“COME ON, MOMMY.” JAYLA YANKED KAT’S ARM ON FRIDAY afternoon as they stood on the corner of 25th and 49th, just north of University Village, waiting to cross the street. “Let’s go.”
“Stop that, Jayla. We have to wait for the light to turn green.”
“I know.” Jayla bobbed her ten-year-old head back and forth. “But there’s not any cars coming. So we should go. We gotta get Abbie from practice, right? Gotta be on time. You said. So I’m helping.”
Kat laughed. “Yes, but we still have to wait.” Jayla was always on the go, ready for the next adventure, always running everywhere she went.
The instant the sign said Walk, Jayla let go of Kat’s hand and skipped out into the crosswalk. The roar of an engine being gunned filled the blue sky and time slowed. Kat turned to see a car come out of nowhere and streak toward Jayla—moving at least ninety.
“No!”
Jayla turned, her face toward the car about to end her life. Her complexion was the color of paste and her mouth opened a crack.
Kat stumbled into the street. It didn’t matter there was little chance of making it in time. It didn’t matter that they would both be killed. She had to try. But after one step something from behind yanked her back. Then a flash as a man darted around her and lunged toward Jayla, his feet digging into the asphalt like a sprinter.
Centimeters before impact, the man reached Jayla, snatched her into his arms, and lifted her into the air. The car slammed into the man’s hamstrings and launched him off the ground. Somehow he twisted his body while in the air so he landed with Jayla on top of him.
From behind her a voice shouted, “Get that guy’s license plate! Did anyone see it?”
Kat staggered to her feet and stumbled over to Jayla and the man.
“Jayla!” Kat ran her hands up and down her daughter’s sides. “Are you hurt?”
Jayla blinked, trying to hold back tears. “I’m okay, Mommy. I am.” She glanced to her left. Kat spun toward the man, who raised himself to his knees and stared at her.
“How did you do that? How did you move so fast? You saved her life.”
He nodded and brushed off his jacket. “She needed to be saved.”
“He hit you. How bad are you hurt?”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Are you sure? You have to be injured after being hit at that speed.”
“I’m sure, but I do appreciate the concern.” The man got to his feet and eased over to Jayla and her.
As he did a woman approached them waving a white slip of paper. “I got his license plate.”
The man kept his gaze fixed on Kat and shook his head. “They’ll never find the man. That wasn’t his car.”
“He stole it?”
“Yes.”
The way the man answered gave no room for doubt as to its truth.
“How do you know that?”
The man touched Jayla’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“Good.”
He turned back to Kat. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Pray for your children.” The man’s eyes grew more intense. “For yourself and for Marcus. There is power in prayer.”
“Who are you?” Kat’s body convulsed.
“A helper.” The man leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Stay strong. The King is for you.”
He stood and jogged through the gathering crowd. In seconds Kat lost sight of him and two thoughts raced through her mind in rhythm with the pounding of blood through her veins.
Jayla and she had just been rescued by an angel. Jayla and she had almost been murdered by a demon.
Marcus set his cell phone down after a thirty-minute conversation with Kat and stared out the window of his office at the oak tree and the leaves jousting with the wind. A dull sensation crept through his body as he slumped into his chair as if he’d been misted with Novocain. They were all right. He kept repeating the mantra, but it didn’t help the fear that pulsed through him. Kat was stronger than he’d imagined she could be. Told him it was okay. That God had protected them.
He stared at the Blade Runner poster on his office wall. He’d always imagined himself as the hero, Deckard, tracking down the replicants. But in this case he was the one being hunted. Marcus picked up his phone and dialed Reece.
“Hey, Professor.”
His words sputtered. “The ice . . . this is . . . it’s getting precariously thin, Reece.”
“What do you mean?”
“Kat and Jayla . . .”
“Yes?”
“They were almost killed just now.”
“What?”
Marcus spilled the story as he paced in front of his desk. “Do you understand what I’m saying? A demon came after them!”
“I understand and I can relate far more than you realize. I’m sorry.”
“That is far from satisfactory.” Marcus clenched his fist and pressed it against his lips. “He’s targeting my daughters and you’re sorry? How am I supposed to fight this?”
“You did fight it. You were warned last night and you stepped in and fought well. And there was victory today.”
“I don’t care. This has to come to a halt or I’m out.”
“It did. You and Kat stopped it.”
“So Kat and I will have to pray in the way we did last night and this morning all the time?”
“Not all the time. But at certain moments, without question. With her and on your own. You must fight for your family, Professor. Are you willing to?”
Yes, of course he would pray and bring the power of the Spirit against the attack. Yes, Kat and he would join together in the fight. Yes, he realized he’d signed up for a battle when he got on that plane for Well Spring. But he hadn’t enlisted his family in this war.
“It’s your choice to back down or not,” Reece said.
“You make it sound like I’m a coward.”
“That was not my intent. I know you are not a coward. You are a warrior riding strong. But that does not mean you are without choice.”
“What about the prophecy?”
“All I can do is choose to step into or not step into what the Spirit has commissioned me to do and trust him with what happens. You must do the same, friend.”
Marcus hung up and sat in his office till the sound of doors closing and shuffling feet in the hallway outside his office faded into the late afternoon. When he walked in his door at home half an hour later, the girls were slouched on the couch in front of the TV, and Kat was sitting at the kitchen table, her Bible open, a pen and pad of paper next to her. A hint of her perfume hung in the air, which seemed to bring a peace he shouldn’t be feeling.
Marcus slid into the chair across from her and pulled her hands into his. “Are you all right?”
She answered by pulling one of her hands away and lifting a three-by-five card off the table. “Read this.”
Marcus took the card and read Kat’s impeccable cursive.
“You asked God for help and he gave you the victory. God is always on the alert, constantly on the lookout for people who are totally committed to him.” 2 Chronicles 16:8–9
When he looked up, Kat leaned forward and clasped his hands. “It’s time for you to make a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Whether you trust God or not. Whether he is in this journey you’re on with Reece and Dana and Brandon or not. Whether you want to be in this war God has invited you into, or look in the mirror with regret at the end of your life because you left the field of battle with things undone.”
Marcus stared at Kat, a quiet fire of determination in her eyes. He folded the card with the verse on it and put it in his pocket. “I choose the life of no regrets.”
At nine Marcus closed the door of his study, sank to his knees on his dark brown carpet, and entreated the Spirit to protect Kat, protect Abbie and Jayla, protect Brandon, Reece, and Dana. His sense of time seemed to melt and his pleas grew in their passion as he gripped the carpet with his hands and cried out to God. He didn’t rise till the soft chime of his grandfather clock rang midnight.