Tag: fantasy

ANGELS AT WAR – PART 2 – CHAPTER 1

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

ANGELS AT WAR

PART 2

CRICKET KARR AND THE ROCK STAR

CHAPTER 1

CRICKET

HERE IS THE PATIENCE OF THE SAINTS; HERE ARE THOSE WHO KEEP THE COMMANDMENTS OF GOD AND THE FAITH OF JESUS. (Revelation 14:12)

             “It’s Sully!” My sister shouted.

            A dozen of us gathered on the shore of the lake and watched anxiously as Sully paddled a kayak furiously. Three fast powerful boats were chasing him. My hands were steepled in front of my lips as I murmured in prayer.

            All of a sudden the water parted that the boats were skimming on top of  and the speeding vessels momentarily became like air planes. Seconds later the water closed back up. Then the large body of liquid became a boisterous tempest, as if it were a giant pot of boiling water. The wind and the waves roared. But only for a minute.

            “Oh Lord, save them, they parish,” Pastor Samson could be heard above the storm. “Maybe some will be convinced now.”

            The tempest suddenly calmed and a dozen bright orange forms bobbed in the tranquil water. A minute later another boat pulled up and rescued the unintentional swimmers. Several geysers began to spew about twenty feet in the air between us on the shore and the people giving chase. Sully’s one person skiff skimmed off the water and skidded to a stop on the sandy shore. We rushed to greet him.

            Three days earlier Sully had been arrested. His crime? Defying the national Sunday law. He had used his notoriety as a very famous musician to join God’s people in the loud cry of the third angel’s message. The loud cry being the warning message of the three angels from Revelation 14:6-13.

            The Sunday laws had begun as a simple ordinance carried out by numerous states. They were reminiscent of the Sunday blue laws of old. The government mandated that businesses close and civilians limit activity on what most Christians considered their sabbath. Most religious leaders, especially Christian nationalists, were on board with these government legislations, feeling it would bring the country back to God and a sense of morality.

            Then many non-Christians surprisingly came on board, viewing the push for a day of rest as an environmental reset for the planet. It also ensured that people forced to work by their employers on Sunday were fairly compensated. It became a requirement for companies to pay their workers double time.

            All of these reasons sounded good on the surface. What worthy employee doesn’t deserve fair compensation? What decent person doesn’t want to take care of the environment? Most important, people should come back to God. However, you can’t force genuine morality. Jesus said if you LOVE me, keep My commandments. (John 14:15). Therefore He doesn’t force His way in with governmental religious mandates. He stands at the door and knocks. (Revelation 3:20) It’s up to us to open that door and invite Him in.

            So the Sunday mandates escalated quickly from local ordinances into state laws, and then federal law. The reasons issued by the newly formed church-state were several. The out of control immorality, wars and rumors of wars, natural disasters to name a few.

            These were the main aims of mandatory worship. They imposed economic sanctions on those who disregarded them, thereby fulfilling the prophecy in Revelation 13:17 regarding buying and selling. This only strengthened the mindset of taking the country back for God. But I digress, back to Sully’s arrest and escape.

            Being timid and shy I stood back and watched a dozen members of my church family greet Sully enthusiastically. He received hugs, handshakes, and pats on the back as he was questioned how he escaped from a high security prison.

            Sully was in a state of disbelief himself with hands motioning and head shaking as he explained. “It was an angel of the Lord. I didn’t believe it at first. I thought he opened the door with a code or a key. I even wondered if he was taking me off to be executed, so I drew back. But he said, ‘Fear not, I am Jack Querida. I’m a friend of Cricket’s.’”

            Sully’s gaze turned to me. He was so handsome, so talented, so brave. My heart often fluttered when he gazed into my eyes. After Sully swiveled his head in my direction, twenty some eyeballs aimed at me as well. I shifted uneasily, but smiled and shrugged. Sully walked toward me and was followed by my dear brothers and sisters in Christ. My biological sister was by his side, mouth agape, her lovely eyes wide as they looked into mine.

            I knew what she was thinking. She and I were very close. So I knew she was wondering, who is this Jack Querida, friend of Cricket’s? How did I tell her I didn’t know myself? It was just then, with Sully’s harrowing escapade, that finally confirmed in my own mind what I suspected. That the man I had encountered numerous times over the years was actually a ministering spirit. (Hebrews 1:14) In the beginning of our, what? Friendship? Acquaintance? I had ministered to him, unaware of his angelic status. (See Hebrews 13:2)

            Sully continued to gaze at me with an expression of wonder. “How do you know him, Cricket? Who is he? He helped me get out of that prison as if we were teleported. Then he said he left a kayak for me at such and such and to hurry.”

            Cricket isn’t my legal name. My parents were expecting a boy, and I was to be named after my father, Jim. When I turned out to be a girl, they still called me Jim, but combined it with my mother’s name, Elena. So I became Jimena. Before I was old enough to even remember, my grandmother started calling me Jimena Cricket after the cartoon, Jiminy Cricket. People followed her lead, and to this day most people don’t even know my legal name.

            “I don’t know him that well,” I shrugged.

            “You must,” Sully said. Then seemed a little jealous as he added, “I guess I failed to mention he not only called you his friend, but precious friend.”

            “I don’t know what to tell you,” I shrugged again, even though I felt a little thrill. Yet I didn’t know what precious meant. Although Jack intrigued me, I wouldn’t call my feelings for him romantic. Now Sully on the other hand… But I suppressed those desires for the man standing before me. He was more suited for my sister. Even though she was a man hater, Sully had broken through her shield.

            In a strange way, Violetta and I were like Racheal and Leah from the Bible. But only as far as looks go. My sister was beautiful. More than once I heard her referred to as drop dead gorgeous. She had long wavy red-gold hair, large blue-green eyes, and flawless skin, with a lithe athletic body that still held desirable female curves.

            As for me, one of my blue grey eyes was called lazy. My reddish brown hair was straight and limp. And my frail body was clumsy and twitchy. Chronic allergies also kept my nose frequently red, highlighted by my pale skin. But I was otherwise healthy, so praise God!

            “How don’t you know what to tell us?” Violetta inquired, her own demeanor seeming a little jealous. “You’re apparently his precious friend.”

            I shrugged again, but now pulled nervously on my fingers. “I don’t know where Jack is from, I don’t know how old he is. Only that he seems older than me. Until Sully called him Jack Querida, I didn’t even know his last name.”

            “God works in mysterious ways,” Pastor Kirk Samson, also known as Captain Kirk, said.

            “Yes, he does,” Sully agreed, nodding emphatically.

            “Why I noticed a few Bible stories come to life in miniature,” Captain Kirk added. “The parting of the lake reminded me of the parting of the Red Sea. The sudden tempest for a minute or two reminded me of Jesus calming the storm on the lake. Plus an angel prison break like in the book of Acts.”

            “Praise God,” Sully said as he put his right hand on my shoulder and his left hand on Violetta’s. “What a privilege to be the Lord’s instrument. When I was in jail, I was sure I’d never see you all again.”

            I observed Violetta gaze fondly at Sully and bite her lip. It reminded me of the first time I witnessed Violetta bite her lip over Sully. Which also happened to be the first time I saw my sister bite her lip over any guy.

            A year or so before we watched Sully wash up on the shore of the lake in a kayak, Violetta and I had watched a biography of him on YouTube. It was the day after our cousin introduced us to Sully’s cousin. He was her current beau, and had joined us for Thanksgiving dinner at our grandmother’s house.

            Callie had never brought a boyfriend to a family dinner before, so I was intrigued. I figured they must be pretty serious. Violetta, on the other hand, was skeptical. At one point Callie had taken my sister and me aside, whispering excitedly, “Jeremey’s cousin is Sully Sage.”

            I had leaned in eagerly, excided by my cousin’s excitement. But the name meant nothing to me, so I asked, “Who’s Sully Sage?”

            Callie looked stunned at my ignorance, but Violetta appeared slightly annoyed as she said, “Come on, Cricket, even I know who Sully Sage is.”

            “Well, who is he?” I asked, curious over this supposedly very important person.

            “He’s a drug addled reprobate that sings about loose women, drinking, and drugs,” Violetta declared.

            “Come on, Vi,” Callie replied. “Why do you have to be so negative? Yes, his early career was, I guess, pretty raunchy. But he became a super star singing about lost love and feelings of hopelessness.”

            “Oh boo hoo,” Violetta replied. “Poor pampered rock star. Takes countless women to bed and then cries over his main squeeze dumping him. Then profits off it with sappy songs.”

            Callie looked disappointed. “Vi, you shouldn’t be so judgmental. Sully’s wife was killed in a car crash three years ago. Despite his wild stage persona, Jeremey claims Sully was faithful and loyal to his wife. They were high school sweethearts.”

            “Well, like I said,” Violetta responded with a shrug. “I know who he is, just not much about him.”

            “Well then maybe you ought not judge people you don’t know,” Callie rebuked. “You certainly didn’t like people judging Jimmy.”

            I felt my toes curl. Violetta’s and my brother was a sensitive subject, especially with my sister. He was the reason Violetta despised macho guys, even though she was attracted to manly men. Jimmy was a bit effeminate, and thought to be gay by his peers. He was bullied by the type of guys Violetta loathed. His death was ruled a suicide, but I considered it to be an accident. Violetta believed it was murder.

            Callie’s eyes widened as Violetta’s narrowed. Trying to correct the mistake of bringing up Jimmy to Violetta, she tried, “You should take a page out of Cricket’s book. We all ought to.”

            “I don’t follow a book of my own,” I meekly replied. “I live by the Bible.”

            “Yes, you sure do,” Callie responded with a nervous laugh.

            As different as we were, my sister and I loved each other deeply, and our cousin knew it. By mentioning me, and thereby bringing to mind my devotion to God, Callie quelled the savage beast in my rebellious sister. Violetta forced a smile as she turned her gaze on me and nodded.

            The next day Violetta and I watched the documentary on Sully Sage in her apartment. The first quarter of the program dealt with his early life and a difficult, dysfunctional upbringing. It also covered his becoming an item with Poppy at sixteen, the woman who would later become his wife.

            The next part covered the young lovers running away from home at the age of seventeen when they were both in between their junior and senior year of high school. Then Sully as a struggling musician in LA the next three years. The making of his band, and their first block buster hit, which was a tongue and cheek song about a break up and how much the woman hated her ex.

            The program then covered Sully’s band continually on the road the next three years. It chronicled the personal and legal troubles that accompanied the seemingly never ending travel. There was only a brief six week break to record their second album. The long stint on the road ended with a heart breaking tragedy.

            Poppy, who was a constant companion of Sully’s on the road, was very pregnant and spent the remaining couple weeks of the tour resting at a friend’s LA home. At eight thirty one evening, Poppy left to meet another friend at an In and Out Burger. One block from the restaurant, a speeding drunk driver ran a red light in his hopped up pickup truck. He hit Poppy’s car broadside, killing mother and child instantly.

            The last part of the program dealt with the aftermath of Sully’s terrible loss. It detailed the songs that came from his pain. The biography described his relationship with Poppy. Bandmates and friends talked about the differing natures of the young couple before the tragedy. Poppy, a vibrant light to Sully’s dark brooding personality seemed to somehow balance the pair.

            Now, after the calamity, some music journalists predicted Sully would end up a member of the twenty-seven club. But, at only twenty-four years of age, most didn’t think he’d make it that far. It was already known that he struggled with addiction, depression, and volatility. Throw in the loss of his greatest love in the world, and you had a recipe for human destruction.

            I watched three expression come over Violetta’s face as we watched the biography. The first was neutral as it covered Sully’s childhood. Then she sneered in disgust when they showed clips of him early in his career as a cocky, feral, tattoo covered, shaggy haired rock star.

            Then her face softened when they showed excerpts of his tender relationship with Poppy. They showed him explaining some of the lyrics describing Poppy and the pain he felt. One of the names of endearment he had for his wife was Sunshine. That was what was behind the wording of a song that described how quick the sun could drop away.

            The lyrics of the song described him as he laid in bed all alone, unable to get over his grief. The next few lines described the suicidal despair he felt. Yet the last line held out hope for a better tomorrow. That is when I watched Violetta’s eyes well up, followed by me observing her biting her lip over a man for the first time.

ANGELS AT WAR – CHAPTER 20

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

ANGELS AT WAR

CHAPTER 20

ARCHANGEL QUERIDA

YOU SHALL NOT COMMIT ADULTERY (Exodus 20:14)

            “Are you disappointed she didn’t confess?” Vermillion asked. His tone was surprisingly neutral from what he usually spoke to me when he wanted to gloat or boast.

            “If you don’t have expectations with sinful humanity, you’re not disappointed,” I replied.

            “Is that why you’re side rejoices over one sinner that repents?” he asked with a mocking tone as he referred to Luke 15:7 and 10.

            “Why do you seem disappointed?”

            “I’m not. You know my side prefers sin and secrecy over truth and honesty.”

            “You must not be confident that there will be a second indiscretion.”

            “Oh, it’s not that at all. Now that she didn’t confess, she, I should say they, are gonna disregard the warnings of Proverbs chapter five about adultery. I just felt the confession would have been interesting to watch.”

            Now I knew why he was neutral. To use a human expression, he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted to see the possibility of marriages destroyed with the adultery coming to light. At minimum marriages damaged. But he also wanted to see his prediction of rinse and repeat come to fruition.

            It had not even been an hour since the woman defiled herself with a man who wasn’t her husband. To add severity to the sin, the man she went to bed with was married as well. He was also the father of three young children. To make the iniquity yet more precarious, he was her next door neighbor.

            She had scrubbed herself aggressively in the shower after the encounter. Not only did she wish to scrub the sin away, she wanted to make sure any possible scent of her paramour’s cologne was gone. Then, facing her husband less than a half an hour after she dried off, he had leaned toward her and asked, “What’s that smell?”

            Her guilty conscience warned her that he suspected. In an effort to get her sin off of her chest, she blurted, “I have something I need to tell you.”

            He walked past her to the gas stove. “You didn’t turn the burner all the way off. So what did you need to tell me?”

            “How careless of me,” she said, looking at the stove with a frown as her brain scrambled for something to ‘tell’ him. “Um, there’s a light bulb burned out in the bathroom.”

            “Okay,” he said laughing. “You made it sound like something more urgent than a burned out light bulb.”

            “I just didn’t want to forget. You can reach it, but I’d have to get the little step ladder from the shed.”

            The next day, the woman got a text message from her young lover about going for a run. She made an excuse to not go. The following day the same text and made the same excuse to not go. The third day he called. As she looked at caller ID, she sighed and decided she couldn’t evade him forever. She might as well face the music. Yet she didn’t push answer in time. It went to voice mail, and he left a brief message. “Please call me within the next few hours. We need to talk, and Jill and the kids won’t be home until at least seven thirty.”

            She paced the living room nervously biting her thumb. Why was she hesitating? Did she actually want another tryst, even though she felt compelled to tell him their fling was a mistake? She wanted them to get back to normal. But what was normal? Flirting and lusting had become normal, and then that led to the point where they crossed a line!

            No, she determined to not only tell him it was a mistake, but that they needed to stop seeing each other altogether. Their relationship needed to be strictly a wave across the fence followed by a ‘hello neighbor, nice day.’ Then maybe their indiscretion would fade over time. She sighed heavily and picked up her phone. She might as well get it over with.

            “Hey,” she greeted softly, rather than her usual perky attitude.

            “Hey,” he replied with his own low tone. “Were you trying to avoid me?”

            “Why would I try to do that?” she asked, half joking and half serious as she tried to dial up a more lively vibe.

            “Because something pretty big happened between us the other day.”

            “Yeah, Justin, about that. We… ya know… made a mistake.”

            “I thought we made love.”

            “But we are both married.”

            “I know.”

            There was a long awkward pause. “Justin, I can’t have an affair. I love my husband… I think we need to stop running together, hanging out together.”

            “I completely understand. I felt terrible as well. But I do not want to lose our friendship.”

            She didn’t either. She hated the thought of their relationship being reduced to ‘sure could use some rain’ over the fence.

            “So, how about it? Let’s go for a run and try to get back to normal.”

            “Okay,” she replied with both a grin and a frown. “But I only have about a half hour, then I need to get supper started.

            “That’s fine.”

            As Vermillion and I watched, my opponent became giddy despite the woman putting on loose sweat pants instead of her usual painted on spandex shorts. She also pulled a large t-shirt over her head, covering the tight sports bra.

            Despite a resolve to just be friends, she felt a sense of skepticism. How could they go back to normal? Before their sin, they had a mutual attraction and a playful flirtation. Now that they gave in to the desires that resulted, would that just go away? Was it possible? They had opened a door. The question was, could it be shut before the illicit winds of lust opened it wider.

            But it seemed to work! Their playful banter was still present, but the sexual innuendos that had evolved over the previous months were absent. The chemistry was still there but held in check. Maybe just friends could work. They were well behaved and polite, and this seemed to give Vermillion great delight. He told me. “It’s the little things, Q, that build up to bigger things.”

            As their run ended, Justin followed her into her garage. He held out his hand to shake. With a boyish grin he said, “Thank you for accompanying me, Mrs. Stetson.”

            “Thank you for escorting me, Mr. Phillips,” she replied with her own grin. But then for some reason, she spontaneously winked at him.

            Their hands were still joined and Justin’s grin faded as he contemplated that wink. Then for some reason he spontaneously pulled her hand toward his face. With eyes locked on hers, he kissed it. Her pulse began to quicken, but so did her conscience. She jerked her hand from his but smiled coyly. “Are we gonna be able to remain just friends?”

            With a suggestive low tone, he growled. “You tell me.”

            “We have to,” she declared and gave him a playful shove. “Now, I think we both need a shower.”

            “So, are you suggesting we take a shower together?”

            “Justin!” she said with hands sternly on her hips, but a little smile curled on her lips. “I mean you in your house and me in mine. We can’t go down that road!”

            “We already did.”

            “Well, we need to realize that it’s a dead end.”

            “So let’s park and stay there awhile.”

            “Look, Justin, I don’t think running together and hanging out is gonna work. There seems to be just too much chemistry between us, and now that we, you know, got to know each other in a way reserved for our spouses. I mean, don’t you feel guilty? I know I do.”

            She hoped bringing up their partners would deter him, but it only added fuel to his fire. “I do, but there’s another side of the coin. Both of the spouses you mention are terribly out of shape. And ironically, trying to initiate sex with mine is like trying to pull her teeth. And you admitted that yours has recently developed certain problems. Which is also ironic since his wife has to be the hottest fifty something on the planet.”

            His compliment made her suddenly wish she was in her usual attire rather than frumpy sweats. He was clearly willing to pursue an affair, and she found this prospect both alluring and disturbing. Determined to focus on disturbing, she said, “Justin, it just isn’t right. We both took vows.”

            “True enough, but you were willing to break them the other day. How come then but not now?”

            She shrugged. “I gave into desire.”

            He grinned and took hold of her hand. “So give in again.”

            “I can’t.”

            “But why? I thought the other day was absolutely amazing! Forgive me, but you seemed to thoroughly enjoy yourself as well. So why am I now repulsive?”

            “Trust me, you are anything but repulsive.”

            “If that’s the case, I still don’t get it.”

            “Don’t you feel guilty, Justin? I mean, not just for our own spouses either. I don’t know if I could look Jill in the eyes right now.”

            “You’re over thinking this.”

            “You didn’t answer me. Don’t you feel guilty?”

            He shrugged. “Of course I do. But you’re worth it. The guilt will fade with time. We are both just freaked out by the newness of our secret love.”

            He loved her! Did she love him? Why were there so many mixed feelings? She realized they were still holding hands and she pulled hers away. She tried a different approach. Although she skipped church more often than she went these days, she said, “I’m a deaconess in our church; I was head deaconess for more than a decade. Do you realize how humiliating it would be if we got caught? Look, I’m already late getting supper going and I need to shower first.”

            “Run tomorrow?”

            She bit her lip and looked at her watch. “We’ll see.”

            Vermillion couldn’t keep silent. “Do you see why we usually win with fallen humanity, Querida? She is clearly more concerned with getting caught rather than the sin itself. But I guess that should be obvious since they’ve already done the dirty deed. Watch what happens next.”

            I knew what his team had in the works and it wasn’t good. The thing that made it all the more despicable was they were using the good heart of the adulteress’s husband. He was one of those people that many others rely on when in need. The type of guy that would give the shirt off his back when someone was in need.

            The adulteress’s mind was completely absorbed with her paramour and their dialogue. So she gave a little start as she dried off from her shower when her phone sounded off. Then she recoiled for a second as she reached for it and saw her husband’s name on caller ID. It was as if he knew her thoughts. It was as if he knew about her fling. But he couldn’t, could he? The guilty mind sure can be paranoid.

            “Hi, Honey,” she said cheerfully, yet her hand trembled slightly.

            “Hey, Babe,” her husband cooed lovingly, calming her instantly. “Have you started supper yet?”

            “I was about to. I was just drying off from a shower after a run.”

            She bit her lip. Every once in a while he asked if she ran with Justin. Never out of jealousy, always simply conversational. But he didn’t ask about their neighbor; he went right into the reason for his call. “Jared Anderson forgot to turn his lights off on his car when he got to work this morning, so I’m going over to his office to jump start him. By the time I drive over there and get him going, I won’t be home until around eight, give or take.”

            “Oh, okay. I’ll wait an hour to start supper.”

            “Thanks, Babe, love you.”

            “Love you, too,” she told him.

            Her heart pounded with excitement. She scrolled her contacts for Justin’s number. She was about to hit send, when my team pricked her conscience. She groaned and tossed her phone onto the bed. But she had freewill, and sometimes when carnal desire gets rolling, it’s hard to stop. Us trying to influence the conscience then becomes like trying to stop a Mack truck with a butterfly net.

            My team’s job becomes easier to a large degree when people stay grounded in the Word of God, coupled with prayer. It’s been said, and I agree, that prayer is the better half of study. When this is practiced, humans experience a very high success rate with victory over sin.

            Spiritual things have been compared to food and water. Jesus said if anyone thirsts let them come to Him and drink. (John 7:37) He also called Himself the Bread of Life. (John 6:35) How often does one need to eat and drink their physical food? As with physical nourishment, so with the spiritual sustenance. One needs it multiple times a day.

            On the other hand, beware. The enemy does double down on those that are serious about God. The Bible warns that those who live Godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution. (2 Timothy 3:12) The demons don’t need to work hard on the people that already don’t care about following God.

            Unfortunately the adulteress, someone still considered a church leader, had back slidden from devoted prayer and study. Her daily devotion had become reduced to a halfhearted thirty second prayer before bed. But her mind did anguish and wrestle with her dilemma over her potential lover for almost five minutes. But time was waning, she needed to make a decision.

            Having forfeited her strong connection with God, Vermillion’s team was able to harness her carnal desires. One of the first things they did after taking a hold of the reins was convince her that another dalliance was meant to be. Justin was right about them deserving each other. But was there still time?

            Almost frantically she picked up her phone. Justin’s name was still up and she hit send.

            “Hey, Jenny, what’s up?” his voice said into her ear.

            “Jimmy won’t be home until around eight… Do you want to come over?”

ANGELS AT WAR – CHAPTER 19

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

ANGELS AT WAR

CHAPTER 19

ARCHANGEL QUERIDA

“I SAY TO YOU THAT WHOEVER LOOKS AT A WOMAN TO LUST FOR HER HAS ALREADY COMMITED ADULTERY WITH HER IN HIS HEART.” (Matthew 5:28)

            “You’re too late, my former friend,” Vermillion gloated.

            “Am I?”

            “You are indeed,” he taunted. “The covenant is broken, the indiscreet affair consummated, adultery completed. Never to be undone.”

            “No, they can’t undo it. But it can be forgiven.”

            “Oh wait, I spoke amiss. I suspect that the affair is just beginning not completed. Oh, I know they both tell themselves, ‘just this once.’ But human hormones are a powerful drug, especially when locked into illicit thoughts. You should have been here to stop it, Querida.”

            “You know better than that. We can impress, we can protect, but we can’t get in the way of freewill.”

            He chortled. “Ah freewill, tiz a wonderful thing when coupled with a sinful nature.”

            “It’s a beautiful thing when submitted to God in love.”

            He snorted. “You say trust and obey, I say lust and give way. To the carnal instinct that is. Look how much fun they just had! That was the biggest thrill in years for both of them!”

            “Well, the biggest thrill in years is gone now. They are experiencing guilt and shame on a level like never before.”

            “That’s your side’s fault. We provide the party; you guys are the poopers.”

            “We provide peace and contentment when following God. The law of the Lord is perfect converting the soul. Through the conscience, humans have an instinct leading to a higher purpose.”

            “It’s funny how that works, Querida. When that instinct is ignored, and a person gives themselves over to the forbidden, their doom is sealed.”

            “Not so, they…”

            “What do you mean not so?” Vermillion interrupted. “What about the mark of the beast or the seal of God? When a person gives themselves over to us, we have a seal as well.”

            “As long as they have breath, they have time to repent.”

            “Bah!” Vermillion barked, then laughed maliciously. “You just wait. They’ll rinse and repeat. Speaking of rinsing, look at the extra friendly neighbors now. They are both in their own showers trying to scrub their sin away before their spouses arrive home. Is that how one repents? With soap and water?”

            “It’s a start. They both are aware they have sinned.”

            “They’ll be back at it when the hormones rebuild. Then they will be aware that they tapped into something magical. Illicit brings excitement. Right now they are more worried that they might get caught than sorry that they sinned.”

            “Look at her tears. That’s not worry of being caught, that’s sorrow over betraying a sacred trust.”

            “It’ll pass. Then the recollection of his touch and the sensual sensations she felt will overrule her conscience. The first encounter is in the books after months, yeah years, of resisting. The next encounter will come much, much easier.”

            “We’ll see. There’s a reason for guilt. If she confesses, God will forgive.”

            “What about her husband? Shouldn’t she confess to him as well? Will he be harmonious with his next-door neighbor given such a revelation? Smile and wave as they both mow their lawns? No, Querida, my bet is she will figure what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And that reluctance will ultimately make the second encounter much easier. Then a third and a fourth and a fifth, etc, etc. Despite their aggressive cleaning now, it was quite the start a half hour ago.”

            “You know as well as I do that it started with that first look of lust.”

            “Ah, like I said, lust and obey the carnal instinct. Sometimes it just takes time and patience. But a lot of resisted longing makes the coupling all the more intense when it finally happens. Were you here the first time the new neighbors, now lovers, met four years ago? I don’t believe you were, so let me fill you in.”

            “I was made aware,” I cut in.

            The older, established neighbors brought a welcoming gift to the new neighbors sixteen years their junior. The fresh names on the mailbox declared them to be Justin and Jill Phillips. The new neighbors invited their brand new friends in for a beverage. They accepted but said only for a few minutes because they had a golf engagement with some friends.

            As the older female neighbor sat next to her husband on a love seat, that’s when the first looks and thoughts in the secret recesses of the eventual lover’s minds began. Her short golf skirt revealed a lot of shapely leg, and as the younger man approached with a glass of lemonade, his mind told him, ‘She’s got to be forty plus, but she’s in better shape than your wife.’

            The older woman admired the lean, toned runner’s build of the younger man. His stomach was flat behind his gray tucked in polo shirt. She glanced at what looked like a small pillow behind her husband’s green polo shirt.

            The younger couple’s five and three year old sons were tearing around the living room. This motivated the older couple to down their lemonades more quickly than necessary. Then they looked at their watches and excused themselves.

            Although the two neighbors exchanged several waves in the following weeks, it would be a couple months before they actually spoke again. It was on a hot summer day when the older female returned from a run. The younger male had been operating an edger on the sidewalk as she approached. He stopped his work and stepped aside so she could pass. He smiled warmly and said hello.

            Instead of running past, she stopped. Huffing slightly and sweating profusely, she said, “How are things in the new digs?”

            “Great,” Justin replied.

            When she glanced down at her watch, apparently checking her running time, he glanced down as well. He took in her black spandex shorts with matching sports bra that seemed to be painted on. His mind told him, ‘Man, she’s smoking hot, and not just from the run. Yet she’s probably not much younger than my mom.’

            His eyes averted back to her face before her eyes averted back to his. He asked, “Do you run quite a bit?”

            “I do,” she admitted. “It’s become quite an addiction.”

            “I like to run, but between work and the family, it’s hard to find time.”

            “Well, if you ever want to join me, I run almost every day at around this time. Sometimes it makes it easier to get motivated if you have a running partner.”

            “Yeah, I should do just that,” Justin replied nodding. “You sure you wouldn’t mind company?”

            “Not at all, I’d love to have you join me,” A little sultry added to her smile. Her subconscious nagged her mind a little bit after her reply. There was a chemistry between them that she couldn’t put her finger on that Vermillion’s team was pushing. Our side motivated distance.

            “My husband used to run with me, but he has knee problems now.”

            Vermillion inspired Justin’s first bold flirtation, that was encouraged by her sexy smile. “Are you sure your husband won’t mind me getting sweating with his gorgeous wife?”

            She smiled warmly, liking the compliment. Then our side caused caution to enter her mind. Her smile faded and she said, “Considering I’m old enough to be your mother, he won’t mind at all.”

            “There’s no way you’re as old as my mother.”

            She couldn’t help grinning again. She liked the younger man. He had a friendly charm that was appealing, and he was so good looking. Tall dark and handsome was what came to mind to describe him. But she felt ancient in his presence and was sure his mother had him late in life. “Well, let’s see, how old was she when you were born?”

            “Seventeen.”

            Her smile faded again. His mother was only a year older than she was. Yet he had said there was no way she was as old as his mother. That was good, right? But then dawning recognition set in. The younger man had reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t put her finger on it until now. That dark wavy hair and the shape of his blue eyes. She remembered a girl a grade ahead of her who had gotten pregnant the summer between her junior and senior year. “Is your mother’s name Becky Russo?”

            A look of astonishment came over his face. “Well it was. It’s Becky Adler now, but how did you know? Were you high school classmates?”

            “Well, she was a grade ahead of me. I didn’t really know her, I just knew of her.”

            He smiled coyly. “You knew of her because she was a pregnant high schooler.”

            She shrugged and nodded. “Pregnant with you no less, my new neighbor.”

            Then a week later, the younger couple discovered they were expecting again themselves.

            “Like I said, patience, the long game,” Vermillion had told me on numerous occasions throughout our association as opponents.

            I hate to admit it, but he was right. Finding out that Justin’s mother was almost her same age quelled her flirtations with Justin for the time being. His wife being with child again postponed his own feelings of amour.

            Then things shifted over time. Justin’s wife was at one time a cheerleader to his quarterback, and homecoming queen to his king. After two kids she struggled to get into a semblance of shape. After the third child, who they would refer to as an ‘opps,’ she didn’t even try. Yet his frequent jogging partner next door became more sleek and lithe by running religiously.

            Then things shifted again. Not long after the older woman turned fifty, she won first place in her age category in a 5K. The next day Justin called the older neighbor to see if she wanted to go for a run. He went next door, taking his phone with him. “I never got a picture of you wearing your medal.”

            “Oh, it’s no big deal,” she replied modestly. She had only been running in 5K’s for two years with the first one at the younger neighbor’s instigation. “I never won first place in the forties category. Since my birthday was only two months ago, I was probably the youngest in the fifties bracket.”

            “Nonetheless you won first place and I want a picture.”

            She struggled to clasp the medal around her neck, so Justin offered to help her. Then a miscommunication opened the door for their not so secret desires for each other to come to fruition. Although they had always behaved physically, never even exchanging a hug, they often teased each other. This teasing evolved into flirting.

            The older woman handed the medal over to Justin. She had a stiff neck, and when she pulled her ponytail aside to make way for him to clasp the medal, she tilted her head to the left to stretch the tight muscles. The younger neighbor mistook this as an invitation to place his lips on the soft skin just below her jaw.

            She froze with my side telling her mind to tell her mouth to stop this right now and obey the Spirit. But Vermillion’s side kept her locked in indecision. They kept her tantalized with intense carnal sensations. The long standing attraction to each other that they both allowed their minds to indulge in fantasy was now rearing its ugly head in reality. My side sent a hard jab at her conscience. She pushed away from her younger neighbor and said, “We better stop.”

            But her shaky giggle, along with her hands still on his chest communicated something other than her words. Then she allowed herself to waver. “Don’t you think?”

            Justin countered her suggestion. “I saw your husband leave with golf clubs twenty minutes ago. My boys won’t be back from Cub Scouts, and my wife and daughter from play group until seven. Just like you, it crossed my mind that this was our chance.”

            “What do you mean ‘just like me?’”

            He smiled coyly. “You know, offering your neck like that. I got the hint and went with it. Don’t change your mind now.”

            “But I…,” she said as my side tried reasoning with her.

            But Vermillion overwhelmed her with carnal desire. All of her impure thoughts about her younger neighbor came to a boil. But an hour later her shower lasted twice as long with twice the amount of soap than if she would have actually went for a run in the July heat. Her hands trembled off and on as she prepared supper afterward with her mind reeling with anxious, guilty thoughts.

            She kissed her husband when he came home and they hugged. He frowned when they separated. “Why are you shaking?”

            “Oh, am I?” she stammered, then lied. “I don’t know, I guess I over did it this afternoon running so soon after the 5K.”

            “Did Justin go with you?”

            “No,” she blurted. “I mean yeah.”

            “No, yeah,” he laughed. “What kind of answer is that? Either he went or he didn’t.”

            “Well, he wasn’t gonna, but then he changed his mind.”

            She could feel her heart pounding, and it reminded her of the Edgar Allan Poe story, ‘The Tell Tale Heart.’ It was a tale of man who killed an old man and hid him under floorboards. Then his guilty conscience kept hearing the old man’s heart beating louder and louder, even though he was dead. But she didn’t kill anybody. Maybe just her marriage.

            Her husband leaned in toward her, sniffed and frowned. “What’s that smell?”

            Her heart beat still faster! Lies, betrayal, adultery! Just confess right now! Her husband was a reasonable man. They had been married for more than a quarter of a century, and until today she had never so much as kissed another man. She made a mistake; her husband would forgive her. Wouldn’t he? They had built a life together, a good life. She just needed to get serious about God again.

            Okay, she might as well own up to it since he clearly suspected. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 12

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 12

LOUIS LEWIS

GOD HAS DEALT TO EACH ONE A MEASURE OF FAITH (Romans 12:3)

            “You’ve heard the saying you clean up well?” Inga Likas, AKA Inga Cognito asked me.

            “Yes, I have,” I replied grudgingly. Years on the police force had given me keen detecting skills and I knew what was coming next.

            “Well, YOU dirty down well,” Inga told me gleefully.

            Inga had insisted she wanted to be bait in an attempt to capture her sister’s killer. With her old friend from the alien cult having been found strangled to death more than a thousand miles away, I argued the endeavor was futile.

            However, we received some information from a mole inside the cult. Two more of Bryson Bronx’s henchmen had been deployed to the Midwest. The mole was good. He somehow tracked the flight plan for Bronx’s private jet. Low and behold, it landed at the Eastern Iowa airport just long enough to drop off a couple passengers, refuel, and return to California.

            We all agreed someone needed to stay close to the courageous pistol of a young lady. The best prospect, Brock Storm, was too physically fit and imposing to pass as a vagabond, so he was out. Brent, Inga’s brother was out because he would likely be recognized, having lived on the compound for several years. Benito Bonnao was called away by his company. Seven was out because he was a public figure. Plus, forgive me Seven, Inga was more likely to protect him.

            He would later tell me God’s strength is made perfect in weakness. Therefore he will most gladly boast in his infirmities (2 Corinthians 12:9). In Seven’s defense, he wasn’t a wimp. Well, not necessarily a wimp. It was hard to tell when he hangs around the likes of his cousin Brock Storm, who clearly looks like he could have been a former NFL linebacker.

            So it seemed I was the best option to work with Inga. Especially since I was currently unemployed. I had stopped shaving and dug out an old coat from my Army days. I found some boots that should have been thrown out, and a pair of jeans that used to be too tight. Thanks to stress and anxiety due to personal upheaval, I easily got them buttoned.

            “Have you lost some weight, Double Lou?” Inga asked.

            For all of the six years I was a police lieutenant, I was known by many as Triple Lou. I neither liked nor disliked that moniker. But now that I was only Double Lou, I didn’t like it one bit.

            “Yes I have, thank you very much,” I replied, liking what seemed to be a compliment. Leave it to Inga to take it the other way in a matter of seconds.

            “That’s good, cause you look like you’ve aged ten years in the last few weeks,” she added happily.

            “You’re so kind, my Dear,” I replied with a bit of sarcasm in my tone.

            Her arctic blue eyes were wide, but not innocent. “I was just trying to be honest.”

            “Okay, young one, let’s get something straight. You know the ins and outs of the homeless community. But I know public safety and police work. So although you will be the guide through the, ah, um, homeless circuit, if I demand you jump, you ask how high.”

            These instructions came back to bite me a few hours later. There were five of us in radio communication. Zella and Destiny were keeping surveillance in a vehicle. Brock was, well, somewhere. That man is good! He was keeping tabs on us, but I had no clue where he was. And I was a trained professional. His chameleon abilities, despite his size, made me wonder why he couldn’t be hanging out with little Miss Smart Mouth instead of me.

            But I did gain a whole new respect for Inga. Not only for her resilience in persevering through the life she had led, but her faith despite many trying circumstances. My time with her proved a blessing given my own trying circumstances. But we did have hiccups, like this story that I will continue to share.

            We had received some pertinent information from Brock’s reconnaissance. He was certain that he had spotted Inga’s stalkers. So we needed to get her out of the public eye and into deeper seclusion to see if they would tail her. All the while keeping her safe. I had an idea.

            “Listen, Glow Eyes,” I said. “Let’s make it look like I’m dealing drugs. Let’s make it look like I’m supplying you in exchange for sex.”

            “Yuck!”

            “I said make it LOOK like we are going off for a rendezvous.”

            “No way!”

            “Remember, when I say jump, you ask how high.”

            “I think I’ll take a dive instead.”

            The others were able to listen in on our conversation, so Brock gave his two cents worth.

            “Lou has a good plan, Inga. What’s your problem? You two will just make it look like you’re going somewhere private for, um, intimacy? Obviously you’re not gonna do anything.”

            “I have my dignity.”

            “What do you care what a couple of scum bags think?” Brock wanted to know.

            “It’s not them I’m concerned about. I have some friends in the community. What if they see?”

            “I may not be Denzel Washington, but…”

            “More like Fat Albert,” she said, cutting me off.

            “Are you actually Seven Sallie’s daughter?”

            “No, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”

            “Compliment? As much grief as you two give each other?”

            “It’s friendly fire,” she shrugged. “I love the Sallie’s, they’re good people.”

            “Well, calling me Fat Albert doesn’t seem like friendly fire.”

            “True enough,” she admitted and then briefly chewed her lip. “I’m sorry. I guess you need to know who you’re teasing. Now that I know that you’re rather sensitive, I’ll be careful.”

            I opened my mouth to protest but was interrupted by our group radio communication.

            “Inga, do you have a better plan than Lou’s?” Brock asked. “Do you want to catch those responsible for your sister’s death, as well as Pricilla’s?”

            “These aren’t the guys that did it.”

            “Maybe not,” I said. “But when they become prime suspects, odds are they will turn on the actual culprits, as well as Bronx himself.”

            “Okay, I’ll do it,” she said stoically. Then with a smirk curling her lips, she asked, “So what do we do, Cupcake?”

            “Cupcake?” I frowned. “Fat Albert to Cupcake?”

            She shrugged. “Isn’t that friendly enough fire? Plus, you want it to look legit, right? I guess I’m hot or cold. If I’m in, I’m in.”

            “Alright then, Sweety Pie, we’ll…”

            “Okay, let’s stop with the nicknames,” she said with a wince like she bit into something sour.

            In public view, Inga and I stayed close by at first, but separate. When we both got word that she was being watched by the possible bad guys, we met at our rendezvous point. It was a large oak tree by some railroad tracks. We made it look like I gave her a sample of something. She made it look like she wanted more. I rubbed knuckles gently on her cheek. She subtly recoiled and shook her head. I shrugged and began to slowly amble away. Another prop I had was a cane.

            Inga crossed her arms in disgust and watched me go. A minute later she pursued me, walking at a normal pace. When she caught up to me, I stopped, we talked briefly, and then I proceeded to amble on with her slowly marching by my side. I looked around, pulled a flask from my jacket and handed it to her. She looked around, took a drink of herbal tea, and then winced as though the supposed alcohol had a bite.

            Earlier I had made a makeshift tent in a secluded area out of tarps and that was the destination we headed to. Once inside, we waited. I felt restless, fidgety. It had been years since I had been undercover. Yet feisty little Inga seemed calm as she pulled out a pocket size New Testament. I watched her lips move silently as she read.

            I sighed before speaking softly. “Lord, now would be a good time for the rapture.”

            Inga’s eyes darted from her little Bible to me. “Rapture? Don’t tell me you believe in a secret rapture?”

            Although I had many years of attending church under my belt, I was a spiritual child. During my entire adult life, my spiritual growth had come from an hour in church once a week. Sometimes only once a month when I was over worked. So I lamely replied to the girl young enough to be my daughter, “Of course, most Evangelical Christians believe in the rapture.”

            I should have heard from my own mouth my mistake. “You mean just like most Christians think the Biblical Sabbath was legitimately changed to Sunday? Rapture isn’t even found in the Bible. It’s a theory based of a few vague texts like one shall be taken and the other left. (Matthew 24:40) The theory didn’t even exist until around the 1830’s and was popularized back then primarily by the British preacher John Nelson Darby.”

            “Seems like a pretty good theory to me. What else could one taken and the other left mean but the rapture?”

            “If you read a couple verses down, Jesus explains that his second advent will simply be unexpected. Nobody knows the day or hour. But diligent students of the Bible know when it is close. Read 1 Thessalonians 4:16-18 which tells of Christ’s second coming. It’s with a shout and the voice of an arch angel. That doesn’t sound secret. Revelation 1:7 says every eye will see Him, even those who killed Him.. In Acts 1:11, angels declared as Jesus ascended into heaven that He would return in like manner.”

            I thought Inga and I had come to the Sabbath truth at roughly the same time. Why did she seem much more advanced in her knowledge? Although she told me these things in a serious manner, putting away her sharp tongue, my spiritual pride was wounded. And spiritual coupled with pride isn’t a good thing. Was it a case of not being able to teach an old dog new tricks?

            No, that should never be the case. If we’re humble and teachable, we can learn new truths at any stage of life. Inga simply had a deeper spiritual hunger than me at that time. But then she did something that had me question her spiritual maturity. She did something that crossed the line of appropriate. It happened right after Brock gave us an update.

            “They followed at a distance and are watching your makeshift tent,” his voice told us through the radio waves. “But I think they are suspicious of a trap. It looks like they are getting ready to retreat.”

            Inga had an intense look in her eyes as she chewed nervously on her lower lip. She barked an order. “Turn around, Lou.”

            This puzzled me, but I did as instructed. But then curiosity killed the cop. I turned back around as she began to take her top off. She stopped lifting her shirt at her rib cage. She demanded, “I said turn around.”

            I obeyed but as I did I put forth my own demand. “What on earth are you doing?”

            “This little mission will only take a couple minutes but face the west until I tell you I’m finished.”

            “Are you undressing?”

            “Yes. We are trying to make them think we are doing something untoward, but apparently they are not convinced.”

            “Well, I’m not getting undressed and going out in broad daylight!”

            “Oh yuck! Why would you think I wanted you to join me?”

            “You know, you’re not doing any favors to my self-esteem. And you shouldn’t be going out there without any clothes on, somebody might see you.”

            “That’s the point, we need to make them genuinely think we are… You know.”

            “Inga, we are on public property!”

            “Yeah, a good half mile from anything. It took you a half hour to walk out here.”

            “I needed to make them think I’m physically challenged.”

            “You mean you’re not?”

            “You know you…”

            “Be quiet and hand me that flask of tea.”

            I pulled it out of my jacket, turned and handed it to her.

            “Dang it, Lou! I told you to hand it, not turn around.”

            “Sorry, it was, a, a, reflex.”

            “How embarrassing! You pervert! You wanted to look!”

            “I didn’t do it on purpose and I’m no pervert. If you don’t care about those creeps as well as Brock seeing you in your birthday suit, what’s the big deal with me?”

            “You’re like three feet away, all they will be able to tell is that I’m naked from a distance.”

            I heard, not watched Inga take a whole mouthful of water and exit the tent. Then she made a vomit sound and then wretched for minute. Suddenly the tarp flew open, and she quickly came back in. “Lou! What part of stay turned around did you not understand?”

            “I’m sorry, cops are curious. Maybe you should have explained the plan instead of just winging it.”

            “Former cop.”

            “Oh, so I suddenly lost years of police behavior, is that what you think?”

            “I guess as a professional order giver, you don’t have the ability to take them. How embarrassing! How am I supposed to face you going forward?”

            “Listen, I’ve seen hundreds, thousands of crime scene photos.”

            “Oh wow, thanks. You didn’t do my ego any favors comparing me to a crime scene.”

            “I’m just saying I’ve seen it all.”

            “You got that right, you were staring right at me.”

            I groaned. “I meant that my seconds long glimpse. Unintentional, mind you, is very small potatoes compared to everything I’ve seen as a police officer.”

            “Well, that was interesting,” Brock’s voice came through my ear bud. “Definitely took me by surprise.”

            “Tell me about it.”

            “Tell you about what?” Inga asked irritably. Her ear buds weren’t back in yet. I heard her clothes rustling as she put them back on. I most definitely didn’t turn to look as I spoke. “It’s Brock. Your antics took him by surprise too.”

            “I wouldn’t have recommended that, but Inga’s ploy did work,” Brock said. “They’re on the move and coming at you. I can’t see what kind of weapons they have. Be ready, Lou, there are two of them and I’m right behind them.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 7

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 7

SEVEN SALLIE

TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART AND LEAN NOT ON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING (Proverbs 3:5)

            We had just found out that Inga’s brother was at the police station. After Triple Lou informed us that Inga’s brother was in town, she practically sprinted toward my car.

            “Why don’t you all ride with me?” Lieutenant Louis Lewis offered.

            This caused Inga to do an about face and she boogied to the lieutenant’s car instead.

            “But how will we get home?” I asked.

            “I’ll bring you back,” he shrugged. “If you ride with me, it will give us a chance to talk and for me to ask more questions.”

            The three of us, Inga, Zella, and myself began to get into the back seat of the Lieutenant’s unmarked police car. Triple Lou shook his head impatiently. “You all don’t need to get in the backseat; you’re not under arrest. Inga, why don’t you sit up front?”

            Inga had a look on her face like a child being punished, but she slowly removed her foot from the back seat of the car and went to the front. The main thing we learned from listening in on Triple Lou’s interrogation was that the other lady she came to Iowa with also had been a resident of the alien cult’s compound. This would prove to be a key factor with Inga’s sister turning up in the Midwest from the west coast.

            Inga’s reunion with her brother was odd. Both had a look of fascination on their faces when they saw each other. Yet when they hugged, there was more formality in the embrace rather than warmth. They also didn’t look like brother and sister. Did the three siblings all have different fathers?

            Brent’s black hair was slicked back. His close set, dark eyes looked hard. He was wearing a black shirt with a grey tie, black slacks, and shiny black cowboy boots. His appearance made me think of a mafia hit man. His deep voice was California cool. “Well little sis, you just kind of fell off the map. I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

            “What about you? You joined the Marines and closed the door on us.”

            “No I didn’t. Pal wrote to me, but you didn’t.”

            Inga shrugged. “I guess I was mad at you for leaving us. I suppose you know she’s… Gone, our Pal, Pal?”

            I noticed his jaw clench and he stoically said, “Yeah.”

            “Pal, Pal,” she croaked. Then Brent pulled her into another embrace. This time there was more warmth, and he kissed the top of her head as she cried into his left pectoral. He looked rather fit when his biceps pressed against the fabric of his shirt as he held his sister in his arms.

            “How did you know to come here?” Inga asked after she pushed away from him. “From wherever it is you’re living?”

            “I’ve been in Miami for the last year or so,” he replied. “When my hitch was up in the Corps, I started working for a high end security firm.”

            I broke in and asked if the name of his firm was such and such.

            “Yeah,” he replied with raised eyebrows. “How did you know?”

            “I took a guess,” I said with a shrug. “My cousin Brock worked for a high end security company with an office in Miami. That would have been before your time though. But I got to know one of his coworkers who is still there. Do you know a Benito Bonanno?”

            He smirked. “I certainly I do; he’s my supervisor.”

            “Good guy,” I added.

            “Benny’s the best. I was ready to rejoin the Marines after a few months. I was working for a real (Expletive) in LA and was gonna quit. Benny happened to be out there at the time on an assignment and took a liking to me. He talked me into staying with the firm and moving to Miami and for working for him. Man, I never thought I would run into somebody here who knows Benito Bonanno. Small world.”

            “Speaking of small worlds,” Inga cut in. “How did you end up out here when Paloma was only discovered hours ago?”

            “Pal called me two days ago and said you were in trouble.”

            “What made her think I was in trouble?”

            “Did you come out here with Jane Joplin?”

            “I did.”

            “Well apparently she went to Bryson Bronx and told him where you were. I imagine she got a handsome reward.”

            “That traitor,” Inga said quietly. “So how did Pal find out?”

            “Do you remember a girl by the name of Priscilla Rosenwinkle?”

            “Of course I do,” Inga smiled. “Silly Priscilly. She was a little redhaired pistol. She always reminded me of Pippi Longstocking.”

            “Well she’s all grown up and living in Las Vegas, and it turns out she and Paloma got together occasionally.  Her sister, who still lives on the compound, got wind of Jane’s agenda. She heard that Bronx was sending two of his guys to Iowa. She also heard that she gave him your phone number and had it tapped. That’s why she came out here in person without giving you a heads up.”

            “So she died trying to save me,” Inga said quietly, staring at the floor in contemplation.

            “Yeah, I suppose so,” he said gently. “But don’t you dare think this was your fault.”

            “Pal and me, we had a falling out, you know,” Inga said quietly, wiping a leaked tear with a finger.

            “No I didn’t know.”

            “You know what she was doing in Vegas, right?”

            “Working at a casino,” Brent replied with a little shrug.

            “Hardly,” Inga snorted. “She took up the trade that is only legal in Nevada.”

            Brent gazed at his sister in disbelief. “No way.”

            “Yes way,” Inga responded. “That’s why I came out here with Jane. She said she knew someone, said we’d get jobs. Neither happened. She couldn’t find her supposed friend, and we got no jobs. We ended up in a homeless camp, and not long after that, she bailed on me. Eventually I ended up getting busted for shop lifting at a grocery store. That’s how I met Mr. and Mrs. Sallie here.”

            Inga waved an open hand at Zella and me.

            “So you’re what, a lawyer?” Brent asked. “I assumed you were a cop.”

            I opened my mouth to explain, but Inga spoke first. “He’s a windbag.”

            I closed my mouth, pursed my lips in exasperation, and looked at Inga with hooded eyes. My wife put her mouth to my ear. “Honey, you look like Daffy Duck when he’s exasperated with Bugs Bunny.”

            I relaxed my expression. Inga stepped to me and put an arm around my lower back. Looking at her brother, she said, “I didn’t mean that. There’s just something about Seven that makes me want to tease him all the time. Truth is, he and Zella took me in. They’re saintly people.”

            Inga sniffed and wiped a tear with the hand that wasn’t clutching my waist. What range of emotions the poor girl was enduring. I put my arm around her and gave her an affectionate hug.

            “Hey, wait, you’re Seven Sallie,” Brent replied with a frown.

            “Yes sir, I am he,” I acknowledged with mock nobility.

            He nodded. “Okay, I see what Inga meant by windbag.”

            I felt the Daffy Duck expression return to my face. Brent must have noticed and immediately corrected himself. “No, no! I didn’t mean it that way. Just that her joke, windbag, you talk for a living. On your podcast. I’m sure you’ve heard of Josiah Brimstone?”

            “Of course,” I replied. “He’s one my biggest detractors.”

            Brent nodded. Josiah Brimstone had been known as one of the foremost, so called, prosperity gospel preachers. But over the last year or so, he became a champion for Sunday laws, evangelizing their importance. He had also, very publicly, criticized me and my podcast. So I publicly offered to open the scriptures with him on his own program. On that point he was yet to respond, and I guessed he probably wouldn’t.

            “Well, until I took this emergency leave, he was the latest client I have been assigned to,” Brent explained. “Another colleague and myself have been traveling the country with him the last month on his speaking tour.”

            I lifted my hands in surrender. “For my part, I don’t hold that against you.”

            “Hey, just to be clear, there’s nothing to hold against. I am not an admirer or follower of his at all. As a matter of fact, my association with him has only made me more ensconced in atheism.”

            “I’m an atheist too,” I told him.

            He looked at me like I had two heads. Then he snorted and shook his head. “Figures, another religious phony.”

            “I’m no phony, I believe everything I espouse on my podcast.”

            “Then how on earth can you be an atheist?”

            “How about you tell me about the God you don’t believe in?”

            For the next minute or two it sounded like he was reading from a Josiah Brimstone script. But he quoted disparagingly, especially the concept of an eternally burning hell. With a look on his face like he bit into a lemon, he said, “What kind of God would burn people for eternity just because they choose not to believe in him?”

            “See, I told you I was an atheist. I don’t believe in that God either.”

            I went on to explain that a thorough study of the scriptures concerning hellfire and the state of the dead proved that hell, so to speak, was an event at the end of time, and not a place of eternal torment. (You can obtain free study guides on these subjects from Amazing Facts. Simply ask for study guide #11 ‘Is the Devil in Charge of Hell?’ and/or #10 ‘Are the Dead Really Dead?’)

            The timing might have been odd for an impromptu Bible study. But we were soon to be distracted from it. Two uniformed officers entered with a bedraggled looking man in handcuffs. He was shaking violently, whether from some type of drug withdrawal or fear I didn’t know. But when one of the officers spoke, it sent a chill up my spine.

            “Lou, we found Paloma Likas’s cell phone and purse in a grocery cart full of this man’s belongings.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 4

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 4

SEVEN SALLIE

WHEREAS YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TOMORROW. FOR WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? IT IS EVEN A VAPOR THAT APPEARS FOR A LITTLE TIME AND THEN VANISHES AWAY (James 4:14)

            A knock at my front door revealed Lieutenant Louis Lewis standing on my stoop. It had been a couple weeks since he and FBI Agent Nora Medora had stopped by to threaten me. Oh, they called it a warning, but I clearly saw restrained hostility in their demeanors.

            “Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” I greeted, I hoped cheerfully. I could feel my blood pressure spike a bit. There is no fear in love, I reminded myself (1 John 4:18). Followed by love your enemies (Matthew 5:44).

            “Afternoon,” he responded, eyeing me cooly.

            No fear in love, love your enemies, my mind repeated. “I’d like to say to what do I owe the pleasure, but I can’t help wondering what I said on podcast that made you show up. I’ve tried to be, shall I say, cautious, since you and Nora were kind enough to warn me.”

            What I didn’t acknowledge to the police officer was that I was choosing my battles wisely. And hopefully it was not as a wise guy, which was my sinful tendency. I needed to seek the Holy Spirit’s guidance with timing in what to say and do. I needed to follow the example of Jesus when He said things like, ‘Tell no one,’ and ‘My time is not yet.’

            “This has nothing to do with your podcast, Sallie,” Triple Lou said. “I need to ask you a few questions about Inga Likas. Also known as Inga Cognito.”

            “Did she get into some trouble?”

            “Yeah, I’d say she did.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Then his tired looking dark brown eyes met mine. “I’m afraid she’s been murdered.”

            “What!”

            “I’m sorry. There was no easy way to break it to you.”

            “That can’t be!”

            “I’m afraid it is. Her body was found down by the river in a patch of woods off of first street. Now I know she had been staying with you, so there are a couple things I need to know.”

            “You don’t understand, she…”

            “Once again,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry to break it to you like this, but…”

            “Lieutenant,” I interrupted. “You…”

            “Maybe we should sit,” he interrupted. “How about at the kitchen table?”

            “Yeah, that would be fine,” I said and then sighed. “Can I get you something to drink? Relaxed Mind tea? Sparkling water?”

            “No thanks. Now, Mr. Sallie, when was the last time you saw her?”

            “Please, call me Seven.”

            “Now, Mr. Sallie, when was the last time you saw her?”

            “About fifteen minutes ago.”

            “Fifteen minutes ago? That’s not possible.”

            Inga walked up to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “Do you have any leads on who killed me?”

            Triple Lou stared at Inga in astonishment. It was as if he had lived two thousand years ago and witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead.

            “It.. It’s you,” Lieutenant Louis Lewis stammered.

            “It’s me,” Inga said with a shrug. She was amazingly calm for having just found out that she had been murdered. Yet I noticed her fingers were trembling slightly. Then her lower lip developed a bit of a quiver as she asked, “So what makes you think I’ve been murdered?”

            “I swear, I thought for sure it was you,” Triple Lou said mildly, still looking at Inga in disbelief. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

            Now I noticed Inga’s eyes were becoming watery, so I spoke up. “Lieutenant, can you tell us why you thought Inga had been murdered?”

            “I saw her for myself,” he replied, as he turned his gaze onto me.

            “What did you see?” I asked.

            He looked back to Inga. “I don’t know if you want to hear this.”

            “Give it to me straight, Triple Lou,” Inga said flatly.

            Now I am obnoxious by nature. But by the grace of God, I no longer purposely try to get a rise out of people since giving my life to Christ. The old me would have smiled at Inga’s disrespectful tone. But the new creature inside my flesh cringed at the use of the flippant name she used for the gruff police officer. Yet it seemed to roll off his shoulders as if she had called him sir, officer, or lieutenant.

            “Well, for one thing, it looked like your hair,” he told us. “But I see you got it cut.”

            Inga’s dread locks were gone, and her dark brown hair was cut into a pixie style.

            Being rather dense I said, “Didn’t you recognize the face?”

            “It was beaten beyond recognition.”

            “What else?” Inga asked stoically.

            “Carved in her flesh, on her torse to be exact, were the words, ‘Inga Cognito is a fake.’ Also on her person was a Nevada ID that called her Inga Marie Likas… So I hope you can see why I was confident that the… Why I thought it was you.”

            “Did she have any tattoos?” Inga asked hesitantly.

            “Why yes, she did. On the back side of her wrist. A banner that said love conquers all, surrounded by flowers and…”

            “1 Corinthians 13:4-8 under the flowers,” Inga interrupted.

            “Yes,” Triple Lou said solemnly and then paused. “Who is she, Inga?”

            But instead of replying, Inga’s chin began to quiver, and tears seemed to pop out of her eye socks. She coughed out a sob, covered her mouth with her hand and ran to the bedroom.

            “Must be a relative of hers,” the Lieutenant said quietly.

            I shook off the shock I felt and said, “I better go comfort her… Or something.”

            I got up slowly from the table. Although my heart broke for Inga, I selfishly longed for my wife. I mumbled, “Zella, you should have been home a half hour ago, where are you?”

            Low and behold the front door popped open and my beautiful wife stepped into our home. I stepped quickly to her, and we embraced. Having noticed the Lieutenant’s car in the driveway, she whispered into my ear, “Are you in trouble again?”

            I explained the reason for Triple Lou’s presence. My wife is mentally tough because she is spiritually grounded in the love of Christ. She pushed away from me and briskly walked toward Inga. I slowly walked back to the table, sat, and then sighed as I eased into a chair.

            Triple Lou and I sat in silence for a couple minutes. Then I said, “Maybe you could come back later, or we could come down to the station later.”

            “I really need to talk to her as soon as possible. If we don’t catch the perpetrator within the first forty eight hours, the odds of ever finding him drop dramatically.”

            “So you think it’s a him?”

            “In most cases of a brutal murder it’s a him,” he told me sternly. “But to be fair how about I change it to ‘them.’”

            “Them? So you think it’s more than one person?”

            “Sallie, why do you always have to be so difficult?”

            “I don’t mean to be, Sir. I just like to explore every detail of a subject.”

            “Ya know, even when you’re being respectful, I somehow feel that you’re mocking.”

            “I’m sorry you feel that way. On the other hand, we live in a dog eat dog world. Your paranoia could be looked at as just being cautious.”

            “I’m not paranoid,” he said testily. Then he forced a smile and said with eerie calmness, “I’m not paranoid.”

            He glanced at the door that concealed Inga and my wife. Then his eyes shifted to me. Then he looked back at the door. Then he looked back at me. Then he muttered to himself, “Oh nuts.”

            “So Lieutenant, do you have time to investigate a murder while at the same time enforcing Sunday laws?”

            His eyes narrowed with distaste, and I put up my hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m sorry how that came across. When I’m under stress, it gets hard to control my natural bent for flippancy.”

            “Be careful Sallie, you do realize you’re a suspect?”

            “What! Surly you don’t think I killed… Whoever it is that was killed?”

            He sighed. “At this point everybody is a suspect. But no, I don’t think you did it.”

            “Well, good.”

            “Yet,” he added cooly.

            After a minute of awkward silence, Triple Lou said without looking at me, “I am off of overseeing Sunday ordinances though.”

            “Yeah? How come?”

            “Conflict of interest.”

            “May I ask what the conflict of interest is?”

            “You may,” he replied but then remained silent.

            “Well?”

            “I just said you could ask, I didn’t say I would answer.”

            Despite the violent death of somebody seemingly related to Inga somehow, I laughed. “It sure can be hard to like somebody that’s flippant.”

            “Tell me about it,” he said.

            “Well, I wanted to understand your conflict of interest, and I found it annoying when you responded with flippancy instead.”

            He still eyed me with narrow eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “’Tell me about it’ was a figure of speech, not a request. You’re something else, Sallie.”

            “That’s what my wife always tells me.”

            “I bet she does,” he said, sighed and rose from the table. He began to slowly do laps around the kitchen table. “I’ve been studying out this Sabbath issue with my Bible and concordance. Now I was believer that we kept Sunday in honor of the resurrection. But then I discovered in the book of Acts, in particular chapters thirteen and seventeen, that they kept the Sabbath. Jesus had been long risen from the dead by then.

            “Then I looked up Constantine and how he mandated on March 7, AD 321, dies solis meaning ‘The Day of the Sun’ in latin, making Sunday the official day of rest.”

            “Lieutenant, that’s awesome!”

            “Yeah, well, truth is truth. I also got to thinking about the first scripture I read on the Sabbath. Genesis 2:3 says God sanctified it. I couldn’t find anywhere in scripture where God sanctified or made holy, the first day of the week.”

            “That’s because He didn’t.”

            “Right,” he replied as if he didn’t want to admit it. But then he acknowledged, “So, I told the Captain I didn’t want to oversee the Sunday laws anymore.”

            “How’d that go over?”

            “Okay, but now he regards me with suspicion.”

            “Ya mean he didn’t before?”

            “Sallie, do you always have to…” He grinned, shook his head and said, “No, he didn’t.”

            The bedroom door opened, and Inga and Zella came out walking hand in hand. Inga’s arctic blue eyes were red rimmed as she said in a childlike voice, “I’m ready to talk, Lieutenant. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I want you to find who did this.”

            “Okay,” Triple Lou said with surprising gentleness. “Let’s start with this. Do you know who she is?”

            “Her name is Paloma, she’s my sister.”