Chapter 2

Brock’s hand began to shake as he kept the gun trained on the greasy punk’s forehead. The lowlife not only trembled, but he shook uncontrollably as he sat with his back against a wall in his filthy kitchen. Brock had promised God and himself that he would never kill again. He also had promised his wife, Destiny, as well as his former girlfriend and current FBI agent Nora Medora.

               But then Brock thought of his spiritual daughter Amy. She had been brought to the hospital unconscious and they anguished over whether she and the baby in her womb would survive. He saw his beautiful wife Destiny with her swollen face, broken nose, and the gash on her cheek that required twenty some stiches. His spiritual son Dirk with three broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and sprained knee. Yet Dirk heroically gave his shirt off his back to stop the bleeding from Destiny’s face. Then despite his injured leg, he carried his pregnant, unconscious wife, first to his pickup truck, and then into the hospital.

               “For when they shall say peace and safety;” Brock began to quietly say as he quoted 1 Thessalonians 5:3. “Then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape.”

               The safety on his Beretta 9mm clicked as he took it off, causing the man-boy he had it trained on to wet himself. His quivering finger tightened on the trigger as he felt himself giving in to the greatest temptation of his life. He thought the bloodlust and vengeance he once had craved was a thing of the past, replaced by the Holy Spirit. But here it was once again trying to possess him. Brock’s teeth clenched vice like, making his temples feel like they might explode from the tension. He put more pressure on the trigger.

               “But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that day should overtake you as a thief,” he could hear his lovely wife’s sweet, melodic voice say into his mind’s ear as she quoted verse 4. It almost sounded real.

               “AAAAAAAHHHHH!” he groaned as he lowered the gun.

Three days earlier, they had been wrapping up moving Amy and her husband Dirk into their new home on a country acreage. Amy, Dirk, and Destiny had made one last trip to the downtown dingy apartment building where Amy and Dirk had been living while their new home was being built. Amy and Dirk had gone in first while Destiny gathered up cleaning supplies. When she entered the foyer, she was shocked to have Dirk and a ski masked figure tangled and rolling down the stairs at her. Then her adrenaline spiked even more as she saw six month pregnant Amy wrestling with a second hooded figure.

               Destiny leapt over the heap of Dirk and the masked creep and raced up the stairs. The attacker had slammed Amy head first into the wall and she slid unconscious to the floor. Right when the villain was about to plunge a knife into Amy’s womb, Destiny tackled him. Although she had saved Amy from being stabbed, her delicate form was no match for the evil young man.

               In the long seconds it took Dirk to get back up the stairs, Destiny had been slashed on her face and viciously punched in the nose. The knife wielding coward fled before Dirk could reach him. Thankfully, the apartment was only a mile from the hospital. Why hadn’t I gone with them? Brock had badgered himself over and over as he waited anxiously at the hospital as the three most precious people in his life were all in emergency rooms.

               To his overwhelming relief, they finally let him see Amy, the most critical of the three. She looked haggard and dazed. But ultimately, she was okay. Her unborn baby had also survived the ordeal. Amy had a concussion and they wanted to keep her for observation. Brock was overcome with emotion when he saw her sitting up in a bed.  

               “Baby,” he croaked as he dashed to her side and gently embraced her.

               “Daddy!” she cried as she hugged him back tightly.

               Brock wasn’t her actual father. Amy and her husband Dirk had both been orphaned before they were teenagers. They began calling Destiny and Brock mom and dad as a little bit of a joke. They weren’t quite old enough to realistically be their parents. But between repeatedly calling them such, and now with a baby on the way, it felt more real all of the time.

               “Are you okay, honey?” he wanted to know as he stroked her long, red-gold hair.

               “Ah huh,” she nodded and then pressed the right side of her face into his chest. Then seconds later she abruptly pushed away. “How are Dirk and Dee?”

               “They are injured, but I’m told they’re gonna be fine,” Brock reassured her.

               “Promise?”

                “I promise,” He replied before she put her head against his massive chest again. “They’ve got some cuts and bumps, but I’m pretty sure that they’ll be going home tonight after they’re patched up. You and the baby are the ones that had us the most concerned.”

               It had been eight months since a satanic cult had tried to sacrifice Amy in a perverse ritual. Brock had thought they were safe. Jezebel Black was a self-professed satanic high priestess and her closest cohorts were in prison. No one expected that a couple of rogue followers would seek vengeance. The two culprits that had managed to flee were both wearing ski masks. Brock had consulted his friend, former lover and FBI agent Nora Medora. She had been undercover in that cult for about a year. She was able to give him a name that she was ninety nine percent sure was one of the attackers. She was unclear on the second attacker. Brock had been surprised when Nora Medora gave him no warning about taking matters into his own hands. But she knew full well the police could do nothing with so little evidence. There was no way to actually prove who attacked Amy.

               “Maybe I won’t kill you,” Brock had told the quivering coward. “How about I just burn off some skin with this acetylene torch and call it good.”

               He lit a handheld torch two feet from the punk’s face. Yellow-orange flame danced and waved until he adjusted it into to a sharp blue hiss.

               “No, please!” the creep shrieked.

               “You’re gonna need to not only move out of town, but even the state,” Brock told him. “Want to know why?”

               He didn’t reply; he just whimpered. Brock whacked him on the side of the head with the torch bottle. “I said do you want to know why?”

               “Why?” he croaked as a slow trickle of blood emerged from his dirty, greasy brown hair.

               “Because if I see you again, I won’t know whether you are stalking or not. So next time I won’t be nearly as patient and friendly. Also, if you should cross paths with my daughter again, do you know what I’ll do?”

               He whimpered and sniffled, but didn’t reply. Brock raised the gun to strike him again.

               “What?” he cried.

               “I’ll take you to a nice secluded place,” Brock warned him. “Then I’ll remove all of your finger nails with pliers. Then I’ll use this torch and melt off your skin.”

               The young man looked absolutely terrified and a part of Brock actually felt sympathy. But another part of him enjoyed implementing punishment and wanted to proceed with more. Yet a still small voice told him that he had accomplished his purpose. He tried to ignore it, intending to give him a quick burn on the arm with the torch. But the still small voice wasn’t so small anymore. Vengeance is mine saith the Lord! He sighed heavily and eased away from his prey.

               “You and your buddy both better get out of town,” Brock warned with menacing patience. “But first you need to tell me who your accomplice was.”

               He balked at first, but then Brock clutched his throat and let him feel the heat from the blue-orange flame. The coward suddenly sang like a canary. Brock threatened him to not warn his pathetic partner. Then Brock fled to the old pickup truck he had parked two blocks away. His hands trembled as he worked the key into the ignition. Fortunately punk number two lived only minutes away. He was comfortably playing a video game that had him killing countless people when Brock surprised him with his presence. Brock reenacted his routine of gun and torch. The second creep complied more quickly than the first, thereby reducing Brock’s temptations.

               “Who put you up to this?” Brock asked with clenched teeth. “After meeting you two punks, you don’t seem smart enough or ambitious enough to track down my daughter on your own.”

               He just stared at Brock as he trembled and panted. Brock took the safety off the gun and pointed it at his knee cap. “Jezebel Black?” 

               The punk shook his head.

               “Who?” Brock demanded.

               “Sexy Lexi,” he mumbled.

               “Lexi Gomez?”

               “Yeah,” he replied, nodding quick and erratic, reminding Brock of a bobble head doll. “Please, dude, don’t tell her. She’s just plain crazy. She’s not right in the head.”

               “I see, and do you think that you’re right in the head?”

               “Look, dude, I thought we were just gonna put a scare into the pregnant girl. We didn’t know she was your daughter. I actually freaked when Grant knocked her out and slashed that hot blonde chick.”

               So, it was the first jerk Brock had visited that actually put the hurt on his girls. He was tempted to go back and rough him up some more. But he had accomplished his purpose. Even if they ignored his demand to leave town, he was confident that they would steer very clear of his family. Now, what to do about Lexi Gomez? She was one of Amy’s two twisted sisters. As much as Brock despised Amy’s half siblings, he wasn’t going to rough up a woman no matter how much they deserved it. He decided to call Nora Medora again and let the F.B.I. Agent decide how it should be handled. Maybe Nora would rough Lexi up.

               “I tell you what Brock,” Nora said after he called her and explained the situation to her. “I have some quick business in Des Moines the day after tomorrow. I’ll look her up and grill her on what roll she played in the attack. Is that okay?”

               “That would be great, Nora, Thank you! I owe ya.”

               “Do you?” She purred. “How about we play a round of our old game?”

               She was referring to an exercise they used to do together when we were a couple. She used to have Brock  hide out in the woods while she ran in and simulate an attack on her. She did this mainly to hone her self-defense skills. The couple also took a sadistic pleasure in the rough game.

               “I’ll have to pay up some other way,” Brock chuckled. “I’m a married man now.”

               “Oh, come on,” she drawled. “I’m not suggesting a roll in the hay afterward like we used to. Just the little game of hide and seek.”

               “Sorry, I’ll have to pass Nora.”

               “Alright, fine,” she sighed. “Look, I’ll be in touch as soon as I find something out.”

               “Thanks again.”

               As soon as Brock hung up, he wondered if he was being too hasty in turning down their little game of hide and seek. Of course, he’d have to run it by Destiny and make sure she was cool with it. Then he recalled what it was like to wrestle Nora to the ground. His hands all over her sexy bronze skin, slick with sweat. He felt something inappropriate stir and  shook it off. Nope, not happening.  Their little game was definitely going to stay a thing of the past.

CHAPTER 1

FOUR MONTHS BEFORE DELIVERANCE

Pastor Kirk Samson fell to his knees and pressed his palms tightly over his burning eyes. Was that bright light lightning? Or maybe he was having a stroke? It must be a stroke, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He felt a gentle, yet firm hand grasp his arm. Startled, he tried to yank free, but was powerless against the grip.

“Who’s there?” He asked as adrenaline coursed through his body. He blinked rapidly and then tried to open his eyes wide. He couldn’t see a thing! His body went rigid from fear. He hadn’t been this terrified since the war.

“You’ll be fine Captain Kirk,” A melodious , otherworldly voice told him. Peace mixed with excitement instantly replaced his fear and terror. He sensed that he was in the presence of a Holy being. “Come with me.”

“Who are you?” Kirk asked with anticipation. Although he did not know his companion, his companion seemed to know him. Only those close to Pastor Kirk Samson called him by his nickname Captain Kirk. The name was from having been an army chaplain, retiring with the rank of captain.

“I am Melanchthon, sent from on high to give you some marching orders if you will.”

“Yes Sir, I will,” Kirk replied with enthusiasm. A grin appearing from within his long white beard and mustache. His wispy white hair fluttered from the soft breeze.

Melanchthon laughed and it reminded Captain Kirk of a stream flowing rapidly over rocks. Not unlike Cotton Creek which snaked through a flowery meadow behind the old barn Kirk had renovated into a church. Melanchthon guided the pastor along the wooded trail he had been hiking on. He helped him sit on a fallen log. Oh yeah, he couldn’t see!

“Melanchthon?”

“Yes.”

“It seems your presence has blinded me.”

“My apologies.”

“I trust it will be…”

“Temporary, yes. After our business is through, I will walk you home. Have your wife brew you a cup of Chamomile tea and you may tell her of our visit. I know she is your best friend and confidant. Pray together earnestly about your mission. After I take you home, your sight will return within an hour. You can also cancel your eye surgery scheduled for  next week.”

“But I…”

“Your cataracts have been taken care of.”

“Oh,” Captain Kirk chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Praise God.”

“Yes, praise God, amen!”

“Now, are you ready?”

“You say jump, I ask how high.”

“I like your enthusiasm,” Melanchthon laughed. “But truth be told, by the time of the mission’s completion, your enthusiasm may wain.”

“Thank you for your honesty Sir.”

“I serve God, who cannot lie.”

“What would you have me do, Sir.”

“I appreciate your respect Kirk. But going forward, please call me Mel. It is likely that we will be meeting every now and then.”

Captain Kirk frowned. “So, will I be blinded every time you contact me?”

“Oh, no my dear friend. Once again I apologize for the sudden appearance. Next time I will take cover with flesh and blood, in the garb of humanity.”

“Alrighty then. So what would you have me to do S… Mel?”

“Do you know a man by the name of Seven Sallie?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t Mel.”

“You will. He has a podcast that centers mostly on religion, politics, celebrity, and current events. He is rapidly gaining in popularity and is becoming a celebrity himself. He is also the cousin of Brock Storm. I trust you know Mr. Storm.”

“I know Brock very well, Sir. I mean Mel.”

“Yes. Seven has been chosen to be a messenger of the last days. He has been selected to be a voice crying in the wilderness of concrete, steel, and human chaos. But there is currently a problem with him, and that’s where you come in.”

Captain Kirk waited, but Melanchthon was silent.

“What’s the problem S… Mel?”

Melanchthon sighed heavily. “He’s a reprobate.”

“Pardon me?”

“He’s a rascal, a sexual degenerate, a booze hound. He’s also stubborn, bullheaded and obnoxious.”

“I see,” Captain Kirk replied cautiously as he wondered what role he was supposed to play with such a man he didn’t even know. Then he remembered the common thread. “You say he’s Brock Storm’s cousin?”

“Yes, but the two clash. They have barely spoken to each other in more than a decade.”

“I see,” Captain Kirk replied again as he refrained from sighing.

“Take heart my dear friend,” Melanchthon reassured with delight in his voice. Captain Kirk felt his hand gently squeeze his knee. He felt energy and comfort surge through his body. He moved to cover his hand over Melanchthon’s. Instead, he felt his own kneecap, even though he still felt the loving grip of the heavenly angel. “The two cousins loved each other like brothers in the past. They just struggle to like each other. If Brock obeys the calling, his role will be as trying as yours, maybe even more so.”

“Are you going to pay a visit to Brock also?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Why?”

“Brock has too much blood on his hands. Don’t get me wrong. His repentance and walk with the Lord is genuine. I was there for the rejoicing in heaven when he finally gave his heart, mind and soul to the Lord. But obviously he still has a horrific battle with human nature and his old ways. As a matter of fact, he is about to have the toughest temptation of his life.”

“What is that, Sir?” Captain Kirk asked anxiously, due to a deep love for his friend. “I mean Melanchthon. Mel.”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“What if he fails?”

“Then the mission fails.”

“So, Seven being a great man of God depends on this, um, test that Brock will endure?”

“It will.”

“But…”

“I know, to limited understanding it doesn’t seem fair that Seven’s eternal destiny should also hinge on whether Brock is obedient or not. But life and spirituality has more of a ripple effect than people realize. You will come to know Seven’s history soon enough. He potentially has a heart of gold. But it is currently black. He has been in major rebellion. As a matter of fact, the enemy is giving him great worldly success due to his blasphemous ways. Heaven has borne long with him. His salvation is hanging by a thread and this is his last chance. But it is a big one. He will either succeed in a big way or fail in a bigger way. The reason Brock is key is because he is only one of a couple people, in a world that inhabits billions, that Seven trusts. And that trust existed long before Brock was converted.”

“I see.”

“So, are you in?”

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me Mel.”

“I appreciate that Kirk. But do you want to be a part of this mission? You are an eighty year old man and have done more than your share of living the gospel. Your eyes were fixed because of my appearance, but that in itself was a test. If you weren’t such a man of faith who has logged thousands of hours of prayer in his lifetime, my appearance, such as it was, would have given you a massive heart attack. So, once again, do you want this mission or not? Your name is written in the book of life no matter what you choose.”

Pastor Samson was tempted to ask the fate of Seven if he said no. Surely there was somebody young and faithful that could do a better job than himself. Mary Gold Weston and her husband Jake came to mind. As did Amy and Dirk Easton. There was also Brock’s wife Destiny, her Aunt Belle and Billy Bob Booker . But God and one of his powerful angel’s had visited him personally. He thought of Jesus his Savior and how he could have called thousands of angels to rescue Himself and abort the mission to save fallen humanity. But he didn’t. He sacrificed his life even if Kirk Samson were the only one to be redeemed.

“I’m more than willing Melanchthon,” Captain Kirk answered. “You say jump and I ask how high. The only question is if these old bones will cooperate.”

Melanchthon chuckled and once again it was like a rippling, soothing stream of water. “All things are possible with God. Just stay connected my friend. And yes, God could have used anyone of the people you were thinking of in your place. But God has chosen you.”

“I’m honored and privileged.”

“You will also need to be prayerful and patient. After Brock’s trial, there are still some things that need to play out in Seven’s life. It all depends on how fast the enemy prospers him. It may be weeks, or it may be months. Then Seven will have his first test on his road to redemption or perdition. That will simply be whether or not he let’s Brock take an active role in his situation. Now, I’ve told you everything I can for the time being. Are you ready?”

“You say jump, and I’ll leap as high as these old bones will allow.”

“Let’s get you home then,” Melanchthon sang. “And let the Seven Sallie mission begin.”

THE SEVEN SALLIE SHOWDOWN

PROLOUGE

               Lexi thought she had just awakened from a nightmare. But where was she? There were eight people surrounding her and holding hands. Was she dead? In a hospital? She looked at each face. There was Destiny Knight Storm and her husband Brock. A Santa Clause looking old man with a long white beard. There was her sister Amy and Amy’s husband Dirk. Lexi’s boyfriend Devin, who was also Dirk’s brother. Zella La Stella, who was the psychic she was visiting when she blacked out. And a guy who looked like he was a scrawnier, scar free version of Brock Storm. Her eyes went back to Santa Clause. She thought he might be her sister’s pastor who was known by the nickname Captain Kirk. Why was a pastor hovering over her? Last rights? Was there such a thing for someone as evil as she was? Then it hit her. These people were praying over her. Something she had been fearing lately was apparently true. Lexi was demon possessed!

               Lexi began to look at the group of people again. Their images became altered. It reminded her a little bit of when she had tripped on LSD. She gazed at her sweet little sister. Despite how rotten she had been to Amy, her eyes were filled with love and concern. So why did Lexi feel such animosity toward her? She felt the violent urge to strangle Amy, but she couldn’t move. Lexi growled, but it didn’t necessarily feel like herself. Then pink and white colors began to swirl above Amy’s head in tiny clouds. It began to make Lexi dizzy, so she closed her eyes.

               When she opened her eyes again, everyone had their own distinct colors swirling over and around their heads.  Lexi looked back to the left. Destiny’s cloudy colors were predominately silver with red. Brock’s were brown with blue. Pastor Santa was orange and blue. Dirk’s were multiple shades of blue. Devin’s colors were black at the core, but tapered into various shades of grey, getting lighter as they arose above his head. Zella had purple and the stranger who resembled Brock had a nauseating swirl of yellow, grey and red. Lexi now felt more rage than dizziness. She looked at her boyfriend and felt betrayed. He had to be the reason she was here with her sister, his brother and their holy roller friends. But why was Lexi’s psychic here? Granted, the last thing she remembered was getting a reading at her place before she woke up here. Wherever here was.

               The anger and rage exploded from her. An inhuman bellow emerged as her back arched in an abnormal angle.  After her back slammed back to the bed, all of the faces staring at Lexi became transparent. It was like looking at the negative of a photograph and it seemed to indicate what each person was thinking and feeling. Amy, Dirk, Destiny, Brock, and Pastor Santa exuded love, strength and faith. Zella was fascinated and curious, but very rattled if not downright frightened. In Devin she saw love mixed with concern and confusion, but mostly fear. The stranger’s eyes couldn’t have been wider. He was completely consumed with terror and Lexi automatically keyed on him like a mad dog sensing fear. Her eyes bore into his as her tongue protruded unnaturally far from her mouth and a demonic howl was hurled his way.

               The stranger slammed against the wall. Then he ran to the door and clawed at it in a panic. Brock went to him and the little coward wrapped his arms around him as if he were a frightened damsel in distress. Lexi watched with fascination as Brock rubbed his back and spoke into his ear as if he were soothing a child that had a bad nightmare. The broken circle seemed to give her power. Ironically it was a power that she didn’t necessarily  want or could control. A roar exploded from her mouth and her body appeared to levitate.

               “Brock, you and Seven get back to the circle,” Santa Clause commanded. “Now! Have faith in Christ! He will never leave or forsake!”

               “Yes sir.”

               “Seven, cling to Jesus,” Santa ordered the terrified man with an odd combination of compassion and anger. “There is no fear in love. Jesus is love perfected. We can’t break this circle of love. We are battling spiritual wickedness of the most intense form. Focus on Jesus and unite your weakness with his strength.”

               The name Jesus caused a painful convulsion to rip through Lexi and her back arched again.

               “Amy, dear child of God,” Santa said. “Are you ready?”

               “Yes Pastor.”

                “Destiny, are you ready to assist your spiritual daughter?” Santa asked.

               “Yes sir.”

               Spiritual daughter, Lexi wondered? Her puritanical sister had a former porn star as some type of spiritual mother. Gag!

               The evil within Lexi was urging her to react with violence. But curiosity, maybe even some regaining of control, caused her to watch the two women. Lexi’s sweet, pure sister knelt beside her and their eyes locked. Lexi’s were dark and feral. Amy’s multicolored eyes were wide and expressive. The exotic beauty of her one blue and one green pair of eyes momentarily hypnotized Lexi. She recalled being instantly fascinated by them when she had first met her half-sister several years ago.

               Destiny knelt with Amy and secured an arm around her waist. Amy put a gentle hand on Lexi’s arm. This snapped her out of her trance. A low, deep, supernatural growl emanated from Lexi’s throat. It made a Doberman or Rottweiler sound like a squeak toy. Yet the gaze from the two women’s calm faces held no fear.

               “In the name of The Lord Jesus Christ,” Amy declared. “I command the evil spirits to come out of my sister.”

                This was the first glimmer of light Lexi beheld. The first sign of hope. Yet it seemed so small compared to the evil that held her captive. Anger and hostility roiled in her brain like a venomous, writhing snake. But why? Love shown her by a sister she had betrayed. Suddenly the rage exploded from within Lexi more violent than ever.

               “BLAAAAHHHHH,” The demons bellowed as her hands gripped Amy’s delicate neck and squeezed.