by Amy Miles
For an hour, she sat on the floor trying to make sense of the images, but nothing clicked. No clues jumped off the pages. Trying a different approach, she organized them into two piles. The pictures on the left showed things that had already happened, while those on the right depicted future ones. The one of Forras attacking Sammy sat on top of the left pile.
If only she’d realized what it meant, she could have prevented what happened. Now, Sammy would probably be maimed forever. She shivered at the thought and pushed it aside to focus on the task.
Pulling the second box open, she found more papers, many covered with foreign-looking symbols, the words written in Latin. One looked like a diagram of a demon’s anatomy but the descriptions pointing to the various body parts were also in Latin.
The third box was full of maps and more diagrams. She pulled all the papers out and tried to put them in categories based on diagrams, foreign language, maps, etc.
They meant something, but what? In the bottom of the third box, she found an old, worn, leather bound book. The pages were crinkled and faded, the handwriting exactly the same as her father’s. It was a journal. Her father’s journal.
When she opened it and flipped through the creased pages, a white envelope fell in her lap. She ripped it open and discovered a letter in her father’s handwriting. Glancing down the page, she froze.
Fallen angel located. Termination guaranteed in two weeks. Demon will follow within one additional week. Request retirement and relocation after mission completion.
Respectfully,
Earthbound Hunter.
“Earthbound Hunter?” She’d heard Alexander mention them before. Was that her father’s real occupation? Were the cuts and bruises caused by demons? Did her father know about Forras and his role in her mom’s death? Is that why they were here? To get revenge?
Her heart thumped hard against her chest as she read the letter again. “Wait. Angel? Termination?” A choked cry escaped her lips.
No, it’s okay. Alexander’s gone. But Sammy was still here and so was Grace, not to mention Alexander would be returning soon. And the letter only stated that one angel had been located, so it could be any one of the three of them.
Why would her father want to harm an angel? She could recall Alexander having said that hunters believed no supernatural creatures should be on Earth, that a fallen angel was the same as a demon.
She bolted to her feet and began pacing the bedroom. She needed to find her father, now. She needed to tell him he was wrong.
She wasn’t sure she should reveal Alexander’s secret, but she had to tell her father the truth if she was going to convince him. He’d believe his own daughter, especially when she told him how a fallen angel had saved both of them, several times.
As she paced back toward the boxes, she noticed a map lying on the floor in front of the first box. The landmarks looked familiar. The water, the woods, the homes, schools, and shopping centers. It was a detailed map of Kemp, Florida, but not like any map she’d ever seen. Strange symbols were scattered across the paper, in the woods and on a few of the homes. The ocean harbored what looked like a sea serpent, while the woods were home to wild dogs, and the mall frequented by strange, disfigured people.
A chill raced through her entire body. The house near the ocean, Grace’s home, was encircled in red marker. And next to it, written in a faint scribble, read Fallen angel.
****
Herak poured tea for Alexander then passed the chipped cup to him. “Now, I may continue.”
At Alexander’s nod, he sat back in his chair and took a sip. “When Heaven discovered my arrogance, they sent an army of angels to subdue me. They were to remove my powers, but Lucifer had already made me a proposition. I would conquer the angelic army with the help of Hell’s minions and forever rule Earth. A great battle ensued, in which the Earth shook and Heaven poured down its wrath, but in the end all the angels were slain or captured.”
Herak’s cup rattled against the saucer. “Afterward, Lucifer betrayed me and turned his minions loose on Earth. My wife and children perished at their hands.”
Alexander could see the torment flash across Herak’s face at the memory and could sympathize. He knew that if Gabby died, it would drive him mad.
“I traveled to Hell in search of revenge,” Herak continued. “My abilities were greater than any creature there, excluding Lucifer. When I threatened to release the captured angels into Hell, Lucifer denied any part of the minions’ plan, and agreed to curse the demons who had plotted against me. From then on, the demons and captured angels were cursed, forced to live among humans, never able to return to Heaven or Hell.”
Silence filled the cave. Alexander could understand this man’s grief, but felt he’d brought it upon himself.
Herak took the kettle from the fire and poured more tea in Alexander’s cup then his own. “When I returned to Earth, I was approached by a powerful angel who was cursed to walk Earth forever in demon form.”
Alexander choked on his tea and looked up at Herak.
Unfazed, the old man continued. “I don’t know if it was the angel’s compassion in spite of what I’d done to him, or his unwavering faith in the face of tragedy, but he taught me how to face the consequences of my actions. I fell to my knees and begged for Heaven’s forgiveness.”
Alexander couldn’t contain himself any longer. “What was the name of the angel?” he asked, the question bursting from his lips without thought.
Herak gave him a bemused look. “I think you already know the answer.”
Alexander searched his mind for the truth, attempting to find a different answer than the one that kept pushing to the forefront. But it was futile. He knew the answer before he’d even asked the question. “Boon? He’s not a demon?”
“He’s not even a fallen angel, only an obedient servant of the merciful God. If it weren’t for Boon, I’d still worship false Gods, including myself.”
“All this time and… but Boon never said anything. I’ve been such a—”
“A naïve, self-absorbed teenager?” Herak shook his head.
Alexander sighed. “Something like that.” His head still rang with confusion as he thought back to all the altercations they’d had, how he’d judged and threatened him, without a word from Boon. How many times could he have put Alexander in his place?
“My pleas for forgiveness went unheeded,” Herak pressed on. “It was decided that I should suffer the same fate as those I had cursed, living out my days on Earth. I still reside here over thirty-three hundred years later. Earth years anyway. But on this land, I’ve lived ten times that since time moves slower here.”
Alexander’s mind reeled. “If angels were finally able to overpower you, why didn’t they send you to Hell?”
“Don’t you see? This is the worst punishment possible.” He gestured around the small cave. “Having to face everything I’d done. I was never overpowered or captured. The binding spell that keeps me here I placed on myself. I voluntarily imprisoned myself as penance.”
“What if you changed your mind? Couldn’t you lift the spell?”
“No. Only an angel can break the spell. But no angel would ever do such a thing.”
“I-I am…” Alexander stammered.
“Don’t worry. I’m not asking. It’s not a condition to save your earthbound sister. The only condition is for you to understand the gravity of your actions. If you do not want to end up like me, you need to learn to control yourself and seek help from others. You have no idea what power you and others around you possess. Learn self-control and don’t judge, or you will be judged.”
Herak stood abruptly and grasped his chest.
“What is it?” Alexander rushed to the old man’s side, offering a hand to steady him.
Herak reached into his robes and pulled out a vile filled with an amethyst colored liquid. “Take this to Grace. She’ll know what to do. You must hurry.”
He followed Alexander to the opening of the cave and gla
nced at the black sky above them. “It has begun. The storm is here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Gabby stared at the worn journal in her hands. Why hadn’t he told her the truth?
All this time he’d professed to be hunting down bad guys for the government, terrorists and criminals threatening the innocent.
Oh God. What if he was out there right now, hunting them? Running through all the possible outcomes, nothing looked good. If they fought back, her father would die. If they didn’t…
She choked and spun around the room, looking for answers. There had to be a way to warn the others. Pawing her pockets one last time in the vain hope that her cell phone would magically be there, she cursed and yanked the drawers from her father’s dresser. She searched under the bed, in the boxes, everywhere for an answer, but found nothing.
If she couldn’t call them, she’d have to get to them on foot. She raced toward the front door, but Patronus didn’t budge. He stood in the doorway of her father’s bedroom, barking at her.
“Come on, boy. We have to go.”
Patronus growled in response, as though he knew something she didn’t. But if she didn’t warn them soon, what would happen?
Her breathing sped up and her hands shook. The all too familiar rise of anxiety surged through her body. She clutched the molding around the door and willed the panic to recede.
After several calming breaths, she straightened. Only a prickling of electricity remained on her skin. Feeling empowered at having halted the attack, she released her grip on the molding.
“Okay, Patronus. I’ll try to figure something else out. If not, we go to Grace’s.”
Patronus seemed placated as he lay down in the bedroom doorway with a whine.
Walking back to her father’s room, she tried to think of another option. There had to be more, something to help protect everyone. A piece of the puzzle was missing and she needed to figure it out.
She stood over the boxes and papers still spread across the floor. As she stared down at them, a flash of images invaded her mind. Her knees buckled and she slammed against the hard floor. Pain throbbed like a heartbeat in her head as screeching sounds rang in her ears.
Gasping, she clutched her head. She couldn’t make out the vision, but as the pain and noise faded, she grabbed a piece of paper and stumbled upstairs for her charcoal pencils. Shapes and colors filled the page, somewhat distorted from the shaking in her hands. A sense of urgency overwhelmed her. Drawing faster and harder, she almost ripped the page several times. If it could be a solution to save them all, she couldn’t draw fast enough.
When it was finished, she turned the drawing in several directions, trying to decipher what it was. A cave with wooden doors? A large box? It was hard to say.
A bark echoed through the house. She grabbed the drawing and ran back downstairs to see what was going on.
“What is it, boy?” she called from the bottom of the stairs.
Entering her father’s room, she saw Patronus sitting on the floor beside his bed. As she got closer, he rested his head on his outstretched paw, over the pictures that remained on the floor.
She sat down next to him and patted his head, staring at the picture in her hand. Looking around the room, she thought the wooden baseboard and closet door resembled the wood box in her picture, but the rest of it didn’t look anything like the room.
She went to the closet door and opened it, the squeak echoing through the house, unnerving her. As she inspected the closet, a crack in the corner caught her eye. Placing her hand against the rough service, she ran it along the splintered old cedar.
Nothing. Silly, but there always seemed to be some secret passage in the movies. Never in reality.
Patronus barked and she turned to see him standing behind her in the closet doorway.
“What is it, boy? Something in the closet?”
He barked, as if confirming, and jumped in the air several times.
Scanning the space again, she noticed a rectangular cutout in the ceiling, like the drop-down ladder for an attic. She had assumed her bedroom was a converted attic, which meant there wasn’t one anymore. With no string to pull the ladder down, she dragged the chair over from her father’s desk and used a letter opener to try to pry it open.
After a few failed attempts, she retrieved a flat head screwdriver from a drawer in the kitchen and pried it out enough to get her hands under it. Yanking on it as hard as she could, the piece came loose and dropped to the floor with a thud. The opening wasn’t an attic, but a small cutout in the ceiling between the roof trusses.
A box sat on the rafters just inside the opening. She easily maneuvered it out then stepped down off the chair to set it on the desk. It was an exact match to the picture she’d just drawn.
Patronus returned to his spot in the doorway.
“Aren’t you a little curious?” She lifted the lid and peered inside.
There were only a few items in the box. A strange looking old-fashioned pistol, another map, and some documents. The dark revolver sat heavy and clunky in her hand, different from the modern guns she was used to firing. Etched into the handle was a symbol of two lightning bolts. She stared at it for a moment then yanked her shirt up. The design matched Forras’ mark on her abdomen. Had this gun belonged to a demon? Or was it used to kill them?
She unfolded the map and froze in terror. Like the one she’d found under her father’s bed, this map also had a red circle around Grace’s house, with fallen angel written next to it. Other circles had the word demon next to it and at the bottom was a note.
Here are the locations of the last earthbound creatures I will hunt and kill. The gun will be returned to you after the final demon is sent back to Hell. The angel’s sword will be delivered after the last fallen angel is slaughtered. Do not contact me again. This map will provide any information about the region for your future reference.
“Oh God. No!” Her father knew about Alexander and his family and planned to murder them. But why? Just because he was some sort of earthbound hunter and it was his job? Or was there more to it? Did he know about Alexander’s involvement in her mother’s death? Did they move here because of Alexander? Did he allow her to attend school and cheerleading practice only because he’d found his targets and wanted to murder them? Were there others? Who sent the letters?
Hatred, fear, and so many other emotions whirled in a fierce cyclone inside her head.
Gabby spun around. “What if he kills them, Patronus? We have to save them.” She had to stop this before it was too late. Her father was probably out there right now, killing off the demons before moving on to the fallen angels. “Come on, boy. We have to warn them.”
Patronus followed her to the front door.
About to yank it open, she hesitated. She needed to warn Alexander’s family but she also had to try to convince her father that fallen angels weren’t his enemies. But she couldn’t be in two places at once. She glanced down at Patronus, patiently waiting beside her.
“Patronus, can you go to Grace’s? Can you find Alex or Grace? I have to warn them.”
Patronus barked. He was such a smart dog.
“Be careful, boy.” She gave his neck a hug then opened the door. “Go to Grace’s.”
Patronus barked once more before racing off into the darkness.
Now for the hard part. She had to find her father and explain how each of her pictures had come true. Tell him how Alexander had saved them both. Maybe he would see that Alexander and Grace were innocent, not the demons he thought them to be. Based on the years’ worth of documents and correspondence in his bedroom, it wasn’t going to be easy.
She dashed back to his room and scooped the pictures up in her arms. As she went to stuff them back in her portfolio, her foot caught on the edge of one of the boxes and she slammed chin first into the floor, sending the papers everywhere. Struggling to pick herself back up, she rubbed her chin then reached to retrieve the scattered pictures, but stopped short. They
lay on the floor in a kind of sequence. The car accident, angel wings, her father drunk and wounded, Sammy’s wing, each picture in chronological order to the ones around it.
She lifted one of the images that displayed something yet to come and noticed a familiar gold circle sketched at the bottom right corner of the page. Her father’s watch. Turning it, the image became clear. Her father was imprisoned in an old abandoned structure in the woods. Alexander and Sammy weren’t in trouble, her father was.
Blood covered the rope binding his dirty arms. Another severe wound marred his temple. He lay on the floor unconscious. A demon lurked around outside, two more in the woods. She would have never known what this picture showed if she hadn’t deciphered so many others. Brown fur mixed in with green tree limbs, glowing red eyes, her father’s watch on his wrist. She’d learned how to look at clues to figure out who and what was going on.
The structure had glass panes and a black fan.
No, it wasn’t a fan.
It was a propeller.
The boathouse.
She grabbed the old revolver from the box and bolted outside. “Patronus!”
No bark. Nothing but the wind howling through the trees.
She glanced at the cold revolver in her hand then slid it into the waistband of her shorts.
The woods stood dark and uninviting in front of her, making her hesitate. But she had no choice. The sting of anxiety nudged at her but instead of freaking out, she channeled it, using it to spur her forward. She launched off the creaky bottom step at a full sprint.
Winded, she stopped in a clearing and doubled over, bracing her hands on her knees. Two heaves and she was ready to start running again, but her head had begun to throb. Just a dull rhythmic pulse at first, but then it intensified. She grabbed her head as a vivid picture flashed in her mind. Pain, like an icy dagger, shot through her skull and she fell against a nearby tree, gasping for air. She forced herself up, only to stumble, scraping her knees on tree roots.