Hearing the shot, Caelyn bowed her head again.
Two more shots. Two more cows down. She stifled the urge to scream. “Please, Heavenly Father, please don’t let them kill them all! Please, You’ve got to help us! The meat will rot! It will be wasted. Please, don’t let them kill them all!”
A flock of birds suddenly cried and lifted from the line of trees along the road. The afternoon grew even darker, the sun falling behind a bank of low clouds. She fell back against the grass, unable to watch the killing anymore.
What could they be thinking!
Then she realized.
They weren’t thinking. They were killing. And now that it had started, it wouldn’t end. The bloodlust, stupid and unexplainable, would drive them in a fury until the herd was dead. This wasn’t about food. This wasn’t about survival. This was about killing and destruction and that was all it was.
Across the field, the young women worked desperately to butcher the cows, paying no attention to the men. Caelyn felt the sense of blackness falling deeper.
Killing and destruction.
Lucifer’s spirit settled over her.
Killing and destruction.
She almost heard Lucifer laugh.
Then a cold and deadly chill ran through her, the hairs on her neck standing on end. A knot of new fear rose up inside her. Something different, something vital. What was it that made her panic? Something urgent, something worse than any fear she’d ever had—
“Ellie! Ellie!” a voice seemed to shout inside her head.
She turned instantly, looking toward the house. Ellie was walking across the open field, her light hair blowing in the stiffening breeze. Caelyn’s heart shot up to her throat, her blood turning cold.
“Mom? Grandma?” Ellie called against the wind.
NINETEEN
East Side, Chicago, Illinois
Sara Brighton pulled again on Sam’s arm. “I don’t think it’s such a bad idea to pray for them,” she said.
Sam shook his head. “I’ve used up all my prayers, Mom.” He smiled just a little. “You, Luke and Ammon forced me to cash in pretty much every prayer chip I ever had.”
“God doesn’t keep track of any prayer chips,” Sara smiled back at him.
Sam turned away, looking down the crowded street again. “I think I’m being stupid anyway. There’s no way Bono needs me. Believe me, Mom, if there’s anyone in the world who can take care of himself and his family, it’s Bono. He’s probably sitting on his country porch right now, sipping a little hot chocolate, cleaning his gun, looking over a field of grain and counting the fat cows tied up in the barn. Maybe he’s the one who should be praying for us here, you know? I’m sure he’s doing just fine.”
“I kind of doubt your friend is lounging around the old farm enjoying his two-week vacation.”
Sam squinted against the falling sun. “Probably not.”
“And you keep thinking of him?”
“All the time.”
Sara let her eyes drift toward the ground. “Your prayers can make a difference. If there’s one thing I have learned, I now know that’s true. I have felt the power of others praying for me and my family—the Spirit has told me the exact moment when they have knelt in prayer. It can make a real difference just knowing others care enough to pray.”
Sam turned and looked at her. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes. I really do. And there’s more, Sam. Maybe lots more reasons than that. Why do we fast and pray, sometimes as a family or congregation? We may not know, we may not see the miracles that take place on the other side of the veil, but they happen. There is a battle going on, and I know it can be influenced by what we do. We may not understand the help that is mustered there as a result of our humble prayers.”
Sam hesitated, then turned toward her. “Help me, Mom,” he said.
TWENTY
Four Miles West of Chatfield, Twenty-One Miles Southwest of Memphis, Tennessee
Balaam looked across the open field, sneering at the two mothers who were hiding in the grass. He wanted the younger one with a particular gnawing rage.
He was the one who had convinced the foreign gang to cross the border. He was the one who had led them to this place. He realized what powerful enemies the young woman and her soldier-husband had become. He knew that Caelyn and her husband were two mortals he wanted to destroy. Worse, he sensed the coming battle and the part that they both would play. So he gloried in the killing of the animals, knowing it would bring suffering to the humans in the end.
Across the field, Lucifer turned away from Caelyn, stopping suddenly to turn. “Look! Look there!” Lucifer cried out as he pointed toward the farmhouse. He ran toward his mortal servants who were busy shooting cows. “LOOK THERE, FOOLS!” he screamed.
It took a little while, but the mortals finally stopped their killing spree. For a moment they looked at each other, wondering what they should do now.
“TURN AND LOOK!” Lucifer cried out again to them, frustrated at their inability to hear his voice.
A small sound carried across the open field and the mortals turned at last. A small, blonde-haired girl was walking toward them. Drawing closer, she stopped, her eyes growing wide.
“GO!” Lucifer hissed. “Go now. Kill the girl!”
* * * * * * *
Coming closer to the strangers, Ellie finally stopped, looking from one man to another. She saw the dead cows, the pools of dark blood against the ground, and though she didn’t understand what was happening, an instinctive look of terror flashed across her face.
Caelyn watched in horror for half a second, then, standing, she rushed toward her child. Gretta started to chase after her, then stopped and turned toward the men. Frozen there, she hesitated. Her face was long now, tight and stern. She wasn’t frightened any longer, she was full of rage. Swearing, she tightened her fists and marched across the field toward the drunken men. “HEY THERE!” she cried, her voice shrill. “YOU KILLED MY DOG! YOU KILLED MY COWS. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, YOU STUPID MEN!”
Running to her daughter, Caelyn grabbed Ellie and pulled her close, placing her hands over her eyes to protect her from the horror that lay before them. Gretta turned and shot a frantic look toward her. “Run,” she mouthed in desperation, “run, baby, run!” Turning back, she faced the strangers. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!” she screamed again.
The men stared at her as she approached. They didn’t talk. They didn’t lift their guns to protect themselves. They didn’t react at all. It was as if they were watching a stray cat move across the field.
Gretta glanced down at Miller as she passed. The bloodhound was stretched across the closely cut hay, his front legs reaching toward the house, as if he had tried to paw his way home before he died.
A couple of the strangers finally raised their guns. Gretta glared at them and kept on walking, coming to a stop in front of the gang leader. “What do you think you’re doing!” she screamed in his face.
He could feel her breath and tiny dots of spit across his cheeks. If he understood her words, he didn’t show it; his expression didn’t change. She lifted her hand, jerking her thumb toward her dead cows. His eyes followed lazily to where she was pointing, then turned back, lids half closed. She pointed over her shoulder and he tracked her gesture toward the dead dog.
Behind her, Caelyn and Ellie were running toward the house. The men pointed at them and started shouting. “ALTO! PAREN!” they screamed angrily across the open field.
Caelyn cried, her legs beating across the dry ground. The dark clouds piled deeper, seeming to blacken out the entire sky. It came so fast, all jumbled together now, everything a blur of fear and dread. Caelyn running, Ellie against her chest. Short gasps of breath. Ellie crying. Caelyn’s feet kicking the loose dirt. A shot across the open field. A burst of dirt spouting up beside her. The overpressure from another bullet. A high-pitched vibration that stung her legs.
Caelyn hesitated, almost stopping. Another shot, this one closer. Her e
yes opened wide in horror as she took a final step. Another buzz, this one right beside her, the bullet whipping past her ear.
She froze. She was holding Ellie so tight that it was hard to breathe. If she ran again, they were going to kill her. She put her daughter down and slowly turned around, shielding the little girl with her body.
Three of the men were running toward her now. Back at the trucks, another had her mother wrapped up, his hairy arms around her neck. Caelyn started to scream, then held it. Kneeling, she turned to Ellie and pushed her. “Run,” she whispered. But Ellie didn’t move, clinging desperately to her mom.
Five seconds later, it was over. The three men had gathered around them. Two of them had her by the arms. The last one picked up Ellie. Working together, they pulled them back toward the other members of the gang.
* * * * * * *
Lucifer knew he didn’t have much time. If he gave the mortals a chance to think, they wouldn’t do it. As evil as these men were, even they would need a reason before they’d kill human beings, and since there was no reason, he had to push them to act before they had time to think.
“Kill them!” he sneered inside the leader’s ear. “Do it. Get it over with. Go on, you coward, raise your gun!”
* * * * * * *
Huddled beside her mother, Caelyn felt the wind begin to blow, a cold blast against her face. She shivered visibly. The afternoon was dark, the thick clouds blocking the setting sun. The hair on her neck stood on end and a feeling of foreboding, deep and penetrating, settled over her. A warning. She knew it. She’d felt the feeling too many times before. She glanced in terror at the men around her and pulled Ellie close. She shot a look toward the Mexican women who stood among the dead cows. They were so young. Fifteen. Maybe sixteen. The closest girl looked at her but didn’t move. The smaller one—her little sister?—turned away. She knew what was going to happen and didn’t want to watch.
* * * * * * *
“Kill them!” Lucifer screamed again into the mortal’s ear. Lucifer had his arms around the mortal, holding him in a cold and deadly grip. “Kill them now. Kill them all!” Lucifer cried with rage and fury.
The mortal hesitated.
“DO IT!” Lucifer commanded.
* * * * * * *
Caelyn dropped suddenly to her knees, driven to the earth by the sheer force of Lucifer’s will. It was so oppressive, dark, evil, deadly to her soul. She felt as if the oxygen was being pulled from her chest, as if the core of life inside her was being sucked into a black and swirling hole. Her mind went blank and then black, and she had to close her eyes. She drew her hands up to her cover her head, cried out, then rolled over, her hands reaching to the sky above. Darkness. A shrill voice. Laughing and cursing in her mind. Hate and rage and blackness. She felt her blood run chill. Her heart raced and then slowed, and for a moment she thought that she would die. It was so powerful, so evil. She didn’t know if she could fight it. She didn’t know if she had the will.
* * * * * * *
Lucifer turned the full force of his burning rage upon Caelyn. “I WILL KILL YOU!” he screamed, his voice powerful and shrill. “I WILL DESTROY YOU! I WILL KILL YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR CHILD! I WILL DRAG YOU ALL TO HELL!”
Then Lucifer rose up in even greater rage and power, his back straight, his arms rising, his eyes on fire, his lips curled back to show his teeth.
Turning away from Caelyn, he rushed toward the mortal. “KILL HER NOW!” he screamed.
* * * * * * *
The gang leader faltered, a burning in his chest. He was taken in the moment, his brain turned completely off. Yes, he had to kill them. If he didn’t they would—he didn’t know, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t take the chance. He had to kill them and he had to do it now.
But he didn’t. He hesitated.
“Why should I kill them?” the tiny fragment of good still left inside him seemed to say. “Why do I need to kill them? I have never killed anyone.”
The little girl was curled up on the ground, completely terrified. Her mother knelt beside her, looking up at him in fear. They were related, he could see that, a mother and her child. The mother was young and beautiful. How much was she worth on the trading block along the border? An awful lot, he knew.
Kill her? No. He wouldn’t kill her. But he might do something worse.
Reaching down, he touched her blonde hair and she jerked away in fear.
* * * * * * *
Lucifer leaned so far toward the mortal leader that their two spirits almost met. The mortal didn’t fight him and inviting him inside. “I will do it then,” Lucifer whispered to the mortal, exerting himself to take complete control of the man.
Lucifer felt the warmth of the body, the flesh and tissue, the blood and bone. He almost cried, partly from joy of taking control of the mortal’s body, but mostly from the deep frustration of knowing that such a sacred temple would never really be his.
Slipping further into the man, he sensed the mortal’s emotions, then his deepest thoughts. He almost had him. He cried with passion. He was going to kill the woman with this man’s hand.
Then he felt an unexpected power and suddenly he stopped. An angry groan welled up inside him. Screaming in fury, he departed from the man. The other dark angels stopped their dancing. They felt the power, too.
Three angels of the Savior approached them from the line of trees.
Looking at them coming, the dark angels pulled back as if withdrawing from a flame. Too painful now to face them, too painful to hear their words.
Balaam turned and pulled a dry breath. It wasn’t fear that leapt inside him. The only emotion he felt toward the angels now was hate. Raw and cruel, it cut him to the core and set his guts on fire.
Lucifer turned to face the angels of Light, his lips pulled back, exposing yellow teeth.
He held his ground, his back straight, his eyes dark flames, his arms across his chest. Balaam saw a moment’s hesitation and he quivered inside.
Yes, Lucifer was the master of this world, but in the presence of the Light Ones he was nothing but a slave.
TWENTY-ONE
Archangel Michael moved out from the trees, two other angels of Light at his side. As they emerged from the shadows, time stood still. The mortals froze around them, the words that they were speaking left hanging in the air. They didn’t move. They didn’t breathe. It seemed as if their mortal hearts froze inside their chests.
Archangel Michael approached them, paused, glanced toward the house, then moved toward the women and little girl. As he drew closer, he saw the anguish in Caelyn’s face and groaned, hating to see her in such pain. He viewed her almost as a child—so vulnerable, so young, wanting to be strong but falling short, then feeling guilt and disappointment at her weakness and her fear. “It’s not true, Caelyn,” he thought. “You’ve done everything we could expect of you. You’ve done your best. That’s all we ask. And you have always been strong.” He reached out, hoping she would know somehow that friends were near. Then he turned toward Lucifer who was standing to his right.
The lesser spirits cowered but Lucifer stood his ground, defiant fury in his eyes. Moving slowly, he positioned himself between his mortal servants and the angels of Light. “This isn’t your battle.” He nodded to the women. “They aren’t your family. These aren’t your children. ”
Archangel Michael thought before he answered, “All are brothers, Lucifer. Have you forgotten that?”
Lucifer only scowled.
Balaam watched, then took a quick step forward. “What have you to do with us?” he sniffed.
“Silence!” Lucifer hissed to Balaam, shooting a deadly glare in his direction. The other dark angels fell behind Lucifer, seeming to hide behind his presence.
Archangel Michael looked around again, taking in the scene of death, then turned back to face Lucifer. “It is not your time,” he said.
Lucifer nodded to the mortals. “Maybe not. But it is theirs.”
“Their missions are not over. There
are great things yet for them to do.”
Lucifer sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It doesn’t matter. Today. Tomorrow. I am patient. Either way, they are going to die.” He swept his arms around him, taking in the darkened world. “There’s not a soul left here worth saving. You are wasting your time.”
Archangel Michael shook his head. They both knew that wasn’t true. He nodded toward the women. “It’s worth saving them,” he said.
Lucifer almost grunted, pig-like and mean. “Go ahead. It doesn’t matter. I’ll still get them in the end. Soon there will be no one left upon this miserable earth except for the mortals I have captured and the spirits who have always been on my side. You not only lost this battle, you have lost the war.” He started laughing, an ugly roll from deep inside his chest. “How many years now have you fought me, all to be defeated in the end? You thought it couldn’t happen, but we both know that you have lost.”
His wicked servants gathered closer, seeking power from his rage. Lucifer stood before them. Tall. Prideful. Withered with blackness but always deep and strong.
Balaam was the only one who fell back. He knew Lucifer was lying. He knew they couldn’t win.
Lucifer shot another angry look toward Balaam as if he had read his thoughts, then turned to face his enemy. “You cannot hurt me now,” he whispered, feeling strength from those around him. “Not with just the three of you. My forces outnumber you at least fifty to one. And I alone am powerful enough to stop you. You are weaker than you once were.”
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