MURDERER.
No.
Because of you they perished.
“Get out!” Reece sat in front of the fire pit on Sunday evening and shook his head, grappling with the words being flung into his mind. He’d come out to pray before Dana and Brandon arrived but had been hammered from the moment he settled onto the bench. He had to be strong. Bold. Had to be ready to fight for Marcus’s freedom.
Their blood will forever be on your hands.
Reece slumped forward onto his knees in front of the fire pit, the hiss of the light rain against the coals filling the air. “The belt of truth. The breastplate of righteousness. They are mine. The shield of faith. I raise it.”
Stay on this path and we will take you down.
Reece massaged his head. It was true. If he hadn’t been reckless, they wouldn’t have died.
Stay on this path and we will take them down.
The buzz of his cell phone split into his thoughts and he yanked it out of his pocket and stared at the screen. Doug.
“Hello.”
“How are you?”
Reece didn’t answer.
“What is the truth, friend?”
Reece puffed out rapid breaths. “I don’t know.”
“I killed them, Doug.” He pulled his hat down over his face.
“You told me you’re going into Marcus’s soul tonight, yes? So you can’t be surprised at this attack.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Where does their power come from?”
“We’re not going into your soul this time. It’s different.”
“Where does their power come from?”
Reece got back on the bench, the rain seeping through his jeans. “Deception.”
“Where does their power come from?”
“Accusation.”
“Where does their power come from?”
“Illusion.”
“Do they have any claim over you? Any right?”
“No.”
“Did the Spirit tell you to go after Marcus tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any doubts about that?”
“No.”
“As I said to you two weeks back, you must lead with a confidence you won’t always feel, release the power that has long lain dormant, and live in the faith of the old days. You must be strong, friend. Let me seek the heavens for you right now.”
As Doug prayed the fog clutching Reece’s mind lifted and light flickered, then burst into full radiance. Three minutes later Reece strode back to his house, the words of his friend’s prayer expanding in his heart, the vile thoughts held at bay—at least for the moment.
As Dana stepped through the front door of Reece’s house, her eyes were drawn to a baby grand piano sitting in the far right corner of the great room.
“You’re the first to arrive,” Reece said as he greeted her. “Make yourself at home, Dana, I’ll be right back.”
As Reece disappeared upstairs, Dana wandered over to the piano. Two framed photos sat on it. She picked up the first picture and studied the brunette woman in it. Her smile was bottled lightning. The woman didn’t have the Hollywood-type beauty that was continually foisted on humanity but that deeper kind of beauty that made Dana instantly hope the person would like her.
Reece clomped back down the stairs and stopped at the bottom.
“Who is the picture of?”
He didn’t answer for several seconds. “My wife.”
“She’s stunning.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re no longer together?”
“No.” His eyes went dark.
“Divorced?”
“No longer together.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t. But I appreciate the offer.” Reece turned, walked toward the kitchen, and called out over his shoulder, “I’ll just be three or four more minutes in here.”
Dana set the photo of Reece’s wife back on the piano in the spot clear of dust it had sat in, then looked at the next photo. In it was a little girl who looked to be in her tween years. Dana reached toward the picture but pulled her hand back before she touched it. She’d already pushed too deep into Reece’s no-go zone, and something told her asking about this eleven- or-twelve-year-old girl who was likely Reece’s daughter would be going too—
“My daughter.”
Dana yanked her hand back from the top of the piano and knocked over the photo of his wife. “Sorry, you startled me. I thought you were still in the kitchen—”
“My fault.” Reece rubbed his hands on his jeans. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“You didn’t.” She moved away from the piano. “I shouldn’t be looking at these pictures.”
“It’s okay, Dana.” Reece eased past her and lifted both framed photos off the piano. “My wife was thirty-four when she died.” He wiped the dust off the top of the frame, then held up the picture of his daughter. “She was ten.”
“I’m sorry. How did they—?”
Reece shook his head and Dana stopped. Clearly the question was far beyond the off-limits border.
“Do you play?” Dana motioned toward the piano.
“No.” Reece tossed the dish towel over his shoulder. “My wife did. But that’s not the real question you wanted to ask, is it?”
“I wanted to know more about your wife and daughter. I’m sorry to pry.”
“Someday I’ll tell you that story. But not yet.”
Reece stared at her as if daring her to ask to hear the story now. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a sharp knock on the door filled the living room.
“That will be Brandon.”
When Brandon and she had settled onto either end of Reece’s couch, their mentor began.
“Thanks for coming. Tonight could be intense.”
Intense? Should that be a surprise? Every night the four of them spent together was intense. It was still hard processing everything that had happened over the past two weeks and reconciling it with the uneventful type of Christianity she’d lived for the past ten years.
And now, showing up at the radio station, trying to go through the motions of a regular day—wondering when another demon might show up in her office and follow through on its threats—then at night delving into a spiritual world that had always been around her, but she’d never seen.
It was a kind of bizarre double life. But she didn’t want to stop. The healing and freedom she saw exploding in her life and the others’ lives made the battle worth it. And tonight they would fight to free Marcus from the regrets he lugged around like a steel drum full of concrete.
Reece struck a match and lit a dark blue candle, set it on the coffee table in front of him, and sat back in his oak chair. “Tonight we go into the professor’s soul.”
“And Marcus is okay with this?” Dana asked. “You know, the whole permission thing?”
“Without question. He and I spent a good chunk of the day together yesterday and he asked us to do this.”
“Why isn’t he here?”
“He said he’d rather not be.” Reece steepled his fingers. “I didn’t ask why.”
“What if we need to ask him something?”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to.” Reece stood and turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room.
“Is there anything else we need to know?”
“Yes.” He pointed at Brandon and her. “I’m going to let you two lead us. You’ll make the decisions. I’ll be there if you need counsel, but I want you two running point.”
He and Brandon closed their eyes and Dana did the same. “Here we go. Take us in by your Spirit, your power, your grace, your fire.”
The almost familiar rush of air surrounded Dana and when she opened her eyes, the three of them stood in an unnaturally long hallway—at least one hundred yards long in each direction with doors spaced every ten or twelve feet along the corridor.
“I feel like I’m breaking and entering.” Brandon spun a 360 on his heel. “It’s one thing to be in the soul of a stranger. It’s way different to be in the soul of an ally.”
“Be on your guard. Watch your back. Watch each other’s backs.”
“I thought Marcus’s soul would be vaster than just a hallway.” Dana reached out and placed her palm on the wall. It was cool to her touch.
“We’re only in one small part of it.”
“Which way? Right or left?” she asked. A faint hospital smell was in the air.
“We should go left,” Brandon said.
“How do you know? Did the Spirit tell you that?” Dana asked.
“No, but I have a fifty-fifty chance of being right.”
“Left is fine,” Reece said as they eased down the hall.
Every door looked exactly the same. The walls were off-white, the hallway floor off-white, and so were the doors.
“Marcus needs to get a decorator in here, bad.” Brandon stopped and ran a finger along the wall to his right and held it up to his eyes. “At least he’s keeping it clean.”
“It makes sense.” Dana stopped as well and glanced from ceiling to floor to the doors.
“Why?” Reece said.
“You already know why, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“It reflects his personality. He’s precise. A scientist. He’s ordered and it’s reflected in his soul.”
“Well said, Dana.”
Brandon laughed. “I wonder what my soul looks like. I expect a full report once you guys go inside.”
She knew exactly what it would look like. “I’m guessing it would be much more Gaudi-like or Salvador Dalí.”
Brandon laughed again. “Probably true.”
Reece motioned them with his fingers. “I don’t mind you talking, but let’s move at the same time.”
“How do we know when we get to the right door?” Dana said.
“I’m guessing it will be pretty simple.” Reece pointed at a door to his left. “Just look for the door that’s open a crack. And look for light coming from underneath it.”
They walked for thirty or forty yards without seeing an open door. And none had light spilling onto the floor in front of them.
“There.” Dana pointed to a spot sixty feet ahead. “I see light.”
“Where?” Brandon glanced back and forth between Dana and where she was pointing.
“Up ahead. Thirty yards or so. You can’t see that?”
“No.”
“You’re blind then.”
“He can’t see it, Dana,” Reece interjected. “Neither can I. You can. Extend grace. And if you don’t understand the implication of his not seeing, then you’re the one who’s blind.”
“The body of Christ. Needing each other,” Dana responded.
“Exactly.” Reece strode ahead of them and stopped when he reached the open door.
“Should we keep looking?”
“No, this is the door. Well done, Dana.”
They pushed it open and walked in. The walls and ceiling were painted a muted blue. Thick gray carpet covered the floor except for the center of the room where a raised stage sat. It was made of a dark wood and round.
The space felt heavy, as if an unseen melancholy cloud permeated the room. And with every breath she took, the feeling intensified. The walls were lined with old-looking movie posters from floor to ceiling. As she looked more closely, Dana realized the people on the posters were Marcus, a woman, and two girls who looked like the photo Marcus had shown Dana at Well Spring. It had to be his wife, Kat, and his daughters, Abbie and Jayla.
It was macabre. Each poster had the feel of a 1960s horror film, but instead of promoting a movie, the images and headlines advertised the greatest regrets of the professor’s life.
As Dana stared at a poster of Marcus hunched over a laptop while a birthday party went on in the background, the scene somehow came to life and the professor, his daughters, and Kat emerged from the poster and appeared on the stage in the center of the room acting out the scene.
Dana gasped and stepped back. It was so real. Kat’s pleas for him to shut down the computer, the sadness on Abbie’s face as she blew out seven yellow candles, him taking a quick photo, then going back to the computer.
“Marcus?” Dana reached her hand toward the stage even though she knew he wasn’t really there.
She turned and looked at another poster of Marcus turning down a scuba-diving trip with some buddies. Ones of softball and soccer games where he sat in the stands with his face buried in books. One of him wanting to try out for a community play but backing out at the last second. Another of anniversaries where he called Kat from his office at school to say he wouldn’t be home.
As Dana concentrated on the posters, each of them came alive and played out on the stage as if she were there when it happened.
Dana glanced at Brandon and Reece. “Are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?”
They nodded and she turned back—but not to look at the walls any longer. She was done looking at the posters. She’d seen enough. Dana gazed at the now-empty stage and tried to imagine the weight of Marcus’s regrets. She started to ask Brandon what he wanted to do next when the stage, the room, the posters all vanished and Marcus appeared in front of them hunched over his laptop in an office, pounding on the keyboard, a cell phone scrunched between his cheek and his shoulder. A stack of thick, musty-looking books sat to his left, three more perched on his right.
“I’ll be there. My arrival won’t be as early as I desire, but I am coming.”
Kat stood in the entryway of a home next to Abbie and Jayla.
“You’re going to be late? She has the lead role,” Kat said.
“She’s in first grade, not on Broadway.”
“She won’t be six forever, Marcus.”
The shorter of the two girls peered up at Kat.
“I realize this; however, if I’m to attain tenure I am compelled to finish this paper. And the sooner I get tenure, the sooner I’ll be able to relax and spend more time with you and the girls. Who do you presume I’m doing this for?”
“Maybe part of this is about the girls and me, but I think more of it is about you.”
He pulled the cell phone off his shoulder and squeezed it tight. “And maybe if you were raised with one meal a day and one set of clothes all the way up through junior high, you’d want to make sure when you achieved a family of your own, they were taken care of.”
“There’s a difference between wanting to provide for your family and wanting to gain the prestige and recognition you never had as—”
“Can we drop it? The longer we converse about this, the longer it will take me to get there.” Marcus yanked one of the books to his right and pawed through it. “Your brother is taping the play, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll arrive in time to see the second half and watch the first half with Jayla, you, and Abbie when we all get home. It’ll be like I was there the whole time.”
“It’s first grade. I don’t think they’ll have an intermission.”
As the argument continued the scene faded, replaced by the site of a tiny gymnasium with a stage at one end crowded with grade-school children who lined the front of the stage and bowed as the small audience stood and clapped and hooted their praise. Kat, a man who resembled her, and Abbie scuffed toward the stage. The man—who had to be Kat’s brother—clapped as they approached Jayla.
“You were so good, Jayla!” Kat grinned, bent down, hugged her daughter, and kissed her head. “Absolutely wonderful.”
Jayla grinned and nodded.
“I agree.” Kat’s brother lifted the girl off the floor and gave her a quick spin through the air. “It was a stupendously stupendous performance!”
“What does that mean, Uncle Thomas?” Jayla tilted her head, her pink halo bobbing back and forth.
“It means your dad is going to be so incredibly proud of you when he sees the video because you were incredibly incredible.” Kat’s brother smiled and patted the video camera in his hand.
“Are you proud of me?”
“Of course I am!”
The scene shifted to Marcus as he half walked, half jogged through the school parking lot, through the doors to the gym. He pushed past parents and kids who flowed in the opposite direction. His gaze darted around the gym, then he strode toward the four of them. Jayla’s back was to him, and Kat, her brother, and Abbie didn’t see him approach.
Jayla’s next statement stopped Marcus cold. He staggered to his left into the shadows of the bleachers.
“I’m glad you’re proud of me ’cause you’re like a daddy.”
“Really? Am I like your daddy?” Kat’s brother laughed.
“Uh-uh, you’re not like him.” She stared at him. “You come to my things.” Jayla looked down and spun in a circle with her hands out. “He never does ’cause he’s busy working a lot, he has stuffs to do, so he can’t come, and that’s why, you know?”
“Jayla—”
“I love you.” She reached out and hugged Thomas.
“Thank you, but you love your daddy too.”
“Uh-huh.”
Marcus’s face turned ashen. A second later there was a flash of light and the room and the posters materialized around the three of them again.
“He’s the king of regret. Or maybe the emperor.” Brandon put his hands on his hips.
“You would be too,” Dana said.
“We need to destroy those posters. Any ideas how?”
“This one is yours to figure out.” Reece took a step back and folded his arms.
“Do we get a clue?” Brandon said.
“What would you use if you were in the physical world?”
Brandon glanced around the room. “Ripping the posters to shreds wouldn’t be enough. They need to burn. I’d toss them all in your fire pit.”
“But since we don’t have that at our disposal . . .”
Brandon held up his hands as if he held a bazooka. “A flamethrower.”
“Then make it happen.”
Brandon smiled at Reece, then closed his eyes and held out his arms, palms up. A ball of flame appeared in each of Brandon’s hands. “Yeah, now we’re talking.” He flung the balls of fire at the posters on the far wall. They struck the center of the wall and instantly exploded into flames.
“Yes!” Brandon gave a fist pump but a second later his arm went limp.
Once the flames died out, the posters and the frames were exactly the same as they had been. There was no damage.
“More power, Lord,” Dana said. This had to work.
“Let’s go again,” Brandon said. This time the balls in his hand were half again as big and glowed with the intensity of a star. He heaved one of the fireballs at the screen and the explosion engulfed the entire wall. Seconds later the posters and frames caught fire and burned hot and bright.
“Strike one.” Brandon transferred the ball of fire in his left hand to his right, wound up, and threw the second ball with the speed of lightning at the wall across from them with the same result as the first wall.
“Strike two.”
The third ball of fire struck the wall to their left and within three minutes all that was left of the posters were a few charred pieces of framing and a bit of lingering smoke.
“Is it finished?” Reece asked.
“Strike three, game over.” Brandon grinned. “Freedom for Marcus, baby.”
“Is it time to go then?”
Dana stared at the smoldering hardware, a glitch gnawing at her mind.
Brandon danced. “We’re outta here. Victory party is next. The professor is buying.”
He and Reece walked out of the room and down the hall, and Dana followed a few steps behind. The door closed behind them on its own. The gnawing grew. After a few paces she stopped.
Reece spun. “Is something wrong, Dana?”
“I don’t know.” Dana jerked her thumb back toward the door they’d just stepped out of. “But something feels off. That was easy. Way too easy. And I didn’t feel any peace in that room when we left. Only sorrow.”
“I agree.”
Brandon spun around and half walked, half hopped down the hall back to Dana, his Adidas sneakers squeaking on the floor of the hallway. “What are you talking about? We find the room, we call on God’s power, he comes through with fire, everything burns, posters are destroyed, and you’re saying it was too easy?”
“The resistance we had at first didn’t slow us down for more than a minute.”
“And that’s a problem, why?”
Dana looked at Reece. “We didn’t destroy anything, did we?”
“Hello.” Brandon raised his arms. “We destroyed everything. Touchdown. Grand slam.”
“There’s an easy way to find out.” Reece motioned toward the door. “Let’s go back and make sure.”
They clipped back over the twenty feet they’d just covered. Reece reached the door first and pushed it open. Dana stepped through the door and stared at the room. Even though part of her had expected it, it still felt strange. All the posters were back on the walls. The smell of smoke had vanished. There was no evidence they’d ever been inside the room.
“This is impossible.” Brandon opened his palm and a ball of fire materialized instantly. “Fine. Let’s go again.”
Brandon set up like a major league pitcher standing on the mound for the World Series. “This time not even the room will stay standing.”
“It won’t do any good,” Dana said.
Brandon ignored her comment and heaved the fireball at the center of the wall across from them. The posters along the entire wall were consumed in an instant. And an instant later the posters all returned.
He turned and stared at Reece. “Am I missing something here?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you see, Brandon?” Dana asked. “Destroying the posters does nothing. That’s like cutting off the top of a dandelion and expecting the root to die. We have to destroy the content.” She paused and looked at Reece. “Where the content comes from.”
“Exactly.” Reece uncrossed his arms.
“Why didn’t you tell us this at the start?” Brandon said.
“This is your mission, not mine.”
“But you could have clued us in on what would happen in this room.”
“Hearing is one way of learning. Experiencing is another. The latter is the more powerful of the two by far.”
Brandon glanced around the room. “It has to be here somewhere.”
“No. The content comes from somewhere else. Deeper. Hidden. Protected.” Dana spun in a slow circle, gazing at every inch of the room. But where?
She circled the room, pausing at certain spots, touching the wall with her fingers. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but if there was a time to start trusting the Spirit to tell her, it would be now. Help me.
As she circled the room a second time, she sensed something in the far wall. Wait. Not in the wall, it was at her feet. She stomped with her foot and a hollow muffled sound came back to her.
She motioned Brandon and Reece over. They peeled back the carpet, which revealed a small door. Dana opened it. A steep staircase descended far enough that the light from the room they kneeled in didn’t show the bottom of the shaft. The walls were dark gray and the smell of thousand-year-old books wafted up at them.
“Who wants to go down the creepy, smelly staircase into God only knows what?” Brandon said.
“I’m going,” Dana said.
“I’m with you.” Reece stared at Brandon.
“Why not?” Brandon shrugged. “It’s not like we have the chance of bumping into anything, say, demonic. Right?”
Dana scanned the top of the staircase for a light switch but there was none. She took a deep breath and descended as Brandon’s voice called out behind her.
“Looks like our buddy Marcus has some pretty dark places in his soul.”
“Like all of us,” Reece muttered.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, Dana found herself in an area the size of a cramped elevator shaft. The only door was to her right. She waited till Reece and Brandon stood beside her, then she pushed the door with her foot. It creaked open and bright light flooded them at the bottom of the staircase. In front of them was a tastefully furnished room about the size of a hotel lobby. Wood paneling covered the walls, and wall sconces were fixed every few feet.
A small fountain in the center of the room bubbled with liquid that looked almost transparent. A few men and women meandered through the room, entering and exiting from doors on either side. They smiled at the three as they passed.
“This is not what I was expecting to find.” Dana glanced at the others.
“No kidding,” Brandon said.
Dana glanced around the room. “See that door on the other side of the room? My guess is Marcus’s content is coming from whatever is behind that door.”
“How do you know that?” Brandon said. “The Spirit is talking to you again, huh?”
“No. Deductive reasoning, Sherlock. That’s the only door with someone guarding it.”
An elderly man stood in front of the door. He didn’t have a beard, but he still looked like his December activity should be playing Santa at Macy’s.
“I wouldn’t call that guy a guard. Unless he takes a whack at you with a candy cane.”
“Good. Then it shouldn’t be difficult to get inside.” But something told Dana it would not be easy. “Should we all go?” She glanced at Reece.
“Yes. Remember, stick together whenever possible.”
Halfway across the room the man noticed them and looked up. He smiled and waved them closer. “Hello! Welcome. So good to see you. How may I help you on this fine day?”
They stopped a few feet from the man.
“We need to see what’s behind that door.” Dana pointed over his shoulder. From across the room it had looked like an innocuous six-paneled door that would be found in millions of homes across America. But close up it had changed. It was made of iron, triple bolted, and barred.
“This door?” The man turned and pointed behind him.
“Yes,” Brandon said.
Santa shook his head like he was a bobblehead doll. “I don’t think you mean this door. No, I don’t.” He smiled. “But if you’d like to have a look around the reception area, please feel free to do so. I’ll be right here if you have any questions.” He pointed to the floor at his feet and laughed and his belly shook.
“Yes, that’s the door we mean.” Reece took a step closer to the man.
Santa’s smile grew bigger. “No, no. You mean some other door. I’m sure of it.” He waved his hand and arm around the room. “Look at all the fine doors we have available. There are many others to choose from that I’m sure will suit you quite well.”
“We need to get inside that room behind you,” Reece said as he stepped forward.
“Yes, I’m sure you think you do, and golly, I sure wish I could let you in, but oh so regretfully, it simply cannot be allowed. No one has a key to get in except Marcus. Do you know Marcus? He’s such a good friend. I would never do anything that might upset him.”
Reece wagged his finger. “He won’t be upset about us going inside.”
“I believe it would upset him. I’m quite sure of that. Quite sure. Marcus and I have known each other for a long, long time, and I know how he feels about most things.” The man clasped his hands over his ample stomach.
“No, I don’t think you do. We need the key.”
“That I have, of course. But I’ve promised him I won’t open the door for anyone but him. But I sure don’t mind telling him you stopped by. Can I do that for you? Very happy to do that.”
“We’re friends of his.” Brandon forced a smile. “He said we could go in.”
The man shook his head. “Oh no, he didn’t. I’m sure of that.”
“How can you be so sure?” Dana asked.
The smile vanished from the man’s face. “Marcus doesn’t tell anyone about this room. I make certain.”
“He told us about it.” Reece turned to Brandon and her and mouthed the word, “Pray.”
The man stroked his chin and his smile returned. “I’m not going to be able to persuade you to leave, am I?”
“No,” Dana said.
“I see.” The man lifted his left hand in a flash and an invisible wall slammed into Dana’s chest, and she flew backward halfway across the room. She pulled in a ragged breath and looked for Reece and Brandon. They lay next to her, both gasping for air, Brandon’s eyes wide, Reece’s narrow. Reece stood and helped Dana to her feet. She continued to pray but no solutions came.
Santa leaned against the wall next to the door. “Good-bye. You’re going now, aren’t you?”
She turned to Reece. “I know you’re letting us lead this time, but I’m out of ideas and I’m not getting anything from the Spirit.”
“Okay.” Reece draped his arms around Brandon’s and her shoulders and pulled them close. “Santa is the gatekeeper so you’ve assumed he has the keys to the door. But I think the door is an illusion. We don’t need keys; we simply need to step through the door.”
Brandon snorted. “Kris Kringle there isn’t an illusion. His blasting us across the room isn’t an illusion.”
“True, but at least it means we don’t have to worry about a key or about opening the door if it doesn’t exist. We can concentrate on the guard.”
“And how exactly will we get by Santa-man?”
Reece closed his eyes and opened them a moment later. “Hebrews chapter 1, verse 14.”
“We’re going to quote that to him?”
“No, we’re going to do what the verse says.”
Dana tried to recall what the chapter was about. “Tell us.”
“‘Isn’t it obvious that all angels are sent to help out with those lined up to receive salvation?’”
“It’s not obvious to me.” Dana glanced toward the door. “So what’s the verse?” She looked at Brandon’s face, which told her he didn’t know the Scripture either.
“That is the verse.” Reece pulled them closer.
The floor shook and they glanced up to see Santa-man strolling toward them. “You couldn’t take a hint, could you? I tried to be kind, I truly did, but kindness is gone now.” He glanced at his wrist, which had no watch on it. “So you have about fifteen seconds before I demonstrate what real pain is.”
His rubber shoes padded on the marble floor as he continued to amble toward them. Reece grabbed their hands like they were in a vise and yanked them back a step. “Pray with me!”
“We don’t have time to pray—” Brandon yelled back.
Santa was within twenty feet, his arms reaching toward them, laughter chugging out of his mouth.
“Praying is all we have time for!”
They stumbled back another two steps.
“We summon your angels, Father, by the authority you’ve given us in Christ. Bring them now to war for us.”
Light filled the room and the walls shook as two massive warriors appeared, their backs to the three of them, swords in their hands. Santa-man’s eyes narrowed and in seconds his hair turned black and his body morphed to seven feet tall, thick muscles bulging from his neck and arms.
“You have no right to be here.” The demon guarding the door raised a foot-long knife and spun it in his hand.
“We have every right.”
“He’s agreed with me on every regret I’ve planted. He’s savored them. Meditated on them. They’ve seeped into the deepest parts of his soul. They’ll live on with or without me.”
The angel on the left took two steps forward. “Then destroying you might be a waste of time.”
The demon stared at him, the light around him seemingly swallowed by his eyes.
“But”—the angel glanced at the other warrior to his right—“it is a chance we’re willing to take.”
The two blazing angels leapt at the demon, who screeched a guttural cry as his knife flashed toward the first angel’s throat. The clash of blade on blade rang through the room for only seconds before the two angels straddled the still form of the demon on the ground, its head sliced from its body. The warrior on the right turned and gave Dana a slight nod. Then he, the other angel, and the demon vanished.
Dana shuddered and looked at the others. Reece had no expression but Brandon massaged the sides of his head with both hands. “Wow. Wow. Wow.”
“No time to debrief. Sorry.” Reece took two strides forward. “We need to keep moving.” He dragged them across the room and stopped in front of the door. “Ready?”
Dana stared at the door. It hadn’t changed. The bars were still on it. An illusion? She didn’t think so. Reece didn’t hesitate and stepped through the closed door as if it didn’t exist and he vanished. Brandon followed. Dana hesitated, then stepped through the door into the darkness.