This Present Darkness

by Frank E. Peretti

  MARSHALL, HANK, SUSAN, and Kevin walked quietly down the hall, listening for any sounds and checking the numbers on all the doors. Susan gestured toward the conference room, and they paused just outside. Susan recognized Kaseph’s voice. She nodded to the others.

  Marshall put his hand on the doorknob. He gestured to the others to wait. Then he opened the door and stepped inside. Kaseph sat at the head of the big conference table, and the regents and the four attorneys were seated around it. The demons in the room immediately drew their swords and backed up against the walls. Not only was this the very unexpected newspaperman, but he was accompanied by two very mean-looking heavenly warriors, a huge Arabian and a fierce African who looked more than ready for a fight!

  The Strongman knew this meant trouble, but … not that much trouble. He looked at the intruders defiantly, even grinning just a little, and said, “And just who are you?”

  “The name is Marshall Hogan,” Marshall told Kaseph. “I’m the editor of the Ashton Clarion—that is, as soon as I prove to the right people that I still rightfully own it. But I understand you and I have had a lot to do with each other, and I think it’s time we met.”

  Eugene Baylor did not like the looks of this at all, and neither did any of the others. They were speechless, and some looked like frightened mice with nowhere to run. They all knew where Hogan was supposed to be, but now, suddenly, shockingly, he was in the worst possible place: Here!

  The Strongman’s eyes took on an icy stare, and the demons attending him drew strength from the thought that the Strongman was invincible and diabolically clever. He would know what to do!

  “How did you get here?” Kaseph asked for them all.

  “I took the elevator!” Marshall snapped. “But now I have a question for you. I want my daughter, and I want her unharmed. Let’s deal, Kaseph. Where is she?”

  Kaseph and the Strongman only laughed derisively. “Deal, you say? You, a mere man, wish to deal with me?” Kaseph took a few side glances at his team of lawyers and added, “Hogan, you have no idea what kind of power you’re dealing with.”

  The demons snickered along. Yes, Hogan, the Strongman cannot be tampered with!

  Nathan and Armoth were not laughing.

  “Oh, no,” said Marshall. “That’s where you’re wrong. I do know what kind of power I’m dealing with. I’ve had some really good lessons all through this thing, and some good lectures from my friend here.”

  Marshall opened the door and in came Hank—and Krioni, and Triskal, this time under no orders of peace.

  The Strongman jumped up, his jagged jaws gaping. The demons in the room started trembling and tried to hide behind their swords.

  “Relax, relax!” said a lawyer. “They’re nothing!”

  But the Strongman could feel the presence of the Lord God enter the room with this man. The demon monarch knew who this was. “Busche! The praying man!”

  And Hank knew whom he faced. The Spirit was crying it out very loudly within Hank’s heart, and that face …

  “The Strongman, I presume!” said Hank.

  SANDY ASKED MADELINE again, “Madeline, where are we going? Why are you hanging on to me so?”

  Madeline would not answer but kept pulling Sandy deeper and deeper into the tunnel. Madeline’s friends were all around Sandy, and they did not seem kind or gentle at all. They kept pushing her, grabbing her, forcing her along. Their fingernails were sharp.

  THE PEOPLE AROUND the conference table were shocked and nonplussed, suddenly finding themselves in the presence of a hideous creature; they had never seen such an expression on Kaseph’s face before, and they had never heard such a vicious voice. Kaseph rose from his chair, his breath hissing through his teeth, his eyes bulging, his back arched, his fists clenched.

  “You cannot defeat me, praying man!” the Strongman bellowed, and the demons around him clung with desperate hope to those words. “You have no power! I have defeated you!”

  Marshall and Hank stood their ground unflinchingly. They had tackled demons before. This was nothing new or surprising.

  Kaseph’s attorneys could not think of anything to say.

  Marshall reached over and opened the door. With her head held high and her face full of determination, Susan Jacobson, the Maidservant, stepped into the room, followed by the very angry Kevin Weed, and four more towering guards with them. The room was getting crowded, and tense.

  “Hello, Alex,” said Susan.

  Kaseph’s eyes were full of shock and fear, but still he gasped and sputtered, “Who are you? I don’t know you. I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Don’t say anything, Alex,” an attorney advised him.

  Hank stepped forward. It was time for battle.

  “Strongman,” Hank said in a firm and steady voice, “in the name of Jesus, I rebuke you! I rebuke you and I bind you!”

  MADELINE WOULD NOT let go! Her hands felt like icy steel as she pulled Sandy along. The tunnel was getting dark and cold.

  “Madeline!” Sandy cried. “Madeline, what are you doing? Please let go of me!”

  Madeline kept her face forward and would not look back at Sandy. All Sandy could see was that long, flowing blonde hair. Madeline’s hands were hard and cold. They were hurting Sandy’s wrists, cutting into them.

  Sandy cried in desperation, “Madeline! Madeline, please stop!” Suddenly the other spirit guides pressed in all around her. They were clamping onto her, and their steely hands hurt. “Please, don’t you hear me? Make them stop!”

  Madeline turned her head at last. Her hide was soot-black and leathery. Her eyes were huge yellow orbs. Her jaws were the jaws of a lion, and saliva dribbled off her fangs. A low guttural growl rumbled out of her throat.

  Sandy screamed. From somewhere in this blackness, this tunnel, this nothingness, this altered state, this pit of death and deception, she screamed from the depths of her tortured and dying soul.

  TAL LEAPED FROM the earth. He exploded in a burst of wings and light. The ground dropped away and the town became a map below him as he shot over Ashton like a comet, piercing the spiritual darkness like a fiery arrow, illuminating the whole valley like a prolonged lightning bolt. He climbed, he circled; his wings were a blurred flurry of jewels.

  The trumpet went to his lips, and the call went forth like a shock wave to shake the heavens. It echoed across the valley and back again, and back again, and back again. With wave after wave it washed over the ground, it deafened the demons, it soared down the streets and rumbled through the alleys, it rang in every ear with volley after volley of notes, building higher and sounding longer, and the still, thick air was shattered with the sound. Tal blew and blew as he soared over the town, his wings flashing, his garments glowing.

  The moment had come.

  THE STRONGMAN WAS suddenly silent. His big eyes rolled back and forth.

  “What was that?” he hissed.

  The demons all around him were shaken and looking at him for answers, but he had none.

  The eight heavenly warriors drew their swords. That was answer enough.

  RAFAR SCREAMED THROUGH Langstrat, “I am speaking here! Let nothing else draw your attention!”

  The demons in the room tried to pay attention again, as did the psychics they controlled.

  For a fraction of a moment, Madeline’s grip weakened. But only for a moment.

  But they all knew they had heard something.

  THE EVIL WARRIORS in the cloud steadily settled downward upon the town; but now their eyes were dazzled by the sudden appearance of one lone angel tracing brilliant streaks of light across the sky below them. And what was this horribly loud trumpet all about? Were not the heavenly forces already defeated? Did they dare to think they could possibly defend this town?

  Suddenly tiny bursts of light appeared all over the town far below, flashes that did not dissipate but remained and grew brighter. They thickened and grew in numbers and density. The town was on fire; it was disappearing under myriads of tiny lights, as nu
merous as grains of sand. It was blinding!

  The eerie screams began at the center of the cloud and rippled outward across the layers upon layers of demons: “The Host of Heaven!”

  Thunderous shouts began the moment Tal touched down on his hill and raised his blazing sword high above his head.

  “For the saints of God and for the Lamb!”

  Tal shouted it, Guilo shouted it, myriads of heavenly warriors shouted it, and the entire landscape from one end of the valley to the other, the entire town, and even the forested hills surrounding Ashton erupted in brilliant stars.

  From the buildings, streets, alleys, sewers, lakes, ponds, vehicles, rooms, closets, nooks, crannies, trees, thickets, and every other imaginable hiding place, flaming stars shot into the air.

  The Host of Heaven!

  SANDY WAS TUMBLING, struggling. The thing called Madeline had both her arms; the other spirits held her legs, her neck, her torso. They were biting her. From somewhere the mocking voice of the Ascended Master, Rafar, said, “Take her, Madeline! We have her! We cannot fail now.”

  Sandy tried to get out of the trance, out of the altered state, out of the nightmare, but she couldn’t remember how. She heard the metallic clinking of chains. No! NOOOOO. …

  “YOU CANNOT DEFEAT me!” the Strongman screamed, and his demons hoped, or rather wished it were true.

  “Be quiet and come out of him!” Hank ordered.

  His words threw the demons against the walls and hit the Strongman like a left hook.

  Kaseph hissed and spat curses and obscenities at the young minister. The regents around the table were all speechless; some ducked under the table. The lawyers were trying to calm Kaseph down.

  “I want my daughter!” Marshall said. “Where is she?”

  “It’s all over,” said Susan. “I’ve given them all the right documents! The feds are coming to hang you, and I’m going to tell them everything!”

  From behind the other three Kevin shouted, “Kaseph, you think you’re so tough, let’s step outside and settle this man to man!”

  THE DESCENDING CLOUD of demons and the rising fireball of angels began to collide in the skies over Ashton. Thunder began to rip the sky in response to the terrific clash of the spiritual forces. Swords flashed, and a hail of screams and shouts echoed across the sky. The heavenly warriors mowed through the ranks of demons like blurring scythes. Demons began to fall out of the sky like meteors, spinning, smoking, dissolving.

  TAL, GUILO, AND the General streaked toward the college, swords ready, the town a blur beneath them. A very strong regiment of angelic hosts had pushed its way through the demonic offensive and began cordoning off the college campus. Soon there would be an angelic canopy over the college within the demonic canopy over the town. The breaking of the enemy’s strength would begin there.

  “They have nearly contained the Strongman!” Guilo shouted over the roar of the wind and their wings.

  “Find Sandy!” Tal ordered. “There is no time to spare!”

  “I’ll take the Strongman,” said the General.

  “And Rafar will soon get his wish,” Tal said.

  They fanned out, shot forward with a new burst of speed, and began cutting their way through the demons who were still trying to blockade the college. The demon warriors fell upon them like an avalanche, but for Guilo this was good sport. Tal and the General could hear his uproarious laughter through the thudding sounds of his blade going through demon after demon.

  Tal was busy himself, being such a valuable prize for the demon lucky enough to vanquish him. The most horrible warriors were singling him out, and they didn’t fall easily. He skidded through the air sideways, slammed one spirit with his sword, went into a blurred spin and split the next warrior with the force of a saw-blade. Two more dove down at him; he shot toward them, impaled the first as he passed it, grabbed its wingtip and whipped around in a tight circle, coming up behind the other, his blade like a bullet. They vanished in a cloud of red smoke. He slipped through the clutches of several more, then dove and zigzagged toward the college, cutting demons down as he went. He could hear Guilo still roaring and laughing somewhere over his left shoulder.

  THE CONFERENCE ROOM was quickly losing its calm atmosphere.

  Delores Pinckston was distraught. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew we were all getting in too deep!”

  “Hogan,” fumed Eugene Baylor, “you’re only bluffing. You have nothing.”

  “I have everything, and you know it.”

  Kaseph was beginning to look very ill. “Get out! Get out of here! I’ll kill you if you don’t leave!”

  Was this the real Kaseph that Marshall had been tracking down all this time? Was this the ruthless occult mobster who controlled such a vast international empire? Was he actually afraid?

  “You’re sunk, Kaseph!” said Marshall.

  “You’re defeated, Strongman!” said Hank.

  The Strongman began to shake. The demons in the room could only cower.

  “So let’s deal,” Marshall offered again. “Where’s my daughter?”

  BRUMMEL WAS ABOUT to have a heart attack, and he wished he really could. It was horrible! The others were sitting around the room listening raptly to this beast speaking through Langstrat, and actually relishing what was happening to Sandy. She trembled and shook in her chair, moaning, screaming, struggling against some unseen assailant.

  “Let me go!” she screamed. “Let me go!”

  Her eyes were wide open, but she was seeing unspeakable horrors from another world. She gasped for air, pale with terror.

  She’s going to die, Brummel! They are going to kill her!

  The hulking, bug-eyed creature sitting in Langstrat’s chair was bellowing in a voice that made Brummel’s insides quiver. “You are lost, Sandy Hogan! We have you now! You belong to us, and we are the only reality you know!”

  “Please, God,” she screamed. “Get me out of here, please!”

  “Join us! Your mother has fled, your father is dead! He is gone! Think of him no longer! You belong to us!”

  Sandy went limp in her chair as if she had been shot. Her face suddenly numbed with despair.

  Brummel could take no more. Before he had time to realize what he was doing, he jumped out of his chair and ran to her. He shook her gently and tried to speak to her.

  “Sandy!” he pleaded. “Sandy, don’t listen to them! It’s all a lie! Do you hear me?”

  Sandy could not hear him.

  But Rafar could. Langstrat jumped up from her chair and screamed at Brummel in that same deep, devilish voice, “Be silent, you little imp, and step aside! She belongs to me!”

  Brummel ignored her. “Sandy, don’t listen to this lying monster. This is Alf Brummel talking to you. Your father is all right.”

  Rafar’s rage grew so that Langstrat’s body nearly burst from the intensity of it. “Hogan is defeated! He is imprisoned!”

  Brummel looked right into Langstrat’s—and Rafar’s—crazed eyes and shouted, “Marshall Hogan is free! Hank Busche is free! I released them myself! They are free, and they are coming to destroy you!”

  Rafar was stymied for a moment. He simply could not believe the ravings of this weak little man, this insignificant little puppet who had never before acted in this brazen fashion. But then Rafar heard a very inappropriate snicker coming from behind Brummel, and he saw a familiar face laughing him to scorn.

  Lucius!

  TAL AND GUILO swooped down into the Administration Building, but Tal suddenly stopped short.

  “Wait now! What is this?”

  LUCIUS DREW HIS sword and said, “You are not so mighty, Rafar! Your plan has failed, and I am the only true Prince of Ashton!”

  Rafar’s sword rang from its sheath. “Do you dare to oppose me?”

  Rafar’s sword cut through the air with a rush of wind, but Lucius stopped the big blade with his own; the force of the blow almost knocked him over.

  The many demons in the room were startled and confused.
They let go of their hosts. What was this?

  KASEPH WAS INDIGNANT with his lawyers and even threw some punches at them. “Stop it! You will not tell me what to do! This is my world! I am in charge here! I say what is and what is not! These people are fools and liars, every one of them!”

  Susan spoke directly to Kaseph. “You, Alexander Kaseph, are responsible for the murder of Patricia Krueger and the attempted murder of myself and Mr. Weed here. I have the many lists I helped you write up, lists of people who ended up dead by your order.”

  “Murder!” exclaimed one regent. “Mr. Kaseph, is this true?”

  “Don’t answer that,” said a lawyer.

  “No!” Kaseph screamed.

  Several other regents looked at each other. They knew Kaseph pretty well by now. They didn’t believe him.

  “How about it, Kaseph?” Marshall said grimly.

  The Strongman wanted with all his evil heart to lunge at this brazen hound and maul him, and he would have, guards or no guards—if not for that horrible praying man who stood in the way.

  LANGSTRAT STALKED LIKE a lion toward Brummel, as many of the psychics, having lost their spirit guides, came out of their trances to see what in the world had happened.

  “I will vanquish you for this treachery!” she hissed at him.

  “What is this?” Oliver Young demanded. “Have you both gone mad?”

  Brummel stood his ground and pointed a shaking finger at Langstrat. “You will no longer rule over me. This plan will not succeed for your glory. I will not let it!”

  “Be quiet, you little fool!” Langstrat ordered.

  “No!” Brummel shouted, driven on by the crazed and brazen Lucius. “The Plan is doomed. It has failed, just as I knew it would.”