by Jerel Law
Abaddon moved toward the president and reached for his exposed soul, clutched by the griffin.
Jonah quickly sheathed his sword and, in one motion, pulled an arrow off his back, produced the bow, and fired.
The white-flamed arrow zipped through the air, tearing through the skull of the griffin. The creature fell to the ground, and the president’s light slipped back into his body.
Abaddon turned and stared at Jonah for a few seconds, his cheek twitching. He felt the Evil One’s hatred pour over him, and he wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Suddenly, he felt massive arms grab his and pull them behind him. He strained against them with everything he had, but a large, muscular fallen angel was holding him very tightly.
Abaddon strode over to him, snapping back his hood. His glare seemed to dig down into Jonah’s very soul. Jonah couldn’t look away.
“Jonah, didn’t I tell you to wait downstairs?” Abaddon cooed as he walked toward him. “You’re always so good at interrupting things. It’s been quite frustrating. But not this time.”
Jonah trembled, but he called up all the strength and courage he had left. “I don’t care what you do to me. But you’re not going to get away with this. You can’t expect to just . . . take all these people’s souls.”
Abaddon gestured to the assembled crowd, all passively allowing the griffins to do their work. “Look how they’re eating out of my hand, Jonah Stone. They can’t help it. It must be something about the sound of my voice . . .” He chuckled to himself.
“You’re tricking them,” Jonah said. “They don’t really love you. They don’t want to give you their souls. You’re forcing them to do it.”
Abaddon raised his arms, shrugging his shoulders. “They’re letting themselves be taken, Jonah. I couldn’t do this if they didn’t want me to. Don’t you see? They’re all going to be mine. And there is little you and your friends can do to stop it. In fact, while we’re at it . . .”
He beckoned to the sky. A griffin, who had been hovering over them, landed on Jonah’s back.
Jonah thrashed backward and screamed up toward the night sky. The pain seared through his chest, and he felt intense heat shoot from the center of his body out into his fingertips and toes. The creature’s claws were digging in, searching, prying things loose, going farther and farther.
Finally, the griffin pulled out something glowing and bright, still attached to his chest by strands of light.
Abaddon’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Jonah’s soul. “These ancient creatures are marvelous, aren’t they, Jonah? They have this amazing ability to identify the heart and soul in anyone. Of course, I taught them to pick it apart from everything else and extract it. May I?”
Jonah didn’t know why he asked for permission because he didn’t wait for an answer. He simply reached out and grabbed the ball of light, holding it in his hands.
Jonah felt himself begin to slip away. What was he thinking? Why had he put everyone in danger to come back? There was no way they were ever going to come out of this alive. He had known that in the back of his head, and now they were all going to pay for it.
Now the Evil One held his very soul in his grip. He was staring at it, rolling it over in his hands, and studying it.
“You know what I see here, Jonah?” he asked. He waited for a few seconds, but Jonah was growing too weak to respond. “I’ll tell you. I see someone with so much evil in them that I honestly don’t know how you’ve made it this far in the first place. Your grandfather, after all, was one of them!” He pointed behind Jonah, to the fallen angel holding him. He and the creature began to laugh. “I mean, seriously, how could you expect to follow Elohim at all? You’ve always known that evil was going to take over one of these days, haven’t you? You can’t resist it . . .”
Maybe he was right. Jonah had tried to follow Elohim so many times, and it always seemed like he failed. No matter what he did, it was never enough. The thought hit him, crashed over him and then crushed him: Abaddon was right. Jonah was evil. He was born that way—evil fallen angel blood literally coursed through his veins. He was doomed.
Jonah felt himself slipping . . .
“That’s right, let go,” he was saying. “I’ll take care of the rest. Leave Elohim in the past. Let Him go, leave Him behind, and come with me . . .”
Just then, a blaring sound rocked through the upper deck of the ship, and Jonah’s eyes snapped open again. What was that noise? It sounded distant at first but quickly grew louder.
Abaddon let go of Jonah’s soul.
Red lights began flashing on the deck, and people began to rush toward the exit. It was a fire alarm.
The Evil One turned toward the president. “No,” he said, looking around frantically. The Secret Service were huddling around the president, ushering him away.
“No, no, no!” Abaddon said. He turned from Jonah and tried to regain control of his party.
Jonah didn’t waste any time finding his friends. Frederick was in the corner, pushing himself up from the ground, a griffin flying away from him. Eliza was on the other side, doing the same thing. Julia and Hai Ling were crouching under her shield of faith but seemed to be safe.
Eliza looked weak and pale, but she spoke with a clear voice. “He was holding my soul, right in his claws.”
Jonah scanned the deck quickly. He knew they all needed to get away as fast as they could. “Where’s Jeremiah? Did anyone see him? He’s not up here anywhere.”
Frederick shook his head as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I was having enough of a time with these awful beasts.”
Eliza sprang up. “He’s gone again?”
Jonah ran down the steps, pushing himself through person after person, who all screamed from the shock of the contact with him in the hidden realm, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to lose his brother twice.
In seconds, he was on the main level. People were milling about, and he saw the back of the president’s head as he was thrust through the opening of the yacht and down the ramp.
“Jeremiah!” he called out. “Jeremiah!”
Then Jonah spotted him. Jeremiah was standing next to the flashing light of the fire alarm, which had been broken into and yanked down.
Jonah ran over and wrapped his arms around his brother, hugging him as tightly as he’d ever held anybody.
“Do you think Eliza will be mad that I pulled the fire alarm?” Jeremiah said, pushing back from his brother.
Jonah batted him on the back of the head. “You saved everybody, Jeremiah. I think this time she’ll be just fine.”
Eliza came running up behind them. “That was you?” she said, pulling him into a hug. “Good job, Jeremiah!”
“My children, it’s so great to see how much you love each other.”
They all spun, each one recognizing the voice of the person walking down the staircase. She was a tall, slender woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail—Eleanor Stone.
In spite of what he knew to be true, Jonah’s heart leaped.
“Mom!” Jeremiah ran toward her before Eliza or Jonah could grab him and pull him back.
Eleanor leaned down and embraced her son, looking at Jonah and Eliza as she held Jeremiah tightly.
“No hugs from you two?” she said, still smiling. “I understand. I’m sure it is quite strange to see me here. But I’m here. I’m alive! It was all a hoax. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Jonah shook his head. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. He had seen her die. But maybe . . . he wanted to believe she was really alive so badly.
Her body hadn’t actually been recovered . . .
His mind was turning somersaults, trying to figure out a way that it was possible. He felt his feet slowly begin to slide toward her. She was holding Jeremiah tightly, reaching out with her other arm to beckon him forward. Her voice was so soothing. In the last year, he’d heard it only in his dreams.
Eliza’s voice, though, brought him back to reality
.
“If you’re our mom, tell me this—what animal did I play in my second-grade musical?” she asked.
Eleanor laughed. “What kind of silly question is that? Come here, dear. I want to see you up close too.”
Jonah stopped, steeled by his sister’s question. “I think you should answer it.”
She gave him a pitiful, pleading look. “Just to make sure,” he stammered.
Eleanor let Jeremiah go and placed her hands on her hips. Her smile was fading. “Nonsense. How could you not believe that this is me? Come, feel my skin and touch my arm if you don’t believe me.”
“Just . . . answer . . . the . . . question!” Eliza said, fuming.
Eleanor suddenly snatched Jeremiah toward her forcefully.
“Hey!” he said, squirming, but he couldn’t release himself from her grip.
“I just can’t believe that my own children would doubt that I’m really here, right now,” she said. But she began to pull Jeremiah backward with her, inching toward the steps again.
Jonah silently prayed, Elohim, give me wisdom.
She took one more step backward. Another and she would be on the steps going upward. Jeremiah was still pulling at her arm, which was locked around his shoulders.
In one swift motion, Jonah pulled an arrow from his back, strung it, and fired.
His aim was true. It hit her right in the forehead.
Eleanor’s grip loosened, and Jeremiah yanked himself away and ran to Eliza. The woman who look liked their mother morphed into a dark fallen angel. She screamed for a moment as she disintegrated, and then she was gone.
EPILOGUE
Jonah, Eliza, and Jeremiah walked across the field toward their father. He waved to them from a distance and then turned to continue talking with the group of people beside him.
“So you’re really back, Jonah?” Jeremiah asked.
“I’m back,” Jonah said, trying to be as patient as he could with the question he’d heard for at least the hundredth time from his brother, sister, father, and friends. He knew they’d probably need to hear his answer more than once, though, before they really would believe him. “I’m done running, or at least I hope I am. I guess in a way, I don’t regret it, because my journey brought me back to you guys at just the right time. That’s the way Elohim is. But I don’t plan to ever leave you again.”
There wasn’t an hour that passed that he didn’t think about being trapped in that bus, alone and in the dark, and then turning back to Elohim, feeling His love and forgiveness once again.
He didn’t ever want to lose that feeling.
Jeremiah began to run toward their dad, who grabbed his son and swung him around and around.
“I think Dad’s doing well,” Eliza said, looking back up at Jonah.
He nodded, smiling. “I think we’re all doing pretty well, E.”
They stepped up to the outside of the small circle of people. Benjamin was talking to them earnestly.
“Jonah brought to my attention the darkness hovering over this place,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the building. “So I thought it would be a good idea if we held a prayer walk here today. It’s a chance for us to join Elohim in the battle for the hearts, minds, and souls of the precious kids who attend Peacefield High. Are you with me?”
He grinned as the members of his congregation cheered.
“Well then, let’s get started!”
“Dad, I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back soon,” said Jonah.
“Me too!” said Jeremiah.
Eliza shrugged, smiling slyly at her father. “I guess I’ll head that way too and keep an eye on these guys.”
As the three rounded the back corner of the school building, they silently prayed, entering the hidden realm.
“Nice of you to join us,” a voice called out.
Frederick was standing ahead, smiling broadly, with his angelblade raised. David, Julia, and the rest of the quarterlings stood beside him.
“I was thinking the same thing,” came a voice from above. It was Henry, their old guardian angel, who was waiting with a squadron of warrior angels, hard-nosed and ready for battle.
“Henry!” Jeremiah said, high-fiving his angel friend.
“It’s about time you guys showed up,” said Eliza, but even she couldn’t help but crack a smile.
Jonah clapped his hands. “All right, my dad has the prayer team surrounding this building. What do you say we head inside and see what kind of bad guys we can find?”
“We’ll see you inside then,” Henry said, signaling to the angels, who snapped their wings and zoomed up the side of the building and out of sight.
Jonah pulled out his angelblade and led the quarterlings through an open door in the side of the building.
As they entered, white tendrils of light were beginning to form around the school from those lifting up the school’s students and teachers, declaring the love of Elohim to them and to the heavens.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing a novel is so much fun! And so much work . . . work that wouldn’t happen without the support, help, and love of a bunch of people who deserve a shout out.
My kids, Christopher, Luke, and Bailey, are the reason I write, and never far from my thoughts when I work. I’m grateful to be a part of their lives, for their enthusiasm and excitement for these books, and that they get to play a huge role in them. It is one of the great privileges of my life to be your dad.
Thanks to my parents, Charles and Camilla, who continue to shower me with unconditional love and support. These pages would never have seen the light of day without you. Thank you for raising me to always seek the truth.
To my fantastic editor Molly Hodgin, and the entire Thomas Nelson team, thank you for your inspired efforts, insightful critique, constant encouragement, and vision for this project. I’m incredibly blessed and grateful to have partners like you, who care about kids and want to see them grow in their relationship with God. You guys rock!
To my agent, Amanda Luedeke, and the great people at MacGregor Literary, thank you for your wisdom and valuable insight. I’m looking forward to the journey ahead!
As for the readers who have found their way to the Jonah Stone: Son of Angels series . . . I’m beyond thrilled to be able to share these stories with you! You are always on my mind as I write, I have prayed for you, and I hope that your view of God is strengthened, encouraged, and challenged through this book. And I hope this was as fun for you to read as it was for me to write. I can’t wait to share another story with you soon.
And Jesus, the simple, profound truth is this . . . I owe You everything.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jerel Law is a gifted communicator and pastor with twenty years of full-time ministry experience. He holds a master of divinity degree from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and began writing fiction as a way to encourage his children’s faith to come alive. Law lives in North Carolina with his family. Learn more at www.jerellaw.com.
