He wrestled with knowing he should follow, protect her, but he needed to check on Obadiah, another human in his care. The man was facing a new crisis and Manasseh was concerned about him. Tonight, Obadiah would learn that his business had failed. His shop, the center of Obadiah’s solitary life, had been losing money since the new mall with the Wal-Mart had opened and once the plummeting economy kicked in, it would be all over. Over the books, and the bills Obadiah couldn’t pay, he’d finally accept his business must close, and the next step towards his final path would be taken.
That knowledge, along with the death of his wife the year before and her medical debts, could plunge him into a complete spiritual breakdown. Evil could sniff out despair.
Manasseh had to find a way to ease the man’s burden without revealing himself. And protect Cassandra. So he’d tend to Obadiah’s situation as soon as he made sure Cassandra was not in immediate danger.
Her car chugged over a hill. The next time Manasseh looked, the demon was gone.
A split second later, Manasseh was sitting at a dark corner table in the Red Carpet Lounge. He didn’t want to be seen and so no one saw him. He was there for Cassandra, not there to judge the people drinking and loudly mingling around him attempting to fend off their loneliness. They were the normal collection of humans. Sometimes he could look at them and know which would survive and sometimes he couldn’t.
He was not permitted to know everything.
A middle-aged woman was working behind the bar serving drinks. Maggie Sounder had three children she was raising alone. Her husband, Charley, was a drunk and had run off with another woman six months past. Maggie was having a hard time coping.
She wasn’t a bad woman, just a wishy-washy one. She loved her children, but couldn’t give them her time and full attention, or teach them about the love of God, all of which they needed. She was too busy working, flirting, and looking for a new husband. She believed a man and money were the answers to everything and if she had both then everything would be better in her life.
An anemic soul barely flickered beneath Maggie’s flesh and bones. Faith and God’s love were what she needed. The way she was, she wouldn’t survive the first wave of troubles, if she lived that long.
Beyond the windows, darkness and rain had arrived, slamming a storm surge against the glass. Thunder and streaks of electricity ripped and echoed across the sky. The windowpanes rattled in their mountings and the lightshow brightened the world. Even with the downpour, the temperature had become warmer. The humans drifting into the bar were soaked in water and perspiration and were short tempered as the heat and the noise level rose to a shrill crescendo.
Manasseh recognized demons behind several of the human faces.
More than usual tonight.
They were one of the reasons Manasseh didn’t like going into buildings where there were crowds. The ratio of demon to mortal was shifting quickly. There were demons everywhere.
Manasseh detected and avoided them and they couldn’t see him. For now. There’d come a time when the blinders would be lifted from everyone’s eyes, including theirs, and he’d have to kill them. They’d have to try to kill him.
His foot tapped softly at first and then faster. His body tensed. He couldn’t wait for the day when he could raise his sword and strike all the fiends down once and for all. It’d been coming for so long and he was tired of waiting.
There were demons, disguised as humans, drinking at a table beside the bandstand. “When’s the damn music going to start?” one griped.
“Yeah, when are we going to get some entertainment in this dump?” His friend threw the remaining contents of his drink at the waitress as she scooted past, barely missing her. He stuck his booted foot out and tripped a man returning from the restroom. The guy sprawled on the floor, stunned surprise on his face. But when he looked up at who’d waylaid him, he just lowered his eyes and stumbled off to hide in a corner. Demon mind control. The weaker the human mind, the stronger the control.
Dressed in T-shirts, ball caps, and blue jeans the demons appeared to be ordinary mortals of different ages and races. Manasseh never understood why, but most of them wore beards and never robed in bright colors. They especially hated yellow and sky blue. Most were wearing dark glasses. That he understood. In certain lights, their eyes, empty as their souls or, when angry, burning like crimson embers, betrayed them.
Manasseh could hardly bear to be in the same room. Demons had a stench of burnt blood and ash around them and their minds were as dark as the place they’d come from. They mingled among men and committed the crimes that made humans cry: arson, wife beating, torture, and murders. Manasseh scowled. If there was a heinous crime being committed somewhere, there was most likely a demon perpetrating it or somehow behind it.
They were making him angry. He had to remind himself why he was there and that his first responsibility was guarding Cassandra. It was difficult because all he wanted to do was to exterminate them.
Not here. Not yet.
Cassandra, guitar case in hand, wandered in with her brother in tow. They set up their equipment, tested microphones, got something to drink, and after tuning their instruments began to play.
The demons were instantly agitated at the sound of Johnny and Cassandra’s voices. One of them glared balefully at the girl as another snarled something to his friends, his face shifting into a sneer.
Manasseh didn’t like the looks of any of them. They were a fight waiting to happen. Malevolence glinted in their looks and their pretend smiles had no mirth. But he knew their kind. Most of them were cowards and wouldn’t hurt Cassandra or Johnny in such a public place. It’d garner too much attention and they wouldn’t want that. They usually waited until they could get the humans alone somewhere to do their damage.
An omen of things to come, thunder rippled through the sultry air and eerily mimicked the resonance of human screams. Manasseh shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Still there was no sign of the demon, Rayner. Perhaps he wouldn’t show, though there was enough danger lurking in the crowd without him.
Manasseh listened to Cassandra and her brother. Choir music was more his style, yet their voices were harmonious and their instrument playing skillful. There was an innocent goodness in their demeanors and the messages of their songs that made their performance compelling. And behind the melodies, their souls were luminous and shone like beacons from their eyes. Both of them were pure of heart and strong, the brother not quite as much as the sister, and would need to be because the future wouldn’t be easy for either of them.
An hour went by. The songs and sibling banter were entertaining. People drank, conversed, and socialized. Rayner never showed up.
The demons behaved themselves as much as they were able, hiding their impatience behind their smirks. No doubt they were planning something wicked for after they left the bar.
He was about to see to Obadiah, when one of the demons behind him threw a bottle at Cassandra. She ducked before it made contact and smashed into the wall.
Another demon flung one and hit Johnny in the head...and the brawl was on.
Everyone shoved and kicked each other. Fists and flesh collided. The demons had instigated the clash and notched it up and that alarmed Manasseh. Though it was in their nature to cause pandemonium wherever and whenever they could, they were usually less obvious about it. Another bad sign.
The room was an erupting volcano and people spilled into the stormy night to escape the flying glasses and bottles.
Crouched down behind the bar, Maggie shouted into the phone: “Morey, you better get over here quick. There’s a big fight and everything’s being busted to hell. I’ll try to call the police–” The phone obviously went dead in her hands. “Damn!” She dropped it and ran out the door.
Someone threw a table through a window and wind and rain splattered in. Everyone was screaming, slugging each other, or trying to escape through a door or window.
One of the demons hurled i
tself at the two singers as if it wanted to tear them apart. Cassandra nimbly stepped aside and the fiend overshot and ended up beneath a table scrabbling to keep from being booted by a bunch of furious cowboys.
Amidst the chaos, Cassandra shoved her wounded brother towards the back exit, their guitars protectively cradled in their arms.
Manasseh followed them into the alley. He’d shield them if he had to. But Cassandra knew what to do. Survival was an instinct she’d been born with. Through the falling water, she aimed her brother towards her car and they scrambled in.
The sound of police sirens rivaled the thunder.
There were demons behind Cassandra and her brother and Manasseh slammed the door in their faces as the pair of humans drove away.
Rayner was nowhere near or Manasseh would have felt it. Satisfied his two songbirds were out of harm’s way, he cloaked himself and took to the sky, wings unfolding to the length of two men. He had to take care of Obadiah. And afterwards there were places he had to be and preparations he had to make.
If he hadn’t known it before, he knew it now. Time was getting short.
Chapter 4
Cassandra & Johnny
“WE SHOULD HAVE STAYED,” she moaned, “and talked to the police.”
A police cruiser raced past in the rain and screeched up in front of the bar. The night around them was a kaleidoscope of undulating colors muted by a heavy mist of rain.
“What would we have told them?” Johnny put his face in his hands and slouched back against the seat. Rain dripped from his clothes and pounded on the outside of the car.
“Who knows what or who started that ruckus. We didn’t. Besides,” he added under his breath, “I kinda owe a few parking tickets. If they run my name on their computers, they’ll haul me in. And I don’t have money for the tickets or bail.”
Cassandra pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Oh, Johnny, I thought you straightened that out months ago. Didn’t I give you the money?”
“I spent it on something else.” Sheepishly. “Rent, I think. Or groceries.”
“Oh, Johnny.”
“Sorry. Promise I’ll clear it up soon as I get some extra cash.” Behind his head, a branch crashed against the outside of the window.
“You better. Right now, let me look at that cut.” Always the big sister, she reached over and pushed his hair off his forehead so she could see the wound.
The car rocked and the wind howled. She was worried she’d gotten her guitar wet in the dash from the bar because she hadn’t had time to slip it into its case, but she was more concerned about her brother. The beer bottle had hit him in the forehead and there was blood flowing down the side of his face.
“It’s not that bad, Sis.” He pushed her hands away. “I’m still conscious.”
“Let me see.”
“Told you I’m okay.” His voice was petulant. Since the fire, she knew she was overly protective, but couldn’t stop herself. “I’m no baby, you know.” His fingers felt up around his hairline and came away bloody.
From the overhead car light, she could see the queasy look spread across his face.
Cassandra ignored his protests. There was too much blood. “Oh, oh, I think you’re gonna need stitches, little brother.”
“I can’t afford to go to the hospital for no stitches, neither,” he complained, glaring out at the raindrops. Lightning flashed and lit up his face, Cassandra could see the fear in his eyes. Since the fire and the time he’d spent recovering as a kid in the hospital from trauma and smoke inhalation, he’d hated hospitals and doctors and stayed away from them if he could.
Cassandra may have walked away from the fire with the visible scars, but Johnny had the invisible kind, her Aunt Ellie always said. He’d heard the dying screams of his brothers and sisters and physical pain wasn’t all that haunted him in his nightmares.
“You need medical care.”
In a voice lower than before, he replied, “Don’t have any medical insurance.”
“You let your coverage lapse again?”
“Too darn expensive. The premium kept going up. Who can afford it?”
“Yeah, well, it’ll be a lot more expensive now when I take you in for those stitches.” She gave him a disapproving look.
“I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are–”
“No, I’m not–”
“Yes, you are! I have money I can loan you.”
“Cassie, I don’t want your money. You’re saving it for that new microphone you’ve been drooling over for the last month.” Both their microphones were secondhand junk, but Cassandra’s was the worst. It was always squealing during her solo songs.
He tried to change the subject. “Good thing we grabbed our guitars before the bar came down on top of us. I wish we’d gotten the rest of the stuff out, too. If we’re lucky it’ll be there tomorrow. If not, then we’re going to need new equipment. You better hold onto that money.”
“Let’s hope everything will still be there, but that’s not what bothers me now. We’re talking about you needing medical attention. At the moment, that’s more important. If you have to go to the ER, we’ll go and I’ll put it on my credit card. Case closed. I can get a microphone anytime, but I only have one brother.” Their eyes met and he nodded.
“Okay. I’m feeling dizzy and I’m not up to arguing.” He leaned against the window. “Trying not to pass out,” he whispered.
In the wet dark, Cassandra thought for a moment she saw black shadows creeping around the car, hiding with the help of the storm; crowding against the windows as if they were peering in. For a moment. She shook her head. It must be her imagination. Her attention returned to Johnny. She turned on the car’s overhead light. “Let me get a better look at the damage and then I’ll decide what to do.” She moved closer, tilted his chin up, and put her fingers on the edge of the cut. She softly felt along the wound until her whole hand covered it, flesh against flesh, and warmth flickered and glowed around and beneath her hand. It startled her slightly.
Her brother’s eyes widened and the pink crept back into his face.
Cassandra was puzzled as her fingers, for a second time, explored his forehead. “I could have sworn I felt something for a second. A wound or a deep slash. I mean, there’s blood all over you...but there’s nothing there now.”
She tugged a Kleenex from the glove compartment and swiped the blood off Johnny’s forehead. “There’s only blood, no injury beneath it. As far as I can see you’re unharmed.
“I was wrong. You’re not hurt one bit.” Then where had all the blood come from? The words died before she spoke them. Strange, there had been some kind of gash there, she’d been sure of it, but she’d touched it and it had...healed. No, that was her imagination, too. That was crazy. Maybe a bottle had actually hit her on the noggin. She just hadn’t seen or felt it.
“I feel better. Pain’s gone.” Johnny straightened up, grinning at her. He touched his head. “Wow, that was weird. I could have sworn I was cut. I mean it hurt and everything. I was sick from it. But it was nothing. Boy, what a relief.” He let out a sigh as Cassandra switched off the light and stared into the rainy night. Her mind was tumbling in circles at the odd things that’d been happening to her lately. Some small. Some large. They all mystified her. What was going on?
Her eyes went to the murky shapes surrounding the car again. She could have sworn they’d multiplied and were surging against the glass as if they were gathering their courage to attack. Drawn to her and Johnny like fire to wood. Another minute. Oh, please.
“Johnny, it was nothing. You’re fine. Well, we can’t say that about Morey’s bar now, can we? That it was nothing?” she breathed. Beneath her conversation with her brother she was beginning to feel uneasy. As if there was something wrong. Something else. Something close by that could hurt them, would hurt them if it were given the chance. The shapes slinking away low to the ground? She wanted to leave.
“No, it was a mess all right. We mi
ght not have a joint to sing at once the rubble settles.”
“My thinking exactly. I still feel bad about us running away like we did.” But she couldn’t risk her brother being taken in for questioning, of being accused of participating in the fracas, not with all those tickets he had over his head and the blood all over him.
“Tomorrow we’ll see what’s left of the place. Find out if we have a job anymore.” Cassandra put the key in the ignition, her intuition of danger nearby making her hurry, and turned on the car. She switched on the headlights and the shadows scattered as she drove off.
Her thoughts were on the men who’d tossed the first bottles in the bar.
She’d glanced at them as she and Johnny had skedaddled and thought she saw what she’d seen before, not human faces, but grotesque, leering gargoyle faces. The worse so far. Had someone drugged her soda? Snap out of it, she chided herself, and thrust the images away.
The car turned towards Johnny’s apartment. There was nothing else to do but go home. Call it a night. In the morning, they’d see Morey, apologize for running out like they had, assess the destruction, retrieve their belongings, and see if they still had a job.
After being silent for a while, Johnny asked, “What was that bar fight about anyway? Did you see who started it and why?”
“I think those guys at the front table to our right started it.”
“Oh, the ugly ones with the facial hair and sunglasses?”
“That would be them.”
“I guess they didn’t like our singing.”
“You think?”
“But hated it enough they had to throw glass bottles at our heads?” Johnny chuckled. “A little much overkill, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would.” She shrugged and twisted the steering wheel. “They were pretty drunk. Could be that’s the explanation. You know how some people get when they drink too much.”
“Fighting mean.” Johnny rubbed his eyes. “Just our luck. Shame they had to trash Morey’s bar, though. Thank goodness he wasn’t there tonight. He would have tried to break up the fight.”
A Time of Demons and Angels Page 4
