Piercing the Darkness (78 page)

NATHAN THE ARABIAN
and his small band of sentries continued to
ride shotgun in the mail truck as it drew closer and closer to Ashton. Armoth the African had flown ahead to warn Krioni and Triskal, the watchcaring angels of the town—it was only a matter of time before Destroyer heard about the letter aboard that truck.

IN THE HERB
garden not far from Goring’s chalet, a group of about thirty conferees gathered in the crisp, scented air for a morning workshop led by a well-known recording artist. The young, blond-haired man had his guitar along, and some songs were planned before his talk on “Ecology: The Merging of Earth and Spirit.”

There was a certain giddiness in the group. These people had never been this close to such a famous person before, and he was not the only famous person sitting there amid the rosemary, thyme, and lamb’s ears. Two newsmaking clergymen of global stature were also in attendance, as well as a director of mystical science fiction films whose name was a household word and whose film characters were now plastic toys in every kid’s room in this country and abroad.

The blond singer strummed his guitar, and they all began to sing one of his well-known ballads. The moment was magical.

The demons among them were enjoying it as well. Such worship and attention as they were now receiving was like getting a good back rub, and they even twitched and squirmed with delight at every bar of the song’s carefully shaded double meanings.

Huh? What was that?
The demons twisted their heads around to look toward a disturbance.

Two demonic warriors were gliding in over the top of the Goring Pavilion, apparently heading for Goring’s chalet. They carried between them the drooping, limp form of a battered demon, still whimpering and wailing in agony. With a soft, rustling sound, they passed right over the herb garden and then disappeared beyond the tall evergreen hedge.

The demons in the herb garden fidgeted, stirred, and muttered to each other.
What was that? Who was that? What has happened?

Some psychics were in attendance, and the demons attached to their brains were just as stirred up as the others. The psychics could immediately sense it.

The blond man even stopped the song. “What is it?”

“A disturbance,” said a woman attorney and psychic.

“Yes,” said a fifth grade teacher, his eyes closed. “Some kind of bad energy. Something’s wrong somewhere.”

IN THE CHALET,
Destroyer was relishing the entire conversation, as was the Strongman, though the Strongman was getting impatient.

Why wait so long?
he growled.
Make her talk, and then finish her! The Plan is waiting!

“Destroyer!” came a gravelly voice outside the building. It was one of Destroyer’s henchmen. “A warrior brings news!”

“Not now!” Destroyer barked, wanting to watch what happened to the woman.

“Go!” said the Strongman.

He went, ducking outside the chalet to hear from a most pitiful-looking spirit.

“What happened to you?”

The demon sat on his haunches on the ground, his wings spread like tattered black tarpaulins, wrinkled, limp, and full of holes. His head was battered, and he braced himself to keep from falling over. “We attacked a mail truck on its way to Ashton.”

Destroyer stooped low. “
Ashton
, you say?”

The demon started to topple.

Destroyer grabbed him by the neck and jerked him upright. “Did you say
Ashton
?”

The demon slurred a faint answer. “Ashton. A letter is bound for Ashton, and the Host of Heaven guard it.”

Destroyer shot a glance into the chalet. The Strongman was still watching the interrogation of Sally Roe. He was still impatient. He wanted results. If he didn’t get results, and fast, certain heads were going to roll.

Destroyer could just feel his head rolling. He let the demon flop to the ground, then motioned to his captains who gathered around him. “There is a letter bound for Ashton, guarded by the Host of Heaven. They do not guard it for nothing!” His face crinkled grotesquely at the thought of it. “Sally Roe may have written to someone there.”

The captains gawked at each other.

“Well?” Destroyer demanded. “Did you hear me?”

“Ashton!” exclaimed one.

“We can’t go back there!” said another.

Destroyer shushed them with a quick gesture. “Just look into it, and do it quietly. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, just one little letter.”

They looked back and forth at each other. “Which of us should go?” they wondered.

Destroyer held back a scream and hissed instead, “How about
all
of you? And take some spare warriors with you.”

They all went, gathering as many demon troublemakers as wished to go.

Destroyer hurried back into Goring’s chalet. The Strongman was intently listening to Sally’s interrogation and didn’t ask what the interruption was about.

Destroyer had no intention of telling him.

IN ASHTON, KRIONI
and Triskal could see the mail truck entering the city limits, right on time. Unfortunately, the precious letter inside was one truckload and one day late.

Triskal looked toward the west. “All clear so far.”

Krioni was not optimistic. “They’ll be here.”

CHAPTER 41

SANTINELLI LEANED BACK,
relaxed, and with an instructive glance at Goring and Steele encouraged them to do likewise. Then he looked at Sally and became suspiciously cordial.

“Sally, I have always considered myself a gentleman, a man of dignity and honor, and respectful of the dignity of women. I sincerely desire an intelligent, productive dialogue with you, and I’m sure, given the alternative, you desire the same.”

“I would prefer it,” Sally admitted.

Santinelli nodded. “Then, having agreed on that, it might be well for us to consider your credibility as a witness against us. It seems to me that you’ve forgotten what you are.”

Sally answered simply and directly, “I’m an adultress, a baby killer, and a convicted felon.” They looked uncomfortable. She’d answered that question a little too easily. “I’ve been reminded of that constantly since the day it first happened, by seven years of prison, by spirit tormentors, and by my own conscience.”

Steele said, “Sally, that’s a shameful and disgusting set of labels.”

She smiled, and that even surprised her. “Actually, those labels are marvelous and beautiful because . . .” She hesitated.

Goring completed her sentence. “Because of the Cross?”

She brightened at that question. “Yes, Mr. Goring. I’m surprised you would know about that.”

Goring sneered a little. “We know about a lot of things, Ms. Roe.”

Sally gave that statement no reaction, but went on. “I’m far from competent in Christian theology, but I do know I’ve met this Jesus personally, and I know I’ve been forgiven. Considering what my deeds were, I find that fact exhilarating, inspiring.”

They didn’t like that answer at all.

THE STRONGMAN DIDN’T
like it either, and let out a roar that filled the building and set the demons stirring. He shot a sideways glance at Destroyer, who looked away.

SANTINELLI TRIED TO
keep cool, but his face was getting a little pink. “So are we to understand that you’ve turned to antiquated religion in one final attempt to expunge your past?” He laughed derisively. “That, Sally, is a marvelous delusion for the fainthearted and weak-minded. The notion that your sins are forgiven is as much a fable as the sins themselves. You are God, Sally; you are accountable to no one.”

“Then I should be free to go, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s a side issue,” said Goring with a wave of his hand, “having no bearing on our present purpose. Sally, let me be blunt: Even if sins were real and this Jesus could save you from them, what you must face at this moment is that He cannot save you from
us.
”