Hungry Independents (Book 2) (35 page)

“Why?” Scout asked.

“He’s going to give you guns and you’re going
to learn how to shoot and how to care for them. I don’t want you in
the Big Bad unprotected anymore. When you get back from your trip,
I want you to help Mark teach the rest of us what you’ve learned.
We have to prepare.”

Hunter and Scout nodded.

Jimmy looked down at his sleeping baby boy.
“War is coming.”

Margaret was awoken in the predawn light by a
rough shake to her shoulder. She rolled over, focusing on the
golden haired intruder. “What?”

“We have to go. It’s time.”

Margaret threw off the covers and grabbed her
pants from the chair as the little girl stood by the bedroom door,
tapping her foot. She drew her belt tight, finding the need to poke
another notch, or find a smaller belt later. Using the mirror, she
brushed her hair quickly and saw Catherine throw up her hands
before leaving the bedroom.

Margaret’s stomach rumbled complaints about
the meager dinner from the night before at Brittany’s. It happened
frequently, and her stomach was not the only one complaining around
Independents these days. She slipped on her snow boots, coat,
gloves and stocking hat without any real eagerness to travel out
into the cold. She found Catherine already by the front door,
turning the knob as soon as Margaret entered the living room.

“Good. Let’s roll out.”

They left the house, hurrying over the
compacted snow that had refused to thaw over the past month.
Margaret followed along, noticing Catherine’s snow boots and
wondering if the grass stains on her feet would survive the winter.
A cold wind tore its way through her as they rounded onto Main
Street, forcing her to pull the coat tightly around her body.

Candles were already lit inside Brittany’s
and she saw Jimmy sitting in his usual spot. She scanned the
interior for signs of Samuel, and then chastised herself after the
letdown of not seeing him. It was bad enough that Molly filled her
every thought with desires for Hunter. Samuel complicated matters,
and Margaret wasn’t prepared to handle the emotions that arose with
issues of the heart.

“Quit stalling. We’re on a tight schedule,”
Catherine called from the stairs that led up to the apartment where
Molly used to live with Hunter.

Margaret stopped dead in the middle of Main
Street. Going into that place held the same appeal as walking
through the fires of hell. “Wait, what are we doing?”

Catherine’s eyebrows pinched together in
annoyance. “We’re going to make contact with Raven. We need
Michael’s help, just like the last time in France.” She placed her
hands on her hips. “I thought we discussed all this before we went
to bed. She’s getting close to my tree.”

Catherine turned and vanished up the stairs.
Apparently the discussion was over.

Margaret followed, but she wasn’t very
enthusiastic about the climb. Each step brought her closer to the
one person she’d been avoiding for the past three months since he
returned from Cozad and she had been changed from the girl who
loved him into Margaret. She walked through the door and froze.

Hunter stood in the middle of their
apartment, his brown wings folded against his back, his white
t-shirt stretched tight across his chest. He wore blue jeans and
bare feet, but this person was not her ex-boyfriend. Michael gave
her his heavenly smile and Margaret felt the ache deep inside where
Molly stirred.

“Hello, Sister Margaret,” he said. “He thinks
of you all the time.”

Margaret frowned at him. “You mean
Molly.”

“Is there a difference?”

Margaret’s frown deepened. “Is there a
difference between you and Hunter?” Even his name on her lips
brought raw emotions laced with memories. She took a deep breath.
“We’re not here to talk about this.”

“No we’re not,” said Catherine, holding their
hands. “She’s almost there. It’s time, Michael.”

“Yes, Catherine.” Michael offered Margaret
his other hand to complete the circle.

She stared at the familiar palm like it was a
live hand grenade. After closing her eyes, she held hands with the
angel, telling herself over and over,
it’s
not
Hunter
.

She opened her eyes to golden flames
signifying God’s presence. Michael led them from the holy fire
engulfing Catherine’s tree that burned without causing physical
harm. The red motorbike rolled to a stop at the same moment, with
the fiery sunrise breaking the horizon behind the familiar
rider.

Raven’s eyes widened with surprise. Margaret
considered the angel and his wings, unable to fathom what Raven
must be thinking. It wasn’t everyday three of your friends popped
out of a burning tree to say hello.

“Hi, Joan,” Catherine said, skipping over and
giving the stunned girl a crushing hug.

Raven slipped an arm through the embrace and
gasped for air. “Did you just call me...?”

Catherine took her hand. “Joan, we need you
to join us now.”

Golden light filled their grip as Catherine
called upon God’s grace, spreading slowly outwards until both were
encompassed in the Lord’s holiness. Raven’s knees shook and then
Michael was there, lending support so she wouldn’t fall.

Margaret really didn’t know why she had been
invited. They needed Michael to bring them here, and Catherine
called forth Raven’s reincarnation, or rather Joan’s, like she had
for Molly.

Margaret shook her head in agitation. She
meant Margaret.
There
is
no
more
Molly
, she tried
convincing herself. She looked at Michael holding Raven, sorting
through memories of times spent in those arms.

The process of bringing forth Raven’s
reincarnated persona finished with nothing more spectacular than a
slow dousing of the light. Raven lost complete consciousness and
Michael lifted her slack body gently into his arms.

Catherine caressed the sleeping girl’s cheek.
“She’s ready now, Michael. Do you have a place picked out?”

“I do, Sister Catherine. Hunter knows of a
sound location that will suit our purpose. I shall return swiftly
to give you passage back to Independents.”

“What about her stuff?” Margaret asked.

“She will not need those items. God shall
provide for her.”

“Yes, but what if Scout comes out here and
finds her stuff lying around all over the place and no Raven? It
might not help the transition.”

“Who’s transition,” Catherine asked.
“Raven’s?”

“No, Scout’s. I take it Joan will be
returning to Independents to help fight War?”

“That’s right. We talked about all this right
before bed last night.”

“Yes, I know, Catherine, but as usual you
left a lot of blanks in the processing of your plan. When Michael
returns, he can take Raven’s motorbike and gear to her. We can
wait.”

Catherine folded her arms, giving Margaret
all the grumpy she could squeeze together.

Margaret held her ground. Now she understood
why she was needed. If they were going to tear these kids apart for
the sake of this War, then Margaret would make sure that all those
affected received the proper attention. Molly would have wanted
that.

Michael sat on the red motorbike with Raven
cradled in his lap, her gear strapped to the back of her seat. He
gripped the handlebars. “I shall hurry.” And the angel climbed into
the air with a beat of his mighty wings, Raven and her bike safely
in his charge.

Margaret watched him fly away in the western
sky until he was a dot in a field of blue.

The holy fire in the tree died with his
absence. Catherine stepped over to her friend, resting her cheek on
the bark. She sighed like the whole world was crushing down on her.
“Hello, tree. I missed you.”

Ted Hill grew up in the front pew of the
Methodist church in Denton, Texas where he honed his scribbling
skills on the church bulletin. He peaked as a senior in high school
when he became Class President, Homecoming King, All-District
Offensive Tackle, and Class Clown. He also failed Spanish II and
Geometry, but graduated because of football credits.

Ted then took his talents to Bethany College
in the middle of Kansas where he fell in love with the
heartland.