by Bryan Davis
“Indeed.” Makaidos thumped his tail against the ground. “We are once again indebted to our human friends.”
“So what next?” Walter asked. “Who should go with Elam and Yereq to rescue Sapphira? And who should go with Jared to find Billy and Lauren?”
“Thigocia, Roxil, and I will not be able to go anywhere until we regain our strength, especially if one of us is to carry Yereq.” Makaidos looked up, blinking. “The sun is well past its zenith, so there might not be enough hours of sunlight to allow for strengthening. Yet, it is critical that we leave as soon as we can. If the people who sent the helicopters decide to retrieve their lost comrades, they will likely send more than they did last time. Perhaps we should retreat to a hidden area and wait there until we are strong enough to fly with passengers.”
“Then Jared and Marilyn won’t know where to find us,” Ashley said.
Gabriel flapped his wings and shot to a standing position. “I’ll fly around and look for a place. While you guys take cover there, I can stick around here. I’ll be able to get away quick, and I’m a smaller target than the dragons.” After taking a breath, he bent his knees and jumped into the air. Seconds later, he was flying toward a high ridge to the west.
“He recovered quickly,” Walter said as he followed Gabriel’s flight. “Let’s hope the dragons do the same. I agree with Makaidos that this place feels like the bull’s-eye on a bombing range.”
Ashley stroked Thigocia’s neck. “Do you know about Legossi?”
“I do.” A tear dripped from her eye. “I have lost her before, but seeing the cruelty of not one, but multiple slayers, was more devastating. How could so many conspire to hurt us like this?”
Roxil laid her head on the ground. “At one time, I hated all of humankind. I have to fight to keep those old feelings from returning.”
“Earth’s corruption is hastening,” Makaidos said with a head bob. “There is danger in the air, a heavy, oppressive danger that I have not sensed since my youth, in the days leading up to the great flood. It crawls like a shadow and strikes like a viper, injecting a disease that gnaws at the heart. I witnessed mankind’s decay then, and the corruption in the air now is the same rottenness that infected souls in those ancient days.”
“Could it be the lack of something in the air?” Walter asked. “Like a countermeasure? I mean, corruption has been around ever since I’ve been alive, so it’s nothing new. All I have to do is turn on the news or hear a political speech to smell the stench. We’re surrounded by greed, lust, and lies all the time. Why is everything falling apart now?”
Ashley nodded. “Walter’s talking about Bonnie’s song. It’s the countermeasure, and it’s failing.”
“Right.” Walter smacked his palm with a fist. “So if we’re going to fight this, we need to make sure we take the fight to the source. We have to find Bonnie, and with Joran and Selah gone, the only Listener we have left is Lauren.”
“Listener?” Thigocia repeated. “We have a Listener in Second Eden as well.”
“That’s her name, but we’re not sure if she has Lauren’s gift. If she does, we don’t know if she’s able to tune in to Bonnie’s song.” Walter checked the gun in his holster. “My point is that I want to get to Billy and help him. Since he and Lauren were together, he’s probably the key to tracking her down. And if we don’t rescue Bonnie from Tamiel and peel his choking fingers from around her throat, we can count on running into more demonized Earthlings than we can shake a stick at.”
Elam raised a hand. “Yereq and I will go with Makaidos and Thigocia to Fort Knox to see what’s up there. We’ll work out our strategy on the way.”
“Okay.” Walter patted Elam’s shoulder. “That’s a good team.”
Roxil lifted her head. “I will join you, Walter. Just let me know where you are, and when I regain my strength, I will fly there.”
“Sounds good.” Walter touched his jaw. “Carly, did you pick up everything?”
“Every word … I think. The guy at the toll booth wanted to know what radio program I was listening to, so I told him it was a drama broadcast by satellite. He gave Lois a glance but nothing more. He probably assumes I’m on my way to a geek fest of some kind.”
“Maybe you should’ve dressed the part, like a storm trooper outfit.” Walter tried to smile but couldn’t overcome the sadness. “Listen, Elam’s going to need some cover. Have Lois work on an identity for him. He’ll need the usual papers, the same as we did for Sir Barlow. Elam can print them out at an office services depot somewhere along the way. He lost his tooth transmitter, but I can give him mine so you can communicate with him directly. Make sure everyone’s synched up on the new encryption. I have the phone, and Ashley will be with me, so we won’t need chips.”
“Don’t forget to clean the one you give Elam.” The mirth in Carly’s voice was easy to read, but Walter let it slide. Humor felt like a forbidden joy right now, just as it did for the past fifteen years while Ashley was in prison.
“Right,” Walter said, trying to loosen the crimp in his throat. “Let me know if you need any input about Elam’s identity.”
After Gabriel found a suitable hideaway, everyone rested there for about an hour. When Marilyn landed the airplane in the valley, Gabriel fetched Walter and Ashley, leaving Elam and the dragons behind, and the three boarded Merlin. Since Roxil also had a transmitter, it would be easy to communicate with her by tooth-to-phone protocol when she recovered.
Ashley and Gabriel took seats in the front row of the plane’s passenger section, each leaning into the aisle as Walter crouched close to the cockpit, glancing between Marilyn and Jared in the pilot and copilot seats, respectively. Jared’s skin was ashen. Bruises covered his wrinkled face, and a glaze coated his eyes.
“Take a rest in the back,” Walter said, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb. “Your lovely wife and I can handle this bucket of bolts.”
“Thank you.” Jared rose, squeezed past Walter, and hobbled down the aisle, his head low to avoid the ceiling. He seemed ready to collapse.
Walter caught Marilyn’s gaze. She needed no words. Her knitted brow said that Jared’s condition had worsened … a lot. She feared for his life.
After climbing into the copilot’s seat, Walter looked back at Ashley and cast his thoughts her way. After all that healing, if you feel up to seeing what you can do for Jared, that would be great. One way or another, we have to figure out how to get him to Second Eden. If Dr. Conner comes up with that counter parasite, Jared needs to be there to catch it.
Ashley gave him a quick nod and followed Jared to the back of the plane.
“Everyone buckle up,” Walter said as he fastened himself in. He slid the communications headset over his ears and looked at Marilyn. Tears glistened in her eyes. When one trickled down her cheek, she swiped it away, sniffed, and slid on her own headset.
“We had some headwinds coming here.” She began punching buttons on the console GPS map. “So we should make better time going back if we—”
“Marilyn,” Walter said, gently pushing her hand away from the map. “Just relax. Get some sleep. If I need you, I’ll wake you up.”
As another tear made its way down her cheek, she offered a thankful smile. “Billy needs us.”
Walter nodded. “I know. For his sake, for Bonnie’s sake, and for their children’s sake, nothing on Earth or in Hell is going to stop me from helping them. You have my word.”
Chapter 17
RESURRECTED WARRIOR
Lauren stood with Joan next to Abaddon’s table, her hands folded primly at her waist. The flames on Joan’s body had dwindled to tiny firelets, still noticeable but very much subdued. The hourglass sat on the table, the sand about halfway drained—maybe fifteen minutes before it would run out. If it still meant that Matt would meet trouble when the sand spilled through, they had to hurry, but Abaddon seemed to be in no mood to be rushed.
While he used a sharp claw to flip large parchment pages in his boo
k, Lauren scanned the dragon’s dim abode. With Barlow, Tamara, and Zohar helping the Second Edeners settle in tents and beds Joan had arranged earlier, it seemed quiet in the huge chamber. Columns lined the walls, and colorful frescoes filled the gaps in between, nondescript designs that resembled modern artwork, unlike the living mosaics in the corridor. Although she didn’t get a chance to study those hallway frescoes carefully when looking for Joan, a walking dragon seemed to move along the wall at her pace. Whatever magic this place held, it was enough to incite a chill and a bit more reverence.
Lauren slid out her phone, set it to silent mode, and began taking photos, including Joan, Abaddon, and the chamber. Saving these images for future days might be a good idea, if only for showing friends and family what she went through.
“So many rules broken.” Abaddon’s neck swayed, but his head remained relatively motionless over the book. “The birthing plant was not in the garden when the call came for Zohar to be resurrected, but the powers that be insisted that I send him anyway. Apparently the garden was virtually destroyed, so they allowed the violation.”
Lauren pushed the phone into her pocket and cleared her throat. “I don’t know what that means, but—”
“Shhh!” Joan set a finger over her lips. “He is not addressing you. Let him vent his frustration.”
“At least he’s not alliterating,” Lauren whispered.
“That is always for show. It is part of his hypnotic gift.”
“And now …” Abaddon flipped another page, snatched a pen from an inkwell with a clawed hand, and began writing. “And now I am supposed to send Joan back with her full wisdom and knowledge and not as an infant and also with no garden ceremony at all. Of course I did that with Timothy, the most prolific resurrection performer in all history, but at least he appeared in the birthing garden in Second Eden in his human adult form.”
Lauren glanced at Joan. Her brow scrunched, her first sign of confusion. Apparently part of the dragon’s rant caught her off guard.
Abaddon looked up, as if listening to a voice. Lauren trained her ears. A whisper sounded from somewhere, but the words were indecipherable, as if spoken in a foreign language.
“I know Lauren needs a faithful companion,” Abaddon said, “and Joan would be the best companion possible, but I did not provide these options to them earlier. They must know the cost involved. Even now I speak in their language so they will understand my dilemma. With this unique arrangement, the outcome is completely unpredictable. Lauren will be unprepared for what she might face. Will she be like Joan or like Isaac?”
Lauren blinked. Isaac? Who was Isaac?
Again whispers permeated the chamber, this time echoing, as if several ghosts roamed the spacious room and spoke identical words in chorus. The voices crooned, deep and lovely, carrying none of the grief and toil the lamenting voices in Hades communicated.
Abaddon lowered his head and sighed. “Your will be done. I will make the arrangements.” Without looking up, he continued writing in his book. Lauren glanced again at the hourglass. It was nearly empty. Only about five minutes remained.
After swallowing through a lump, Lauren leaned closer. “Excuse me, but the sand is about to—”
“You are so much like your mother.” Abaddon’s tail whipped around, latched on to the hourglass, and turned it over. Sand began spilling once again. “It is a shame that humans rarely understand the nature of prophetic utterances. With rare exceptions, they are conditional. There are many shifting sands in your world, and free will is the greatest of shifters. Yet God’s ability to fulfill his purposes is not threatened by freedom. In fact, he delights in it.”
Joan pulled on Lauren’s sleeve and whispered, “I will explain later.”
“No need. I think I figured it out.”
Abaddon set his pen back in the inkwell. “The two of you will go to Second Eden immediately. Since Lauren never died, she will not need a resurrection. She will return the way she came, but Joan will need to be resurrected. I will send her to one of the remaining birthing plants. Since she has already undergone a trial by fire and has become a spiritual oracle, she will not need to suffer again in the flames in order to rise from the dead.”
“I will explain that as well,” Joan said. “It is something your mother had to go through to become—”
“An Oracle of Fire.” Abaddon snorted. “It seems that Joan is anxious to begin her role. We will see how she performs when she learns how difficult this role will be, especially when Lauren is faced with her own trial by fire.”
Joan’s flames erupted, sending six-inch flares curling out like groping fingers. “But you said the outcome of this arrangement is unpredictable. How can you know—”
“One truth is always predictable.” Like a striking adder, his head shot forward and stopped within inches of Joan’s face. He then turned his sparkling blue eyes toward Lauren. “Those who have the courage to carry the flame of truth without flinching will always be consumed by fire, whether it is ignited by their enemies through lies, jealousy, hatred, or fear, or by their own passion as their hearts are set ablaze and they burn in sorrow as others fail to heed their calls.”
Turning toward Joan again, he added, “How well you know this.”
Joan’s chin quivered, but she kept her stare locked without blinking.
As Abaddon drew his head back, he flipped toward the front of his book. A hologram rose from the pages, a woman tied to a stake with flames shooting up from piles of wood stacked all around. Clutching a crude wooden cross against her chest, the woman cried out in agony, “De l’eau! Donnez-moi du l’eau bénite!”
“Water,” Lauren whispered. “She’s begging for water.” But no one brought water to the Maid of Orleans, and no one rescued her from the flames. All of her friends had abandoned her.
When the hologram crumbled back to the pages, Lauren sucked in a breath. It was so awful! How could anyone face such a cruel execution? According to the stories, Joan of Arc had an opportunity to recant her beliefs and avoid the torture, but she chose truth over lies, and by that decision, she chose torture over comfort.
Tears poured down Joan’s cheeks. “Are you saying …” Her voice cracked, almost shattering. “Are you saying that Lauren will suffer the way I did?”
“It depends.” Abaddon closed the book. “If Lauren wants to be an Oracle of Fire like you or her mother, such a fiery trial is essential. At the very least, she must be willing to give her body to the flames, and God is never fooled by lip-service willingness. Like you who withstood the fires of persecution rather than recant your faith, like Sapphira who jumped into the river of lava to infuse the death of Jesus into her bosom, and like Bonnie who allowed me to melt her flesh rather than speak a lie about her purity, so Lauren must welcome her own flames of refinement.” He drew his snout close to Lauren. This time his eyes flashed red. Flames erupted in his pupils. “She must sacrifice for the sake of others, a supremely selfless act that will sear her soul. And facing fear of death will defeat all fears forevermore.”
Lauren averted her eyes. His stare was too hot, too piercing. Could she do something like that? She wasn’t a courageous heroine like Joan. She didn’t have the faith of her mother. Believing the sermons about Jesus was easy enough, but could she sacrifice for others, especially in the face of flames?
“Yet, as I indicated earlier …” Abaddon set a claw on the hourglass. The sand drained even more slowly than before. “The predictability factor is quite low. My experience tells me that sacrifice is inevitable, but some faithful pilgrims manage to avoid the flames. We shall see.”
Joan lowered her head. “I assume the possibility that we both will avoid the flames is low indeed.”
“Since the two of you will be practically inseparable, I assume you will suffer or thrive together, which will be beneficial for Lauren. When the time comes for her to choose a sacrificial path, you will be there to guide and comfort her. In your incorruptible state, you wil
l not be affected by the current corruption that plagues Earth, so your counsel will be vital. Since you have already taken the path of a martyr, your advice will be better than anyone else’s, for what potential martyr can consult with those who have gone before her? This will be a first in history.”
Lauren let the word form on her lips. Martyr. It sounded so … so morbid, yet … holy. Reading about martyrs had always been scary, the stuff that blossomed into nightmares. Just burning a finger felt like torture, and it stung for days. How could someone subject her entire body to flames? Maybe sacrificing for a close friend was reasonable, even noble, but burning to ashes? It seemed impossible.
“Is the decision for us to go together set in stone?” Joan asked.
“It is not. The offer for Lauren to stay in comfort still stands. If you go without her, you will go as a warrior, and Lauren will enjoy peace while she serves the displaced refugees, which is a fine and honorable position. If you and Lauren go together, you will be her faithful companion, guiding her with the wisdom you are so capable of providing, especially in times of trial. The difference is that you will not be the general that I expected you would be.”
Joan nodded. “I see.”
“Do you really?” Abaddon’s face took on what looked like a smirk. “I think perhaps you do not. You were in a servile position early in life, but you grew accustomed to command. It will be interesting to see if you will adapt to a servant’s role again.”
“Abaddon, you should know by now that your verbal posturing will not intimidate me.” Joan took Lauren’s hand and enfolded it in both of hers. Warmth flowed up Lauren’s arms and through her body. “I am ready to guide you through this, Lauren. I will neither leave you nor forsake you. If you have to suffer in flames, I will suffer at your side. Yet, you still have a choice. You may stay here, and I will go alone. I have already been through the fire, and I am not afraid to burn.”
Lauren looked into Joan’s blazing eyes. Such courage! Such love! How could anyone be at peace when faced with torture? As the answer came to Lauren’s mind, she nodded. Peace when facing flames comes to someone who has already conquered them. “We will go together, and I will count on you to stay at my side, no matter what.”
