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ALAMETH PACED CIRCLES. The dawn promised an exquisite day. The golden sphere’s radiance trickled in, unhindered by the barrier Nechum set outside to barricade their rooms, but Alameth wished it would retreat behind the horizon where it came from. This morning’s hours were leading to the night he dreaded most all year. He didn’t want to relive its shadow again... not away from home... Not away from his Lord’s presence.
Alameth’s hands chilled as if they contracted a fever. A weak malaise within snowballed to a staggering ache in his limbs. He chastised his mind, ashamed of it for even entertaining his traumas again. Flashbacks shouldn’t even bother him after this long.
“Prayer,’ he reasoned. “I just need prayer.” Choosing a corner of his bed, Alameth sat and collected his hands.
A soft tapping at his door interrupted. “Alameth?” Nechum called. “Alameth? May I enter?”
Noticing his own stiffness, Alameth released his posture. It didn’t have to be so straight. “Yes, brother.”
Nechum phased through the solid door, and gazed at him with his usual, wonderful kind intent. “Having trouble again?”
Hesitating to answer but then slowly giving in, Alameth nodded. “I am.”
Nechum’s eyes darted to the window. “Do you wish to talk about it?”
Alameth resisted the idea. He shared many things with him and Jediah already. It had relieved him in inexplicable ways, but his behavior right then, over something he considered a non-issue, was shameful—immature. But how would Nechum view him after this one?
Then Alameth shook his head. Pride. This was pride. “You know what?” he said, as he turned to Nechum. “Yes. Yes, I need to talk about it.”
Another knock sounded at the door. Laszio poked his head in. “Good morning. Jediah wants us gathered in the breakfast area.”
“Thank you, Laszio,” Nechum said. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.” After Laszio left, Nechum rubbed his hands and stared into them for a while. He released a breath and nodded. “It’s because it’s Passover, the Night of the Grey, isn’t it?”
Alameth’s eyebrows raised. The empathic sense of ministry angels was truly a gift. For a third round, talking with Nechum would be easier than ever before. Besides, he found it comforting.
***
Savory aromas welcomed guests to the hotel’s restaurant. Cream-colored tablecloths with embroidered dragons on their corners glowed under a strengthening sun. The breakfast buffet presented a blend of eastern specialties and western staples. Fried egg rolls sat next to sausage links. Cereal dispensers were beside the rice containers, and many a cuisine was spiced, seasoned, or flavored to satisfy every craving. Many a plate was overfilled.
Jediah pressed his back against the lacquered chair. He twirled a toothpick between his fingers as he stared at his herbed potatoes and scrambled eggs. No matter if it were dumpster scraps or the freshest and finest, human food never looked edible to him. His inability to hunger or build any sort of appetite didn’t help either. He asked himself again why he even directed them to eat at all. Spiritual beings didn’t require sustenance, but Jediah once again reminded himself of their precarious position. He was now both the hunter and the hunted. Yakum could be anywhere. Elazar could be anywhere, and so long as humans ate to live, no detail was too extreme for him and his team not to follow.
“We’re an American tourist family,” he mentally repeated. “An American, tourist family consuming a mortal’s basic breakfast.”
Baby Laszio sat in his high chair. He cast disgusted glances at his bowl of mush Nechum called ‘baby food.’
Jediah suddenly felt a tad more thankful. At least his meal could be identified apart from camel spit.
Akela claimed his spot at the table. Steam wafted off the fifty kinds of rice he sampled and the succulent oils sizzling from his bacon. He took a long, satisfied whiff from his platter. A queasy sensation squeezed Jediah’s stomach, but Akela smiled at him. “Sure, it’s not heaven’s food, but it’s really not half bad. I mean, give humans some credit. It’s not like they have zero taste.”
Jediah nodded yet remained unconvinced. It still looked revolting.
“Of course,” Akela added. “If you really really hate your food, you can always wash it down with God’s original classic: crisp cold milk.” He lifted his beverage as though to toast.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jediah chuckled.
Laszio clutched his belly. “Please. No more talk about milk. It makes me nauseous.”
A passing boy, having heard Laszio, paused. He squinted hard at the baby.
Avoiding eye contact with the kid, Jediah covered his mouth. “Baby talk,” he rushed between coughs. In an instant, Laszio flailed his arms and gurgled saliva bubbles. The disgusted child hurried off. Laszio, however, had his eyes closed and continued his spasm.
Jediah cleared his throat and kicked Laszio’s seat.
Turning a deeper red than before, Laszio stopped and thudded his forehead into his food tray.
“Is the baby misbehaving?” Eran said with a smile. “I recommend spankings.” He winked at a glaring Laszio as he passed and claimed a seat. “Are we all here or waiting for someone?”
Akela rolled rice grains in tight circles with his fork. “Just one.”
Scooting his seat up to the table, a somber Nechum straightened his knife to be perfectly parallel with the plate. “Just give Ala-Alex a minute.”
Jediah spotted ‘teenage’ Alameth lingering beside the buffet line, unmoved and unmotivated. When he finally joined the stream of hungry customers, he bypassed one nutritional option after another to the point where Jediah doubted he would pick anything. Minutes later, Alameth returned with the last lonely piece of buttered toast.
They prayed, then ate in silence. As Jediah worked through his meal, he couldn’t help but think of Chloe again. The letter haunted him all night. He relived the hours of writing and re-writing he spent. How no draft satisfied. How none seemed to hit the mark. It squeezed his head, remembering how he agonized over every teeny little word. What to include. What to omit.
Jediah commanded himself to stop this crazy worry cycle. “You finished the letter,” he chastised. “Akela took it. God brought it to her. What happens happens. End of story.”
Jediah sighed under his breath. Then why wasn’t he more relaxed? What nagged him so? Is it that he feared it wasn’t enough? Would the message fly over her head? What hope did he have that an angel like him could write sensibly to a young girl about a subject he had little understanding about?
“Your food not agreeing with you?”
Jediah almost jolted.
Nechum was leaning toward him. He gestured to his plate.
Shaking his head ‘no’, Jediah took a swift bite of potatoes. Its hints of garlic and basil tasted far better than expected.
Loud thuds and shouts echoed from outside. The angels all froze. With a burst of light and feathers, an army angel tore through the dining hall. Two demonic warriors chased him while a second pair of demons tried to intercept their prey at the front. The angelic soldier fanned his sharpened feathers in defiance.
Eran and Laszio cast expectant glances at Jediah.
Jediah, however, bowed his head over his platter and hoped they’d follow suit. He regretted it, but they couldn’t help. Not this time. “So,” he asked. “Have you kids decided where you’d like to visit?” He plopped a pile of pamphlets on the table. “You never know what you’ll find.”
***
Laszio’s legs ached from disuse. Nechum had carried him through the Forbidden City’s courtyards for hours. Curved river moats flowed under carved stone bridges. Yards of dull flat stone were accentuated by magnificent palaces that cropped up in every direction. Their scarlet walls glared in the sunlight. Sloped roofs of glazed tiles gleamed pristine golden brown, and tiny metal creatures guarded their four corners in neat rows.
Laszio did not like wandering such exposed spaces. His warrior instincts wanted to find cover. They were too vulnerable standing out there, and what if Yakum—or worse—Elazar were around and spotted them first?
Nechum carried Laszio to another palace called the Hall of Preserving Harmony, and just like so many other key architectures, the opened doors had low bars, permitting tourists like them only a peek inside. Laszio craned as much as his short neck allowed. Crowding spectators did not help, and he ended up seeing little more than the tallest point of an oaken-framed golden screen, the usual backdrop to the third of many thrones this opulent maze possessed. He looked at Nechum and Eran to see if they saw anything, but by their stoic expressions, Laszio guessed they didn’t.
After another few minutes and finding another blocked area, Laszio grunted. They couldn’t cover a fraction of this city within a city at that rate. They needed to move beyond the public eye.
Recalling the signals they devised before setting out, Laszio winked to ‘toddler’ Eran.
Eran then tugged Nechum’s sleeve like any four-year-old would. He bounced on his heels and pointed at the restricted western gates to the inner courts. “Daddy? Daddy? Can we go explore? Please, can we? Can we? Can we?”
Laszio almost burst out laughing at Eran’s pouty lip.
Nechum frowned. He glanced at the security staff nearby. They were busy confiscating a man’s phone for taking unauthorized photos. Nechum bent down and gestured toward the stern men. “Okay,” he whispered. “But be quick.”
Rising on tiptoes, Eran took Laszio in his deceptively powerful arms. “Is daddy coming too?” he whispered.
Nechum watched the occupied guards again. “I’d be spotted. Go on.”
Eran adjusted his hold on Laszio. “Meet us at the outer gate.”
“Be careful,” Nechum implored.
A bigger crowd began passing by. Eran weaved through the throng, slipped past the guards, and behind a secluded lion statue next to the barred gate. He set Laszio down. “Be my lookout, okay?” Kneeling by the gate, he wrapped thin fingers around the metal posts. They squealed as he pulled.
Laszio’s heart jumped to his throat. “Shh! They’ll hear us.”
“It’s the only way,” Eran argued back. He bent the posts ajar by another centimeter.
Laszio rolled onto his belly for a peek behind. The guards now regarded the squealing gate with confused looks. Laszio scurried backwards. “Hurry!”
“We’re in,” Eran whispered. “Come on.” He pulled Laszio through the gate, then re-shaped the rods. They ducked behind the wall. Two shadows lingered over their previous spot. Frigid moisture beaded Laszio’s brow, but in moments, the shadows left.
Laszio hardly had time to loosen up and question why liquid sprouted on his skin before Eran sprinted with him across the garden pavement. He slipped down to his chin in Eran’s arms, and the jostling squeezed his throat.
Eran stopped under a bush in the shadiest spot under the thickest tree. “Where to now?” he asked.
Laszio waved his pudgy arms, hitting Eran’s cheek. “Let! Go!” he gagged. Eran released him, and Laszio coughed oxygen back through what felt like a collapsed windpipe.
Apologizing, Eran lifted him back to his feet, but the second Eran removed his hands, Laszio’s chubby legs buckled. He plopped backwards on his padded diaper just as a figure passed. They froze. For this stranger wasn’t mortal.
Eran gazed in uncomfortable silence as the demon soldier walked on. He lifted to his knees for a better view. Laszio also scanned their surroundings through a network of twigs and leaves. Armored demon sentries patrolled sidewalks, trees, and rooms just ahead. “Bingo,” Laszio whispered. “A demon lord’s entourage if I ever saw one.”
In his attempt to stand, Laszio’s baby body flopped him forward. “Oh, for pity’s sake,” he groaned. “I can’t move in this.”
“Then we’ll have to continue as angels.” said Eran. He cast fast glances. “No one’s around. Change. Quickly.”
***
The Great Wall stretched through the East and Western hills as a towering ribbon of stone. To walk its cobbled paths was akin to walking on air. Jediah thanked God only the sections closest to Beijing mattered. It was massive enough to inspect, let alone its full thirteen thousand one hundred and seventy-one miles.
Jediah stirred to the signs of a raging battle in the northeast distance. Wings electrified the sky as angels were locked in a bitter war with a demonic battalion. He squinted to see the fight but opted to use the old-fashioned camera Nechum bought for them. Peering through its optic lens, he zeroed in on a particularly dark blur, but the demon’s movements were too spastic. The second he flew into view, he flew right out of it.
A glint of red caught Jediah’s attention. He increased magnification on the direction it came from. A demon was trapped in a chokehold. His newest scar bled a profound amount and dripped into the angel’s sleeve. Jediah’s human heart bruised against his rib cage. The demon freed himself. Jediah’s stomach dropped. Dagger feathers swiped.
“Mom?”
Jediah fumbled the camera. It bounced out of his hand, and he rescued it mere seconds before it dropped over the Wall’s side.
Akela cringed. “Oops, sorry,” he said.
Hugging the device to himself, Jediah relaxed to find it unbroken. His neck heated, but he subdued his rising anger. “Don’t. Do. That,” he warned. “What is it?”
“Um, I think we’re being followed,” Akela said.
A gripping anxiety seized Jediah. He pulled Akela into a corner by the shoulder. “Who? By who?” he demanded.
Akela kept his eyes on him but began gesturing his head to the left.
Jediah peeked over his left shoulder. Two ministry demons walked towards them. They inspected the faces of every person they passed with intense scrutiny.
His eyes wide and unsure, Akela lowered his voice as he spoke. “They’ve tailed us for the past five minutes. Like they’re looking for something.”
‘Or someone,’ Jediah suspected. He released a breath to calm his nerves. “We need to leave.”
Akela nodded. “I’ll get Alameth.” He hurried up the eroded stairs.
A stray white shot struck the pavement a foot away from Jediah. Despite being in human form, his legs registered the energy’s heat spray. He turned around. The battle was coming to them.
***
Laszio and Eran stuck close to the compacted walls of the inner court—the ancestral home of emperors, their wives, and their concubines. They dashed across another section of the imperial gardens and struggled not to get lost amidst hundreds of buildings and their thousands of rooms.
Hearing another patrol coming their way, the two angels vaulted several flights of stairs and hid in the rafters of a pavilion roof. Detailed artistry in the extremes met them inside. Hammered gold crammed every spare inch of the ceiling. Dragons and deities were painted in patterned swirls of white, red, blue, and green, and the dying light of oncoming sunset elongated on the floor to set the ornaments aflame.
Laszio shook his head in disappointment at the poor use of such extravagance. All this focused on a line of mere men who claimed divinity as ‘sons of heaven.’ How did owning an abundance of colored metal entitle one to worship?
Enemy footsteps quieted below. Laszio released the tension in his shoulders. “Eran,” he whispered. “We can’t risk this anymore. We have to head back.”
“No,” Eran rebutted. “Not until we get a clear sighting of Yakum.”
Laszio watched the fading sunlight. “But what about Nechum?”
“Shh! I’m thinking!” Eran scrunched his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think Yakum could be hiding underground?”
“I don’t know about Yakum, but they’re not,” Laszio said as two demon guards climbed the stairs. The loose side-platings of their helmets clattered at their slightest move.
Dropping down, then hurrying at a soft run, they jumped and sat behind a low wall on the opposite side of the pavilion. A black-faced cat with white paws was sitting erect beside them. Ever unconcerned, it blinked its sleepy sapphire eyes.
“You sure you saw someone?”
Laszio and Eran stiffened at the heavy, timbred voice.
“I thought so,” a second voice answered.
Laszio’s fingers twitched as they gripped his sticks. Anticipating discovery, he regulated his breaths and attempted to remap every path and exit. They had to escape. They had to escape. They had to—
A shrieking meow and a crazy ball of fur and claws flew over his head. The cat bolted over the wall, hissing. Startled and confused, Laszio turned to Eran. He sat there with a guilty wince. Whatever he did set the spooked feline off. Eran shrugged again at Laszio and mouthed an apology to the poor thing.
“A cat,” the first demon droned. “You saw a stupid cat.”
“I swear it was bigger than a cat,” the second defended.
“You mean bigger than that pigeon you spotted this morning?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m with stupid.”
Sweet relief permitted Laszio to relax his hands. His feathered armor opened and closed in release. Metal chinked again, and he re-stiffened.
“Would you stop?” the first demon called. “The daily tourist convention is over, and lord Yakum expects us at the Hall of Supreme Harmony tonight.”
The second demon responded in a comical baritone. “The Haaall of Supreeeme Harmony-y-y-y. Pfft. Could a name be any more pretentious?”
“You mean like yours?”
“Maher-shalal-hash-baz sounds awesome. You’re just jealous.”
The first demon groaned. “Must you rename yourself every year? Are you that insecure? An exhausting mouthful like that should be a crime.”
“Hey,” the second defended. “This ‘mouthful’ strikes fear.”
“It strikes tongue cramps,” the first countered. “but if Elazar arrives before we do, Yakum will cut ours out.”
Laszio’s ears pricked at Elazar’s name. His nervous energy tingled. It couldn’t be real. How did Elazar track them? Did he already locate Jediah? Was it all too late? Elazar’s menace suddenly morphed into something fearsome and larger than life.
“No,’ Laszio reasoned. “This was perfect. If they played this right, they could neutralize Elazar’s threat and give Jediah the intel he needed to ambush Yakum.”
Dwelling on the potential benefits of their coming opportunity, Laszio looked to Eran. The grey of his friend’s eyes churned in equal determination. He was thinking the same thing. Sharing a nod, they raised and clinked their weapons together.