That sufficed as an answer to Brent, so they piled into the van and headed out of the hospital parking lot.
3:00 A.M.
STEPHANIE WAS SPENT. She looked into her bedroom vanity and saw the toll that had been exacted.
Tara had been right. They were both beautiful women, but Stephanie had to be honest, the years were catching up. The years and the practicing of the craft. No wonder so many witches seemed to unnaturally age.
The conjuring of spirits had taken a lot of spiritual energy, which always resulted in being physically drained. Is that something that would, or even could, change?
She wondered what kind of changes, what enhancements, would come of learning the true religion of the Picts. It would surely be marvelous.
Was the Olde Faithe completely unlike what they currently practiced? Were witchcraft and sorcery just a foreshadowing of true power and knowledge? It could well be that they would have to stop calling themselves witches or practitioners of the occult. After all, the other religions, Islam, Christianity, and Judaism, though monotheistic, do not consider the power and authority that they tap into to be witchcraft or occultism.
If the Pictish faith was going to one day be among the top-four religions in the world, they would probably have to at least modify what they called themselves individually in order to be considered legitimate on the world’s stage.
With a finger, she drew her hair from the right side of her face. Placing it behind her ear, she leaned toward the mirror for a closer look. Would the new religion do more to preserve her physically? Why not? If the Pictish faith had previously been the religion of the majestic Faery Folk of Atlantis…
Stephanie leaned back and sighed, still looking at her reflection. Maybe I’m hoping for too much.
The very thought of what could lie within the ancient Pictish language stirred a growing impatience for the translation of the Picti standing stones to take place. Surely Brendan and David would start that work in earnest very soon.
First, though, they had to make sure that the Lawtons and Donna McNeill backed away. They were nosing into things they couldn’t possibly fathom or appreciate. Hopefully, tonight’s spiritcast had taken care of part of the problem.
Time would tell.
She picked up a jar of skincare cream and applied a thin layer to her face and neck. Massaging it in, Stephanie walked to the bed.
Tonight Brendan would make love to her. He was happy with her again.
3:15 A.M.
TARA SAT IN the center of the semi-circular booth that was filled now to capacity with six young-to-adult diners. The restaurant wasn’t as empty as she would have thought at—she checked her watch—3:15 in the morning. The restaurant must have had staff waiting on a good ten tables.
With their breakfast orders placed—except, of course for the chicken tenders that Amy and Jamie just had to have—conversation about the events of the night began in earnest.
Brent had been doing a great job of keeping the atmosphere as light as possible. It would be interesting to see what paths conversation would take in the presence of the children. At this point, how much was too much or too little to talk about in front of them?
Their dad took the lead. “Amy-Bug? Anything that you would like to talk about?”
Amy looked up at her mom, whom she was pressed up against, with eyes that were almost looking for permission, so Tara gave her a nod. She momentarily pressed her lips together, and then looked at Jenna.
“You said Jesus would protect me.” Her eyes began to blink rapidly, fighting back tears as the corners of her mouth drew down and trembled.
Jenna’s eyes got wide as she pushed her eyebrows up. Her lips parted as if to say something, but nothing came.
“Sweetheart,” said Tara, “you don’t think Jesus protected you?”
Amy shook her head. A single sob was released before she fought to hold in a second.
“Don’t be a baby. You don’t see me crying,” exclaimed Jamie.
“Jamie! Don’t!” his dad warned.
“But…”
Brent cut him off with a hard stare and a slow shake of his head.
“Sorry, Donna,” offered Brent.
Donna smiled. “It’s good to see something so normal. Normal is definitely good, even if it’s just a brother picking on a sister.”
Tara empathized with Donna’s statement before turning back to Amy.
“Why don’t you think Jesus protected you?”
“‘Cause the bad stuff happened. I had bad dreams. Jesus didn’t stop bad things from happening.”
“You know what? You’re right. Jesus didn’t stop bad things from happening. Not right away.
“Remember Aslan? He didn’t stop all of the bad things from happening right away either. I think that Jesus wants us to understand that there really are bad things in the world and that they are dangerous and scary. I think that sometimes we get hurt because we live in a world that has a lot of bad in it. But that doesn’t mean that Jesus isn’t there. It means that we need to pray to him. We need to call out to him to send us help.
“Remember how using the name of Jesus made the bad things stop happening to Jamie?” Tara looked over at her son who was still sulking from his rebuke. “Jesus gave us the right to use his name to make the bad things stop.”
“Jenna says they’re demons,” said Amy.
“Well, Jenna is right,” Tara responded with a quick glance at her oldest. “They used to be powerful angels, now they are bad angels called demons.”
Jamie got excited and interrupted. “Like in my GodSend comic books! Illgate used to be an angel named Aristrong before he and a lot of other angels followed Lucifer in the Prime Rebellion. He didn’t lose any of his strength, except that now he lives in darkness. He tries to hurt the humans. But God sends angels like Trilight to fight for us … I mean them.”
Brent smiled. “You were right the first time. To fight for us.”
Donna interjected now. “Okay, I know you’re trying to make the children less fearful, and that’s good. But are you really trying to get them to believe that there are angels and demons?”
It appeared to Tara that as quickly as the words were out of Donna’s mouth, she had realized that her question was undermining Brent’s and her authority.
Donna interjected quickly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to put down what you said, especially in front of your kids.”
Brent looked at her for a moment before replying. “Donna, we’re laying things out on the table here. You were invited to be a part of this conversation, too. So, no need to apologize. But to answer your question, yes. That’s exactly what we believe, and we’ve got good reason. If you would like, the four of us can, later, get into a deeper conversation about it, and why we are so convinced. Sound good?”
Donna presented an agreeable smile. “I don’t know about it sounding good, but I’m certainly willing to talk and listen.”
Brent saw the waitress heading their direction with a large tray of food. She approached the table and conversation came to a standstill. Another, this time a waiter, approached with a second tray and helped to place meals in front of the six diners.
Brent took a moment to pray aloud, thanking God for his provision, and then they began to eat. Conversation resumed.
Tara turned back to Amy. “It comes down to this, Sweetie; there are good angels and bad demons. Demons hate everything that God loves, and that means they hate people, because we were made like God in a lot of ways. He made us special. The devil—Satan—doesn’t want any of us to know God or to follow him. And if we do follow God, then that means Satan considers us his enemies, even though he already hates everyone.”
She paused for a moment, considering her next words. “What happened tonight was an attack by demons that were sent by some bad people. They were sent to try to hurt us, and they succeeded. But, guess what? Jesus’ name was more powerful than the demons that came at us. Right? His name sent them all away and saved us all
from worse stuff.”
“Amy-Bug,” offered Brent, “We learned something tonight that we didn’t think about before each of you went to bed. I know that we prayed, but we could have prayed better. Our next prayers are going to protect us better from what happened tonight. We’re going to pray protection all around us before we go back to sleep.”
“I’m scared to go to sleep,” Amy responded.
“I know honey,” said Tara. She looked up at Brent.
“I am, too,” Jenna added.
Tara saw that Brent began contemplating an answer to the challenge of getting to sleep for the rest of the night. Within half a minute he said, “Let’s wake up Mom & Dad. There’s plenty of space and with an air mattress there will be enough beds.” He looked at Donna. “That includes you, Donna. Unless I miss my guess, I think you’ll be more comfortable sleeping in the home of strangers than in our vacant house or even your own. Of course, I could put you up in a hotel.”
Donna looked dumbstruck, not to mention nervous. It was obvious that this was a whole lot more than she had bargained for. She appeared to resign to her situation and said, “I’m going where there is safety in numbers.”
Tara smiled. Good answer!
“Dad?”
“Yes, Son?”
“Are you going to go get the bad people?”
“I’m going to try, Jamie. I’m certainly going to try.”
Brent stood outside on the concrete slab that extended from his parents’ family room. He looked into the backyard, not looking at anything in particular as he seethed internally. There were times, infrequent as they may be, that he wanted to ditch his Christianity and deal with things from the same raw, base nature that he saw in a lot of the people he had to contend with as a cop.
He wanted to find this Brendan-and-Stephanie pair and stick a .45 semi-automatic pistol in their faces. He wanted to see them with the same terror in their eyes that he’d seen in those of his children.
Who does that? Who attacks people like that? Why?!
Brent interlaced his fingers behind his head as he walked out into the lawn toward his mom’s garden at the back end of the property. Just moments before, he had told Tara that he was going outside to pray, but he didn’t want to pray! He wanted to hurt someone.
He heard the sliding glass door of the family room open, then close. He figured it was Tara coming out to talk with him; probably hoping to pray with him.
“Good morning, Son.”
It was his dad. He dropped his hands and turned around.
“Rough morning?” asked Keith Lawton.
“I’m pretty angry, Dad. So, yes, I guess you could call it a rough morning.”
“Guess I can’t blame you. Tara said you were out here praying, is that what you were doing?”
“Not exactly.”
“She also said that you were pretty amazing last night, how you dealt with things after the attack.”
Brent had a lot of respect for his dad, especially because he had held to his relationship with Christ through the years. In many ways it had improved their relationship as father and son. No longer was his dad contending with his faith, but instead was lending godly wisdom gained through the years to his faith.
On many occasions they had gone on walks through the neighborhood or gone fishing just so that they could talk about life; be it child rearing, marriage, or just life in general. They had common footing and neither was overly embarrassed about weaknesses or shortcomings. His dad was being a dad, and Brent couldn’t express enough appreciation to God for that.
Brent’s mom lent to the strength of father and son, as well. Her faith in the Lord was as strong as that of her husband. Their relationship had become more than that of two cohabitating daily fighters. The Lord had drawn the two back into one.
Several years prior, Brent saw an illustration that had helped him to better understand the growing bond between his mom and dad. His mom and dad were on opposite sides of a triangle, with Christ at the pinnacle. As the two of them grew in their walks toward Christ, they ended up coming closer and closer together as a result. It was impossible not to. Even if one was growing more slowly, they’d still be moving in the same direction and still creating more adhesion between them. If, though, one stopped and the other grew, then there would be pain and more distance.
His dad had become quite the lay theologian, studying, not just reading, the Bible. He enjoyed reading classic Bible commentators, like John Darby, Matthew Henry, and John Gill. His insights were valued. The combination of his dad’s knowledge of the Bible and his position as a loving father certainly made him a wise sage in Brent’s mind.
In his early seventies now, Keith Lawton, still led an active life. He chose to continue working, though it probably wasn’t necessary. He just didn’t want to remain sedentary. Brent liked that about him. He always had something going on in his life that kept him around people and kept him talking. He’d come a long way from the days of coming home from work just to plop himself into a recliner and watch TV.
“Dad, all I did last night was put on a good show. I was furious. If it had only been Tara and me coming out of that hospital ER, I would have told her to go home, and you can bet I would have gone off and banged down a certain farmhouse door in Pittston.”
His dad walked up to his left side, put the thumb and forefinger of his right hand around the base of the back of Brent’s neck and began to guide him back toward the house.
“Son, how about we go for a walk?”
Brent couldn’t help but smile. He knew that the next twenty minutes or so were going to mean the baring of his heart. His dad seemed to have a way of helping rid him of all the minutia and bring things back to the basics. Brent knew he was about to either enjoy or endure an extended talk about how God might be viewing the situation.
But then, maybe he was overdue for a change in perspective.
7:53 A.M.
TARA HELD HER cup of coffee as she watched the men through the family room window.
Looks like Brent and Dad are going out for one of their father-son walks.
She was happy about that. Nothing bad could come of two men walking and talking and sharing their hearts.
She took a sip of the light-brown morning nectar then returned to the kitchen. In the sun-lit, narrow room were both Donna and Brent’s mom, each propped up against opposite counters with their own cups of coffee. They both smiled as Tara walked in.
“Good morning, Donna,” said Tara. “Sleep okay?”
“Not as bad as I thought I would, actually. Thank you for giving me one of the beds.”
“You’re welcome. Did I interrupt a conversation?”
“Not at all, dear,” offered her mother-in-law. “Just getting to know each other a little bit.”
“Mrs. Lawton was just telling me a couple of cute stories about your husband when he was a boy.”
“Sharon, please, Donna. You’ll make me feel like I’m seventy with all of that missus stuff. Oh dear. I am seventy!” Sharon said with a laugh.
What a good woman, mused Tara.
“Donna, do you have to be off on some client calls this morning?”
“No, fortunately. I do have my weekends to myself, usually. Unless there is some sort of emergency.”
“What could you possibly know of emergencies?” Sharon said with another laugh.
The younger two ladies appreciated the humor and allowed the amusement to produce giggles within them, as well.
“Mom, can we sit around the dining room table?”
“Why certainly! In fact, let me get us all a few goodies to nibble on while we sip our coffee.”
Donna started walking toward the dining room, when Tara said, “That woman can bake; let me tell you!”
“Good, my stomach’s growling. Though, it certainly doesn’t have any right to after that big breakfast just a few hours ago.”
“Trust me. I know how you feel.”
As they sat down Tara asked, “Anything you�
�d like to talk about while the kids are still out?”
Donna actually looked a little relieved by the question, though she obviously still had her reservations about such a conversation. She leaned slightly in toward Tara and whispered, “What about your mother-in-law? Won’t a conversation about this stuff, you know, weird her out?”
Tara opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by Sharon.
“What? Weirded out by talk of angels and demons, witchcraft and the occult?” She approached the table with three plates of pastries and cookies. “I’m old, Donna. Not deaf,” she added with another of her rich laughs.
“Let me tell you about weirded out!” Sharon continued. “Weirded out happened when my son came home from a camping trip with this one,” indicating Tara with a dismissive wave of her hand and a playful wink. “Told his father and me that Tara would need a place to stay for a few days. I asked why.
“Donna, never ask why, because you just don’t know what kind of story you’re going to get.” She slapped the table with the palm of her hand and just started giggling. “That was funny!”
Donna and Tara fell right in line with their own laughter. How her Mom—and that’s really how she viewed this woman—could turn a subject like this into something so funny was beyond her.
Sharon continued with a bright smile. “Tara did not want Brent telling us about what had transpired during their several days of backpacking, but the ending of the story had made it all worthwhile.”
Sharon stopped and just sat there with a grin on her face, apparently satisfied with her explanation or not realizing that there was actually more to the story to tell.
Tara and Donna looked at each other, knowing smiles playing across their faces.
Donna took the lead. “Umm… what exactly did Brent tell you that day?”
“Oh dear. It’s that old-age thing again.” That caused her to laugh again. “Sorry about that,” she said, trying to rub the tears of laughter from her eyes.
When Darkness Comes Page 20
