.
Now Jonah was really confused. “But how . . . Why did . . . ?” He couldn’t complete his thoughts, much less his sentences.
Abigail placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jonah,” she said, “do you believe in the power of prayer?”
“Sure,” he said.
“And that Elohim answers every prayer that comes His way?”
“Yeah. I really do. I mean, I guess sometimes the answers aren’t what we want, but, sure, I believe He answers them.”
“Well Jonah,” Abigail smiled, “thank you for being the answer to my prayer.”
He shook his head in wonder, picturing Abigail tied up in her chair, tape over her mouth, calling out to Elohim for help. Of course she couldn’t somehow mentally contact Jonah. But she had cried out to Elohim, and He had answered her.
And His answer came in the form of Jonah.
He wondered what would have happened if he had decided to just ignore the voice inside him telling him to act.
Jonah thought for a minute more. “I saw you.”
She turned to him, intrigued by this. “What do you mean?”
“Like . . . a vision,” he said, looking away. “A few times. In dreams.”
“Has this happened to you before?” she asked, clearly curious. “Yes,” he answered. “Last year, when we were looking for my mother. She had been kidnapped by Abaddon’s right-hand man.” “Hmm.” She nodded thoughtfully but said nothing else.
“How long were you there?” asked Eliza, jumping into their conversation.
“Almost two days,” Abigail said. Jonah could hear the weariness in her voice now. “I was on the street in Chinatown, preaching as I normally do. I have some . . .” She paused. “Special gifts. I am a prophet of Elohim, after all. But no one has ever bothered me before. Suddenly, though, I was taken, snatched right up off the street in the middle of a crowd of people. Not one of them did a thing to stop it.”
“And then you were taken to the warehouse?” asked Eliza.
Abigail closed her eyes, nodding. “Yes. I must have passed out from the shock of it all. But when I woke up, I was tied to that chair just like you saw me in there.”
“So you can see into the hidden realm?” Jonah said, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. “You saw us today, but you also saw me and Eliza that day on the street, didn’t you? And you obviously saw your kidnappers.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh yes. Like I said, there are certain gifts that some prophets of Elohim have. That’s one of mine.”
Jonah wanted to ask her about her other gifts, but she suddenly stopped on the street corner. “Well, I’ve never seen that before.”
The street ahead was empty, except for a few joggers, so Jonah bowed his head and popped into the hidden realm. Immediately, a tall funnel of whirling wind appeared in front of him. It stretched up into the clouds above, but it didn’t make a sound. While he was staring at the funnel, Jonah sensed the others slide into the hidden realm beside him.
“Do you think it’s . . . ,” said Eliza.
“An Angelic Vortex,” answered David. He looked at her. “What else could it be?”
“Maybe someone wants to talk to us,” said Jeremiah. Jonah glanced at Eliza and David, and shrugged his shoulders.
They crossed the street, approaching the funnel slowly. Jeremiah grabbed Jonah’s and Eliza’s hands, and Eliza extended her other to David. He and Jonah clasped hands with Abigail. Then they all took one big step through the funnel wall.
After momentarily losing the ability to see anything and feeling a rush of wind, they found themselves standing in the center of the cyclone.
“Wow,” said Abigail. “Impressive.”
“Totally awesome!” agreed Jeremiah.
They were looking at an image that had formed on the inner wall. An angel had his back turned to them, clearly distracted by what was going on in the distance. He fired one arrow, and then another, ducking, and then crouching down behind a steel trash can. The chaos of battle was erupting around him.
Jonah knew who it was before he turned around.
“Henry!” he called out. “Henry! Can you hear us?”
Henry, their old guardian angel, turned around, clearly frazzled by the battle raging around him. “Jonah, Eliza, Je
remiah— is that you?” He craned his neck toward them as if it were hard to see. “It is! Excellent. I’ve been trying to reach you for some time now. We figured your approximate location, but without an angel with you, we had no way of direct communication. Glad you saw the funnel.”
Eliza spoke up. “Henry, where are you? What is going on?”
Henry ducked down again, and behind him they could see angels and the Fallen fighting one another. There were also people who appeared to be human, but it was impossible to tell. He looked over his shoulder before he spoke again.
“As you can see,” said Henry, somehow managing his typical smile, “we’re under quite an attack by the Fallen. They’ve—” An explosion ripped through the background, and his lips continued to move, but they couldn’t make out what he was saying. Other noises from the battle began to fill their ears. Apparently Henry’s location was being overrun.
“Hope for reinforcements, but . . . Abaddon’s forces are . . . prayer barrier didn’t hold . . . quarterlings fell asleep . . .”
“Henry!” Jonah said. “We can’t hear you very well.”
But he kept right on trying to talk.
“I guess he can’t hear us very well either,” said Eliza, and then yelled, “Henry!”
All of the sound was gone now. The screen began to flicker in and out. They watched as Henry looked over his shoulder again, and either dove—or fell—to the ground. It was impossible to tell which.
Then the image was gone. The swirling cone suddenly stopped turning, and within seconds all was still.
“Henry looks like he’s in trouble,” said Jeremiah slowly. “We need to go help him.”
“Worse than that,” Eliza said, “it’s obvious he was at the convent. Did you see the building in the background?”
Jonah grimaced. “It looked the same as the brick building across the street.”
“Did you catch what he said? The prayer barrier didn’t hold,” said David. “Did he say that some of the quarterlings fell asleep?”