Contents
Title Page
Front Matter
Note to Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Study links
BioAmazonLinks
When Angels Cry
MaryLu Tyndall
When Angels Cry
© 2017 by MaryLu Tyndall
Published by Ransom Press
San Jose, CA 95123
ISBN: 978-0-9971671-4-6
E-Version ISBN: 978-0-9971671-5-3
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author, MaryLu Tyndall.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogues are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version of the Bible.
Scripture quotations marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Ravven
Editor: Lora Doncea at EditsbyLora.com
Dedication
To all who long for His appearing
Because thou hast kept the word of my patience, I also will keep thee from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon all the world, to try them that dwell upon the earth. Behold, I come quickly: hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.
Revelation 3:10-11 (KJV)
Foreword
Dear readers, this book is not meant to be a study in theology. It is a work of fiction, an adventurous, romantic story that I hope will both entertain and enlighten you. Based on many years of personal research into the Scriptures and end-times prophecies, I have presented one possible scenario of what the future might look like. I realize there are a variety of opinions and theories regarding these important times. I also realize that there are many different viewpoints on predestination, free will, the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and eternal salvation. However, the Word of God that is quoted and emulated by the characters is meant to be as close to the truth as possible. If you have questions or even objections, I encourage you to search the Scriptures for yourself and ask God to reveal His truth to you personally. At the back of the book you will find references for further study. Having said all that, if you're ready for an intense spiritual ride, then turn the page and let's get started!
Chapter 1
But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come: For men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, unloving, unforgiving, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, despisers of good, traitors, headstrong, haughty, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power.
2 Timothy 3:1-5 (NKJV)
Mid-July, Fort Lauderdale, Florida - In the not too distant future
“No, Father God, I can’t. I won’t! Not him. Anyone but him.” Angelica heard the defiant words flow from her mouth, though she could swear she was still fast asleep, safe in her bed. Yet the vision of the angel remained—all glowing brightness and peace, instructing her with an authority and a gentleness she’d never experienced from anyone on earth. She shook her head, desperate to wake up, not wanting to hear the angel’s message again.
A salty breeze spun around her, followed by the squawk of a seagull, and she pried her eyes open to find her bedroom forming out of the shadows. “Just a dream,” she breathed out. Like the many that had come before it.
Tossing off the sheet, she swept her legs over the side of the bed, dragged a hand over the perspiration on her brow, and dropped her head in her hands. “Father, are You sure? You can’t possibly…” But of course He was sure. She’d managed to ignore the first two dreams, pushing them from her thoughts, shrugging them off as products of her wounded heart. But this one had been more real, more demanding. All saying the same thing.
Struggling to her feet, she moved to the open window and knelt with arms atop the windowsill. Across the street, a half-moon lingered above a charcoal sea, flinging ribbons of silver onto the water. A warm breeze stirred her hair and brought the scent of salt and life. She glanced at the clock. 3:00 a.m. No wonder Ocean Blvd beneath her second-story window was deserted—except for a single car slowly swaying over the yellow line.
The lap of waves soothed her, and she raised her face toward the sky sprinkled with thousands of stars. “Father, why me? Can’t you send someone else?”
Moments passed as she settled her chin on her hands and stared at the sea.
I have chosen you. The soft voice floated from within her, sparking her spirit to life and reaffirming the source.
“Drat.” She frowned, but then gazed up at the sky once again and sighed. “I am your servant.”
♦♦♦
“I don’t have all day, Mrs. Clipton. I told you I needed that document by five.” Daniel forced back his anger as the older lady shuffled through papers on her desk.
“I’m sorry, Pastor Cain. I had it right here a moment ago. I’ve just been so busy with Marie and Jason away on missions this week. I hope you can forgive me…”
The woman rambled on while Daniel glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. “Do you have any idea how important this meeting is? If I can get the city council to agree, we can add another twenty acres to our property, open up a women’s shelter. Think of the souls we could save!”
“I do, Pastor.” The woman fumbled as her eyes started to well with tears. “Here.” She breathed a sigh and handed him the folder, hands trembling.
One thing Daniel couldn’t stand was incompetence. He liked Mrs. Clipton, he did. She was a widow with no children who loved everyone she met. However, despite her extensive resume, she was often forgetful and unorganized. He supposed it was old age. But she had no other source of income, so out of the kindness of his heart, he had employed her as his executive admin. He just wondered how far God expected him to go with his charity.
Grabbing the folder, he shoved it beneath his arm, then turned and nodded to his security detail. Falling in on either side of him, the two men escorted him from the administrative offices of Fort Lauderdale Church of Grace out into the massive foyer. Chandeliers hung from arched ceilings, sunlight streamed through stained glass windows that depicted scenes from the life of Christ, while a life-size wooden cross made from Jerusalem olive wood took up the entire east wall. Crossing the plush royal-blue carpet, he headed out a set of thick wooden doors into the searing Florida sun.
He’d hired the two burly ex-marines after some nutjob fired a shot at him last year during a rally at the FAU Stadium. If he admi
tted it, he rather liked being flanked by armed men in black suits. They made him feel important, valued. Someone worth saving. Something he could never have imagined just ten years ago when he’d started this church with a rock band and ten homeless people on the beach. Now, look at him. Nearly twenty thousand people attended FLCG every week. He employed a staff of over two hundred and owned the fifty acres on which the sanctuary, office, and school buildings stood.
All in just ten years.
His associate pastor, Thomas Benton, met him at the bottom of the stairs where a limo idled, ready to take him to his meeting at town hall. With light blond hair perfectly styled and slicked back, Thomas bore little resemblance to the wild, insecure pastor’s kid Daniel had befriended in seminary.
“We’re late.” Thomas adjusted his three-piece Hugo Boss suit and stared at Daniel through Gucci sunglasses.
“Mrs. Clipton again,” Daniel spat out, just as he spotted a beautiful woman walking over the front steps toward him—a beautiful, scantily-dressed woman. His security goons immediately started for her.
Something about her—the way she walked and held herself—made Daniel stop and stare. Not that she wasn’t stare-worthy. Shapely legs flowed out from a black miniskirt while a sequined halter top clung to curves in all the right places. No way she was hiding a weapon in that outfit.
“Daniel…Pastor Daniel,” she said, halting before his guards, one of whom held an arm out to stop her from proceeding. “A word, please?”
“Come now, gentlemen.” Daniel nudged the men aside. “Surely, this woman is no threat. What may I do for you, Miss?” Honey-blonde hair hung in a short bob around an attractive face that was plastered with far too much makeup. But it was her eyes that mesmerized him—green like jade, studying him from within thickly-mascaraed lashes and glittering green eye shadow.
She continued to gaze at him as if she expected him to say something. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck, and for the first time in many years, he felt uncomfortable in the presence of a woman.
Thomas gripped his arm. “We have to go. Now.” He arched an incriminating brow, and Daniel nodded and turned to follow him.
“You’re not ready,” the woman finally said.
Daniel faced her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re not ready,” she repeated. “Your light has gone out.”
That voice. Where had he heard it before? It whisked around him, stirring something deep within him…something from a lifetime ago.
Thomas cleared his throat. “Alright. Thank you very much, Miss.” He tugged on Daniel and gestured toward the security guards to keep her at a distance. “Church services are Sunday at 9:00, 11:00, and 1:00.”
But she had already turned and was walking away.
“Odd.” Daniel commented as he adjusted himself in the plush limo seats, thankful for the air conditioner.
“Just some crazy prostitute, no doubt. You really shouldn’t stop to talk to these people. It doesn’t look good.”
The security guards took their seats, one up front with the driver and one back with them, and the limo sped on its way.
“Aren’t I supposed to help the lost find salvation?” Daniel eyed his friend.
“Of course. And you do. In your sermons every week.”
Daniel sighed. “Maybe she needed help. A word of encouragement.”
“Then she can come to church. Although, I would hope in more modest clothing.” Contrary to his judgmental tone, Thomas’ stare latched upon the woman through the shaded window.
Daniel poured himself spring water from the mini bar and sat back, trying to shove the woman from his thoughts. “What did she mean by my light going out?”
“She’s probably high.” Thomas snorted. “In fact, I think I recognize her. She works at a local nightclub, the Mermaid Den, a cocktail waitress or something. Definitely not someone you should be associating with.”
“And how would you know about this nightclub?” Daniel raised a teasing brow.
Thomas chuckled and looked away. “One of our members fell off the wagon and called me from there to pick him up.”
Daniel studied his friend. Good explanation. Perhaps a little too good.
“Listen, Daniel.” Thomas leaned forward on his knees. “You can’t risk yourself for someone like that. You are far too important. The people of Fort Lauderdale need you. Heck, Washington D.C. needs you, and soon the entire world. If that isn’t enough, then God needs you.”
Daniel smiled and sipped his water. Thomas was right, of course. He needed to look at the bigger picture, concentrate on the entire ocean and not on the little fish swimming around in it.
♦♦♦
Baliel and Nazare stood side by side on the steps of the Fort Lauderdale Church of Grace. Nazare watched the limo head down the driveway while Baliel kept a keen eye on Angelica as she opened her car door and got inside.
“So, they have finally met again,” Nazare said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.
Baliel folded arms over his massive chest. “Yes. She obeys the Father.”
Nazare, the taller of the two angelic warriors, gripped the hilt of his sword and descended one step before facing his friend. “I am thankful for that. Do you think she can reach him?”
Baliel’s gaze shifted from Angelica to Nazare. “If he listens.”
“If she continues to obey,” Nazare returned.
“She will.”
Nazare turned his attention to the retreating limo. “He is stubborn. I fear for him.”
“Do not fear. It is not from the Creator. Trust and do your job.”
Nazare took another step down, tightening the grip on his blade. “If only I could—”
“You cannot.” Baliel spoke with the authority of his station. “Now go and protect.”
With one final nod to his friend, Nazare disappeared.
Baliel did the same, his gaze fixed on Angelica’s car.
♦♦♦
“Okay, Father, I did it.” Angelica repeated for the third time that morning since she’d dragged herself from bed after only four hours of sleep. “I spoke to him, just like You asked.”
Rubbing the sweat from her neck, she closed her bedroom window, followed by the living room windows, before flipping on the AC from the controller mounted on the wall. 7:00 a.m. The earliest they were allowed to use their air conditioning, and even after that, they could only run it on two-hour segments with one hour off in between. After 11:00 p.m., it had to be shut down for the night—all part of some state mandate to conserve energy. But in the heat of Florida summer, it was unbearable.
Opening the fridge, she grabbed the egg carton, bacon, milk, OJ, and bread, and spread them across the kitchen counter. She would make everyone a rare breakfast this morning. For once they had real bacon, and she didn’t intend to let it go to waste. Opening her Bible on the counter, she flipped on the small TV screen and switched to the Internet station for the morning news—as was her habit. Watch and pray. Didn’t the Lord command them to do just that?
Two newscasters were discussing the recent world economic collapse while the camera panned in on food lines that had become a normal sight in most cities. Drowning them out for a moment, Angelica read a passage from 1 John. The holy words settled a cloak of peace on her as she prayed for God’s provision for those in need and thanked Him for always taking care of her and her son Isaac. Reading the Bible had become such an important part of her morning that she found she couldn’t do much else until she had absorbed the words of life.
Now, as she busied herself with cracking eggs into a bowl, the news story turned to a meteor that had just crashed into Southern Russia.
“Father, I pray no one was hurt,” she whispered, watching a home video of the fireball speeding toward earth.
Next, the scene switched to people looting and rioting in the streets of Chicago, some of them hungry, others just plain mad. All of them devouring everything in their path like an army of locusts, all while toss
ing rocks at local police. Before she could even pray for them, the story switched to a terrorist attack in Spain that killed fifty-one civilians on a train, and then to rising tensions in the Middle East between Iran, Russia, and the U.S., along with continued civilian casualties in the attacks on Damascus.
Angelica lifted up a series of prayers for all involved as she put a pan on the stove to heat.
The newscaster continued, “UN peacekeepers have not been successful at stopping the recent violence on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Last week alone, twenty Israelis and two Palestinians were brutally stabbed in continued altercations over who owns the world’s most holy site.”
“You own the holy site, Father,” Angelica said. “Please help them to see that.”
“On a happier note,” the news continued. “Soon we all will be able to purchase food and other necessities by simply swiping our wrist over a scanner. LiberateTech has announced that over 100,000 Americans have already received the implanted chip, which will not only put a halt to identity theft and petty thievery, but will contain your entire medical and financial history in case of emergency.”
Breathing out a sigh, Angelica stared at the screen. “Oh, dear Lord, it’s beginning.” Heart heavy, she added slices of bacon to the hot pan, the sizzling preventing her from hearing the remaining stories. Perhaps that was a good thing. There was no end to bad news. Every day, new crises occurred, and every day, they fulfilled the prophecies that were foretold in the precious book lying open before her. She whipped the eggs and then dropped bread in the toaster.
Yet so few people were even aware how close they were to the end.
She flipped the bacon over as her thoughts drifted to Daniel. He had aged, of course, but the years had been more than kind to him. He’d filled out quite nicely—thicker, more muscular. But his hair was the same, that gorgeous chestnut brown with a dusting of trimmed whiskers along his chin and jaw. And those eyes—deep blue like indigo. He had looked at her as if she were a stranger. Yet… she thought she’d seen a hint of recognition flicker behind his gaze.
When Angels Cry Page 1
