“Thank you, but you love your daddy too.”
“Uh-huh.”
Marcus’s face turned ashen. A second later there was a flash of light and the room and the posters materialized around the three of them again.
“He’s the king of regret. Or maybe the emperor.” Brandon put his hands on his hips.
“You would be too,” Dana said.
“We need to destroy those posters. Any ideas how?”
“This one is yours to figure out.” Reece took a step back and folded his arms.
“Do we get a clue?” Brandon said.
“What would you use if you were in the physical world?”
Brandon glanced around the room. “Ripping the posters to shreds wouldn’t be enough. They need to burn. I’d toss them all in your fire pit.”
“But since we don’t have that at our disposal . . .”
Brandon held up his hands as if he held a bazooka. “A flamethrower.”
“Then make it happen.”
Brandon smiled at Reece, then closed his eyes and held out his arms, palms up. A ball of flame appeared in each of Brandon’s hands. “Yeah, now we’re talking.” He flung the balls of fire at the posters on the far wall. They struck the center of the wall and instantly exploded into flames.
“Yes!” Brandon gave a fist pump but a second later his arm went limp.
Once the flames died out, the posters and the frames were exactly the same as they had been. There was no damage.
“More power, Lord,” Dana said. This had to work.
“Let’s go again,” Brandon said. This time the balls in his hand were half again as big and glowed with the intensity of a star. He heaved one of the fireballs at the screen and the explosion engulfed the entire wall. Seconds later the posters and frames caught fire and burned hot and bright.
“Strike one.” Brandon transferred the ball of fire in his left hand to his right, wound up, and threw the second ball with the speed of lightning at the wall across from them with the same result as the first wall.
“Strike two.”
The third ball of fire struck the wall to their left and within three minutes all that was left of the posters were a few charred pieces of framing and a bit of lingering smoke.
“Is it finished?” Reece asked.
“Strike three, game over.” Brandon grinned. “Freedom for Marcus, baby.”
“Is it time to go then?”
Dana stared at the smoldering hardware, a glitch gnawing at her mind.
Brandon danced. “We’re outta here. Victory party is next. The professor is buying.”
He and Reece walked out of the room and down the hall, and Dana followed a few steps behind. The door closed behind them on its own. The gnawing grew. After a few paces she stopped.
Reece spun. “Is something wrong, Dana?”
“I don’t know.” Dana jerked her thumb back toward the door they’d just stepped out of. “But something feels off. That was easy. Way too easy. And I didn’t feel any peace in that room when we left. Only sorrow.”
“I agree.”
Brandon spun around and half walked, half hopped down the hall back to Dana, his Adidas sneakers squeaking on the floor of the hallway. “What are you talking about? We find the room, we call on God’s power, he comes through with fire, everything burns, posters are destroyed, and you’re saying it was too easy?”
“The resistance we had at first didn’t slow us down for more than a minute.”
“And that’s a problem, why?”
Dana looked at Reece. “We didn’t destroy anything, did we?”
“Hello.” Brandon raised his arms. “We destroyed everything. Touchdown. Grand slam.”
“There’s an easy way to find out.” Reece motioned toward the door. “Let’s go back and make sure.”
They clipped back over the twenty feet they’d just covered. Reece reached the door first and pushed it open. Dana stepped through the door and stared at the room. Even though part of her had expected it, it still felt strange. All the posters were back on the walls. The smell of smoke had vanished. There was no evidence they’d ever been inside the room.
“This is impossible.” Brandon opened his palm and a ball of fire materialized instantly. “Fine. Let’s go again.”
“Let’s not,” Reece said.
Brandon set up like a major league pitcher standing on the mound for the World Series. “This time not even the room will stay standing.”
“It won’t do any good,” Dana said.
Brandon ignored her comment and heaved the fireball at the center of the wall across from them. The posters along the entire wall were consumed in an instant. And an instant later the posters all returned.
He turned and stared at Reece. “Am I missing something here?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you see, Brandon?” Dana asked. “Destroying the posters does nothing. That’s like cutting off the top of a dandelion and expecting the root to die. We have to destroy the content.” She paused and looked at Reece. “Where the content comes from.”
“Exactly.” Reece uncrossed his arms.
“Why didn’t you tell us this at the start?” Brandon said.
“This is your mission, not mine.”
“But you could have clued us in on what would happen in this room.”
“Hearing is one way of learning. Experiencing is another. The latter is the more powerful of the two by far.”
Brandon glanced around the room. “It has to be here somewhere.”
“No. The content comes from somewhere else. Deeper. Hidden. Protected.” Dana spun in a slow circle, gazing at every inch of the room. But where?
She circled the room, pausing at certain spots, touching the wall with her fingers. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but if there was a time to start trusting the Spirit to tell her, it would be now. Help me.
As she circled the room a second time, she sensed something in the far wall. Wait. Not in the wall, it was at her feet. She stomped with her foot and a hollow muffled sound came back to her.
She motioned Brandon and Reece over. They peeled back the carpet, which revealed a small door. Dana opened it. A steep staircase descended far enough that the light from the room they kneeled in didn’t show the bottom of the shaft. The walls were dark gray and the smell of thousand-year-old books wafted up at them.
“Who wants to go down the creepy, smelly staircase into God only knows what?” Brandon said.
“I’m going,” Dana said.
“I’m with you.” Reece stared at Brandon.
“Why not?” Brandon shrugged. “It’s not like we have the chance of bumping into anything, say, demonic. Right?”
Dana scanned the top of the staircase for a light switch but there was none. She took a deep breath and descended as Brandon’s voice called out behind her.
“Looks like our buddy Marcus has some pretty dark places in his soul.”
“Like all of us,” Reece muttered.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Dana found herself in an area the size of a cramped elevator shaft. The only door was to her right. She waited till Reece and Brandon stood beside her, then she pushed the door with her foot. It creaked open and bright light flooded them at the bottom of the staircase. In front of them was a tastefully furnished room about the size of a hotel lobby. Wood paneling covered the walls, and wall sconces were fixed every few feet.
A small fountain in the center of the room bubbled with liquid that looked almost transparent. A few men and women meandered through the room, entering and exiting from doors on either side. They smiled at the three as they passed.
“This is not what I was expecting to find.” Dana glanced at the others.
“No kidding,” Brandon said.
Dana glanced around the room. “See that door on the other side of the room? My guess is Marcus’s content is coming from whatever is behind that door.”
“How do you know that?” Brandon said. “T
he Spirit is talking to you again, huh?”
“No. Deductive reasoning, Sherlock. That’s the only door with someone guarding it.”
An elderly man stood in front of the door. He didn’t have a beard, but he still looked like his December activity should be playing Santa at Macy’s.
“I wouldn’t call that guy a guard. Unless he takes a whack at you with a candy cane.”
“Good. Then it shouldn’t be difficult to get inside.” But something told Dana it would not be easy. “Should we all go?” She glanced at Reece.
“Yes. Remember, stick together whenever possible.”
Halfway across the room the man noticed them and looked up. He smiled and waved them closer. “Hello! Welcome. So good to see you. How may I help you on this fine day?”
They stopped a few feet from the man.
“We need to see what’s behind that door.” Dana pointed over his shoulder. From across the room it had looked like an innocuous six-paneled door that would be found in millions of homes across America. But close up it had changed. It was made of iron, triple bolted, and barred.
“This door?” The man turned and pointed behind him.
“Yes,” Brandon said.
Santa shook his head like he was a bobblehead doll. “I don’t think you mean this door. No, I don’t.” He smiled. “But if you’d like to have a look around the reception area, please feel free to do so. I’ll be right here if you have any questions.” He pointed to the floor at his feet and laughed and his belly shook.
“Yes, that’s the door we mean.” Reece took a step closer to the man.
Santa’s smile grew bigger. “No, no. You mean some other door. I’m sure of it.” He waved his hand and arm around the room. “Look at all the fine doors we have available. There are many others to choose from that I’m sure will suit you quite well.”
“We need to get inside that room behind you,” Reece said as he stepped forward.
“Yes, I’m sure you think you do, and golly, I sure wish I could let you in, but oh so regretfully, it simply cannot be allowed. No one has a key to get in except Marcus. Do you know Marcus? He’s such a good friend. I would never do anything that might upset him.”
Reece wagged his finger. “He won’t be upset about us going inside.”
“I believe it would upset him. I’m quite sure of that. Quite sure. Marcus and I have known each other for a long, long time, and I know how he feels about most things.” The man clasped his hands over his ample stomach.
“No, I don’t think you do. We need the key.”
“That I have, of course. But I’ve promised him I won’t open the door for anyone but him. But I sure don’t mind telling him you stopped by. Can I do that for you? Very happy to do that.”
“We’re friends of his.” Brandon forced a smile. “He said we could go in.”
The man shook his head. “Oh no, he didn’t. I’m sure of that.”
“How can you be so sure?” Dana asked.
The smile vanished from the man’s face. “Marcus doesn’t tell anyone about this room. I make certain.”
“He told us about it.” Reece turned to Brandon and her and mouthed the word, “Pray.”
The man stroked his chin and his smile returned. “I’m not going to be able to persuade you to leave, am I?”
“No,” Dana said.
“I see.” The man lifted his left hand in a flash and an invisible wall slammed into Dana’s chest, and she flew backward halfway across the room. She pulled in a ragged breath and looked for Reece and Brandon. They lay next to her, both gasping for air, Brandon’s eyes wide, Reece’s narrow. Reece stood and helped Dana to her feet. She continued to pray but no solutions came.
Santa leaned against the wall next to the door. “Good-bye. You’re going now, aren’t you?”
She turned to Reece. “I know you’re letting us lead this time, but I’m out of ideas and I’m not getting anything from the Spirit.”
“Okay.” Reece draped his arms around Brandon’s and her shoulders and pulled them close. “Santa is the gatekeeper so you’ve assumed he has the keys to the door. But I think the door is an illusion. We don’t need keys; we simply need to step through the door.”
Brandon snorted. “Kris Kringle there isn’t an illusion. His blasting us across the room isn’t an illusion.”
“True, but at least it means we don’t have to worry about a key or about opening the door if it doesn’t exist. We can concentrate on the guard.”
“And how exactly will we get by Santa-man?”
Reece closed his eyes and opened them a moment later. “Hebrews chapter 1, verse 14.”
“We’re going to quote that to him?”
“No, we’re going to do what the verse says.”
Dana tried to recall what the chapter was about. “Tell us.”
“’Isn’t it obvious that all angels are sent to help out with those lined up to receive salvation?’”
“It’s not obvious to me.” Dana glanced toward the door. “So what’s the verse?” She looked at Brandon’s face, which told her he didn’t know the Scripture either.
“That is the verse.” Reece pulled them closer.
The floor shook and they glanced up to see Santa-man strolling toward them. “You couldn’t take a hint, could you? I tried to be kind, I truly did, but kindness is gone now.” He glanced at his wrist, which had no watch on it. “So you have about fifteen seconds before I demonstrate what real pain is.”
His rubber shoes padded on the marble floor as he continued to amble toward them. Reece grabbed their hands like they were in a vise and yanked them back a step. “Pray with me!”
“We don’t have time to pray—” Brandon yelled back.
Santa was within twenty feet, his arms reaching toward them, laughter chugging out of his mouth.
“Praying is all we have time for!”
They stumbled back another two steps.
“We summon your angels, Father, by the authority you’ve given us in Christ. Bring them now to war for us.”
Light filled the room and the walls shook as two massive warriors appeared, their backs to the three of them, swords in their hands. Santa-man’s eyes narrowed and in seconds his hair turned black and his body morphed to seven feet tall, thick muscles bulging from his neck and arms.
“You have no right to be here.” The demon guarding the door raised a foot-long knife and spun it in his hand.
“We have every right.”
“He’s agreed with me on every regret I’ve planted. He’s savored them. Meditated on them. They’ve seeped into the deepest parts of his soul. They’ll live on with or without me.”
The angel on the left took two steps forward. “Then destroying you might be a waste of time.”
The demon stared at him, the light around him seemingly swallowed by his eyes.
“But”—the angel glanced at the other warrior to his right—“it is a chance we’re willing to take.”
The two blazing angels leapt at the demon, who screeched a guttural cry as his knife flashed toward the first angel’s throat. The clash of blade on blade rang through the room for only seconds before the two angels straddled the still form of the demon on the ground, its head sliced from its body. The warrior on the right turned and gave Dana a slight nod. Then he, the other angel, and the demon vanished.
Dana shuddered and looked at the others. Reece had no expression but Brandon massaged the sides of his head with both hands. “Wow. Wow. Wow.”
“No time to debrief. Sorry.” Reece took two strides forward. “We need to keep moving.” He dragged them across the room and stopped in front of the door. “Ready?”
Dana stared at the door. It hadn’t changed. The bars were still on it. An illusion? She didn’t think so. Reece didn’t hesitate and stepped through the closed door as if it didn’t exist and he vanished. Brandon followed. Dana hesitated, then stepped through the door into the darkness.
THIRTY-EIGHT
AS DANA CROSSED
THE THRESHOLD, BRIGHT SUNSHINE flooded down on her and she found herself standing on a two-lane winding country road with birch trees lining both sides, the sun filtering through lime-green leaves. The air was fresh and crisp. Black-throated gray warblers perched on the branches. She turned to find the doorway behind her, but when she spun all she saw was the road curving off into the distance.
“I like this place muuuuuuch better.” Brandon glanced at their surroundings. “Which way?”
“Forward,” Reece said.
They strode down the road, the sun at their backs—warmth creeping back into her body. After a few paces, Dana stared at the curve in the road fifty yards ahead. Something gray seeped around the corner and swallowed the sunlight. As they rounded the bend, a thin fog swirled through their legs and up their bodies.
“On alert,” Reece said.
Their pace slowed and Dana glanced back and forth to her right and her left. A minute later an old wooden bridge made of thick beams and cable supports appeared out of the mist. They stopped where the bridge and the road met, and Dana peered into the fog. There. fifteen yards ahead. A man stood leaning over the bridge, his chest on the railing, arms hanging down, his body jerking as if something were trying to pull him up and over the edge. She jogged toward the figure and the others followed. it had to be the professor.
“Marcus?”
Yes—it was him.
The professor was at the center of the bridge, thin ropes slicing into his bare wrists and forearms. Attached to the ends of the ropes were weights of iron, thick rusted chains, and dark gray barbell plates.
“There’s no way we can lift those,” Dana said.
Marcus’s body continued to shake and his speech came in stilted gasps.
“I don’t know how . . . to let go.”
“You don’t need to,” Brandon said. “Look.”
On the railing just on the other side of Marcus lay a silver blade with an inlaid pearl handle that seemed to throw off light.
“I can never reach it,” Marcus sputtered.
Brandon danced around the back of Marcus, plucked the blade off the railing, and didn’t hesitate. In four swift motions he sliced through the ropes and the weights streaked into the chasm. Marcus pulled back from the edge and slumped to the wood planks at his feet.
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