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CAUGHT IN TRAFFIC OUTSIDE of Beijing, Jediah couldn’t help taking another look in the side-view mirror. He frowned at his lipstick. Pastel brushed eyelids, narrowed chin, slim shoulders; he expected he’d end up greeting his reflection by accident, eventually. Pressing his temples, he rehearsed the innumerable reminders Nechum cited for feminine-like behavior. Grasping masculine nuances was tough enough. Females were a far cry.
Nechum tapped a thumb on the leather-stitched steering wheel. His attention couldn’t be torn from the hundred car pileup ahead for anything.
“Gootchy-gootchy-goo.”
Jediah peeked behind to see a toddler-sized Eran tickle baby Laszio’s chubby chin.
Laszio’s exasperated grunt grumbled from the booster seat. “Do you have to do that?”
“Sorry,” Eran chuckled. “This is too priceless. After all... you make a really cute baby.”
“Must you tease?” Laszio huffed.
Akela, who sat opposite to Eran, chimed in. “But he’s right, Laszio. You are adorable. Besides, being the family baby is the best human gig ever. No one expects anything of you and they’re obligated to wait on you hand and foot!” Akela leaned over Laszio. His ribboned ponytail swung over him, while his preteen girl dimples glowed a rosier pink.
Wriggling, Laszio fumbled his bitty fingers to tug at his restraints. “You wouldn’t like this so much if I stuffed you in a diaper. This thing chafes.” He waved his arms and legs in random directions. “And I have zero motor control. What’s this skin made of? Dough?”
Jediah twisted around, an action that bunched up his skirt. “Gives you a new perspective on God’s willingness to become human, doesn’t it?” he asked.
After a pointed silence, Laszio calmed. “I suppose it does.”
“We know it’s hard, Laszio,” said Eran. “I’m not too keen on being a four-year-old boy either.”
“Or a woman,” Jediah added. “But it’s best for us to act opposite to our true selves. Less suspicious.”
Eran cocked an eyebrow and turned to gaze at Alameth in his young adult charade. His lightened hair was shortened, yet he dressed himself in a black hoodie, complete with headphones resting around his neck. “Less suspicious,” Eran mused. “Riiight.”
Jediah sighed. Smoothing his skirt, he settled back in his seat.
Nechum adjusted the rear-view mirror and lightly pressed the gas pedal. It was the first few inches the car had crept in the last ten minutes.
***
Smog shrouded Beijing as though to cover a cultural treasure. Its structures expressed industrial power, yet it intermingled with nature’s alluring influence. Modern skyscrapers stood high, while the ancient styling survived in the architectures of hutong allies. A cacophony of car horns persisted alongside ringing bike bells. Hip-hop soundtracks played in the public malls. Traditionalist musicians performed their stringed erhus and dizi flutes in the public squares. Beijing was indeed a city that bridged the centuries. One foot in the past and one in the future.
Millions through the dynasties and presidencies called Beijing’s streets home, but Jediah found Nechum didn’t exaggerate their numbers enough. No matter where he looked, gobs of people were sandwiched together, and the sidewalks, rooftops, trees, and even the open sky, were populated with demons. The few ministry angels that passed by their car stuck close to their Christian’s sides, guarding them at a personal level.
Determined not to draw demonic attention, Jediah stared into his lap. He picked at his polished nails, yet he still couldn’t resist risking another peek. A demon heckled a ministry angel at a crosswalk, but, unbothered by such childishness, the angel disregarded the demon’s jabs with an almost bored expression. He then shoved the demon aside with a barrier and walked on with his human.
Their car stopped, and Jediah stared at the red light hanging overhead from thick cables. Choosing to lean back and relax, he noticed Nechum’s neck tense. His brow glistened damp. “What is it?” Jediah whispered.
He traced Nechum’s gaze to a demon who peered uncomfortably close to their windshield. Jediah shifted toward the passenger window to avoid eye contact, but Nechum’s heavy breaths increased. A sudden thump on the roof startled Jediah. The demon outside chatted with whoever plopped himself on their vehicle. “Good. He’s distracted,” Jediah thought. But then the demon paused mid-word and took a particular interest in Nechum. He loomed inches from the glass.
Nechum’s fingers drummed the steering wheel, and his eyes pleaded with the traffic light. Desperate to calm him, Jediah patted Nechum’s leg.
Green light.
Nechum stamped the gas pedal, and two surprised voices yelled.
Jediah checked the rearview mirror. One demon nursed a squashed foot, and the other was thrown flat on his back. He bowed his head to hide a grin. “Easy, dear.”
Nechum released a constricted chuckle. “Yes, hon.”
Eran poked his little head between Nechum's and Jediah’s seats. “Hey, how exactly are we going to track Yakum in all this hustle and bustle?” he asked.
Jediah gazed out the passenger window. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Eran went back and clapped his hands together. “You know, Laszio, your baby form might work to our advantage.”
“Really. Do tell,” came Laszio’s flat reply.
“If we need to get out of a jam, just cry.”
“Hardy har har.”
“No, I’m serious. Go ahead. Try a wail. Or at least a little whimper.”
Based on the silence, Jediah imagined Laszio giving Eran a deadpan stare. “Wah. Wah.” Somehow his voice ended up even blander.
“Oookay,” Eran said. “Let’s retry that.”
***
Nechum pulled into a parking spot. “Here we are.”
Jediah listened to the shift of the parking gears and the jingling from the keys as their car disengaged. He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Wait for my signal.” Unlatching the door, he planted a careful foot on the cobblestones.
His skirt bunched up. Cringing, he stood up and pulled it back down over his thighs. With his first step, his high heel got stuck in a crevice. He attempted to take another step, but this time lost his shoe. Settling his nerves, Jediah dislodged the irksome thing and slipped it back on.
Calm down. Calm down. No one noticed.
Jediah brushed loose curls behind his ears and pulled out blush and a tiny mirror. He powdered the pink dust over his cheeks, but his attention was on the circled glass that he tilted in every direction. No demons stalked behind or above him. Clamping the pocket mirror, he turned to the vehicle and gave a nod, signaling the ‘all clear’.
Akela sprang out and sniffed the air. “Mmm, something smells good,” he exclaimed.
“I should hope so.” Nechum said, as he checked his watch. “The hotel restaurant should be open for dinner soon.”
“They serve dinner too?” Akela asked.
“With a fee,” Nechum explained. “But breakfast is complementary.”
“Sounds perfect,” Akela said. He strutted toward the open street, humming.
“Ahem.” Alameth glared at Akela. He hunched forward, and his baggy shirt hung loose from his lean chest.
Akela frowned, but nodded back. “I get it. I get it,” he conceded. “Less talking.”
Jediah smiled to Akela and said, “But humming is fine.”
With a piece of his former eagerness restored, Akela resumed his tune with a high-stepping gait.
“Captain, aren’t you concerned about his... reputation?” Alameth asked.
Jediah patted Alameth’s shoulder. “Sometimes the most noticeable things are the most readily dismissed.”
“Ugh.” Eran’s hands picked at Laszio’s car seat buckles. A few seconds and pinched fingers later, he grumbled, “Who invented these? A sadist?”
***
They followed Nechum along a quaint street beside a small stretch of connected buildings. Trees lined the sidewalk, casting their cool shade on the dusted road. The distinctive, rippled roofs curved downward according to old Chinese customs. More striking, however, was this miraculous quiet. The very heart of Beijing felt remote. Fewer people milled about. The noisy metropolis no longer drowned out the birds, and the rustling of leaves from their pruned branches went unhindered.
Nechum led them to a building with rounded lanterns that lined its roof. “Here we are.”
A painted gateway greeted them. Its conglomeration of reds, blues, and greens were woven harmoniously in tight patterns and framed a sunbathed garden. Bronze tables and chairs were meticulously set according to the pavement’s patterns of decorated stone. More swaying lanterns with golden tassels displayed Chinese calligraphy all around them. Sculpted lions guarded the path inside, and beyond the garden, stone dragons flanked the golden knobbed doors.
“Whoa,” Akela uttered. “It’s lovely. Like in a storybook.” He patted Nechum’s arm. “Great pick. I expected some mega skyscraper suite or something, but this is way more charming. Very nice.”
Nechum smiled and gestured them forward. “Shall we?”
The reception room’s restrained opulence did not swamp the eyes. Hand-carved furniture, dark as cocoa, lined every available wall. Silk cushions adorned the couches, and octagonal windows were framed with intersecting scarlet squares that formed styled edges and corners.
Alameth settled into an armchair.
Jediah, who cradled baby Laszio, searched for a particular furnishing Nechum described to him earlier. Spotting the one that fit the description, he pointed Eran and Akela to a tower of shelves stacked with folded pictures. “Fetch a few pamphlets there. We’ll need prospects.”
Nechum and Jediah approached the main desk, and a young Chinese lady with a wispy ponytail and combed bangs smiled. Though her English diction slurred, she spoke confidently. “Hello. Welcome to Courtyard Hotel. I am Miss Xia Ju. You have reservation?”
Nechum responded in fluent Mandarin. “Yes, we are the Gershom family.”
Gasping, the lady glowed. “You speak very well, sir! Just a moment, while I check your room status.” She turned to the desk computer and jiggled that ‘mouse’ device Jediah became somewhat amused by. It looked nothing like a mouse to him, no matter which direction it was facing.
“Do you have your visas and passports?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nechum responded.
She watched Nechum line up the papers and laughed, “You have a large family?”
“Indeed I do, miss. Although, you should see the size of my extended family.” Nechum winked to Jediah.
Jediah choked down a chuckle. Who knew unassuming Nechum possessed a sense of humor?
The clerk continued typing. “How wonderful. We’re allowed to have larger families too now,” she said.
“Really?” Nechum asked. His eyebrows perked up. “They’ve abolished the single child policy?”
“Yes, now couples may have two children.”
Nechum glanced to Jediah, then back to her. “Well, that’s wonderful. Are you married?”
“No,” she giggled. “But I will be soon.”
“Congratulations,” Nechum said. “May God bless you with those two children.”
“Thank you,” she said, before investigating the documents. “So you are Mr—”
“Neal. Neal Gershom, and this is my wife, Jemima.” Nechum pulled Jediah into an awkward side hug. The two feigned affection, then promptly separated. Nechum then pointed to Alameth. “Over there is Alex, and that’s Kayla and Aaron.” He motioned toward Akela and Eran. “And finally, we have little Leslie.” Nechum stroked Laszio’s bald head.
Xia waved meekly at the little infant. “She’s so adorable.”
At that, Laszio wriggled in Jediah’s grip. Jediah clenched his jaw as he struggled to keep Laszio from falling. “Yep, she’s a doll all right.” He slung Laszio over his shoulder and slapped his back hard, pretending to burp him.
“Oh!” the clerk exclaimed. “You speak Mandarin too?”
Jediah sucked in a breath. He forgot to speak English.
“That’s great! Do you visit China often?” she asked.
Jediah fought for composure, both between his mistake and Laszio’s squirming. “Actually, I’ve never been here before. You see, uh, my husband visited Beijing a while back for business. Had a lovely time of it, he did, and his stories of your country really turned my head.”
The lady’s eyes sparkled. Her cheeks rounded cutely, and she nodded her head in rapid small bows. “Thank you! Thank you!”
Laszio continued to fuss. Frustrated, Jediah gritted his teeth. “Um, dear, could you excuse us for a moment?”
Nechum’s face tensed, but he managed a calm tone. “Of course. I’ve got much to take care of here anyway, so you and the kids relax.”
“Thanks. Where’s the, uh, restroom?” Jediah asked. After receiving directions, he hurried down the hall, darted inside the women’s room, and accidentally hit Laszio’s head against the swinging door.
“Ow!” Laszio’s normal voice burst out.
“Quiet,” Jediah shushed. Checking the stalls for occupants, he opened the diaper changing station and plopped the infant hard on his rump. “What was that all about?”
Laszio crossed his arms. “I’m supposed to be a boy.”
“You are a boy.”
“Named, Leslie?”
“That’s a boy’s name.”
“Nechum didn’t correct her.”
Jediah threw his hands up. “Is this worth griping about?” he asked. “Look, Private, I know you’re uncomfortable about this. I am too, but you don’t have to be a child to act like a child.” A foul stench caught Jediah off guard. His eyes widened. “Wait a second.” He sniffed the air again. “Laszio? Did you?”
Shrinking into himself, Laszio darted his sheepish eyes side to side. “Did I what?”
Jediah ambushed Laszio and peeked into his diaper. A powerful whiff socked him in the eyes. He recoiled and pinched his burning nose. “Agh! You did!”
Laszio bowed his head like a criminal caught in the act. “Okay. Okay. The truth is... Ugh, look. I had to get out of there quick, okay? I didn’t want you or anyone to know.”
“But—but how? You didn’t eat anything, did you?”
Laszio cocked an eyebrow. “You mean besides the gallons of milk from all the practiced bottle feedings? Nope. Not a thing.”
Jediah grimaced and rubbed his brow. “Oh, for pity’s sake. You couldn’t keep it in?”
“I’m stuffed in a pint-sized dumpling with sausages for arms,” Laszio complained. “How’d you think the rest of me would do?”
Retching at the disgusting thoughts invading his head, Jediah waved his hands. “Okay. Okay. I don’t need details.”
Laszio smirked. “So, Mom... You up to changing diapers?”
Jediah knew no amount of makeup could hide the sick shade of green his cheeks were turning. “Uh, how about you revert to angel form, bypass this... inconvenience, and we never speak of it again? Deal?”
“Deal.”
***
Surrounded by his black mist, the demon of death, Yakum, hunched over his work. He guided tiny black tendrils with minute precision. Their branches multiplied, and chemical reactions fizzed as different portions fused together. Yakum eyed a particular batch. Grasping the concoction, he hardened it into a pellet, then rolled its smooth surface between his fingers. No leaks.
He patted a bagful of his prior babies with fondness. Much had improved since those earlier attempts. He had come to the cusp of his latest magnum opus, but his pestilence had yet to reach total immunity. Yakum long stewed over God’s imposed limitations over him. He was a Destroyer stripped of power, and the effectiveness of his conjured illnesses grew tougher each year in this modern world.
Yakum recalled his former glory. His black plague, the hallmark of his career, he had achieved with little effort by harnessing toxins to fleas. Now, humans invent pesticides, vaccines, ventilators. God cheated him of his power. Now they attempt to cheat him, too. It was the last straw, the ultimate insult.
Yakum threw himself right back into his project. He couldn’t stop. Not with perfection so near. Those Image Bearers needed to be reminded what real power is. They were feathers beating a mountain to even think they could defy death himself.
A whirring wind brushed his ear, yet Yakum paid little attention to his personal messenger demon, Moriel. He conducted his experiment as he spoke. “What news, Moriel? More data from Malkior? Or is Lucifer still pestering us over deadlines?” Yakum opened another bag and plinked a new pellet inside.
“Malkior is in the Abyss. For good.” Moriel answered.
Yakum’s mist lost form. He stood up and snapped around. “What? The Abyss? Who dared to—”
Moriel shrugged. “It’s keeper, Captain Jediah, of course.”
Yakum clenched a fist. “Jediah.” He punched the desk with enough spiritual force to topple the physical lamp. It hit the floor, breaking the bulb.
Moriel’s skinny wings twitched. “The project is ruined then,” he bemoaned.
“No!” Yakum said. “No. It’s just a minor setback. Let me think.”
“Fine, but before you start,” Moriel pulled out black parchment. “You might want to read this.”
“Ugh. It’s probably another of Lucifer’s dreary list of demands along with his superfluous titles,” Yakum sneered. “Fine. Hand it over.” He marched to Moriel and ripped the letter from the messenger’s hand. “Honestly, I’d be done by now if he’d stop micromanaging me.”
Moriel shook his head. “It’s not Lucifer this time.”
“Not Lucifer?” Yakum asked. “Then who—”
“Would you just read the darn thing?” Moriel muttered, exasperated.
Put out yet tolerant of his closest compatriot, Yakum read the glowing crimson text. “High alert. Jediah of the Abyss is at your doorstep. Hide yourself. Look for my arrival. I am coming to incarcerate him. Lucifer sends his regards. Signed: Master Elazar.”
Yakum frowned and tossed the black parchment aside. “Hide? Elazar that disloyal, wingless featherweight telling me to hide?”
“Jediah took down Malkior, my lord,” Moriel pointed out. “That coward probably squealed your location. We’ll have to leave now.”
“I’m not going anywhere! Who is this soldier to think he can best a demon of death?”
“The same one named Apollyon’s Bane,” Moriel said in his trademark dry tone.
Yakum groaned. He hated it when someone besides himself made a valid point. He thought through the message again. “And why Elazar? How did Lucifer even rein him in, anyway?”
Moriel shrugged and grinned. “Our prince must have given him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
Yakum splashed black vapor into Moriel’s face. “Moriel, your overindulgence in human entertainment concerns me sometimes.”
Moriel sputtered. After wiping the spit off his chin, he straightened his posture and brushed black specks off his clothes. “You’re no fun at all,” he mumbled. “Look. All I know is that Elazar’s only in this for revenge.”
Yakum crossed his arms. “Revenge, huh? And I’m guessing Lucifer just wants Jediah’s wings to control the Abyss, right?”
“That’s what I heard.” Moriel’s sly grin grew. “I know that look, Yakum. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking,” Yakum droned. “A remarkable specimen for study has just stepped through my door. After all, if Jediah’s coming, we aught to welcome him properly.” Yakum again picked up Elazar’s letter and stared into it. “Okay, Elazar. I’ll hide.” He turned to Moriel. “Send word across Beijing that we’re trading locations and prepare scouting parties. I want every soldier in my province on the hunt.”
Moriel bowed. “As you wish, sir.”
“Elazar will have Jediah and the wings,” Yakum mused. “After I toss him the leftovers.”