Demons at War

by P A Minyard

  Daniel initiated a slow approach. His tightened chest kept him from taking a full breath. But his curiosity exceeded the pain of warning.

  “What are you suggesting?” he asked.

  “Release me from this curse,” Benedict said. “I wish to take the path of redemption.”

  “A lifetime of evil is not so easily forgiven.”

  “All is possible with the Father,” Benedict said, and stretched out his arms as if willing to embrace Daniel.

  “I am not the Father and you will find no quarter here.”

  “You cannot deny me the opportunity for forgiveness. Surely, Bernard told you.”

  “There may come a time when you are asked for forgiveness.” Daniel remembered Bernard’s words as if he had just heard them.

  “I doubt he was speaking of you,” Daniel said, and shook it off.

  “Anger does not suit you. Compassion is your virtue. It is the key to who you are now. It is the one common thread that links all Beloved past, present and future.”

  “You lack sincerity,” Daniel replied.

  “I lack a great many things,” Benedict said, “but foresight is not one of them. Repeatedly trading barbs will not forestall the inevitable. Take my power and be done with it. Let the Father decide my worth.”

  Daniel was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. “Isn’t this why I was brought here? Isn’t this what they want me to do?” He looked around the room as if expecting Bernard to appear and give his blessing.

  “You don’t know your own purpose,” Benedict said. “How lost you must feel.”

  “Take your advantage elsewhere. I will not let you inside my head,” Daniel snarled.

  “If I simply wanted your head, dear boy, I would have taken it already,” Benedict said, and stretched out his arms again.

  Daniel lunged at him, striking him square in the jaw, sending him to the ground. He stood above him, looking down, almost gloating. He didn’t stop to think how easy Benedict was making it. His thirst for power was clouding his judgment.

  “As you wish,” Daniel said. Then his head tipped back and his eyes closed as the scar opened. Benedict did not struggle or move; he freely let Daniel take all that was his; his very being poured into the Beloved, unnoticed and indefensible.

  The power was immense and Daniel’s body was hit by extreme euphoria. No pleasure imaginable ever felt like this. The rush was the very intoxication he craved. When the scar finally closed, Daniel fell back. He instinctively extended his arms to brace himself and broke his left wrist upon landing but felt no pain. His body was trembling with excitement; his mind empty of thought or reason.

  Hours went by before he realized where he was. Daniel went to push himself off the ground and winced at the now throbbing pain in his wrist. He was feverish and dizzy, and the floor itself felt as if it moved below his feet like a rough ride upon an angry sea. His body wobbled back and forth with each unsure step he took toward the open gate, and as he fell through, Bernard was there to catch him.

  “Are you mad?!” Bernard shouted, pulling Daniel in tight. “You fool. Do you know what you’ve done?” He grabbed Daniel’s jaw. “Look at me!” he said. Bernard stared him down, looking deep into Daniel’s eyes, searching for something new, something different from before. But there was nothing new. There was only Daniel, so Bernard backed off. “If this doesn’t kill you, your mother surely will.” He helped Daniel to the bed and got him settled in as Daniel faded in and out of consciousness. Bernard hastily left the room. He had to act swiftly. There wasn’t much time, and the family would soon become suspicious of Daniel’s absence.

  The gate suddenly opened, and a young man slightly older than Daniel crossed into the bedroom and walked up to his bed. The flash of the gate closing behind the visitor woke Daniel at last, and he was dumbfounded to be back at the house and to see a stranger standing over him. The man was rugged and muscular with thick, brown hair and dark eyes. A wooden cross hung from a leather string tied around his neck, the remnant of a family heirloom handed down for centuries. He placed one hand upon Daniel’s head and one upon his wrist, then stood in silence. Bernard returned to the bedroom as well, waiting patiently at the end of Daniel’s bed. The young man pulled his hands away from Daniel and nodded to Bernard. He slowly turned and exited through the gate with a soft smile upon his lips.

  Daniel opened his eyes and began looking around the room.

  “What do you remember?” Bernard asked.

  He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days, the bags under his eyes evident.

  “I took Benedict’s power,” Daniel answered slowly as he tried to stretch and move his body upright. He felt heavy and sluggish.

  “Why did you go there? Why did you choose to face him so soon?” Bernard’s soft gaze turned into a burning glare.

  Daniel was confused by the question. “I went where the gate took me,” he answered.

  “The gate only opens when you ask it to. It bends to your will alone,” Bernard scolded.

  Daniel remained quiet. He wasn’t willing to admit what was rolling through his head right before he crossed into the gate.

  Bernard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He started again.

  “Did he put up a fight?”

  “No. He asked for redemption, but I doubted his sincerity.”

  “You took his power anyway?” Bernard asked. He was exasperated, his voice elevated.

  “Isn’t that what the Father asks me to do?” Daniel fired back. He wasn’t sure what Bernard was insinuating.

  “Yes... No.” Bernard managed, fumbling his words. He dropped his head and ran his hand through his hair. “You weren’t ready.”

  “Then, how is it that I am still here?” Daniel asked, indignant.

  “I bent the rules on your behalf,” Bernard said. “I called upon another Beloved to heal you; to speed your recovery. It is not allowed. If a Beloved cannot recover from his own injuries, his time is over and his service is complete.”

  “Why did you save me?” Daniel asked, his tone softened.

  “It seems I am a greater fool than even you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Daniel replied.

  “Nor do I.” Bernard was flustered. “Why would Benedict so freely give such power away? He would sooner lie prostrate before me than ask the Father for forgiveness.”

  “He said that my presence meant his days were numbered.”

  “He thrived on inflicting pain. Never have I seen such a fondness for cruelty. Yet you barely have a scratch on you.” Bernard began pacing back and forth. “He often left his victims barely recognizable, mutilated, tortured and always dead. He once tore the wings from an angel’s back, and then threw him from a cliff, daring him to fly. You were no match for him, at least not yet.”

  “But he’s gone, right?” Daniel asked.

  Bernard closed his eyes and thought on what Daniel had just said. There was no reason to believe otherwise, was there? There was no sense of Benedict in this or any other dimension, as far as Bernard could tell.

  “Yes,” he finally conceded, “it appears that you have defeated him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Daniel answered. “I was reckless. It won’t happen again.”

  “I hope not.” Bernard seemed to drift off in his own thoughts as he looked out the window.

  Daniel became concerned by his distance. “We did what was right,” he said.

  “Doing what is right,” Bernard answered, “is not always right.” “You regret saving me.”

  “I regret all that has passed between Benedict and me. We have a common history. He brutalized and killed three Beloved who were under my guard. There was nothing left of Hagen, the last one he viciously murdered. He tore the boy to pieces.” Bernard’s heart was breaking. “I couldn’t let him take you.”

  Daniel’s eyes moistened as he looked his guardian up and down. “It’s over,” Daniel replied.

  “I want to believe that.”

  9

  GOODBYE


  Daniel walked down the hallway to the stairs. The sun had just come up, but he seemed to be the last of the family to rise that morning. He noticed Beth’s bedroom door was open, so he stopped and looked inside. She was seated at her desk, which was up against the right wall of her room. Her hair was pulled back and she mouthed the words as she wrote. Daniel could see the smile on her face.

  January 3, 1863

  Dear Gerald,

  I hope that you enjoyed the holidays with your family. I must apologize for doubting the sincerity of your appeals to my heart. Maybe I lack confidence and believe that I’m incapable of holding your attention. Or maybe I’m simply afraid of how capable I truly am, that I’ll let down my guard and you will see what’s behind the sarcasm. If you’re willing to try, I’m willing to wait.

  I would dearly love to see your hometown. Philadelphia is the farthest I’ve ever been from here. It is a beautiful city but not as magnificent as Boston, I imagine. Would you take me to the harbor? To see the tall ships as they sail into port and smell the sea upon the wind must be a grand experience indeed. And it wouldn’t be complete until you showed me all your favorite parts of the city, even with Daniel looking over our shoulders. My parents would probably insist that he accompany us on our travels. That you two would leave me behind for other adventures has certainly crossed my mind as well.

  Please keep yourself from harm’s way until we meet again. I should have been kinder to you when you were here. Daniel says I’m infuriating at times. Holding my tongue is not among my finer talents, a fact with which you are well acquainted. I suppose that is to my advantage, or maybe it’s to yours.

  Please write as soon as you can. I look forward to your next letter.

  Until then,

  Beth

  “Good morning,” Daniel said, clearing his throat.

  Beth turned sharply toward him, startled by his voice. She looked to him to be a girl of 10 years again who had just snuck a taste of one of her mother’s freshly-made tarts. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

  “Good morning,” she replied. Her eyes darted to the letter as she tried to compose herself.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said.

  “Not at all. Gerald... I mean Duff... I,” Beth stuttered. “I only wished to inquire about his holidays at home.” She let out a deep breath and brought her left hand to her forehead.

  “I’m sure your letter will be a welcome surprise,” he said. Beth raised her eyes and looked over at Daniel. “Thanks.”

  He bowed his head, then continued down the hallway to the top of the stairs. The soft light in the foyer brought a gentle welcome to the new day. Daniel stood looking down at his little brother’s tangled, blond locks. “No comb could tame that mess,” he thought.

  Jonathan sat at the bottom tying his bootlaces. His coat was crumpled on the floor near his feet along with the care package his mother had wrapped neatly with cloth.

  “Where are you headed at this hour?” he called down to Jonathan.

  “The foundry — Robert has a delivery to make.”

  “Could you use some company?” Daniel asked as he walked down the stairs.

  “Sure!” Jonathan said, smiling.

  Daniel bent down and picked up the package before leaving through the front door. They walked down the road together side by side as the snow crunched beneath their feet, giving way to their weight. The heavy, frigid air refused to yield to the steam from their mouths and noses. It filled their lungs that much more with every breath they took.

  “How long is Robert usually gone?” Daniel asked.

  “A couple of weeks, I guess. It depends on where he’s going.” “And how does Father manage without his foreman?”

  “I think the better question is how the workers manage.” Jonathan ducked his head and shot Daniel a playful look.

  “An honest answer,” Daniel replied, smiling and raising his eyebrows. They could see Robert up ahead loading some personal items into the cart. It looked as though he was just about to leave. Daniel was taken with how deftly he maneuvered his crutches in the snow. Robert’s mangled right leg was useless, but it didn’t impede his efforts.

  He thought back to the days he lay in a hospital bed with other young men around him; men like Robert who would never be the same again, who gave more than their fair share and still felt ashamed that they couldn’t give more. He felt like he owed them something.

  Jonathan rushed up to the cart as Daniel continued at his own pace, still carrying his mother’s care package. Robert turned their way when he saw them coming.

  “You didn’t come all this way for me, did you?” Robert called out.

  “We couldn’t let you leave without a proper goodbye,” Daniel replied.

  “Mother thought you could use a few more supplies,” Jonathan jumped in.

  Daniel held up the package to show it to Robert before loading it up on the driver’s seat of the cart.

  Robert reddened. “You tell Mrs. Parker how grateful I am for her thoughtfulness. And of course I can’t thank you two enough either. The Parker family always makes me feel like I’m one of their own.”

  “May I?” Daniel took Robert’s crutches and handed them to Jonathan. He then helped Robert up into the driver’s seat. Without a thought, he practically lifted Robert the whole way. Daniel could see the shock on Robert’s face, but neither one of them commented on it. He quickly motioned for Jonathan to load the crutches behind the seat.

  “You be safe now,” Daniel said. “I don’t know what Father would do without you.”

  Robert grinned before snapping the reins and sending the horses on their way. He looked back over his shoulder at the two brothers waving him goodbye.

  They made their way back to the house as a light snow began to fall. It slowly filled in the footsteps they left behind. Jonathan couldn’t help but notice how quiet Daniel was.

  “Do you feel sorry for Robert?” Jonathan asked.

  “Do you?” Daniel replied.

  “I don’t think it’s fair, that’s all.”

  “And how would you feel if I hadn’t come back?” Daniel asked. Jonathan swallowed hard and then looked over at Daniel. “We’d be lost without you.”

  “And how would Mother and Father feel if you went off to war and never came back?”

  Jonathan stopped walking. He was confused by his brother’s comments. Daniel stopped as well.

  “I don’t know how they’d feel,” Jonathan said at last.

  “They’d be devastated, Jonathan. We all would,” Daniel said. He put his hands on his little brother’s shoulders, squeezing down as if her were going to throttle him. He had no idea how tight and menacing his grip was. “Promise me right now that no matter what happens, you will not run away and join the fighting.”

  Jonathan had never been afraid of Daniel, but something about the way his brother held him at that moment made the hair on his neck stand on end. The shot of adrenaline that rushed through his body begged him to break free and run.

  “I promise,” he said, almost shaking.

  “Good lad,” Daniel said before releasing his grip.

  They started walking again with Jonathan hanging back a step. He couldn’t figure out why he was so frightened. The way Daniel had grabbed him made his words seem more like a threat than a brotherly warning. But wasn’t Daniel only looking out for him, playing the part of protective older brother? He looked at his brother, and Daniel reached over and tousled his hair.

  “How do you get a comb through this thicket?” He laughed, and Jonathan let it go.

  By afternoon, Daniel had retired to his room. He had not crossed the gate since his encounter with Benedict, and he wished to test his powers, but not like before. Bernard had told him he had the ability to help those in great need, and to heal even the deadliest of wounds. Demons were not on the agenda as he walked through the gate this time.

  The cold night air was still, not even a whisper of a
breeze could be felt. Daniel walked within the Union encampment, shrouded by darkness, searching for the makeshift hospital and the wounded who lay inside. The only noticeable sound was an occasional cough coming from one of the tents. The men had all retired for the night, and he went about his business unnoticed.

  Two carts parked near a large tent caught his eye, and he walked past them and into the tent. The cots formed two long rows and there was barely any room to move between them. The boys appeared asleep, yet some still moaned from their injuries. Daniel moved among them quietly so as not to wake or panic them. He spent a moment with each one, touching the head of a soldier with tousled black hair and holding the hand of another who wore a simple, silver wedding band. He closed his eyes and thought of Robert; of the sacrifice he made; of the sacrifices each of these men was making even now. He could feel the power move into their bodies.

  He was taken with one of the boys; his abdomen was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. His skin was pale and clammy, and his body near death. He trembled as if sleep were not enough to release him from the pain. Daniel stayed with this soldier for some time, placing both hands upon the lad’s stomach. He watched as the color returned to the boy’s face and his breathing seemed to settle.

  Though he had spent a good amount of time with the men, he was only slightly worn by his good deed. Feeling like it was time to return, he left the tent and crossed the gate immediately, only to find Beth knocking on his door and softly calling his name.

  “Daniel, dinner is ready. Are you awake?”

  He opened the door with a gentle smile on his face. Beth looked very tired from her short walk to his room. The angel that Daniel had seen before stood next to her, holding her up, and supporting Beth in her weakened state. He bowed his head to Daniel as he handed her to him. Daniel took her right hand in his and turned her around. He placed his left arm around her waist as the angel stepped away and disappeared without Beth knowing he was there.

  “May I?” he asked, wanting to guide her down the hall and then the stairs.

  “Thank you,” she said, slightly winded.

  He walked with her slowly while all the while his power moved through to her. He had every intention of healing her of this mystery illness the doctors could not define. He escorted her all the way to the table, even pulling out her chair and seating her before taking his own. Her cheeks had a vibrant, rosy glow about them that struck his father immediately.