“Markus?” Her voice sounded far-flung to her own ears. “I don’t understand.” As if an electric current had shot through her veins, the tiny hairs sheathing her body came to life like eager soldiers. “Why are they in the woods?”
No reply.
Snapping to attention, she straightened her legs and attuned to the night noises. A soft crack of a twig drew her to the right. She stepped silently, leaving faint indents in the spongy moss.
Under the cover of shrubbery, she crept through the woods as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Subtle moonlight bled through the tree limbs and sprinkled the area with weak light.
Jordan detected a shadow of movement. A male form of a rather a putrid demon. His frontal lobe was caved in on one side, and his brownish hair looked like a bad toupee, flopping as he moved. Gawking with blank eyes, he barged through the undergrowth like an automaton.
Jordan juggled the sword in her hand, saying, “This is not a man. This thing is not human.” Striving to justify what she was about to do, she repeated, “He is not human. Not human.”
She pounced and was startled as the blade cut through the demon like butter, his entire body fragmenting without a sound. She then heard an abrupt thumping and twirled to a demon wielding a sledgehammer. An off-center sneer crossed his ugly demon face as he began a downward strike, but the hammer appeared to stick in the air. The demon tugged on the handle. He looked thoroughly confused at the stationary sledgehammer stuck into nothingness. Jordan concentrated. Her telekinetic power cracked the handle, and the metal-head fell like a wrecking ball, crushing the demon’s cranium.
The ground shuddered as if a herd of oxen were stampeding.
Squatting, she balanced on the balls of her feet. Adrenaline pumped through her as she calibrated her next attack. Gazing up, a substantial branch barely fifteen feet above her head seemed like a good solution. She shoved the blade into her back pocket and winced when she heard the capris rip.
Darn it.
Usually, she wouldn’t attempt such an absurd leap, but she felt the novelty of being endowed with extraordinary pep, as if Markus was a part of her. She backtracked five feet, then took a running leap and soared through the air. Her fingers rounded the branch just as a handful of demon monsters came into view. With her momentum zooming forward, Jordan struck one creature smack-dab in the trachea with the toe of her sneaker, reeling him backward and out of sight.
The creatures’ vile stench of was stomach-churning, calling to mind the battle at Asa’s mansion where Markus had nearly been killed. A tall demon hopped up, grabbing both of her ankles. Violently kicking her legs, Jordan tried to dislodge his fingers, which were like iron shackles. Clinging to the branch, her arms ached and her shoulders felt as if they were being dislocated from their joints. She detached one hand and snagged the blade from her pocket. In seamless motion, she swished the blade, severing the creature’s arms.
She stowed the short sword and swung her legs to straddle the solid bough, then wobbled to her feet. Poised on the limb like a tightrope walker, she jumped to a neighboring branch. The disconcerting cadence of grunts and jockeying creatures below trailed her every move.
She scoured the perimeter for something, anything, to use as leverage and noticed a decaying log. Perfect. Utilizing her telekinesis as a whip, she lashed hold, and in a javelin style, threw the log. It sailed at her foes. The timber gored a meaty demon in the gut, and a high-pitched shriek echoed off the trees as he fought to dislodge the wood.
A lanky female, bounding without difficulty, joined Jordan on her perch. Giving Jordan a postal look, the female bared her shiny white fangs. Impulse drove Jordan to snatch her blade and slash the scary lady, catching her arm. The blade not only seemed to make an evident cut, it also scorched her skin. The screeching and cursing lady gawked at her spreading, smoldering wound. Jordan seized the opportunity to flip up and over to a higher bough with the crazed female hot on her tail.
While grasping the branch above her head for support, Jordan turned, taking aim. She flicked the sword like a Frisbee. Whirring and revolving like an airplane propeller, the blade hewed through the female’s neck. Jordan’s stomach lurched as the fanged head rocketed in one direction and the body crashed in another.
The atmosphere changed, the moist night air thickened. Jordan struggled with each breath, like sucking in molasses, and heard fast moving wind threading amid the pine boughs and rustling branches. All she could visualize were shadows, and sensing the spirit entities.
Inky shadows kicked Jordan from her branch. Like a leopard, she landed on her feet. Cussing the invisible beings as if they were the bane to her existence, she felt her confidence waning. Hoping Markus was near, she said, “How can I fight invisible things?”
Her ears picked up movement. “Markus?” she called, her voice hollow.
A shadow knocked her to the ground. She rolled and was kicked a second time. Lying on her back, she felt as if a length of granite straddled her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Exerting all her strength, she was able to roll to the right. Brushwood scraped her face as a wallop struck her in the chest, throwing her across the woody land.
“I can’t do this.” She crawled to her hands and knees when another whack sent her spinning through the air. “Markus!”
Swinging and fighting with the unseen entity, she was lugged to her feet. Something pulled her arms behind her back. She heard running footfalls and watched as demons converged on all sides. Markus was nowhere to be seen. Her chest heaved with each extended breath.
“A little help,” she rasped.
“Get angry. Get very angry.”
Hearing him internally, his voice calmed her.
“These hellish spirits are trying to kill your grandparents. Think about that. I’m with you. Absorb the power. The force.”
How the hell could she get angry when all she could think about was her next breath? She gasped for air. It was unbearable. Her lungs were being squished like a ripe tomato. She felt faint. Her vision blurred. What if I pass out? Are they going to kill Henry and Emily? Both innocent. Snug in their little house?
An inhuman punch to her back caused her to face plant in the dirt. Blood tainted her tongue. The pressure was somewhat relieved, and she was able to fill her lungs, clearing her head. She rolled while flashing out a foot and landing a kick between the demon’s legs. He yowled, falling to his knees. She wanted to snicker. Evidently, demon jewels were sensitive too.
Flimsy shadows flittered about overhead, and her vision of the entities suddenly came into focus. Straining her eyesight, she witnessed unsightly spirits and black holes where their eye sockets should be. And as if given an obvious command, the menacing spirits coalesced into a descending spiral.
Jordan felt an interior voltage-like sensation filling her to the brim. She didn’t know what to expect as she raised her arms to fend off the demons. An enigmatic discharge of lightning burst from her fingertips, executing the soulless demons and shadowy spirits. The force of the expulsion cast her to the ground.
“Awesome!” marveled Jordan, gaping at her hands as if they were lethal weapons. She’d seen the angel’s using the same technique. The imploding sensation dispersed, and with her innards still sparking, she remained on the ground and listened.
No sound.
She managed to stabilize herself on trembling legs. Night chatter returned with the hoot of an owl. Crickets chirped and bullfrogs croaked.
Inhaling shakily, she searched for more loitering demons. “That’s all you got, Markus? I could do this all night.” She advanced toward home, skirting past tree trunks and shrubbery.
Experiencing a minor twinge, she stopped to rest. Suddenly, the twinge lodged like a cannonball to her gut. Her knees buckled to the ground. It felt as if her spirit was separating from her body. The internal buffeting made her wonder if she was bleeding out.
Incredibly weakened, Jordan fainted.
I SHALL SING OF YOUR STRENGTH
MARKUS STARED DOWN
at Jordan’s crumpled body. Scooping her petite frame into his arms, she hung lifelessly like a rag doll. He blamed himself for putting her through such a rigorous trial. He couldn’t very well carry her to her bedroom with Emily and Henry still awake, and the thought of flying up to her window crossed his mind. He glimpsed the small window to her room and opted for the hammock in the backyard.
Markus gazed at his young charge as he positioned her on the macramé cording. He swept away her auburn mane, exposing a heart shaped face. Plump eyelashes rested on angular cheekbones, now reddened, and her inviting mouth parted slightly. He knelt in the moist grass, lifted the arm that hung over the side, and laid it tenderly over her waist, drinking in her beauty. She was striking for a human. These . . . feelings are forbidden for angels. For the gazillionth time, he reproached himself. Guarding Jordan was his first priority, his job, nothing more.
Undecided and almost to the point of being timid, he stroked the side of her cheek with his fingertips, relishing the suppleness, and then outlined her pink textured lips. He tilted forward, and with an angel’s impudence, brushed her cheek with his and touched his lips to her ear.
“Jordan,” he whispered. “Jordan.”
HER EYELASHES FLUTTERED open. When she saw only murkiness and a shadow blocking her sight her heart tripled in beats. Balling her fists, she readied to strike the intruder, but Markus came into focus. His deep amethyst eyes appeared serious.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, registering the fragile tone of her voice and wondering what had happened.
“Yes. Now it is.”
She peered upward through an array of giant oak leaves to a starless night. Crisscrossing clouds seemed stuck in the humidity, and the atmosphere felt tacky. Extremely feeble, she gulped the stagnant air.
“What was that all about?”
“You need to be prepared for the appearance of demons at all times. I shouldn’t have tricked you like that, but there’s much you need to be responsive to. This test of agility and quick wit was necessary. I won’t always be available when you’re in trouble.”
I feel like poop. Is this really the time for a lesson in semantics?
“I’m wiped. I don’t think I can make it to the house.” Sounding pathetic, her brain felt like oatmeal. She tried to achieve a ration of dignity and cleared her prickly throat. “What did you do to me?”
Markus rose to his full height before responding, paced, and then turned. “You know a spirit can possess a human’s body?” He wavered, fastening his eyes on her. “I am complete, in spirit. You froze when the invisible spirits made an appearance. I helped you.” He sat on the border of the hammock, and Jordan’s body poured against him.
She seemed incapable of performing even the smallest of tasks and fumbled to get up, slumping against him. He righted her shoulders and shored-up her back with his arm.
“So you’re saying,” she mused, “You and me. Together?” As she stumbled to her feet, her body behaved like a piece of soggy spaghetti. She grabbed Markus’s outstretched hands just as her knees gave way.
Markus swiftly collected her in his arms and ferried her to the back door of the house. “Yes,” he said, answering her question. “We were one.”
He set her on the ground, using the house to brace her body. “Do you think you can make it from here?”
She shoved at his arms, not looking into his face. “Yes.”
“Hydrate, drink lots of water,” he instructed. “You might need to rest for a couple of days. I’ll check in on you later.”
“Thanks,” she uttered and slipped through the door.
The room was unlit and slouching on the kitchen countertop for stability, she edged along the Formica, making it to the sink. She filled a glass of water and chugged it, then another, and another.
“That was a long walk, Jordan.” Emily’s grandmotherly voice came from the living room. “I was getting worried. It’s so dark. You shouldn’t be traipsing around at night in these woods. Every day, on the news, they’re reporting about crazy people prowling the streets just looking for mischief.”
It figures. This would be the one night Em decides to stay up late. Normally, she’d be snoring by now. Her reflection stared back at her disheveled appearance from the kitchen’s windowpane. Bloody welts and abrasions tinged her face and chin, more than a telltale sign her stroll had gone astray. After rinsing her filthy hands under the faucet, she scrubbed the grime from her face, feeling the wounds smart. She combed her fingers through her frenzied locks, inspected the new capris, and moaned. They were trashed. Hearing footsteps, Jordan struggled to appear blasé. She angled her back on the countertop as her grandmother’s silhouette came into view.
Em flicked on the light switch and gasped. “Jordan, what happened to your clothes? And your face? You’re bleeding.” Em’s slippers skated over the linoleum as she hurried to get a closer look at her.
“I’m fine.” Jordan squinted from the bright light, and her mind raced to engineer some sort of acceptable yarn. “Um-m, I walked to Hickory Street and wanted to try a shortcut through the woods.”
Em’s wilted complexion stretched with wide, alarming eyes. Jordan needed to set her sweet grandmother at ease.
“Ah . . . um-m. I made a bad jump over a log. My stupid sneaker snagged the bark, and I fell into a thorn bush. I’m such a klutz.” She hated to lie, and lately, she was getting good at it.
Em raised a frail, arthritic hand to touch her bruised cheek. “Make sure you wash those cuts out real good and put on some antiseptic,” she retorted protectively, and wagged her finger in Jordan’s face. Her wrinkles seemed to sag a little lower. “You don’t want an infection. Do it now. I’m going to bed.”
While turning, Em’s hand dipped into the pocket of her chenille robe. Out poured a chain of beads, a rosary. She’d looked done in. The proof was in the slope of her shoulders as she hobbled down the hallway, fingering the beads.
Jordan was more than certain that Em hadn’t been fooled. Her grandmother had seen and heard plenty through the years. Also, she was convinced her grandmother was a true warrior in her own right. Her fight consisted of harnessing Satan with a beaded chain of prayers.
She waited until Em was out of sight before gripping the handrail and lumbering up the stairs. Her legs were like rickety twigs, and each step proved to be a chore. Scuffing into the bathroom, she peeled off the now-ruined clothes, abandoning them on the tile floor. She washed up, applied the antiseptic and sighed, her thoughts primarily on her cozy pillow. Tumbling into bed, she sank into contented bliss.
REBUKE THE DARKNESS
THE FIRST LIGHT of daybreak flowed through the curtains and slashed across Jordan’s face. She grumbled at the infringement and flipped onto her stomach, burrowing her head under the pillow. A flash of psychedelic reveries resumed: a monster’s mammoth orifice opened like a trapped door, swallowing her whole. Lost in the darkness and scared of the icky slime encasing her like a cocoon, she couldn’t move. Then, she bodysurfed through rapids and spewed forth on a sandy beach. Caked in a layer of foam, she flopped like a dolphin struggling to breathe. A gigantic eagle swooped down, and with deadly talons, circled her waist. Up, up, up, over the land they soared. Again, she struggled to breathe as gusty winds nicked at her nostrils.
She kinked her neck to observe the landscape below. It was one immense upheaval. Blackened craters the size of small lakes dotted the countryside. The Earth appeared decimated.
The bird flew straight toward a craggy ridge. There was a whirr of wings as the eagle hovered. Then its talons opened, releasing her. She plummeted. Thrashing her arms and legs, hair covered her face like mesh netting until she landed on crunchy bedding. She pulled her hair from her face and gaped. Three humongous fledglings watched her.
She felt like a tasty treat. One fledgling cocked its feathery head sideways. Its beady, black eye grew bigger, locking on Jordan. In the eye’s reflection, she saw the image of a withered woman, an even older version of Emily.
“Em?” she mouthed, and so did the reflection. She brought her hand to her cheek, and the reflection’s knobby fingers did the same. The black eye swelled into a large vacuum. Jordan gasped as it devoured her.
Buried alive, she clawed her way to the surface. She spit out soil, scraped muck from her eye sockets, and finally remembered that she was a daughter of the light, a warrior. Gazing outward, she had to shield her eyes with her arm from the illumination.
The Earth was reborn, and Jordan rose to new life.
Then, a heavenly voice resounded. “Do not be afraid. Rebuke the darkness. It has no power over you. In My name, you shall weed out demons. You have been blessed with abundant grace. Seraphs will aid you in victory. Do not be discouraged. When all seems fruitless, bear in mind, I am with you.”
Drifting into glorious submission, Jordan felt as light as a feather.
She opened her sleepy eyes to a sunny room and reclaimed the day with a full-body stretch. Inhaling a mouthful of fresh oxygen, she snuggled into the mattress. Near her bedside, she recognized sparking dots uniting to form her angel.
Markus glistened resembling a rainbow of tiny jewels. Dressed so unlike himself in a flowing, sleeveless tunic, he smiled. “How are you feeling?”
She made a move to sit up, and then realized she was buck-naked. She’d been so drained that she’d dropped into bed without a stitch of clothing. Markus’s smirk didn’t go unnoticed as she rucked the coverlet over her shoulders and leaned against the headboard.
“I feel pretty good. I think,” she said, while taking a secret inventory of her aches and pains.
He bent forward. The translucent fabric streamed like a goldmine of effervescent gemstones. And with gentle fingertips, he caressed her cheek. “Your face bears some wear and tear. I’m sorry for that. But you have the power to heal quickly.”
Jordan started to wave a dismissive hand and stopped. “I heal quickly? That’s news to me.”
Wickedly They Dream Page 6
