Fire Prophet (Son of Angels) (26 page)

“D-Dad?” Rupert said, pulling away from Jonah and stepping out onto the street, moving closer to his father. “What is this all about? You have one of those evil creatures on your back . . .
Where have you been?
”

The fallen one on Roger’s back glared at the boy as he whispered furiously in Roger’s ear. Suddenly, the nephilim’s eyes found his son.

“Son! Come here,” he beckoned, suddenly smiling.

“Don’t do it, Rupert!” Jonah pleaded. “It’s not really him! It’s not your father!”

But Rupert couldn’t—or didn’t want to—hear Jonah. His
father held his arms open to his son. And when Rupert arrived for the hug he was expecting, Roger swung his arm across his son’s body, backhanding him onto the pavement.

Stunned, Rupert scrambled backward, pulling off his broken glasses. “Dad? What are you doing? I—I don’t understand.”

Roger chuckled, a high-pitched laugh. “Sorry, son,” he said coldly. “No time for pleasantries. Too much work left to be done.”

Rupert stood and moved backward. “You’re not my dad.”

“Oh, that I am, my boy,” he said, grinning wide. “I just like to think I’ve . . . improved.”

Jonah’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for any way out of this. They were trapped against the convent. He saw the nuns on their knees, continuing to pray, along with Abigail and Kareem. His eyes searched the skies for an angelic rescue.

But there was nothing. No one was coming. There was no deliverance in sight.

Roger, in the meantime, was clearly enjoying this moment. He paced back and forth in front of the nephilim and the quarterlings as he spoke.

“So nice to see my old friends, the nephilim, here today,” he said. “You know, of course, why you are here, don’t you? When you heard your precious, gifted children were in trouble, there was no way you could stay in hiding, was there?”

But suddenly the fallen angel holding on to Clamwater pushed the nephilim away, ripping himself off his back. Clamwater breathed in sharply, and then fell facedown on the asphalt, moaning in pain. The fallen angel stood facing the quarterlings and nephilim, his back to all of the other Fallen. It was as if he couldn’t stand for someone else to speak for him any longer.

He wasn’t the largest fallen angel Jonah had ever seen, but he strutted in front of them like he was their supreme ruler.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” he said with a twisted grin. “I am Dagon—the mastermind behind our little gathering here. Luring you here with your children was a stroke of genius, you have to admit. You just couldn’t resist. Pathetic. And now, instead of trying to track you down all across the globe, you’ve come to us.” He spoke with the slick assurance of a used car salesman. “Now Abaddon’s forces can take care of you all at once.”

Jonah began to tremble, fearing that what Dagon had said was right. Staying in touch with their parents had endangered them all. They could fight, but they were in a corner. Even with the combined powers of the nephilim and the quarterlings, there were too many fallen angels here.

“Maybe you should reconsider before it’s too late for you.”

The voice sailed across the street, echoing against the brick buildings, and caused everyone to turn their heads.

The prophet Abigail stood in the middle of the road, by herself. The nuns and Kareem continued to pray, just as fervently as ever.

Dagon seemed momentarily surprised she could see him. But then he smirked again. “I’m sorry. And you are?”

“I am Abigail Honsou. Preacher sent to the streets of this great city.” She paused, her eyes glimmering. “And prophet of Elohim.”

If this impressed Dagon, or worried him, he didn’t show it. “Ah, yes. Aren’t you the one we kidnapped? Don’t you know that if I wanted to, I could order my associates here to kill you right now?”

“And if I wanted to,” she countered, “I could ask Elohim, and He would destroy you all.”

Dagon seemed amused, but she had gotten his attention.
“Obviously, prophet, you can see into the hidden realm. So you know that you are outnumbered no less than five hundred to one.”

Abigail stepped forward with a confidence that amazed Jonah. “If that’s true, then you won’t be opposed to a test of sorts. Surely you believe that Abaddon is more powerful than Elohim, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Dagon snarled, the smile vanishing from his face. “This world belongs to Abaddon.
He is all-powerful
.” The fallen ones jeered loudly, voicing their approval. “But go away, woman. I don’t have time for your tests.”

“It sounds to me like you don’t believe in that power, Dagon,” she said. “Not enough to put it to the test, anyway. Maybe your Abaddon is not as strong as you pretend he is.”

“Let’s kill her, Dagon!” came a shout from one of the fallen horde. Others yelled their agreement. “Send her to her grave!”

The fallen angel held up his hand for them to be silent.

“Why shouldn’t they see?” he finally said. “Why shouldn’t they receive a full glimpse of the power of Abaddon, raining down upon them?”

Dagon turned to face the prophet, ignoring the nephilim and quarterlings for now. “Very well,
prophet
,” he sneered.

Abigail nodded.

“I propose that you call on the power of Abaddon,” she said. “Call on him to bring his power down from the skies. If he’s as powerful as you say he is, I’m sure this will be no problem for him. To prove I’m serious, I’ll even offer myself up as a sacrifice.”

“Abigail, no!” Eliza screamed. Abigail held up her hand to Eliza, ignoring her plea.

“Abaddon is from the pit of fire,” she continued. “Call on him to rain his fire down and consume me. Let’s see what he can do.”

Dagon laughed again. “Have it your way.”

He raised his hands up in the air, closing his eyes. At once, all of the fallen angels fell to their knees. Dagon murmured words that Jonah could not make out, but he knew that he was summoning Abaddon.

Jonah swallowed hard, wanting to be faithful, trying to will himself to trust. But inside he began to feel cold and dark, as if some weight were pulling him down.

Then, up above, a hooded figure suddenly appeared on the ledge of the building across the street.

“It’s him,” Jonah said. One by one, the quarterlings and nephilim looked up fearfully. The human parents, nuns, and Kareem just looked around, confused, unable to see what was happening.

The presence of the Evil One himself sent an invisible wave of fear and darkness over the edge of the building. As Jonah watched him, he felt the last drops of what hope he had left leak out. He was dry.

Dagon’s voice had turned into a gravelly whisper.

“My Master, rain down your power now,” he urged. “Bring all your power to bear on this insolent follower of Elohim. Do not let her challenge to you go unanswered, this mere human.”

He continued calling on the power of Abaddon more and more urgently.

Jonah peeked up at the figure standing above them. He seemed to be basking in the calls of his followers. And then he raised both of his arms upward to the sky. Abaddon’s hands began to glow a deep red. Jonah braced himself for what was coming.

But suddenly, the tendrils of white light coming from Abigail, Benjamin, Kareem, and the praying nuns shifted until they were pointed directly at Abaddon. They were joined with snakes of
light that were falling from the sky, and they met in front of his glowing hands. Jonah sensed that Elohim was answering.

“Are you almost finished?” the prophet said to Dagon. “He’s right there. Can’t he hear you?”

Jonah strained to see Abaddon’s face, but it was hidden underneath his hood. His arms remained outstretched. But the white light of the prayers seemed to be constricting him. His arms started to tremble and shake. Jonah could see his hands clawing, straining with anger to call his power down upon the prophet.

But nothing was happening.

Then Jonah saw Abaddon tilt his head upward into the sky and utter something toward the clouds above. And suddenly, the Evil One spun around, moved back from the ledge, and disappeared from sight.

Dagon, who had been egging on his master, stopped in midsentence. He stared at the place where Abaddon had disappeared and then looked toward the prophet. Jonah saw the confusion on his face slowly turn into the realization that he and his evil horde had been abandoned.

Suddenly, he pulled a fiery blade out and screamed in rage. Jonah couldn’t tell if it was out of anger at them or at being left behind. The fallen troops behind him were on their feet now, raising their weapons too.

Their leader may have disappeared, but there were still enough of the Fallen to easily destroy the nephilim and quarterlings.

Jonah knew what he had to do. He moved over in front of Abigail, raising his sword in front of his face. Eliza quickly stepped over to join him, her shield blazing. And then, moving as one, the rest of the nephilim and quarterlings joined them, forming a wall of protection in front of the prophet. Jonah nodded at his
parents, his brother and sister, and his friends, all of them standing together, united against the dark forces.

Their last, desperate stand would be here, protecting this prophet of Elohim together.

Dagon ordered the troops to charge, but the prophet remained focused. She bowed her head and raised her hands to the heavens.

The first wave of fallen angels flew toward them, but her voice carried above the battle.

“Elohim, Creator of all, You alone are all-powerful and in control of our world. God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, answer me today, answer me and my friends here. Make Your power visible today for the glory of Your name!”

Dagon and the horde of fallen angels were almost on top of them, both flying through the air and scuttling along the ground, their black wings hurtling them forward. All Jonah could hear as he braced himself for their charge was their bloodthirsty roar. The black wave, dotted with hate-filled yellow eyes, was about to crash on top of them.

His family and his friends were going to be overrun . . .

But not without a fight.

Jonah was ready to swing his angelblade when he saw the sky literally tear open and begin to roll up like a window shade that had been snapped. Behind the blue morning sky appeared an army that stretched as far as he could see in any direction. Soldiers on foot, wielding blades and spears, and men on horses with their hooves pawing at the air. Chariots, drawn by mighty steeds.

And all of them made out of fire.

There must have been thousands of them, all swirling flame,
causing the atmosphere to explode with red, yellow, and orange. The heavens were ablaze. Jonah realized that the rest of the quarterlings and nephilim were looking up at the sky now too. In unison, they let their weapons fall.

The Fallen were the only ones who didn’t see the blazing sky above. Until it was too late. The army of fire fell down upon them in a furious blast of flame.

They landed all around Jonah, Abigail, and the rest, creating a wall of protection between them and the fallen angels, flames swirling around them.

The Fallen howled in rage, thrashing themselves around, trying to escape. But in their desperation they only slowed each other down. The soldiers swung their swords of fire, consuming the awful creatures. Some roared with fury and turned to fight, but they were no match for the army of fire and were quickly turned into piles of dust.

Within seconds, Dagon and the dark angels were no more.

Jonah had his arms raised in front of his eyes, guarding himself against the burning tongues of fire. When he lowered his hands as the battle grew quiet, he saw the army of fire departing as quickly as they had appeared, riding back up into the air. The blue morning sky folded back over them as the last of the chariots disappeared from view.

They were all catching their breath when Roger Clamwater stepped forward, having finally pulled himself up from where he’d been thrown by Dagon. Rupert approached him slowly. Roger looked miserable and ashamed. But his eyes were clear, and his back was empty.

Rupert embraced his father. They began to speak softly to each other.

“Look!” said Jeremiah, pointing upward. “More fire!”

Jonah’s and Eliza’s eyes turned up to the sky. It wasn’t a soldier, but one solitary flame, descending slowly in beautiful shades of orange and pink. Abigail was looking up at it intently.

Suddenly, she turned toward Jonah and grabbed him by both shoulders, her face inches from his.

“Look at me, Jonah, and listen,” she said, her commanding voice drawing his full attention. “Months ago, when I saw you on the street, I gave you two things—a word of encouragement and a warning. Elohim will use you for great things. Yes, I am sure of it. He already has.”

Jonah looked down, humbled by her words. “I hope so.”

She gave him a knowing nod and a smile, but her brow quickly furrowed. Glancing up at the sky, she continued, “But also, know this—you are in grave danger, Jonah Stone. Your very life, and the lives of your family, are at stake. Be very careful. Stay close to Elohim. Watch out for that devil. He knows who you are. But Elohim is greater. We have already won the ultimate battle.”

“I will,” Jonah said. “You can count on it.”