TWENTY-THREE

I OPENED THE DOOR a few inches.

My father stood on my doorstep in broad daylight. “The Source has urgently sent me to you, to equip you for what’s soon coming.” He bowed his head, aware of and politely respecting the new boundary that had been put in place. “You must invite me in.”

I considered it. I wanted to. But I’d promised not to. And this didn’t feel right, somehow. “I’ll come outside.”

“No.” For the second time, he held a restraining hand up to me. “We must have privacy. This is vitally important.”

I needed time to think, to navigate through the confusion.

“Welcome me inside,” my father persisted.

I had seconds, not minutes, to make a decision. The situation demanded that I act. I quickly thought of Betty and her prayerful friends. The pestilence they’d helped drive out of my apartment. The incredible time of worship we’d shared.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I can’t.”

Was he actually tearing up?

My dad tilted his head back and looked to the bright sky, nodding as if communing with Heaven, like I’d seen Custos and other Watchmen do so often. “The Source says I’m not to pressure you. I will go.”

He turned and walked away, starting to fade into the air.

“Wait!”

He faced me, his form undiluted again.

This was my chance to part ways on good terms —to explain that, right or wrong, I had no choice but to stop seeing him. I wanted him to know I knew he’d done nothing to deserve this; it was just that our unconventional relationship was causing friction between me and important people in my life. At least now I had the chance to say good-bye in a decent, respectful way.

“Are you inviting me in?” he asked.

I stepped back from my open door and gave a single nod.

My dad smiled. “You’re doing the right thing, Owen.”

He entered and closed the door, making hand contact with the material realm. The power went out, but there was plenty of sunlight to brighten the room. I sat on the sofa, next to his spot, but he remained by the door.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

He reached toward me with an open palm. “Invite me into the living room.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why can’t you just come?”

But then I saw it. Connie’s rainbow streak on the doorframe above his head had turned to gray, crumbling dust. The other oil spots around the sunlit room remained vibrant. My stomach sank as I saw how his presence had disarmed the ladies’ spiritual blockade. There was no denying it: their prayers and my father were incompatible.

I stood and faced him but stayed across the room, wrestling with uncertainty. “So, God sent you just now?”

“Yes, and yet you still don’t trust me.”

“I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

He stared at me with wide, sympathetic eyes. “I know you intend to eliminate me from your life, but first, please let me help you.”

“How?”

“I’ve been commissioned to train you to subdue forces of darkness, from the least to the greatest. You need to learn this, Owen. Right now.”

“I already have, on my own.” I was proud to tell him. “The other day, when Murder and Regret and Demise cornered me I said the name of —”

“I know what you said —I was there. And it was me who drove them away from you, Son. That word holds no power.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“I wanted you to feel strong. Proud of yourself.” He reached out to me again. “But we mustn’t waste any more time —invite me to come to you.”

Everyone except me seemed so sure of what I needed to do. I glanced at the rainbow stripes of oil on my windows and walls. “Why do you have an aversion to the Light?”

“I don’t.” He remained stiff, his back against the door. “Those ladies misused universal laws of energy like fools, creating barriers against forces of evil and righteous spirits.”

It was the first time I’d heard him criticize anyone.

“But you can undo their mistake —and learn from it. Invite me to come to you.”

I was still hesitant.

My father dropped his chin and narrowed his eyes as he looked deep into mine. “Owen, I know about the great mission you’ve been given —to gather the town’s people to the land and drive out the evil that dwells there. But I’ve come to inform you that Molek is returning in a matter of days. It’s too late —you can’t possibly rally the people in time. Molek is full of might and will rouse his army in an attack like nothing you’ve ever witnessed before.”

I’d suspected Molek was returning soon, but the thought that he was only days away . . .

I dug my fingers into my scalp. “What do I do?”

“I can show you how to use the laws of spirit and energy correctly to combat the evil on your land yourself, without any need of others. But you must act quickly, or all will be lost.” He stretched both hands out to me. “The Source says you’re not ready, that you doubt yourself and lack understanding. I must prepare you.”

Betty had said God would prepare me, and now my father had come to teach me. Was this the answer?

I went with my gut.

“All right,” I said. “Come into the living room.”

When he did, every strip of oil in sight withered to ashen-colored dust. It didn’t surprise me, but watching it happen, I couldn’t help but second-guess my decision.

My father passed up his spot on the sofa and stood in the center of the room. “You’re tired of running from evil and being useless?”

“Yes,” I admitted, although useless seemed kind of harsh.

“And you want me to lead you into greater empowerment?”

“Yes.”

“Place twelve of your candles on the floor, creating two circles in the center of this room. Leave a two-foot space between them.” He clasped his hands and folded them to his chest like he was praying. “You’ll give the thirteenth candle to me.”

It felt strange and different now that he was issuing orders, not requesting, but I followed his weird instructions, moving my coffee table to make room. Having formed the circles, I handed my final candle to him. He stared at the wick and prayed for the Source to bless us. All thirteen candles ignited at once.

I stepped back, toward my kitchen.

“You’ve been taught your whole life to fear touching fire.” He studied my face. “But there’s no need to be afraid of anything.”

Exact advice the old man had given me. Arthur, I still believed, despite Betty’s negative reaction.

My father extended his candle, waving the flame at me. “Touch it.”

I saw this for what it was —a test of my courage. And I’d rather have burned all the skin off my finger than shy away. I admit I used my pinkie, but I approached him and stuck my finger in the flame.

It didn’t burn me —at all.

I’m sure my eyes were wide and astonished as I examined my unharmed finger, then pressed my entire palm on top of the fire. All it did was tickle. “How are you doing that?”

“I’m not.” He inflated his chest like a proud parent. “You are. The miraculous happens when you act on faith instead of fear.”

Incredible. I was suddenly eager to keep going, to do whatever he instructed next.

“Walk around the circles in a figure-eight pattern. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

I did it, careful not to knock over candles. To my annoyance, waves of hesitation kept pushing through my newfound courage, but I resisted them.

“Don’t be afraid.” My dad kept his gaze on me, completely in tune with my emotions. “Cowards are intolerable.”

I kept stepping around the candles.

Suddenly, darkness overtook my apartment like a tidal wave of black paint. I stopped walking and instantly picked up on distant shrieks and moans. Shrill whispers headed our way, closing in fast.

“I don’t like this,” I confessed.

“Owen.” My father kept his post between the circles. “This is not a game. You must not take matters into your own hands. Do as I say. Exactly as I say.”

I was starting to wish I hadn’t opened the door to him.

Like lava exploding from volcanic rock, Creepers began pouring out of both circles of candles —dozens of them, invading my living room.

I wedged myself into the nearest corner, next to my TV. “Make it stop!” My apartment reeked like roadkill and vomit and a garbage dump all mushed together, and it was as cold as a meat locker.

The Creepers hunkered down and assembled in front of my father like trained lions. I watched him, unsure whether to admire his mastery or abandon all faith in him.

“Why would you invite them here?” I demanded.

“You did.” He motioned at the throng, and they advanced on me, towering just beyond my aura, glaring down and hissing and gnashing their teeth at me.

I covered my nose. Their presence was overpowering every extrasensory ability I had —except one. The most vital one. But then, even that faltered. My ability to see them faded in and out, ramping up my terror. For seconds at a time, they were completely invisible, camouflaged in the candlelit air. Still, I knew they were there. And I could only think of one way to at least try to make them flee.

I opened my mouth to utter my Savior’s name, but my father spoke, loud and stern. “Don’t you dare rely on that! I warned you —it won’t work here, and it won’t work on Molek!”

Suddenly he was next to me, inside the crowd of Creepers, which became visible to me again. He spoke loudly in my ear. “Command them. Show them they have no choice but to do as you say.”

“How?”

He sighed with impatience, a character flaw I’d assumed he was incapable of. “Tell them to retreat.”

I did, but the Creepers didn’t back off.

“Louder!”

“Retreat!” I belted it out, and every one of them darted back and hunkered down. I’ve got to say, it was hugely exhilarating.

“Very good, Son. Now get on your knees.”

That made no sense. I shook my head.

“You’ll never exercise full authority over them until you prove you’re not afraid, and I’m telling you how. Now get down!”

The huddled Creepers had filled my living room and spilled into the hallway. They were still, as if awaiting my next move. Terrifying as the scenario was, for the first time, it felt like I was in charge. And I didn’t want to mess that up.

I did it slowly, putting one knee on the carpet. Then the other.

“Now put your face to the floor in absolute fearlessness. When you rise, they’ll do exactly as you say, just as they do for me.”

I shook my head harder this time. “I won’t bow to them.”

My father leaned toward me and spoke right into my face. “If you don’t, they will charge at you and conquer you, and there’ll be nothing I can do.”

“They can’t conquer me, I’m a Li —”

“A Light who provoked the powers of hell and initiated a challenge! Do as I say and master them, or I swear they will obliterate you —Light and all.”

I was struggling to breathe, asphyxiating on evil’s fumes, completely in over my head.

I saw no way out.

I’ll make it quick. It’s just a pose —not worship.

I placed my palms on the carpet, then lowered my forehead.

“All the way down,” my father instructed.

I did it.

I snapped my head back up as soon as my forehead touched the floor. Immediately the Creepers lowered their disgusting heads in forced submission toward me, then backed away, out of my apartment completely. It was still unnaturally dark, and the stench and icy air lingered, but they were gone.

I let out a major sigh and even smiled. “Did you see that!”

“Yes.” My father was smiling too. “You made that much more difficult than necessary, but you finished strong. They’ll never challenge your authority again.”

I collapsed to the floor on my back, physically exhausted. Strangely so. “Thank God that’s over.”

“It is.” My dad resumed his position between the two circles, still lined with my lit candles. “But we’re not done.”

I knew better than to protest, but I couldn’t imagine enduring anything else.

“Look.” He pointed to the circle on his left. Inside the ring of candles, instead of carpet, there was a pool of what looked like liquid, like a tide tainted and thickened by an oil spill. “Move closer.”

I crawled on my hands and knees to gaze down at the paranormal spectacle. “What is it?”

He placed a gentle, warm hand on the back of my neck, touching me for the very first time. “Do you trust me yet, Owen?”

I nodded.

He began pressing my head down, into the circle. “Don’t resist. You must see this.”

At first I thought I might drown, but my face passed through the layer of liquid into what felt like compacted dirt against my skin, yet I was still able to breathe —enough not to panic, anyway. My father kept pushing me down, much farther, until I was angled upside down with at least half my body submerged in the inexplicable hole. It was dreamlike and disorienting.

I kept going down, and chilled fingers now held me by my ankles. My face somehow penetrated through what seemed like layers of metal —or cold, thick wood, maybe —followed by the tickle of silky fabric grazing my nose, forehead, and cheeks. Finally I stopped dropping. All I could do was blink in the silent darkness. Cold air stung my face.

“Are you ready to see?” My father sounded far away.

I didn’t answer, but light shined around me anyway —not soothing, comforting light, but more like dingy, flickering, fluorescent-bulb light.

It took a second to grasp what I was looking at.

I’d been submerged headfirst into a coffin.

With a body.