She rose and stretched. Every joint and muscle cried in pain. Cupping her swollen chin where Veronka clobbered her, she said, “I feel…kind of all right. What happened to the fire? Why couldn’t you walk through it?”
“Hellfire detains both angels and demons. Since I was in my human form, I attempted to pass. It scorched my fingers to the bone.” She glimpsed his charcoal colored hands. “I heal quick.” He looked glum. “You need to speak to Father James. I’ll drive you to the rectory, now.”
Jordan’s objections smothered on her tongue as he tossed her sneakers and coat at her. “Get dressed.” There’d be no arguing with him.
She’d scarcely stuffed her arms into her coat sleeves when he seized her hand and jogged to the car. His urgency was baffling. She felt perfectly fine.
The car skidded on the icy street as they headed for Holy Angels Church. Jordan’s head began to ache, the world looked fuzzy and lopsided, and a psychedelic rumba frolicked in her brain. Massaging her temples and fighting the detonating entourage, she watched in annoyance as the usually complacent Markus fidgeted, making her temples pound even more. He rang the rectory’s doorbell again and impatiently slapped his palm on the panel, nearly jarring the lock.
Father James, wearing a traditional priestly cassock, released the bolt. He was younger than most parish pastors, though, even at his age, silvery strands wove through a head of chestnut brown hair, already showing signs of strife. As soon as he looked into Jordan’s bloodshot eyes, he sighed, disconcerted.
Wordless, Markus swept past him with Jordan in tow and deposited her on the rectory’s couch. Aware of her guardian angel, Father James stared as Markus recounted the battle and Asa’s curse.
“I know you’re an exorcist. You can help her,” Markus said in haste. “I’m being summoned. I have to leave.” His figure faded from their sight.
Father James and Jordan looked at each other, stupefied by his brisk departure.
“Now explain, in detail, every little word or action you can remember,” he said in his mellow voice.
As she endeavored to recollect the past hour, Jordan’s head ignited. Incessant screams scrambled her brain. Planting her hands over her ears was a futile attempt at squelching the internal cries shredding her from the inside. She kept compressing her eyes to rinse her molten lava membranes.
Father James uncapped a bottle of holy oil of chrism for anointing. Her eyelids, ears, throat, and forehead. Thumbing pages in a book he utilized for an exorcism and clutching a crucifix, the priest situated the cross directly over her brow.
His compelling words plaited an intrusive, binding cord. He admonished curses, hexes, and enchantments. And concluded with, “We rebuke Satan and all his evil works, snares, and approaches. By the power of Jesus’s precious blood, we soak and cleanse the body of Jordan Chase inside and out…”
Her body felt like a bedraggled dishrag as she gazed upon the priest who rebuked Asa’s curse, over and over, for more than an hour. His eyes looked sunken and dull, and his shoulders hunched like an old man sapped of energy. Her head still ached, although not as badly.
Gently smoothing the dog-eared pages in his book, Father James said, “I’m worried about Asa’s spell rebounding. It’s hard to vanquish. And you are blessed with a substantial armor of protection.”
She recalled the séance, which had undoubtedly added fuel to the fire. “Father, I sat in a séance to wheedle my way into the confidence of some girls,” she confessed. “I think one of them might be the catalyst that brings about my…dream. Ronan can command spirits, and I need to find a way to stop her. But that night…I felt like I had crossed over to the dark side.”
The priest paled, clearly not pleased.
She added, “My mother doesn’t know. What should I do?”
Slightly unstable, he lowered himself onto the nearest chair and pressed his brow. “How many people are involved with these games?”
“Three girls.” She dislodged a damp string of hair from her forehead. “Two boys know about it, but I don’t think they’re involved, at least not when I was there. Rumors are flying around school about Ronan being a witch. Most kids think it’s a hoax.” It hurt her head to talk.
“Jordan, in school, you are called to transcend adolescence and harvest souls for God. Not the other way around.” Taking a deep breath, Father James went on. “It’s highly unusual for both you and your mother to receive such extraordinary mysticism. But I recognize that we live in a dysfunctional world. We must believe with all our hearts that God’s in control.”
Dipping his chin and closing his eyes, hands steepled in prayer, Father James didn’t move, yet he seemingly shifted into another dimension. Stillness. When he became alert, his gaze centered on her.
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Lacing his fingers, he rested his chin on his thumbs and peered pointedly at her. “You’re on a different level than most teenagers. You are morally solid. You can easily avoid the evil snares of worldly possession. I know that your subterfuge is a way to avoid distressing your mom. Nevertheless, you hurt her by not confiding.”
His arms dropped to lay on his thighs. “Séances can damage you. Your soul is not likely to be possessed, yet your spirit is more easily attained. Since I know your history, you would be a great advantage to the spirit world. You need to be on guard.”
Contrite, Jordan let her head fall. “May I go into the church for a while?”
“Yes, come through the rectory, and I’ll let you in the side doors.”
He touched her shoulder and cautioned, “I have been forewarned of Mr. Trebane’s, shall we say, talent. It is well known. My exorcism may not have countered all of his incantation. Come back to see me as soon as possible.” He directed his young parishioner to the church and then limped away.
The faintly lit church felt like home. Tiers of votive candles flickered sedately beneath life-sized statues depicting Holy Saints. Her eyes browsed to the perpetual candle next to the Tabernacle, its flame like a joyful hello.
Kneeling respectfully, hands knit in prayer, she implored the Lord’s forgiveness for her mistakes. Engrossed in prayer, she closed her eyes, and then a resplendent shine pierced her eyelids. Straining to see through the blaze, she was immersed in an arcane luminosity.
“Lucifer does everything possible to separate your heart from My heart,” a heavenly voice said. “You can dispel the strongest demons, for they are nothing in My name. Trust in the mercy of My cross, and it shall become a flame of divine love to assist you in conquering the demons of the evil one.”
The sanctuary dimmed.
Drifting to earth after the inspiring interlude, Jordan observed her splendid angel kneeling reverently. He rose, his essence hardening into Mark.
“I’ll take you home.”
The sublime apparition had resulted in wobbly legs. She took his offered arm and shambled to his waiting vehicle.
YOU ARE NEVER ALONE
JORDAN, YOU’RE NOT being truthful,” Seeley fumed into the cell phone. “I need to know all that goes on in your life. You’re not in this alone.”
The debate had ended on a sour note. Zeke had informed Seeley of the attack in the school gym. Markus had asked several principalities, including Ezekiel, to be on the lookout for demons in Elma. Markus had forgotten to mention that she preferred her mom to be left out of the loop.
Annoyed with Markus, Jordan was having a hard time getting to sleep. Except he was not truly at fault—she was. Hiding secrets from her mom, as Father James had said, would only hurt them both. She propped her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling. The whistling wind clattered the windowpanes, drawing her eyes to the crystallized flakes outside.
It had been around that time, six years before, when they’d transported their meager belongings to Elma. Their lives had been in ruins after her father’s death, and without faltering, her grandparents had opened their home and their arms to them. Grumpy Henry and sweet Emily had offered them sanctuary.
>
Despite the whistling wind, she finally sank into a fitful slumber, transported yet again to the spacious, hazy room where black-clad bodies pressed in on her. Hooded cloaks revealed glowering eyes and pinched lips.
Drip, Drip, Drip Something splashed on Jordan’s hair. She brushed the wetness away and gaped at her hands, bathed in her father’s blood. Trapped in the recurring nightmare, she didn’t want to look up. The dream was in control, forcing her to crane her neck toward the suffering sacrifice. She expected to witness her father’s mangled, bloody body.
Unbelievably, she’d plunged into a new horror.
Not her father, but her mom’s half-lidded eyes begged for release. Seeley, body mangled and clothed in blood, cried in agony. Jordan’s mouth opened wide to scream at the horrendous spectacle, but instead, she gagged, until she vomited a repulsive slimy snake.
Choking and clutching her throat, Jordan vaulted from the bed. Her screams died in the depths of her chest as she inspected the dusky room. Her rampaging heart slowed to its normal rhythm.
The shadows retreated as light entered, and a tall figure drew forward.
“Omigosh, you scared me,” Jordan cried.
“Another nightmare?” Markus swept away the damp hair screening her face.
“Yes.” Her voice broke to pieces. “But it was . . . Mom. Mom was hanging on the cross. The way she looked at me— Almost like... like I failed her.”
He tried to hide his troubled expression. “Go back to sleep. I’ll stay with you.”
Without further coaxing, her body drooped, and Markus tucked her in. A few seconds passed and Jordan heard a faint whisper. Rolling over, she slurred, “What’d you say?”
“I didn’t say anything. Just calm down and get some rest.”
She fell asleep, or so she thought. A white light woke her, and she squinted into its glare, Jordan rejoiced when her father appeared, his face as handsome as she remembered. His mouth split in a gleaming smile as he scooped her into his arms.
“Dad. Dad.” She cuddled into his neck, not wanting him to disappear.
“I needed to see you, to hold you,” her father said softly in her ear.
Tears sprang to her eyes, melting in his arms. “I miss you.”
A nurturing light encased them as he rocked her from side to side.
“Jordan, are you all right? Jordan?”
Hot with tears, she opened her eyes and looked at her angel. “What happened to my father?”
“Jack?”
“He was here, just now, holding me.” She glanced around, half expecting to see him.
Markus’s skeptical look gave Jordan her answer. “Another dream,” he whispered.
“Not this time. She pouted and burrowed under the covers. “He was real. I felt him.”
JORDAN YAWNED FOR the umpteenth time during church. Boredom had set in, and she began to people watch. A pair of unwavering sapphire eyes drew her attention. Markus sported his friendly grin. Beth sat next to him, along with the rest of the Schaffer family. Catching their brief encounter, Beth edged closer, claiming him. Jordan quickly looked back at the altar.
An hour later, Henry made the right hand turn onto Hickory Road, and Jordan spied her mom’s car at the curb. She bounded from the vehicle. “Mom!”
Seeley raced from the kitchen and Jordan flung herself into her waiting arms. “Miss me?”
“A little.”
Henry and Em ambled through the door, their faces wreathed with smiles.
“Seeley, so glad you’re home and safe.” Em hugged her daughter.
Henry’s grouchy face glowed. He took a turn hugging Seeley. “Can you tell we don’t like it when you leave?”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
They conversed about the week she’d missed, and in turn, she explained her meetings without specifying the gory details.
“I’m going to unpack.” Seeley’s eye command for Jordan to follow was unmistakable.
Once upstairs, she snapped. “So what’s going on? I had another vision a few days ago. I was in Elma. I recognized the school. And there was an invasion of soulless creatures.”
Jordan crammed her hands into her pockets. The story poured out, from beginning to end— starting with her first vision of demons terrorizing the school’s hallways. She described Ronan’s demon, the séance, and the strong call she felt to stop her. She also related her talk with Father James, ending with the transcendent apparition.
HER FACE STERN, Seeley marched from one end of the room to the other with her arms crossed over her middle, listening to her daughter’s tale. She stopped every once in a while to scowl and shake her head.
Jordan’s confession weighed heavily on her heart. Upset that she’d withheld information, Seeley questioned her own decision to keep Asa’s indecent proposal from her.
She’d give her life to save her daughter. Now, on the verge of agreeing to Asa’s offer, her conscience revolted. No longer a naïve teenager, she knew better than to trust him. The devil dealt in money and souls—Jordan would not be spared.
Seeley recapped her negotiations with Asa, and disbelief bloomed on Jordan’s face.
“How could you?” she asked, her mouth agape. “After all the grief you gave me. You were ready to…to— You said we we’re in this together. Never alone.”
PANDEMONIUM
AFTER ANOTHER NIGHT of disturbing images, Jordan crawled from the comfort of her bed and hunted in the gloom for something to wear. Glancing quickly at the clock, she wondered if she had time to talk to Father James about her dreams before school. She groaned. It was already past six-thirty.
By lunchtime, she could’ve curled up in a corner and slept for hours. Hunched over the table, poking a mound of mashed potatoes, a full-fledged yawn cracked her face.
Paisley plunked a tray heaped with food on the table. “Look at this swill. They call this healthy?”
Jordan snickered when Paisley dug into the beef crumble with gusto.
Blotting her chin with a paper napkin, Paisley nudged her shoulder. “So you went out with Mark on Saturday?”
Slurping the last of her chocolate milk, Jordan sputtered, “Are you following me?”
“Ronan wondered what Mark did on his weekends. Apparently, he spends them with you and Beth.”
“Ronan and Mark aren’t a couple,” Jordan protested. “Why is she being so possessive?”
“They’ve been on a few dates. Ronan thinks it’s going somewhere. She doesn’t want you and Beth messing things up.”
“Mark and I are friends.” A grunt quivered in her throat. The girls were clueless, and Markus wasn’t helping the matter.
“You’d better lay off.” Paisley spooned mashed spuds into her mouth. “Ronan won’t be too happy when I tell her about Mark’s weekend with two other girls.”
“You haven’t told Ronan yet?”
“Nope, I thought I’d talk to you first to see what’s going on. But I did mention Beth Schaffer. She hates Beth.” She started in on dessert, biting into a peanut butter cookie and spraying crumbs as she talked. “Ronan wants you to come to her house. Something you’d be very interested in.”
“I can only imagine what she thinks I’d be interested in.” She prepared herself for another session with the Ouija board.
“Be at Ronan’s tonight by nine o’clock, or I’ll tell her all about your date with Mark.”
Paisley stood brushing crumbs from her shirt. She angled over Jordan and said, “Your father has made contact. Jack wants to speak to his daughter.” She headed toward a display of doughnuts.
Paisley’s claim blew her away. Dwelling on the recent dream of her father she wondered, Was it just a dream or does he really have something to say? Ronan’s jealousy over her so-called date with Markus was stupid. Though she’d wondered if Paisley had followed them into the gym. How much had she actually seen? No matter what, she’d have to make another visit to the spirit realm.
SEELEY LOATHED THE idea of her daughter partaking with the conju
ring crew. Nevertheless, the time had come to unravel those darn apron strings. She understood that the warrior was needed to avert danger. She supplied Jordan with holy water and explicit instructions from Jack’s journal. With Father James’s recent ministrations, she assumed her daughter would be protected from whatever the girls had up their sleeves.
Seeley stipulated, “Be home by midnight, or I’ll come looking for you.” She lobbed the car keys.
AN ONSLAUGHT OF chunky snowflakes clumped on the windshield wipers, which beat in time to her favorite song as Jordan navigated carefully down the streets, arriving at the designated time. The girls were there, but before she took off her coat, she checked to make sure the tiny vial of holy water was in her jean pocket.
“Lighten up, Jordan,” Ronan said, sensing her anxiety. “This will be a riot.” Her lip twitched. “We have the board set up.”
Ronan ushered them to the kitchen, her stoic expression unnerving. “Everyone take a seat. We can learn more today. My sources tell me your father was highly involved with the cult, and I suspect he was disloyal.”
Jordan took a noticeably clipped intake of breath.
Ronan continued with her theory. “I believe your father offered his firstborn child to Satan in exchange for a high rank in the organization. But Jack Chase betrayed the cult, and now you are the sacrificial consolation prize, if you know what I mean. What I couldn’t quite grasp was something about an omen.” She raised her face to the ceiling, her index finger tapping her lips.
Ronan’s biting eyes came to rest on her as if expecting Jordan to reveal all. Undaunted, she returned her stare.
“The warrior will be one with…with…” Ronan moved her mouth, as if the best was yet to come. “Lucifer.”
Jordan was shocked that Ronan’s condemned spirits assisted her in more ways than one. She ignored Cayden and Paisley’s inquisitive eyes, peering at her as if she was the devil’s advocate.
Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1) Page 10
