Fire Prophet (Son of Angels)

by Jerel Law

  Dagon seemed momentarily surprised she could see him. But then he smirked again. “I’m sorry. And you are?”

  “I am Abigail Honsou. Preacher sent to the streets of this great city.” She paused, her eyes glimmering. “And prophet of Elohim.”

  If this impressed Dagon, or worried him, he didn’t show it. “Ah, yes. Aren’t you the one we kidnapped? Don’t you know that if I wanted to, I could order my associates here to kill you right now?”

  “And if I wanted to,” she countered, “I could ask Elohim, and He would destroy you all.”

  Dagon seemed amused, but she had gotten his attention. “Obviously, prophet, you can see into the hidden realm. So you know that you are outnumbered no less than five hundred to one.”

  Abigail stepped forward with a confidence that amazed Jonah. “If that’s true, then you won’t be opposed to a test of sorts. Surely you believe that Abaddon is more powerful than Elohim, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  Dagon snarled, the smile vanishing from his face. “This world belongs to Abaddon. He is all-powerful.” The fallen ones jeered loudly, voicing their approval. “But go away, woman. I don’t have time for your tests.”

  “It sounds to me like you don’t believe in that power, Dagon,” she said. “Not enough to put it to the test, anyway. Maybe your Abaddon is not as strong as you pretend he is.”

  “Let’s kill her, Dagon!” came a shout from one of the fallen horde. Others yelled their agreement. “Send her to her grave!”

  The fallen angel held up his hand for them to be silent.

  “Why shouldn’t they see?” he finally said. “Why shouldn’t they receive a full glimpse of the power of Abaddon, raining down upon them?”

  Dagon turned to face the prophet, ignoring the nephilim and quarterlings for now. “Very well, prophet,” he sneered.

  Abigail nodded.

  “I propose that you call on the power of Abaddon,” she said. “Call on him to bring his power down from the skies. If he’s as powerful as you say he is, I’m sure this will be no problem for him. To prove I’m serious, I’ll even offer myself up as a sacrifice.”

  “Abigail, no!” Eliza screamed. Abigail held up her hand to Eliza, ignoring her plea.

  “Abaddon is from the pit of fire,” she continued. “Call on him to rain his fire down and consume me. Let’s see what he can do.”

  Dagon laughed again. “Have it your way.”

  He raised his hands up in the air, closing his eyes. At once, all of the fallen angels fell to their knees. Dagon murmured words that Jonah could not make out, but he knew that he was summoning Abaddon.

  Jonah swallowed hard, wanting to be faithful, trying to will himself to trust. But inside he began to feel cold and dark, as if some weight were pulling him down.

  Then, up above, a hooded figure suddenly appeared on the ledge of the building across the street.

  “It’s him,” Jonah said. One by one, the quarterlings and nephilim looked up fearfully. The human parents, nuns, and Kareem just looked around, confused, unable to see what was happening.

  The presence of the Evil One himself sent an invisible wave of fear and darkness over the edge of the building. As Jonah watched him, he felt the last drops of what hope he had left leak out. He was dry.

  Dagon’s voice had turned into a gravelly whisper.

  “My Master, rain down your power now,” he urged. “Bring all your power to bear on this insolent follower of Elohim. Do not let her challenge to you go unanswered, this mere human.”

  He continued calling on the power of Abaddon more and more urgently.

  Jonah peeked up at the figure standing above them. He seemed to be basking in the calls of his followers. And then he raised both of his arms upward to the sky. Abaddon’s hands began to glow a deep red. Jonah braced himself for what was coming.

  But suddenly, the tendrils of white light coming from Abigail, Benjamin, Kareem, and the praying nuns shifted until they were pointed directly at Abaddon. They were joined with snakes of light that were falling from the sky, and they met in front of his glowing hands. Jonah sensed that Elohim was answering.

  “Are you almost finished?” the prophet said to Dagon. “He’s right there. Can’t he hear you?”

  Jonah strained to see Abaddon’s face, but it was hidden underneath his hood. His arms remained outstretched. But the white light of the prayers seemed to be constricting him. His arms started to tremble and shake. Jonah could see his hands clawing, straining with anger to call his power down upon the prophet.

  But nothing was happening.

  Then Jonah saw Abaddon tilt his head upward into the sky and utter something toward the clouds above. And suddenly, the Evil One spun around, moved back from the ledge, and disappeared from sight.

  Dagon, who had been egging on his master, stopped in midsentence. He stared at the place where Abaddon had disappeared and then looked toward the prophet. Jonah saw the confusion on his face slowly turn into the realization that he and his evil horde had been abandoned.

  Suddenly, he pulled a fiery blade out and screamed in rage. Jonah couldn’t tell if it was out of anger at them or at being left behind. The fallen troops behind him were on their feet now, raising their weapons too.

  Their leader may have disappeared, but there were still enough of the Fallen to easily destroy the nephilim and quarterlings.

  Jonah knew what he had to do. He moved over in front of Abigail, raising his sword in front of his face. Eliza quickly stepped over to join him, her shield blazing. And then, moving as one, the rest of the nephilim and quarterlings joined them, forming a wall of protection in front of the prophet. Jonah nodded at his parents, his brother and sister, and his friends, all of them standing together, united against the dark forces.

  Their last, desperate stand would be here, protecting this prophet of Elohim together.

  Dagon ordered the troops to charge, but the prophet remained focused. She bowed her head and raised her hands to the heavens.

  The first wave of fallen angels flew toward them, but her voice carried above the battle.

  “Elohim, Creator of all, You alone are all-powerful and in control of our world. God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, answer me today, answer me and my friends here. Make Your power visible today for the glory of Your name!”

  Dagon and the horde of fallen angels were almost on top of them, both flying through the air and scuttling along the ground, their black wings hurtling them forward. All Jonah could hear as he braced himself for their charge was their bloodthirsty roar. The black wave, dotted with hate-filled yellow eyes, was about to crash on top of them.

  His family and his friends were going to be overrun . . .

  But not without a fight.

  Jonah was ready to swing his angelblade when he saw the sky literally tear open and begin to roll up like a window shade that had been snapped. Behind the blue morning sky appeared an army that stretched as far as he could see in any direction. Soldiers on foot, wielding blades and spears, and men on horses with their hooves pawing at the air. Chariots, drawn by mighty steeds.

  And all of them made out of fire.

  There must have been thousands of them, all swirling flame, causing the atmosphere to explode with red, yellow, and orange. The heavens were ablaze. Jonah realized that the rest of the quarterlings and nephilim were looking up at the sky now too. In unison, they let their weapons fall.

  The Fallen were the only ones who didn’t see the blazing sky above. Until it was too late. The army of fire fell down upon them in a furious blast of flame.

  They landed all around Jonah, Abigail, and the rest, creating a wall of protection between them and the fallen angels, flames swirling around them.

  The Fallen howled in rage, thrashing themselves around, trying to escape. But in their desperation they only slowed each other down. The soldiers swung their swords of fire, consuming the awful creatures. Some roared with fury and turned to fight, but they were no match for the army of fire and were quickly turne
d into piles of dust.

  Within seconds, Dagon and the dark angels were no more.

  Jonah had his arms raised in front of his eyes, guarding himself against the burning tongues of fire. When he lowered his hands as the battle grew quiet, he saw the army of fire departing as quickly as they had appeared, riding back up into the air. The blue morning sky folded back over them as the last of the chariots disappeared from view.

  They were all catching their breath when Roger Clamwater stepped forward, having finally pulled himself up from where he’d been thrown by Dagon. Rupert approached him slowly. Roger looked miserable and ashamed. But his eyes were clear, and his back was empty.

  Rupert embraced his father. They began to speak softly to each other.

  “Look!” said Jeremiah, pointing upward. “More fire!”

  Jonah’s and Eliza’s eyes turned up to the sky. It wasn’t a soldier, but one solitary flame, descending slowly in beautiful shades of orange and pink. Abigail was looking up at it intently.

  Suddenly, she turned toward Jonah and grabbed him by both shoulders, her face inches from his.

  “Look at me, Jonah, and listen,” she said, her commanding voice drawing his full attention. “Months ago, when I saw you on the street, I gave you two things—a word of encouragement and a warning. Elohim will use you for great things. Yes, I am sure of it. He already has.”

  Jonah looked down, humbled by her words. “I hope so.”

  She gave him a knowing nod and a smile, but her brow quickly furrowed. Glancing up at the sky, she continued, “But also, know this—you are in grave danger, Jonah Stone. Your very life, and the lives of your family, are at stake. Be very careful. Stay close to Elohim. Watch out for that devil. He knows who you are. But Elohim is greater. We have already won the ultimate battle.”

  “I will,” Jonah said. “You can count on it.”

  Abigail beamed at him. “There’s another thing too. Remember on the street, back in Chinatown, as I was speaking Elohim’s word—do you remember how your chest began to glow brighter and brighter?”

  “Yes,” he said. His chest had felt almost like it would catch fire. “I do.”

  “Well,” she said, “that’s a sure sign of something—you’re like me. A connection all of us share. Those of us who are prophets of Elohim.”

  Jonah’s mouth dropped open.

  “I’m . . . a prophet? Like you?” he said. “So the visions . . . the dreams I’ve had in the past . . .”

  “Those visions and dreams you have can sometimes tell you what others struggle to see. Other times, they can tell you what is happening, even if you are not there to witness those things yourself . . . and sometimes maybe even what could happen, if certain things come to pass. There are even times when you will receive information from Elohim that not even the angels know. It is a wonderful, terrifying thing, this gift we share. But there is no mistake— you are a prophet, Jonah Stone.”

  She eyed the flame descending toward her, growing closer and closer. Her voice sounded tired, but satisfied. “Your time has just begun. But now, mine is finished. Elohim has accomplished what He wanted through His servant. And I am ready. So very ready to go home to Him.”

  Tears formed in her eyes as Abigail smiled at Jonah, squeezed his shoulders tightly, and then walked over to the middle of the street, turning her eyes upward again. She raised her hands in the air and closed her eyes, a look of pure peace on her face.

  The flame descended over her, hovered for a second, and then enveloped her entirely. The last Jonah saw of Abigail were her eyes, opening wide, with a look of both surprise—and delight. As if she had just seen something better than she’d ever imagined.

  And then, like a breeze snuffs out a candle, she was gone.

  THIRTY

  MESSENGERS

  Benjamin and Eleanor embraced their kids on the sidewalk. The five members of the Stone family stood huddled together.

  “Kids,” Benjamin said, “when we heard that there was an attack here, that they had discovered your location, we had to come. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Eliza said, hugging her dad again. “But we all could have been killed, you know.”

  “As long as the three of you are safe,” said Eleanor, rubbing her daughter’s back, “your father and I would gladly pay any price.”

  It wasn’t long before Jeremiah was telling a very dramatic version of their rescue of the prophet, which kept his parents spellbound and chuckling at the same time. Eventually the adults gathered together with the nuns, Kareem, and the Clamwaters. After talking for some time, they all knelt together in prayer.

  Jonah was sitting on the sidewalk, watching the group with David and Eliza. They were busy rehashing the battle, but Jonah had been quiet, shaken by Abigail’s words, and even more by her departure.

  “Watch this, guys,” David said, pulling Jonah out of his own thoughts. He nodded toward Roger and Rupert Clamwater, who were speaking with Benjamin. They nodded, and then knelt together in the middle of the street.

  Another kid walked up and said something to Benjamin. Jonah watched as his father smiled kindly and spoke to him. Soon he was kneeling down with the others.

  “It’s Frederick,” said Jonah in amazement.

  As they prayed, Jonah and the others couldn’t resist entering the hidden realm to see the beautiful white tendrils of light again, and this time they saw Roger’s, Rupert’s, and Frederick’s bodies suddenly take on a glow, the same glow that all followers of Elohim have. In that instant, as they surrendered themselves to the loving Father, they moved into the Light.

  “This is what this fight is all about, you know,” said David. “It’s what we are here for. This is the battle, right in front of us, being won.”

  “Remember the prophet Elijah?” asked Eliza.

  Jonah nodded. “A little. Wasn’t he the guy who—”

  “Called Elohim’s fire down from heaven.” She smiled. “It burned up the altar that he’d built.”

  “And the prophets of the evil one were put to death,” David added.

  “Yep, and then the Bible says that he didn’t just die like a normal person. He was taken up into heaven in a chariot made of fire.” She raised her eyebrows at them, the connection to Abigail obvious.

  “She was just like Elijah,” Jonah murmured.

  Jonah walked over to the place where the prophet had been standing only minutes before. There was something on the ground. He bent over, feeling the heat come off the asphalt, still hot from the flames. A piece of cloth lay there, all the colors of the rainbow represented in it.

  “It’s Abigail’s scarf,” he said, holding it up for Eliza to see. “All that’s left of her.”

  “Just like Elijah’s cloak,” Eliza said. Jonah folded it up neatly and pushed it into his back pocket. He wanted to remember her.

  Jonah, Eliza, and David slipped out of the hidden realm and walked over to join the other quarterlings, who were gathered together in front of the convent doors. Bridget and Lania were loudly congratulating everyone. Carlo was high-fiving every quarterling and nephilim he could, and Andre was walking around slapping his friends on the back. Ruth gave her brother a big, tearful hug. Even Hai Ling had joined in with the others and wore a smile on her face. Kareem and some of the nuns had come over and were speaking with them.

  Julia stepped forward and hugged Jonah. He felt blood rush to his face, but he didn’t push her away.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” she said, looking up into his eyes. As if suddenly realizing everyone was watching, she stepped back with the other quarterlings.

  “Thanks,” he said shyly. “You too.”

  Jonah greeted the others, and soon they were telling and retelling the stories of their battle with the Fallen. Everyone had fought hard. Frederick stood on the outside of the circle, staring quietly into the street.

  Jonah excused himself from the others and walked toward him, clearing his throat.

  “Hey, Freder
ick,” he said. “Just wanted to say . . . thanks. Thanks again. You saved my life back there.”

  All of the arrogance was gone from Frederick’s face. He nodded, shifting his feet, his hands stuffed deeply in his pockets.

  “I figured you’d have had my back out there too,” he finally said. He smiled, and they slapped hands together.

  “And hey, I saw what happened,” said Jonah. “There on the street. That was really cool. Congratulations.”

  Frederick looked at him squarely. “After what I’ve seen today, I’d be crazy not to give my life over to Elohim. I figured it was time to get on the right side of this battle.”

  Jonah nodded, and they walked over to congratulate the others.

  But the thought of the fate of the angels dampened their celebration. Camilla, Marcus, Taryn, Samuel, and Henry were all gone. Crushed into white powder by the fallen angels. What would they do without their instructors and their protectors?

  Then, right before their eyes, in the middle of the street, an angel stepped into view. Like she had moved through an invisible doorway. She had a starry haze around her, different from the warrior angels or the guardian angels Jonah was used to seeing. Her massive wings were spread wide. She wore no angelic armor and had no visible weaponry. Jonah wasn’t sure what it was, but the air around her seemed to ripple, glittering with different colors as it shifted, picking up on the sunlight like a prism.

  Four more of these angels stepped out of thin air right behind her.

  The first angel stood in front of the quarterlings, who had stopped their conversations in midsentence, staring at her.

  She smiled and bowed deeply. “I am Elizabeth, a messenger angel sent by Gabriel for your service. We serve at the pleasure of our Lord Elohim. I have a message for you.”

  The students stood in front of the angels, hanging on every word from her lips.

  “Well done, good and faithful servants,” she declared. “You have served faithfully and withstood the attacks of the Evil One.

  “But there is another message I have for you all,” she continued. Her voice suddenly sounded grave. “You are not safe here for long. The Fallen know where you are, and they will regroup. You must come with us at once. Your instructors and protectors will join you.”