The Influence
By: Matthew John Slick
Smashwords Edition Copyright ©2010 by Matthew John Slick
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher.
StoneHouse Ink 2010
Nampa ID 83686
http://www.TheStonePublishingHouse.com
First Hardcover Edition: 2010
First Paperback Edition: 2010
First eBook Edition 2010
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
The influence: a novel/ by Matt Slick. -1st ed. p.cm.
Cover art by StoneHouse Ink
Published in the United States of America
http://www.TheStonePublishingHouse.com
All the doctrine taught in this book by Sotare, the angel, is biblically accurate. This includes the teaching about God, sin, salvation, man’s nature, the fall, truth, judgment, and the person and work of Jesus.
I took considerable license when talking about angels and demons fighting, their being injured, demonic forces “tweaking peoples’ minds,” and what happens after some characters die. The Bible says we continue on after death, but I took literary license to convey basic biblical themes of heaven and hell. I hope you enjoy this book.
May the Lord be glorified in these pages.
Matt Slick
Table of Contents
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6
Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9
Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12
Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15
Chapter 1
Near the ceiling of an immense, dark cavern, a tear in the fabric of space wrenched open and was followed by a twisting metal sound that echoed among the craggy walls. Below, jagged rocks littered the ground, some jutting upwards, others forming scattered crevices.
Gray shadows shifted in distorted patterns, forced to flicker by the numerous fires that burned everywhere. A huge hole was in one end of “The Cavern.” It revealed a deep tunnel that swallowed any light and sound falling into its darkness.
Between two large boulders heavy, green leathery creatures with twisted fangs and huge, bony heads huddled around a carcass. It had been gutted and dismembered and lay in disarray among the small fissures that scarred the floor. They snapped bones into shards and shoved them into their mouths and crunched them with their powerful jaws.
On the higher ledges, buried in permanent shadows, dark creatures sat motionless. Only their red eyes moved as they surveyed the landscape and watched the others. They had huge twisted fangs, massive shoulders, and immense hind legs poised to lunge at any beast that ventured too close. Their large scales reflected dim flickers of firelight. They watched in quiet stillness.
A shimmering whirlwind danced over a fire. It was a single entity comprised of thousands of insects. Only, they weren’t insects. They were smaller elements of the whole, a horde of tiny, twisted creatures with wings and legs that hummed in frantic swirls, moving, flying, and churning in unison. The whole mass reflected the ever-present firelight as it glided slowly over the rocks, creeping along the crevices, avoiding the flames and moving with an unknown purpose.
Above the creatures flew the winged demons. They resembled human skeletons encased in tight leathery skin. They had long tails that cut through the air as they whipped back and forth. Deep black holes housed their yellow eyes. Their skin was dark brown, almost black in appearance, and they were flying towards the rip in space as they growled in mournful, threatening wails.
One of them clawed the face of another. It responded by slashing at the wing of the first, sending it down into the rocks below to be mauled by whatever demons were nearest its fall. In a moment a third rose to take its place and fought with the one remaining. It used its wings to beat the first, thudding against its chest, punching, and growling. From below, yet another grabbed and clawed at the two, then another joined in, and another. They fought, screeching and tearing with feet and gripping talons. Cries of agony fell downward as wounded creatures tumbled into the blackness below.
The battle raged until finally, two of them, one larger than the other, managed to thrust themselves into the rip, which instantly closed. The rest squawked angrily and began to glide back to the shadows below, snarling and spitting at each other on the way.
The two creatures traveled through a tunnel of heat and light, carried along by the rushing, thunderous wind. They passively moved through the portal, absorbing the images and instructions which filled their minds. Suddenly, space ripped open and they were thrust into bright, blue light. The smaller one growled in pain and both instinctively shielded their eyes. With wings held open to stop their fall, they hovered in the air and waited for their sight to adjust. After a few seconds, the larger beast lashed out at the smaller, which ducked, turned, and raced away. The remaining demon hovered, looking around and gathering its bearings. It gurgled with a low, faint rumble.
Below the creature, in a large garden sat a man in a gazebo. He stared into the distance, lost in thought, unaware that hell itself had opened behind him and spat out a black-winged assassin.
The creature hissed. Then, slowly, it glided earthward until it landed on the branch of one of two trees. It hissed again and leaned forward to examine the man as it let a low, rumbling growl fall earthward.
The demon examined him, cocking its head from side to side. It studied its prey, the human victim that would soon join it in The Cavern. It folded its wings behind its back, leaned forward, and slowly slithered downward, as it wove its way through the tree branches.
***
Kathy let her black hair blow gently in the air as she drove down the interstate. The rush of air felt good. With the window rolled down, the road noise was loud, but she didn’t mind. It was soothing.
The wind threw a strand of hair between her lips. She pulled it away, then checked her lipstick in the mirror. Her green eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and her light complexion had only a few, small wrinkles creeping out from her eyes. She lowered her glasses for a moment and checked them.
Kathy was an attractive 40-year-old woman who was a regular at the gym. Her light frame was well proportioned. At five foot six, she was energetic, fit, and healthy.
She put her glasses back on and her thoughts turned to her father. He was a widower. A couple days ago he had to have emergency galbladder surgery and now it seemed there was a complication. She didn’t understand exactly what it was, but the doctors said he’d probably need to be watched for a few days after he was released. That was the only reason she had dared to leave her husband, Mark, who had been showing serious signs of depression in the past few weeks. As she mechanically drove along the familiar interstate, she reviewed the series of events of the past few months.
It began right after they had visited their son’s grave. Mark sat silently next to the headstone, fingering a blade of green grass he had casually ripped from the ground. He stared at the two dates engraved in the stone. “One year,” he had said to Kathy. “He only lived one year.”
She reached out and let her soft hands form around his tense, strong shoulders. He didn’t respond. She knew this was a difficult time for him. So, she withdrew and slowly walked back to a cold cement bench at the edge of the grass. He needed to be alone for a while. She looked at her husband as she sat.
Mark wore his dark hair short. Though his belly could have been a little flatter, at 42 he had managed to retain his slim, muscular build. He was about six feet tall and had a strong chin and hazel eyes. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he was nice looking and had an attractive quality of self assurance that was gentle and consistent. It had made falling in love with him easy for Kathy.
The wind brushed through some trees and slowly bent their shadows across the grave and onto Mark. The gentle sound of rustling leaves was all she could hear in this perfectly manicured cemetery. Nothing was out of place, including their pain.
Though she still grieved over the loss of Jacob, she had somehow found a way to deal with it. She had managed to handle it, as much as any woman could who had endured the loss of a child. She still hurt, but she had learned to cope by talking to her close girlfriends and leaning on her loving husband. He had always been there for her. That is, until the past few weeks.
Mark, on the other hand, was a man who always tried to appear self-reliant. He was the kind of person who was tough and strong, measuring himself by his accomplishments and his ability to stand strong under pressure. That is why he had become a civil engineer. He liked to solve problems, difficult ones, and his skill at doing so helped him to earn a reputation for getting things done. Kathy admired his strength and intelligence, but she also pitied him for them. She learned long ago that a person could fall in his strengths as well as his weaknesses.
After a while, Kathy got up from the concrete bench and stepped onto the green softness and slowly walked back to him. Mark could hear her approach.
He stiffened slightly. She could see him lift a hand to his eyes and then lower it. Kathy knelt down.
“I miss him,” he said, still staring at the headstone.
“I miss him, too,” she responded softly. She rested her head on his shoulder.
Jacob had died unexpectedly in his crib seven years earlier, just before his first birthday. After tests and consultations, the doctors could offer no solid reason except to say that, unfortunately, this tragedy sometimes happens.
They dealt with it in their own way. They cried a great deal and talked with friends. They even went to counseling, which seemed to help Kathy, but not Mark. He resisted talking to the counselor and after a while stopped going.
Mark had been particularly bothered by not knowing why Jacob had died. He was a problem solver and not having a reason for Jacob’s sudden death gnawed at him. It eventually became a haunting misery. The only way he could deal with it was to ignore it, occasionally drink a little too much, and bury himself in his work.
As time passed he would sometimes talk about Jacob’s death and tell Kathy how much it still bothered him. On more than one instance he told her that if only he knew why Jacob had died, then he would finally be at peace—and he wanted peace. That is why they hadn’t visited the grave in years; that is, until six months ago. He wanted to finally face his own pain and frustration. But their visit didn’t help. It made things worse.
Kathy remembered how she and Mark were driving home from the gravesite. She saw his white knuckles as he gripped and repeatedly kneaded the steering wheel. He was flexing his jaw muscles constantly and occasionally he would exhale hard. She noticed he was driving too close to the car in front of him, but thought better of mentioning it.
She had stared out the car window, let her mind wander, and imagined what it would be like if Jacob were alive. She was hurting, too, but it seemed that Mark was having a rougher time.
After about twenty minutes, he broke the silence. “I really miss him,” he muttered.
“I miss him, too,” she said gently.
“If only I knew why he died. Maybe that would help me get over this.” He paused and then blurted out, “It tears me apart not knowing.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly and rolled his knuckles over the top again. “I thought this had passed. I mean, I thought I’d let it go enough to be able to deal with it.”
Mark shook his head. “I never wanted to burden you with my problem.”
“I know. But it's okay,” she said tenderly.
She studied his eyes. They were wet with tears. Mark was a good man, and she hated to see him like this. He was hurting and she wanted to comfort him. But there was nothing she could do except to be there.
The visit had only served to rekindle Mark’s frustration. Why had Jacob died? Did he and Kathy do something wrong? Was there some purpose behind Jacob’s death? If so, what was it? Was some cosmic force at work? If there was a God, why did he let this happen? And the one thing that bothered him the most: why couldn’t they have any more children? It had taken them years to have Jacob and then afterwards, nothing. The doctors didn’t have any explanation since there wasn’t anything wrong with either of them. Kathy just never got pregnant.
Mark was angry and the lack of answers made it worse. The wound of Jacob’s loss would not heal.
Of course, Mark wasn’t the only one struggling. By visiting the grave and reflecting on how they couldn’t get pregnant, Kathy was once again reminded of the abortion she’d had while in college. The man who got her pregnant wanted nothing to do with her after he found out. He told her to get an abortion and turned a cold shoulder. So she turned to her girlfriends and they unanimously urged her to get rid of it. Her best friend at the time said it was an easy procedure that would solve her problem. She would only be aborting a “blob of cells, a fetus,” as she put it. All Kathy would be doing was “terminating an unplanned pregnancy.” After all, the fetus wasn’t human and it was her right to choose to do with her body what she wanted. After all, she wasn’t ready for children.
Her friends were gentle and persistent. They subtly bad-mouthed the guy who had abandoned her and repeatedly pointed out that with the pressures of school, and the financial pressures of having a child, that it would be impossible for her to have a child. So, in the end, Kathy went through with the abortion.
The doctor’s office was a sterile, clinical-smelling place that was over- air conditioned, and was staffed with nurses in colorful scrubs. They were nice enough people who seemed to care about her, at least superficially. Their rehearsed smiles made it all seem so terribly shallow. After filling out some forms, she had to sit in a flimsy hospital gown alone in a small room while she waited to be summoned. Kathy could remember the sadness she felt. She wanted to be a mom, but, not right then. She rubbed her belly and stared at the fabric gown covering it. It was a small room with a picture of the ocean on a wall. The voices in the hall were muffled. She remembered staring at the floor, waiting.
No one told her about the aftereffects. Over the years she couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, and it slowly had gotten worse, especially since she couldn’t get pregnant now. She felt as if she had betrayed herself as well as the life in her womb. A pang of guilt and shame stabbed at her heart again as she remembered Jacob and the abortion.
She shook the memory away and focused on some passing trees, then took a deep breath. She knew that the guilt she felt about her abortion never really got any better. It just became more distant.
Kathy remembered what it was like to hold Jacob in her arms, to smell him, feel his soft skin, nurse him, and watch him look deeply back into her eyes. She had loved him so completely, so thoroughly. She was so fulfilled with him.
Then he died. It was a horrible shock. Kathy found his lifeless body in the crib after his naptime was over. She had become hysterical and called Mark on the phone, screaming and sobbing. He rushed home.
The trauma for both was unbearable. For weeks she secretly blamed herself, as if the abortion had some karma attached to it: a “life-for-a-life” type of thing, she thought. She had mentally beaten herself up constantly, wondering why she didn’t check on him one more time during his nap. Why hadn’t she suspected something? What happened to her mothering instincts? Was she a failure as a mother? What could she have done differently? Did Mark really, somehow blame her even though he said he didn’t? The questions had no satisfying answers.
She went to a counselor and talked to her friends. They wept with her and were always willing to listen. It took a while, but after several months she began to feel halfway normal.
She remembered how during her recovery process she had once again brought up the abortion to Mark. She needed to process it once and for all. He shrugged it off. Of course, she had told him about it before they got married, but Mark didn’t want to talk about it. He got angry and yelled at her. He didn’t want to hear about her pregnancy by another man. As a result, she felt a little abandoned in a time when she was deeply hurt. If she had ever needed his strength, that was it. But, she had to accept the fact that he had his weaknesses like everyone else.
Kathy shook her mind clear once again and focused on the road. She turned her thoughts to Mark’s present condition. About a week after their graveside visit, he had gone to a local New Age bookstore hoping to find information on God, divine purpose, reincarnation—anything that might give him answers since there were no medical ones. He bought several hardbacks and read them quickly. Though there were occasional wise sayings, most of it was too subjective. Then he went on the Internet and studied whatever he could find about life after death, angels, and God. He devoured information on sudden infant death syndrome. He wanted answers and hoped he could stumble onto anything that would give him a clue. Nothing satisfied him.
Then someone told him about the Universalist Life Church in town and how people there knew about purpose and meaning. They were nice, but they didn’t have any better answers. He quit going.
“Church is just a social club,” he told Kathy. “I’m not interested in that crap. I need facts, not feelings.”
Mark told her about two months ago that his drive to find answers was starting to become an obsession. He described it as a living thing, a parasite that was sapping the life out of him and that he couldn’t control. She knew he was right. He was not only becoming more frustrated after their visit to the grave, but his temper was getting shorter and his sense of humor had seemed to vanish.
So, she very carefully suggested that he see a psychiatrist. Mark reacted in his predictable, negative way.
“I don't need to see a shrink,” he pronounced as he turned his back on her and walked away. She dropped it. But after two weeks he surprised her and said he was ready to get some professional counseling. They both went.
The psychiatrist recommended that he take a vacation and prescribed some antidepressants to help him deal with things better. Mark scoffed at both ideas. Taking medicines to help him only made him feel weak. He was too much of a fighter, too much of a man to give in to this immature stupidity.
“No, I don’t need a vacation,” he told Kathy sternly. “What I need are answers. I just need more time. I can handle this.”
She knew he was suffering. But she also knew it was getting in the way of their marriage. She was tired, too. She wanted all the despair and tumult to be gone so she could get back to loving Mark. After all, it was having an effect on her as well and she was beginning to put up a protective wall around herself. She didn’t like it.
So here she was, driving down the long freeway, letting her eyes mindlessly focus on the grey lanes ahead of her, oblivious to the passing blur of green trees that marked an increasing distance between them. There was nothing she could do right now. Her father was in the hospital and needed her.
She hated leaving Mark alone when he was as depressed as he was. “I'll be fine,” he had said in his usual confident voice. “Don't worry about me. I know I'm struggling, but, really, don't worry. I'll be okay. Besides, it will probably be good for me to be alone. Go help your dad. He needs you.”
Mark’s words didn’t make her feel any better. The only thing that eased her conscience was to insist that he at least take a vacation while she was gone. It was the only way she could feel halfway decent about leaving. Mark again scoffed at the idea but Kathy was determined and after a few hours, he reluctantly agreed. Besides, he had vacation time coming and it was slow at work. So, after a quick call to the boss, Mark had two weeks off of work and she was on her way to see her father.
She looked in the rearview mirror. The traffic was sparse.
She drove on, oblivious to the invisible, winged creature sitting in the back seat.
***
Mark had been sitting quietly in the gazebo for two hours, staring blankly at nothing, listening to the wind move through the trees, and hearing the water trickling over the rocks in the small stream that flowed through his garden. This was his retreat, his place to relax. But he couldn’t. His frustration and anger had robbed him of peace and left him feeling numb. It’s probably a reaction to the prolonged frustration and stress, he thought. He didn’t care. He liked not feeling anything.
Mark ran his fingers through his hair. His shirt tightened against his shoulders as he moved. He rubbed his face with his hands and heard the whiskers scrape against them. He let his hands fall onto his lap then he looked up and saw the sunlight filtering through a tree. He squinted before looking away.
There was a tangled mass of vines that snaked under some nearby bushes. He focused on the jumbled twisted trail of dirty grays and browns as it struggled in the shadowy underbrush. “That’s my life,” he said into the air.
Over the months his frustration had grown into anger. His anger led to resentment and resentment to self-condemnation as he realized his failure to find the answers to the questions echoing in his heart and mind.
He clenched his fists and gently pounded on his thighs. A rose moved softly in the breeze, catching his attention. He noticed the sweet scent as it wafted through the air.
From the corner of his eye, a small butterfly glided by, turned, and landed on the flower. In the past, such a subtle event would have delighted him, but not now. His emotions were as empty as his stare. Then the butterfly flew off. Mark did not follow it. Instead, he continued with his same numb gaze as he looked at the bloom without really seeing it.
“Life is useless and meaningless,” he said in a monotone.
He continued to stare. The rose was a brilliant red, perfectly formed. Mark got up and without taking his eyes off it he walked out of the gazebo, calmly reached down, and tore it from the stem. A thorn drew blood.
Once back in the gazebo he sat down, opened his hand, and let the rose fall into his palm as he coldly examined it. Then, unexpectedly, the same butterfly suddenly appeared and landed on a petal. It was a soft white creature, delicate and light.
Mark considered them both and discovered he wanted to crush the life from both the flower and insect, a hateful act, but one that might make him feel something. The white butterfly slowly opened and closed its wings, gracefully probing the flower, oblivious to the danger. Mark closed his hand. He felt the wings momentarily flutter against his fingers as he squeezed it into stillness. He turned his palm downward and let both fall to the ground.
He stared back at the bush, found another flower, and considered plucking it as well. Then he looked back to the ground. One of the butterfly’s wings moved. Mark could also see a couple of legs stirring. That's when he felt a twinge of unexpected remorse. It caught him off guard. But at least it was something. He stared at the wing as it moved more and more slowly, until it finally ceased all movement. A soft breeze dragged the corpse a couple of inches.
He exhaled hard, gritted his teeth, and clenched his eyelids together. For hours he had been alone, thinking about his life, thinking about Jacob, Kathy, and all his unanswered questions. He realized that for weeks he had been trying to bury all the frustration somewhere deep inside. He thought he had it under control and neatly tucked away. But he knew he had only been fooling himself and it was time to face the inevitable collapse of his willpower. There was too much frustration, anger, and remorse to keep buried indefinitely.
He opened his eyes. They were filling with tears. He blinked them away.
“No,” he muttered in defiance.
He clenched his fists. “No.”
He dropped his face into his hands and after a pause softly said, “No.”
He slid off his seat and onto his knees for a full minute, waiting.
“I’m so tired,” he finally said quietly.
He was tired, very tired. His prideful stubbornness was worn out and he knew it. So he did the only thing left to do. He gave up and let everything cave in on him.
It began with a single, long groan. He slammed his fists into the wood slats again and choked out wails. His sobbing filled the garden. Saliva ran from his lips and mingled with the mucus that dripped from his nose.
He hated what was happening. He despised the fact that he had grown weak and vulnerable through the prolonged suffering of unanswered questions. The struggle was too much, too exhausting. He pounded on the wood flooring again and again and forced out one word over and over, “Why? Why? Why?”
He dropped his face downward until his head rested on the wood. He cried loudly and welcomed the hard, gut-wrenching convulsions of release. The tears dropped from his face and the moaning cries he hurled into the garden were muffled by the breeze moving through the leaves that only seemed to applaud his pain. He wept. He sobbed and he pounded the flooring with his fists and spat the snot from his mouth.
His wailing went on for several minutes before it finally began to subside, surrendering reluctantly. Mark fought to regain his composure by clenching his teeth.
His back hurt from the strain. His open mouth was dripping saliva and when he tried to look through his wet eyes he saw only defused and blurry forms. He tried to blink them clear and waited until he felt stronger so he could force his crying to stop. He did. Then after another minute, he managed to sit up on his knees and wipe his eyes. A remnant of exhaustion forced his breath to shudder as he inhaled. He knelt there on the ground and waited until it finally seemed to be over.
He thought about Kathy. He was glad she was not there to see him like this. Then he looked down to the tear and snot-stained wood. Both the butterfly and the flower were gone. He closed his eyes once more.
A few feet away stood the dark monster, silently and imperceptibly studying Mark. Its black eyes locked menacingly on him as it took a single step closer.
Mark, oblivious to the creature, battled his own fatigue and let himself collapse onto the floor of the gazebo, rolling onto his back. “I do not want to go through this anymore. I have to have answers.” The leftover tears rolled down over his ears.
The monster unfolded its wings, raised them above its head, and spread them wide. A dark shadow, undetectable to Mark, covered most of the gazebo as well as him. The beast leaned forward and gurgled out four, intense words. “I will kill you.” It lowered its wings and took another step.
Mark stared out at the trees and momentarily enjoyed a soft breeze that touched his face. Exhausted, he whispered into the air, “I hate this. I don't care what it takes. I want out of this pain.”
The creature listened.
Mark lay there for a few minutes recovering.
It studied the man. Countless centuries of dealing with humans had taught it to pay attention to tears, the tone of voice, breathing, heartbeat, position of the body, and most importantly, the words. The creature calculated as it examined its prey.
Finally, Mark sat up and forced himself into a seat. He exhaled hard and wiped his eyes again. He felt better after the release of the emotional outburst.
The creature brought its wings closer to its leathery body and took several short steps forward. It began to crouch down as it approached, stopping a few feet away. It reached out its clawed skeletal hand and placed it over Mark’s chest, careful not to touch him. The creature waited. After a few seconds, its mouth formed a contorted grin and it stepped even closer. It extended its left hand towards Mark’s head and raised a single finger that bore a two-inch long talon. The creature repositioned itself and then slowly extended the talon into Mark’s right temple.
He felt nothing.
The demon reached further in, very carefully searching.
Mark sat motionless in the seat, resenting how he had lost control. He was disgusted with himself and the situation.
“I can't take this anymore,” he said.
The demon twisted its claw and suddenly a wave of peace brushed through Mark’s mind. It caught him off guard.
The creature moved the claw a little more.
The feeling of great peace spread throughout his mind as Mark exhaled slowly. It felt good. He savored it. Mark thought that this was probably the physiological result of an emotional release. Nonetheless, he enjoyed it.
The demon tweaked Mark’s mind a little more and the peaceful sensation grew stronger. He let himself feel it as he relaxed his body and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
The demon carefully reached with its other skeletal hand and extended a second claw into Mark’s mind. It searched carefully for a moment before it found what it was looking for.
Mark began to lose focus. He exhaled slowly and his breathing grew shallow. He was puzzled by the feeling but he didn’t care. Yes, thought Mark. Yes.
The creature knelt down next to him, careful not to displace the claws. It came closer, drawing its mouth nearer to Mark’s. Then it synchronized its breath with his. As he exhaled, it inhaled. As he inhaled, it exhaled.
Mark felt the peace deepen. He welcomed it. His muscles involuntarily relaxed. He let his hands drop to his sides. His head wavered slightly. There were no more tears, just restful peace.
The creature moved its claw a little further and Mark’s mind fell deeper and deeper into the comfort.
Then it moved, brought its lips to Mark’s ear, and spoke into his mind, “Rest, rest.” Mark had a sensation of words, but there were no words. He could not focus on them, but he felt them.
The creature whispered into his ear again and Mark heard his own thoughts. “You are a good person. You don’t need to suffer like this. It isn’t your fault.”
The sensation of language seemed to echo within him as the creature continued to speak. Mark, exhausted and weak, let himself listen. He wanted to.
“You have been robbed of the goodness you deserve.”
The creature gently and purposefully moved one of its clawed hands, searching for the place in Mark’s brain that released endorphins. This was an old trick that required a subtle movement.
It spoke again, slowly. “What do you think will happen if your pain continues? What will your wife think as you become less and less of a man?”
With that, the demon skillfully tweaked Mark’s mind with a talon from its other appendage. Mark felt shame. The creature moved deeper into Mark’s mind and manipulated it again. Mark felt indignity flush through him. He moved uncomfortably, recoiling from the feeling. Mark loathed the idea that Kathy would surely grow to despise him in his weakness. His body tensed and his breathing quickened.
The creature let Mark feel it for a few seconds and then manipulated his mind again. “You don’t deserve the hell you have been going through. You are a good man.”
Mark began to relax as the peace slowly returned at the manipulative hand of the demon. I am good, Mark thought to himself.
“You have a good heart.” The words continued in his mind. “You are a good man. You are a great man who deserves to have his best life now.”
Mark felt himself agreeing. The creature smiled in mockery.
“You need to help yourself. There is a way. There is an answer.”
The false peace that Mark felt was growing with every manipulation and word that entered his mind. He had never felt anything like it before. It was wonderful, blissful. He wanted more of it, so he let his mind fall further into its comfort, hypnotized by the creature’s masterful skills.
“You deserve peace and rest.” The creature knew Mark wanted to hear the words. “You need rest. You must free yourself. You need peace. You need rest.” The demon tweaked the pleasure center of Mark’s mind and he felt a wave of pleasure, but this time it was mixed with a sensation of security and safety. Mark wanted it. He savored the sensation.
“Do you want peace?” asked the creature.
“Yes,” spoke Mark softly from his altered state of consciousness.
“Release yourself. Release yourself to me.”
Mark relaxed. He closed his eyes.
“Good,” whispered the creature into Mark’s mind. It studied him. Mark was now in a trancelike state, open to suggestion, easily controlled. Mark heard more words.
“It is not wrong to want peace. It is good. You have been through enough misery.”
The creature looked around. There was a small storage shed at the edge of the garden. The door was open and in it a rope hung on a hook. It devised a quick plan and looked back at Mark. The demon moved its claw within Mark's brain and searched for that place where despair and misery reside. He wanted to know what was in Mark, but it was careful not to hurry. It leaned down towards him and gently moved a claw. Mark felt despair. Then it whispered a single word into Mark’s mind. “Suicide.” With that, it delicately caressed pleasure into Mark’s mind as it repeatedly whispered, “Suicide. Suicide. Suicide.”
Mark felt pleasure with every word. The creature moved its other clawed hand further into Mark’s mind.
“Suicide,” whispered Mark to himself.
“Find the rest you seek. Find the peace. Get the rope from the shed.”
Somehow suicide made sense. He opened his eyes and looked towards the storage shed.
“No fear.” Mark listened. The monster moved its claw and said, “Feel the truth in your heart. Do what is right for yourself. Visualize the victory of choice. Don’t worry. It will be okay. Free yourself. Listen to your heart.”
Mark was weak and vulnerable. There was no alarm, no anxiety. The creature was dampening his instinct for self-preservation, an easy accomplishment after Mark’s emotional breakdown.
Suicide, he thought, as the demon caressed his mind so he would feel good each time he thought of it.
Mark closed his eyes and relished the idea, half awake, half unaware. He looked down the path in the garden that came to a fork. To the right was the house; to the left, the shed.
The creature caressed his mind and whispered, “Get up.”
Mark stood up.
“Get the rope.” The words were so much a part of Mark now that he didn’t question them. He began to walk towards the shed. The creature moved with him.
“Good,” came the words deep within him. “Good.”
As Mark moved toward the shed, there were no thoughts about the purpose of life, Jacob, Kathy, or self-preservation. They had been pushed away by the calm and peaceful manipulation of the demon. Nothing mattered now. He felt only the need to commit suicide. It seemed so right. The creature continued to caress Mark’s mind. It felt good.
With a slow and determined walk, Mark headed out of the garden. He passed the small stream and approached the shed. Just inside, hanging on a hook, was the rope. He carefully lifted it, turned, and began his short journey back.
The creature walked carefully beside him, still caressing his mind.
There were two large trees in the garden. Mark headed for one on the left.
The creature started to speak again. Mark heard the words in his mind as if they were his own. “I need peace and rest. It will be so easy. I will use the rope and my problems will end.” With every word came peace, blessed peace. It was all so clear to him now.
He looked up to find a limb. He felt the rope in his fingertips and looked down at it to get the feel of its weight. He held one coil of rope in one hand and with the other launched it into the air and over the limb. It tumbled down on the other side and dangled in front of his face. He needed to secure the other end to something solid.
“The gazebo,” came the words.
Mark found a supporting post and tied the loose end to it. Near the tree was a small boulder.
“Stand on it.”
Mark moved towards it.
“Peace is coming.”
The demon subtly moved its hand deeper into Mark’s mind and whispered, “Good. This is what must be done. This is good.”
***
The demon watched Kathy from the back seat of her car. It was a dark green form of bones and loose skin that appeared wet, but it wasn’t, and when it moved it creaked like wet leather. There were occasional open wounds with small crawling infestations that glistened in the sunlight. Jagged bones protruded here and there in a disjointed pattern and occasionally broke through the skin. Its eyes were black and two long, sharp ears jutted backwards. It examined her.
Kathy nervously glanced in the rearview mirror and back to the road. She took a long breath.
The creature leaned forward slowly. It opened its mouth and extended its tongue. Saliva dripped and fell to the floorboard. In its mouth were rows of jagged and rotting fangs. It hissed.
It leaned forward some more and drew close to the back of Kathy's skull. Wider and wider it gaped until its jaw dislodged with a pop, just large enough to engulf her entire head. But the creature stopped, closed its eyes, and shuddered in a perverse pleasure. Then it withdrew. It was not able to kill her that way. So, it closed its mouth as it sat back in the seat and hissed again.
Kathy did not know why, but she felt uneasy and glanced to the rearview mirror several times as she looked around to see where other cars were. Everything was fine, but she could not shake the sudden uneasiness.
She figured that she was more worried about Mark than she realized. It prompted her to call him so she reached into her purse to get her cell phone. It took only a moment to find it and flip it open with one hand. She glanced down at the numbers and hit the speed dial for home. Within seconds, the phone was ringing.
The creature studied her and then looked around. Two lanes to Kathy’s right was a car. The creature sprang through the door, opened its wings, and quickly matched the other car’s speed. Flapping rhythmically, it moved down and entered the vehicle.
The phone was ringing. She tapped her left foot on the floorboard. “Please pick up the phone.”
In the other car a man was driving. Upon entering, the demon sat in the back seat. It glared at the driver, examining him, and then it raised its left clawed hand flat, pushing it through the seat and around in front, onto the man's chest. The monster held its hand and waited. After a second, it smiled. The man was exceptionally vulnerable.
There was no answer on the phone.
The demon reached into the brain of the man and extended a single clawed finger as it searched. It glanced back over at Kathy, two lanes away, and then back at the man. There! The beast found what it was looking for and began to quickly tweak his mind. The creature leaned close and shouted into the man’s ear, “Danger! Danger!”
Sudden fear raked through the driver. His heart began to race as adrenaline dumped into his system. He knuckled the steering wheel and glanced at the mirrors. The creature tweaked him some more as it looked for the place of panic; when it found it, it grasped it and simultaneously screamed, “Watch out! You’re going to die!”
The man clutched the steering wheel harder and frantically glanced at the rearview mirrors again. He didn’t have time to think, only to react as the manipulation of the demon began to overpower him, forcing him to respond. He quickly turned his head, looking for danger. The demon tweaked his mind with stronger jerks of fright as it took its other clawed hand and placed it over the driver’s own hand on the steering wheel. It strained to turn the wheel towards Kathy as it screamed into the man’s mind. “Watch out! Turn!” The man panicked and jerked the wheel towards Kathy’s car.
At that moment, she glanced down to the cell phone in her right hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the car heading directly for her. Instinctively, she slammed on the brakes and swerved to the left. The careening car was heading for her, but she reacted just in time. It barely missed her.
The demon opened its wings and, with a screech, rose through the car into the air. Meanwhile, the man swerved in order to miss the center guardrail and somehow managed to avoid crashing into it. He straightened out the car.
Kathy took her foot off the brake pedal and regained control. She was okay; shaken, but okay. The man was, too. The demon descended into her car again and howled into her mind, “Die!” Suddenly, it jerked its head upward.
“No!” it shouted.
Then it jumped through the roof of the car and flew quickly off. Three hundred miles away, Kathy’s father, lying in his bed at the hospital, opened his eyes.
***
“Yes, the rope,” came the words into Mark’s mind.
Use the rope to free myself.
The monster was getting bolder. Still in a state akin to a hypnotic trance, Mark grabbed it and formed a makeshift noose.
Kathy’s father, John, closed his eyes again.
***
Far away, an angel turned his head and listened. He was bathed in a gentle white light that emanated from his body. Huge and powerful wings thrust out from his back as he glided in the blue sky. He had no claws, no fangs, and no leathery skin. He wore a long white robe that flowed like water as he flew. The angel’s hair was long and white; it, too, flowed in the wind. His face was human in appearance. Although he was not armed with talons and fangs, he was muscular and formidable in stature.
The angel listened, hovered, and then, with a sudden jerk, tucked his wings and dove through the sky at great speed.
***
The beast continued to speak into Mark's mind as though its words were his. “I will have the peace I deserve. I need to do this.”
Mark looked at the end of the rope and adjusted the noose. But he hesitated. His natural instinct of self-preservation was surfacing. The demon whispered, “This is right and good.” The creature tweaked Mark’s mind, releasing endorphins. Mark’s resistance weakened.
“Get on the rock.” Mark looked at it.
“Get on the rock.” He walked towards it and lifted his leg. With a single thrust, he boosted himself two feet up off the ground.
“Put the noose around your neck.”
The balance between self-preservation and suicide moved one way and then another as the battle raged between Mark’s will and that of the demon. Mark hesitated. The monster moved its claws deeper into his mind and tried to weaken his resistance.
Mark focused on the rope. He pulled it towards him. The creature tried to forcefully increase the sensation of tranquility within Mark’s mind, but it could see that he was still resisting its manipulations.
The demon was able to do no more. The outcome was not guaranteed, but its victory seemed near.
Mark looked at the rope, wavering between decision and diluted fear.
“Peace and rest.” He felt the words again. He brought the rope closer. But Mark’s self-preservation instinct was not entirely gone. He held the rope still. He was deciding, struggling. The creature held on to Mark’s mind.
“Peace, I need the rest and peace,” said the demon softly. Mark leaned towards the rope.
“Peace” said Mark, faintly. “I need peace.” Mark opened the noose.
A flash of white streaked across the garden and slammed into the demon, ripping its claws from Mark’s mind. Mark winced slightly. The impact sent the demon tumbling, wings flailing. It growled horribly as it clawed into the air, not knowing what had happened. The angel grabbed one of the demon’s wings and tore at it, ripping the leathery skin and snapping a bone underneath. The creature cried out in agony and tried to lock its jaws on the neck of the angel, but the angel was too fast. The monster jerked violently and struck its enemy in the face. The angel continued to hold the wing. Snap! Another bone broke. The demon growled and punched the angel in the face, but the angel held on stubbornly and locked his arms around the creature’s chest. The evil being bent its head down, dislocating its neck, and buried its teeth into the angel’s arm causing him to recoil in pain and loosen his grip. The demon twisted violently and forced its neck bones back in place with cracking and grinding noises. It saw its enemy and, for a split second, was blinded by the light so close to its dark eyes. It spat into the angel’s face, and lunged at him with its fanged mouth wide open. Its attack was met with a crushing fist that slammed into the side of its head. A single fang flew out of its mouth, along with a splatter of green. The demon kicked at the angel again and managed to free itself; in an instant, it flew down into the ground, disappearing into the dark earth, screaming and cursing. The sound quickly faded. The battle was over.
The angel quickly looked back at Mark, who was still standing on the rock, rope in hand. He flapped his wings once and in an instant was beside him. He leaned towards Mark and whispered in his ear, “No, this is not the way.”
Mark’s head swayed a bit and he blinked.
“Suicide is not the answer.”
Mark looked at the rope. His mind began to clear.
“Suicide is not the answer,” repeated the angel. “This is wrong. Do not do this.”
The fog clouding his mind faded; in a flash, he pushed the rope away and stepped back in horror. Falling from the rock, he tumbled into a bush, flailing his hands about as he tried to gain his bearings.
The angel looked around to make sure the demon was not returning.
The noose swayed. Mark could scarcely believe what he had almost done. He got up and moved away from the rope, staring at it in horrified disbelief. It was still swinging back and forth, twisting slowly in the air. He took another step back, almost tumbling again. After a few seconds, he went into the gazebo. He stood there in shock, staring into the garden, recovering, waiting. Then after a minute he sat down and buried his head in his hands, pulling his hair in his fists.
From behind the shed, a flash of dark streaked towards him. The hideous creature was back. Its wing was damaged, but not enough to overcome its blinding rage. In that same instant, the angel stepped in front of Mark and took the full force of the impact of the charging monster. They rolled on the ground, but the evil creature was no match for the angel.
Mark was oblivious to the battle. He was recovering from the shock of what he had almost done, exhausted and ashamed. He looked out at the rope and a wave of gloom flushed through him. It was followed by a surge of nausea that crawled up his throat. He swallowed hard as he fought to hold back the horrible mix of confusion, fear, and dread.
Off to the side, near the edge of the garden, the demon kicked and clawed with all of its strength, driven by insane anger at having lost the battle over Mark. Its vengeance had overpowered its will and the demon retaliated against the angelic warrior with all of its strength, but the angel was too strong. They wrestled, intertwined, fighting with kicks and punches until they broke apart.
Just for a moment, the two of them faded, becoming semi-transparent. The angel’s light dimmed ever so slightly and the monster lunged again, but missed. Wings flapped furiously as each tried to gain position, until finally the angel grabbed the beast by the throat and squeezed. The demon flapped violently, and its whole body shuddered. It clawed in vain at the hand that held it at bay. The angel squeezed even harder. The creature gasped for breath and kicked hard. But the angel repeatedly deflected the enemy’s blows by shielding himself with his wings.
The monster’s eyes flared as it sensed its imminent loss. It grasped the angel's arms and tried to pull them from its throat, but it could not. The angel held firm, squeezing tighter and tighter, driving his fingers into the leathery flesh, puncturing its skin. The demon continued frantically to beat its wings, causing small gusts of wind to briskly whip the angels robe to and fro. It gurgled a weak growl as it tried to claw itself free from the angel’s grip. But it was no use.
Soon the creature's eyes began to fade, becoming pale. Its wings beat more and more slowly, until finally, they stopped. Its arms fell limp at its side as it lay suspended in the powerful grip of its victor.
The angel held the demon for a while minute making sure it was utterly defeated. Then, he turned it over and with great effort, ripped its wings from its back. The flesh tore and bones broke, sending a cracking noise into the air. Then the angel let the creature and the wings drop and watched them disappear into the ground. He turned his attention to Mark.
Above the garden, a twist in the fabric of space ripped open. The angel looked up and immediately stretched it wings to full width.
***
John opened his eyes. His ribs hurt, but he didn't mind. It was nothing compared to the pain he was in when his infected gallbladder threatened to rupture and kill him, an excruciating experience. At first he had thought his pain was due to gas so he postponed going to the doctor. But after a day of unrelenting and increasing discomfort, he finally realized that something was seriously wrong. By the time he called for the paramedics, he was doubled over, barely able to stand. They rushed him to the hospital where he had emergency surgery. Everything went well and the doctor said that he was healing fine.
John felt good, considering the situation. Besides, he would be out of the hospital in a day or two and Kathy would be there to help him. John looked forward to seeing her again. He closed his eyes once more.
“Lord,” he said quietly, “I thank you that you are sending Kathy to help me. And I thank you that you have heard my prayers for her and Mark. Once again, I thank you for your provision and I ask that you heal me quickly so that I might once again be used in your service. Thank you for giving me more time in this world to honor you. Amen.”
***
Above the garden, a distortion in the air produced a faint darkness that cloaked part of the garden. The angel looked up. A black slash had opened and a flicker of flames and wisps of smoke flowed out from the rent, ascending and dissipating as they cast a faint and fleeting shadow on the garden below.
A small, dark black winged creature slipped through the opening and hovered in the air as it slowly beat its wings. It turned and bowed its head low and backed away. The angel kept watching. “No,” he said aloud.
From within the rip, a second figure emerged. It was more than three times the size of the first. Its huge wings spanned thirty feet and they billowed back and forth slowly, keeping the creature aloft. A single, large, and twisted horn protruded backward and upward from the giant creature’s reptilian head. Its chest was massive, lined with ribs that were occasionally exposed by open sores. It had a raised vertical ridge from its neck to its leathery abdomen and a long, thin tail that whipped the air.
With two large red eyes, it stared down into the garden. It slowly opened its jaws, inhaled, and howled an unearthly roar audible throughout the spirit world, its echoes reverberating even after the creature fell silent.
The angel kept its wings spread as he focused on the evil forms above him.
The gash in space closed.
Staring down at the angel were a demon and a prince. The demon was the same kind as the one that the angel had just vanquished. It was formidable, but not nearly as much as the prince. That one was massive and strong. Its feet were hooves and its huge skeletal hands ended in long, razor-sharp talons. Fangs jutted from its mouth. It looked down at the angel and flapped twice as it moved to a treetop and rested. The demon followed and landed on a lower limb, near its master.
The angel opened his right hand, raised it to the heavens, knelt down, and whispered, “Oh Mighty One, I need help against a prince.”
Chapter 2
Mark sat in the gazebo, head in hands, eyes staring blankly at the dirty wood flooring. The sun was setting and long gray shadows had begun their slow crawl across the garden. The birds chirped at the setting sun and the water from the small stream meandered over rocks, softly trickling.
Would he tell Kathy what happened? He didn’t know. All he could do was try and get through the next few hours without falling into another deep depression.
What was I thinking? He shook his head. Idiot. What an idiot!
Everything was all wrong: the aggravation of unanswered questions, the disturbing memories of Jacob’s death, Kathy’s absence, his father-in-law’s surgery, and most of all, that he had almost killed himself. Nausea rumbled lightly in his gut. He sat back in fearful disgust.
The angel watched him. He approached and whispered into his ear. “The voice you heard was not your own. It lied to you.”
Mark raised his head as he remembered the thoughts that seemed to flow through his mind. They seemed focused. Then he remembered the peace, the soothing and seductive peace. He leaned forward and dropped his face into his hands again and exhaled hard.
The angel watched and glanced regularly up to the treetops. The prince glared down, silencing the birds with a reptilian hiss from an open mouth full of rotting fangs.
Mark sat there running everything over in his mind. It didn’t make any sense. His thoughts had somehow seemed foreign to him but, at the same time, they were his. It was strange. He didn’t understand.
He shook his head as he remembered the desire to put the noose around his neck. He looked up at the rope and watched as it swayed gently in the breeze.
More nausea poked at his stomach. He rubbed his belly in an attempt to combat it. He convulsed once and, to his surprise, his stomach ejected its contents with a forceful spasm. Leaning over the rail of the gazebo, he vomited into the dirt, groaning with each heave.
A flash of light moved across the sky. The angel looked up, as did the prince. Above the garden, another angel hovered momentarily, surveyed the garden and the demons, and slowly descended, giving wide birth to the prince before gently landing next to the angel.
“I came as quickly as I could,” he said. “I am Nomos.”
“Welcome, Nomos. I am Sotare. I remember you.”
Nomos nodded humbly. Like Sotare, he also glowed with a soft light, had equally broad shoulders, and was cloaked in a white robe. But in contrast to Sotare’s white hair, Nomos’ was black.
Sotare continued. “I sent a demon back to the pit, but now a prince and its slave are here.”
They looked up into the trees. The prince and demon were staring back, studying them.
“You have encountered a prince before, is that not true?” asked Sotare.
“Yes, the same one that is above us.” Nomos touched his left side, where the light was slightly dimmer. He was still looking up. “Its name is Nabal.”
“I have heard of it,” said Sotare. “Do you know why this creature is here?”