Prophesy

by Bliss Addison

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, clutching his umbrella tightly, prepared to use the steel tip, if needed. “No matter what happens.”

  “Very courageous, but also very foolhardy.”

  “Not –”

  “Shh. Here they come. Stay at my back.” She shoved the stun gun at him. “Don’t hesitate to use it.”

  He took the gun in his free hand and peered at the entrance.

  The demons moved forward, appearing larger and more menacing than Keegan remembered – his imagination hard at work, perhaps. Maybe not. He looked at the Taser and wished for something with more fire power.

  With a bad-ass swagger, Beanpole approached them, leaving Coors Light standing guard, or maybe he hung back to see Echo’s mettle and determine what he was up against.

  Echo flexed her neck, then her wrists. She appeared composed, her hands hanging loosely at her sides.

  Keegan took from her strength and angled his weapon directly at the demon hanging back in the entrance.

  When the beanpole demon came within a foot and a half of Echo, he smiled. “Remember me, darling?”

  “How could I forget a foul-smelling, slow-witted mongrel like you?”

  Keegan cocked a brow. “Are you sure you want to antagonize a demon?”

  “A demon?” She guffawed. “This doofus? My colleague greatly exaggerates your prowess, Samael.” She laughed again.

  “You forget Dubai and Seven-Pack.”

  “You got lucky. It won’t happen again.”

  “Seven-Pack?” Keegan asked.

  “Later.”

  The demon bent at the legs and struck his hands at ten and four. “Bring it on, baby.”

  Echo stayed as she was. “Are you sure you want to do this, Samael? You’re going to get hurt.”

  With a crook of his finger, the demon invited her to make the first move.

  “You asked for it.” Echo threw kicks and landed blows in rapid-fire succession that connected with his jaw, chest, and thighs. Samael fell to his knees, hugging his mid-section. She leaned to one side and introduced the demon’s gaping jaw to her foot. Samael toppled over with a cry of agony.

  Keegan had seen enough and wanted to distance himself from these heart thieves. “Let’s go before the other one attacks.”

  “No,” she said. “I have to find out where their toran is so I can close it.”

  He looked at the unconscious demon, then at the one still standing. “And you think the meaner demon will tell you?” He grabbed her by the arm and hoped she wasn’t a woman who needed to prove herself. There was no dishonor in retreat. Know your enemies and know when to fight, a motto that had served him well. “Take the victory and run.”

  She heaved a sigh, and, keeping an eye on the fallen demon, said, “You’re right.”

  Without delay, Keegan led the way through the pathway, into the parking lot, and onto the street. Within minutes, they sprinted down King Avenue, intermittently taking turns watching their backs. Each time he looked, the view was clear, which puzzled him. “Why isn’t he following us?”

  “Look up.”

  He peered upward and located the demon walking along the ledge of buildings, stepping across great distances between the structures like they were ordinary steps. The demon could have attacked at any time, but hadn’t. Keegan determined this particular demon, unlike Samael, was a strategist.

  “He’s biding his time.”

  Echo nodded. “He’ll strike when he’s ready.”

  “We should prepare ourselves, then.” Keegan’s instinct told him to run, but logic countered. Wherever he ran, the demon would surely either follow or find him. He would rather have it out with him there than later. There would be consequences, he was certain, if he continued too long without a soul. Just then, he had a vision of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, six-foot man running like a lunatic through the streets. The man stopped abruptly and looked back. Keegan stared into his own face.

  He broke out in gooseflesh and rubbed at the chill covering his hands.

  “In here.” Echo led the way up the concrete steps of the Cathedral.

  At the red-painted double doors, she grabbed the handle and pulled, but the door didn’t budge.

  “Churches are locked at night,” he said, his breath frosting before his face. “Drug addicts looking for quick and easy cash. Not too long ago, a gold-plated chalice used in worship for over a hundred years was stolen from here. Father Xavier appealed to the person who took it and behold, the chalice mysteriously reappeared within a few days, but Father is taking no unnecessary chances now.” He chewed on his bottom lip as he realized he babbled. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd done that, if ever he had.

  She knocked on the door.

  His smile died on his lips when he heard the click of the dead bolt disengaging.

  “Knock and it shall be opened unto you. Matthew 7:7.” She looked at him and grinned as she pulled open the door.

  Years had passed since Keegan had been in a church, yet it seemed like yesterday. He couldn’t remember what had prompted the lapse. Time, perhaps. There never seemed enough of it. If he had things to do over…

  Echo stopped at a hand-carved marble font and dipped her fingers in the holy water.

  He stood transfixed as he watched her sign the cross. Many times he had seen this done, but no one had ever made the gesture look beautiful.

  “This way,” she said, striding forward, without looking back.

  He followed her down the aisle, the sound of their heels clicking on the marble floor bouncing off the stone walls.

  No lights burned, but moonlight shining through the stained glass illuminated their way.

  A supplicant, Keegan genuflected in front of the altar, bowing his head in reverence to Jesus on the cross, and then followed Echo into a front pew and took his first full breath in more than thirty minutes.

  He knelt and saw himself as a lost soul penitent before Him, beseeching his Savior to have mercy on them, and asked for forgiveness for his sins and for turning away from Him. He crossed himself and sat.

  They needed a plan – a good one – but it seemed sacrilegious to plot death and destruction in the house of God.

  He gazed at the First Station of the Cross, which depicted Jesus condemned to death. From there, he studied the Second Station showing Jesus carrying His Cross.

  Keegan hesitated at the Third Station, saddened at the sight of Jesus on the ground beneath the weight of the cross. He skipped to the Fifth Station, considering whether Echo bore his cross like Simon had for Jesus.

  After several minutes where Echo appeared trance-like, she turned and looked at him, intelligence and compassion in her hazel eyes. She rested an arm on the back of the pew and brought up a hand to rub her forehead.

  Again, he drew from her strength without an iota of embarrassment. Fighting off demons qualified as extraordinary, and if he needed a little help coping…

  She stared at a stone pillar, hissing beneath her breath. “Beelzebub.”

  He jerked his head in her direction. Wonderful. A pissed-off…what was Echo? A spirit? An angel? Maybe neither. He’d ask, but, truthfully, he preferred not knowing; at least, for the time being.

  His voice barely audible, as though he could prevent God from overhearing, he questioned her choice of swear words.

  “I can’t really use the Lord’s name, now can I?” She stood, flipped back the kneeler, and paced the length of the pew. When she reached the end, she pivoted and retraced her steps, pinching her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger.

  She stared at the floor and said, “We are so screwed.”

  As deft as a mouse, hope left Keegan’s body, probably to take up residence with his soul, wherever that might be. He sighed, thinking he had not only put his trust in this woman but let her take control. A colossal mistake, he now realized.

  “How?” he asked, not wanting an answer, but needing to know.

  “I just figured out why the other demon didn’t attack.”
/>
  “Why?”

  “He’s waiting for reinforcements and keeping track of us in the meantime.” She chewed on a thumbnail. “I didn’t anticipate that. Usually, they arrive, strike, lose, and retreat.”

  Even with that testimonial, she didn’t inspire confidence. “If this mean demon needs help, that would imply he’s afraid of you. Right?”

  “Not necessarily. We’ve tangled before.”

  “Who won?”

  She looked at him and grimaced.

  Keegan, believing he was assigned a misfit, considered the time had come to ask the question. “What exactly are you?”

  “I need some alone time to figure this out, map out our next move. Do you live near here?”

  “I have a cottage on the lake. It’s about a ten-minute drive, but my car's at home. We can take a taxi, unless you have an alternative method of transportation.”

  “There’s only room for one on my broom.”

  “Ah.”

  She jabbed him in the ribs. “Relax. You lawyers have no sense of humor.”

  He took offense. “I do. We do.” Then he remembered Wilbur Graham, who gave new meaning to solemn. “Most of us do.” He followed her up the aisle.

  “Well, I’m glad you got that straightened out.” She stopped at the holy water font and looked around. “There must be something around here for the parishioners to use…” She walked into the quiet room and came out with a cardboard box of bottles. “Help me fill these with holy water.”

  Within a few minutes, they had twenty-four spice-size jars filled.

  “Let’s go.” She led the way outside.

  Keegan looked back when he heard the door close and lock behind them.

  On the sidewalk, she took his hand in hers. “And onward we go to your home.”

  In an instant, they stood in his living room.