When Angels Cry

by Marylu Tyndall

  But they had made their choice. As had he. And he would never allow them to hurt his charge.

  An engine roared. A dark blue sedan appeared out of nowhere, heading straight for Angelica. He shouted at her in the spirit to move, but she was so intent in her worship, she didn’t hear him. Though he longed to appear to her, speak to her in a human voice, he didn’t have permission. He couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t shove her out of the way. What to do?

  The car sped toward her. Two demons sat on the roof, their wicked laughter grating over him. More shadows filled the car, spinning around the driver.

  Angelica finally glanced toward them. But there was not enough time for her to get out of the way. So Baliel did the only thing he could. Sword drawn, he stood between her and the speeding vehicle.

  ♦♦♦

  In the split second before the car hit, Angelica lifted up a prayer for Isaac. She knew she was going to die, and she didn’t want her son to be left alone. “Please take care of him, Father.”

  The words barely left her mouth before the car struck.

  Wait. She didn’t feel anything. She didn’t fly through the air and land on the hood. She wasn’t violently hurled to the side. She wasn’t being run over by tires, her internal organs crushed beyond repair.

  Instead, the car went…right…through…her.

  The hood passed through first. Nothing but a blue streak. Then she saw the interior—the bucket seats, stick shift, the driver, then the backseat—littered with empty fast food wrappers—and finally the trunk.

  Then nothing but black asphalt.

  Was she dead? Still standing in the same spot, she glanced after the car and saw it speeding away, tires squealing on the pavement.

  Her legs buckled, the sky spun, and she dropped to the ground, breathing hard. What just happened? Am I losing my mind? She tried to slow her thundering heart. A flash of light brought her gaze up to see her angel. He was tall, so tall, all shimmering metal and light. Sheathing his sword, he smiled and pointed toward her car. And then he was gone.

  Struggling to rise, she gathered her purse and finally managed with trembling fingers to unlock her car and climb in. Slamming the door, she locked it and sat. Just sat, trying to catch her breath. And her reason. Several minutes passed before she started the engine and headed home. Why would someone try to run her down? Maybe it was just some random person crazed on drugs and alcohol. Or one of her customers who didn’t take too kindly to her mention of Jesus. Either way, Thomas’ threat rose to haunt her.

  But no, the man was not that evil.

  “Father, you saved me! You sent my angel to protect me.” She gripped the wheel, tears flowing down her cheeks, still having a hard time believing a car had passed through her without giving her a scratch. But she knew it had. Somehow God had given her angel the power to twist the laws of physics in order to save her.

  ♦♦♦

  Two days later, Angelica had convinced herself that the car incident was a random act perpetrated by a lunatic. Perhaps even a terrorist. They’d been known to run over people, except they usually attacked crowds with big trucks, not a single woman in the middle of the night. But hey, she lived in a crazy, upside-down world.

  She thanked God over and over for saving her, especially as she now gazed at Isaac, still asleep in his bed. She always let him sleep in on Sunday, but it was well past his normal time to get up. The poor kid worked hard at his studies and then put in extra time with her going over everything he learned so she could do her best to reverse the indoctrination. Plus, he did chores and helped Leigh with Joel. Angelica was tough on him. But she wanted him to grow up able to handle living in this difficult world.

  If they ended up being here much longer.

  Which reminded her of the conversation she had about Jesus’ second coming with Daniel. Which then reminded her that tonight was the play at his church she’d promised to attend. She should cancel. She wanted to cancel. After the way his kiss affected her, the fleshly part of her desperately wanted to see him again. Which, of course, meant she must never see him again.

  She brushed a lock of brown hair from her son’s face and resisted the urge to kiss his forehead. Instead, she wandered into the kitchen, smiled at Leigh who sat sleepily at the table, a cup of coffee in hand, and then flipped on her independent news—on low since Joel was watching cartoons in the living room.

  She had barely grabbed a mug when she heard, “A 9.2 earthquake struck the Cascadia fault line this morning at 3:42 a.m.” The announcer’s voice was tight with fear.

  “No.” Leigh’s jaw dropped as she rose and entered the kitchen to watch. Angelica turned up the volume. She always expected stories like this, but it was still a shock to see them happen, to witness the scenes of horror that were now flashing across the screen. Complete and utter devastation. Cities reduced to nothing but rubble, fires everywhere, the landscape forever changed.

  The newscasters had no idea how many lives were lost. Rescue crews flown in were having a hard time landing due to aftershocks. And tsunami warnings were issued along the Washington coast all the way down to the Bay Area in California.

  “How horrible.” Leigh leaned against the counter as Angelica just stood there, too numb to move.

  “To make matters worse,” the newscaster added, “Yellowstone Caldera is acting up again, this time spewing sulfur and fire into the air. All tourists have been evacuated from the park.”

  Leigh shut off the TV. “Sorry, I can’t watch anymore.” She turned fearful eyes to Angelica. “What is going on?”

  Angelica poured herself some coffee, saying a quick prayer for the people on the West Coast. “It’s the end of the age.”

  “I just don’t know.” Leigh glanced at her son and then hugged herself. “Why would God cause all this destruction and death? I thought you said He was good and loving.”

  “God isn’t doing this. This is all part of the fallen world we live in. When man fell in the garden, the earth was affected too. Now, it is groaning and churning in anticipation for the return of the King.” Angelica set her mug aside, her stomach uneasy, her eyes filling with tears. “Those poor people.” She would spend a few hours today fasting and praying for them.

  Leigh flipped hair over her shoulder and sighed. “I’ve been reading about the last days.”

  Angelica glanced up. “You have?”

  “The passages you marked in the Bible you gave me. All of it, everything is coming true. Even this one-world government. That’s the GIFP isn’t it?”

  “That’s the start of it, yes. Along with the one-world religion that’s already sweeping the world—the false church. But a man will rise up as supreme ruler over those currently in power. The Bible calls him the Son of Perdition, the beast, or the Antichrist.”

  Leigh shook her head. “Oh, come on, the Antichrist?”

  “I can show you the scriptures. He’ll be a thousand times worse than Hitler, and the world will adore him.”

  Leigh’s brow wrinkled, her eyes full of fear. “I want to believe, I do. But I just don’t know.”

  Oh, how Angelica wanted to seize the moment and force Leigh to give her life to Jesus before it was too late, but that’s not how the Holy Spirit worked. He was a gentleman. The great thing was, Leigh was seeking. And those who truly sought would find.

  A loud knock on the door startled them both, and Leigh crept to peek out the peephole. She glanced at Angelica. “It’s a big guy dressed in a suit,” she whispered, then turned and shouted through the door. “Who is it?”

  “Bodyguard for Miss Smoke.”

  Leigh raised a brow and grinned. “For you, I guess.”

  Chain still on the door, Angelica opened it a crack to see a man the size of a football linebacker, dressed in a suit and tie.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Ma’am, just wanted you to know I’m out here and will be driving you to Fort Lauderdale Church of Grace at 3:00.”

  Angelica wanted to laugh. “Really? And just who
might you be?”

  “He’s the bodyguard Daniel sent, Mom,” Isaac’s sleep-gravelly voice announced, and she turned to see him approaching in his X-Men pj’s, rubbing his eyes.

  “What?” No way. This was not happening. She faced the beast. “Mr.…”

  “Just call me Tank, ma’am.”

  Of course. She smiled. “Mr. Tank, I don’t need a bodyguard, so you may leave.”

  “Can’t do that, ma’am.”

  “It’s very easy. Just turn around and go back where you came from.”

  “Only take orders from Mr. Cain, ma’am.”

  “Stop calling me ma’am!”

  She finally got a reaction out of him as one brow dared to rise. Still, he stared straight ahead at her door, and she realized it would take a stick of dynamite to move him. Maybe two.

  She closed the door and faced her son. “What is this about?”

  “After you almost got run over—” Isaac began but was interrupted by a yawn as he opened the cupboard and grabbed a box of cereal.

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I heard you telling Leigh.”

  Angelica growled and exchanged a glance with her roommate. “Okay. But what does that have to do with Daniel?”

  Isaac poured the rest of the cereal into a bowl, filling it only halfway, then set the empty box on the counter. “Well, I sorta told him about it.”

  “When?”

  “When I talked to him on the phone.”

  This was getting worse and worse. “Why are you talking to him on the phone?”

  “He called and asked me to go fishing.”

  “He did what—” She bit back her anger and drew a deep breath.

  He opened the fridge and pulled out the watery milk Angelica had made from powder concentrate. “No real milk?”

  “Sorry.” Her heart broke as she watched him pour the fake milk on his cereal, but there was nothing to be done about it. “So…?”

  Grabbing a spoon, Isaac sat at the table beside Leigh. “So he sent a bodyguard to protect you. Isn’t it cool?”

  She stared at Leigh who was suppressing a laugh.

  Not cool at all! How dare he intrude on her life without her permission? This was going too far, and she would put a stop to it tonight. She would go to the play as promised and then tell Daniel to back off—permanently.

  Chapter 19

  For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires, and will turn away their ears from the truth and will turn aside to myths.

  2 Timothy 4:3-4 (NASB)

  Angelica ascended the rows of stairs leading to the main sanctuary of the Fort Lauderdale Church of Grace. She couldn’t help but smile, remembering the last time she stood on these very steps. She was in her cocktail waitress uniform coming to give Daniel the message she’d heard from God. Nearly two months had passed, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, as she pressed into the mob entering through the massive wooden doors, she wondered for the thousandth time why she was here.

  Oh yes, to tell Daniel off.

  She had left Isaac home with Leigh. Though he had begged to go, the last thing she wanted was for him to be exposed to any more indoctrination than he was already getting at school.

  She glanced behind her to see Tank, towering over her like a bulldog on steroids. She hadn’t allowed him to drive her, but he’d followed close behind in his black Suburban. He was good, she’d give him that. She’d tried to lose him twice in traffic—just for fun, of course—but she couldn’t shake him. Not even when she parked and made a dash for the church. The man also didn’t have a sense of humor, for she could tell he hadn’t found her antics the least bit amusing. She wanted to tell him that she had far better protection than he could offer—an angel whom God had assigned to watch over her. But she knew that wouldn’t make a difference.

  Moving toward a side wall, she halted in the foyer, still unsure whether she should continue into the main sanctuary. An uneasy feeling shimmied over her, agitating her spirit. The crowd continued to pour in through the doors, chattering and laughing as if thousands upon thousands of people hadn’t just died on the West Coast. Maybe they would mention the tragedy in the service and set aside some time to pray as a group. Like her home church was doing right now. Scottie had called an emergency prayer meeting tonight, and she longed to be among friends, lifting up the injured and those still trapped beneath the rubble and praying against further shock waves and the tsunami that was predicted to hit shore within the hour.

  If she left now, she could make it to Scottie’s in time.

  But she had promised Daniel.

  Gathering her nerve, she continued watching the throng pour through the foyer into the main auditorium like ants into an ant hole—families with small children, singles, the elderly. Some of the young ladies wore clothing that revealed far too much. And they were getting what they deserved—or maybe what they wanted—lots of leering glances from men. Two men strode by, hand in hand. Averting her gaze, she spotted a painting of Christ walking on the water, reaching down for Peter who had begun to sink in the storm. Appropriate for the events of the day, she supposed. On either side of him, hung portraits of Daniel and Thomas, strategically placed as if they were apostles themselves.

  Forgive me, Lord. I’m judging and I don’t mean to be. Some of these people belong to You. She could see their lights, like spires reaching from within their spirits for the sky. Others walked in darkness. Still others were bound in chains.

  No one paid her any mind.

  Until she entered into the main sanctuary and an usher dashed up to her.

  “You must be Miss Smoke.”

  She stared at him curiously.

  “This way, please.” He smiled and led her down the main aisle. It was all she could do to keep from tripping as she took in the grandeur of the room. Hockey stadiums were smaller than this. And much less elaborate. Row upon row of red-cushioned, wooden pews extended from the stage to the back doors then up onto two balconies. Lush carpeting covered the floor. A velvet purple curtain crossed the stage, and above it was a screen as big as any she’d seen.

  The usher led her to the front row and gestured to a seat on the aisle.

  “I couldn’t possibly sit here.” She was too conspicuous. Felt too uncomfortable. Why was everyone staring at her all of a sudden? Whispers flew about her and people pointed, and she quickly lowered in her seat to hide.

  Across the aisle, a young man winked at her, while behind him, a man, or was it a woman—she couldn’t tell—glared her way. Heart slamming against her ribs, she faced forward. She would kill Daniel for this.

  The play was spectacular. There was a full orchestra hidden beneath the stage and the acting was superb. Once the lights dimmed and Angelica no longer felt all eyes upon her, she enjoyed it. Though honestly, the spiritual message was weak. If there even was one. The story was more like a fairy tale than anything—with trees, animals, and plants taking center stage, dying off in a world gone bad, but then saved at the end by some vague creator.

  After the actors and directors took a bow, Thomas moved to stand at the podium. If looks could kill, his glance in her direction would have incinerated her. She squirmed in her seat, longing to flee, but then he pasted on a smile and gave brief announcements, thanking those who put on the play, then congratulating a threesome—one man and two women—who’d just been married the day before. Angelica squirmed yet again. Finally, he instructed the ushers to take the offering and the velvet bags were passed.

  No mention of the earthquake. In fact, no prayers at all.

  Daniel came on stage. She knew the minute he had, not only because she could feel his eyes upon her, but because a reverential hush fell over the auditorium. She glanced up to his smile and a look in his eyes that said no one else mattered in the world but her. She remembered that look so well, too well. Fear rose in her heart once
again, and she wanted to look away, to tell herself it didn’t matter. But she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  The man was handsome, commanding, and beyond charming. She could see why people followed him, listened to his every word. She had seen him give sermons on TV, but this was different. The electricity in the room surprised her. The rapt attention of the audience. And her mind drifted back to a time when he was in his first year of seminary. They had just met a month before, and Daniel and Thomas and a few other friends were preaching on the beach. Crowds of young people swarmed around him, listening to his uncultured and somewhat simple presentation of the gospel. Several gave their lives to Jesus, though she hadn’t really cared about such things back then. She just loved watching him.

  As she was doing now. But this time was vastly different. Now, his words were refined, well chosen, and executed for a specific purpose—to entertain, tickle the ears, and keep people coming back. He was funny, witty, and he gave them hope. What a gift he had. Too bad he was wasting it.

  ♦♦♦

  Backstage, Daniel flew down the steps, ignoring calls from his associates, a shout from Rubio, and even the congratulations cast his way. He had one thought in mind. Get to the privacy of his office where he’d instructed Mr. Roberts, a.k.a. Tank, to bring Angel. When he’d seen her sitting in the front row, staring up at him, his heart had nearly burst with joy. She’d come! And she looked stunning in a modest blue form-fitting dress, a simple gold chain around her neck, and her hair pinned up in an elegant bun.

  The best part was the way she looked at him during his brief sermon…just like she had when they were younger and he preached to whoever would listen—like she adored him, admired him, and never wanted to leave his side. Why had he ever allowed her to walk out of his life?