Tag: fiction

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 13

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 13

LOIUS LEWIS

FEAR GOD AND GIVE GLORY TO HIM, FOR THE HOUR OF HIS JUDGEMENT HAS COME; AND WORSHIP HIM WHO MADE HEAVEN AND EARTH, THE SEA AND SPRINGS OF WATER (Revelation 14:7)

            “Lou, right now they’re single file,” Brock’s low voice said directly into my ear via an ear bud. “I still don’t know what kind of weapons they have. One of them is wearing black cargo pants and a black shirt. The other is wearing blue jeans and a green shirt. You take the guy in black; I’ll get the other. I’m moving in on them so I’m gonna be silent now.”

            Inga and I were in a make shift tent, a good half mile from the closest road. I could tell she was scared, but she had a determined look on her face. A crack from one of the tarps that worked as a shelter put a band of late afternoon sunlight across the top half of her face. It made me think of it as a mask of righteousness across the courageous young lady’s face. I was prepared to take a bullet for her if necessary.

            A few days ago, when I was still a police lieutenant, there was no way I would be part of a mission using a twenty something year old woman as bait to catch bad guys. No private citizen for that matter. Now I was a private citizen myself, and I guess playing a private detective. I ended up going along with a plan to entice some of those possibly involved with the murder of Inga’s sister into a trap.

            I also did another ‘no, no.’ I pulled a twenty-two pistol from a coat pocket and whispered, “Glow Eyes, have you ever shot a gun?”

            Her arctic blue eyes looked startled. But she still wore a stoic expression as she shook her head. I gave her an extra quick lesson, then sat the pistol not far from her. “Don’t touch this unless the bad guys somehow get the edge. But be of good courage, WE have the edge. They’re walking into a trap WE set. There’s three of us and two of them. And one of our three is Brock Storm.”

            She took hold of my hand that wasn’t pulling a Glock 17 from my other inside pocket. I looked at our joined hands and then at her. “We also have a decorated police veteran.”

            I forced a smile and refrained from saying former, but she did it for me. “Before you got fired.”

            I had discovered that Inga usually followed a compliment with a slight. Yet I’m not sure she did it on purpose. She was one of those people like Seven Sallie that had a hard time stopping their mouth from speaking what came to their mind.

            I could almost feel the approach of the bad guys, even though it was quiet. That is except for the noise of the woods. That being the chirping of birds and the chatter of squirrels. Then a twig snapped. Suddenly there was a rush of footsteps, and I aimed the Glock at the makeshift entrance. There was a brief scuffling sound, then Brock’s voice. “Lou, it’s me. You two can come out.”

            Inga and I exited the tent, and I scratched my head. The guy with the blue jeans and green shirt laid unconscious. The guy in all black had a bloody nose as Brock put handcuffs on him. As he did so, the suspect talked about wanting a lawyer.

            He continued. “I know my rights, all we have is knives and they are perfectly legal. That old pervert appeared to have kidnapped the young lady, and we thought he was gonna rape her.”

            Destiny and Zella came down the dear trail, with Destiny carrying a black tool bag.

            “You seem to be mistaken,” Brock said. “I’m not the police. I don’t care one bit about your rights. Just as you care nothing about the lives of Inga and Paloma Likas, and Priscilla Rosenwinkle. I only care about justice.”

            A propane torch in Brock’s right hand popped to life from a lighter in his left hand.

            “What are you doing?” the man in black asked nervously.

            “Executing justice for the murdered young ladies.”

            “We didn’t do it, I swear!”

            “Maybe not, but you know who did.”

            “No I don’t!”

            Brock flashed the flame across the man in black’s bare arm, and he howled at the dipping sun.

            “That was only a second, think what a minute, maybe two will be like,” Brock warned.

            To use an old fashioned gangster movie term, the man in black sang like a canary. No sooner had he finished, when FBI Agent Nora Medora came down the trail along with Benito Bonanno. They were accompanied with a few other Federal agents. At least I assumed they were since I was out of the loop.

            Inga sat on a nearby boulder, crossed her arms, hugging herself and watched a discussion ensue between Brock and Nora Medora. Zella went to her, and Inga sprang up like a jack in the box and hugged my cousin fiercely. Destiny joined them and rubbed Inga’s back. When Inga separated from Zella, she took Destiny’s hand and squeezed.

            I wasn’t good with emotional stuff. Maybe that’s yet another reason I ended up with marital problems. The Sunday law issue that came up between my wife and me was probably only the straw that broke the camel’s back. But I owed Inga, what? Respect? Gratitude?

            I approached the trio of women, and they all turned their gaze on me. Discomfort made my skin crawl, but I pressed on, duty bound. I made a fist, gently placed it on Inga’s upper arm and gave a little shove. “You did good, kid.”

            Those striking arctic blue eyes were watery as she looked into mine. She opened her arms and the next thing I knew I was in an embrace with the little twirp. It was like hugging a bag of bones. Although it was loose and awkward, it also felt surprisingly good and comforting. It seemed to allow everything I’d been holding back to flash before my mind. My marriage, my job, this little mission, what the future held.

             Then I heard whimpering and was horrified to realize that it was me. I braced myself for a smart-alecky remark. But she surprised me by kissing my cheek and saying, “Lou I know you’re going through a lot. Don’t feel embarrassed for having feelings. Remember, Jesus Himself wept.” (John 11:35)

            I gave a little shrug and nodded. Then she reverted back to the Inga I was more familiar with. She shoved me with both hands and said, “So who do you think you are?”

            “Who do I think I am? A man who is blessed to have friends like you during a time like this.”

            She chewed her lip, and her eyes watered some more. Her face scrunched up and she threw herself in my arms again, but this time our hug was tight. “You’re becoming like the grandfather I never had.”

            I felt myself frown. “You know, I’m actually three months younger than Zella.”

            “Oh, well, you just look a lot older, more gray, less peppy.”

            I turned our embrace into a bear hug, and she emitted a high pitched squeak. “Lou!”

            I released her and we both laughed. Then she looked at me with sympathy. “I don’t recall you ever laughing before.”

            The way I felt was either laugh or cry, right? But I didn’t tell her that.

            It felt really strange to be part of something like a police operation, yet not in the loop. It also felt strange being part of an operation where I questioned the ethics. The thing that bothered me was the threat of torture. What also troubled me was that the potential torturer had the reputation as a devout Christian.

            After the proverbial dust settled, Brock approached me. “Thanks for your help, Lou. You did great.”

            “Listen, Storm, can I ask you a question?”

            “Of course.”

            “Let me say first, you’re amazing at what you do. But…”

            “You had a problem with the torch incident,” he interrupted with a rueful smile.

            “I did. It’s not something I would have done as a police officer.”

            “You weren’t allowed to.”

            “True enough, but there’s plenty of bad cops that skirt rules and ethics.”

            “But you were a good cop.”

            “I tried to be.”

            “No, you were a good cop. Otherwise you wouldn’t have joined our side on the Sunday law issue. You care about doing what is right.”

            I shrugged, then gave him my own rueful smile. “Are you avoiding the question?”

            “You never asked one.”

            I frowned. He was right, he had interjected my discomfort with the torch. “Fair enough. How do you balance being a Bible believing Christian and torture?”

            “I didn’t torture anyone,” he said as he reached for the propane torch and lit it. He ran it across his arm just like the suspect. Only Brock winced rather than howled. “For the record, I was not gonna do any more than what I just did to myself.”

            “But you asked him how that torch would feel on his skin for a full minute or more?”

            “I never said I was gonna do it. I’m pretty sure he thought I was though. You may not agree with my tactics, Lou. But I suppose between my appearance and demeanor, I have only needed to give bad guys an implied threat. Keep in mind though, since becoming a Christian, I don’t do this chasing bad guys for a living anymore. Only when an acquaintance is in some type of trouble.”

            “Before becoming a Christian, did you follow through on threats?” I inquired.

            “You don’t want to know.”

            “Sure I do, or I wouldn’t have asked,” I replied, and then grinned. “But I think you actually answered my question by your avoidance.”

            “You are a good detective,” he replied with a smirk.

            The next few weeks for me were a blur. But not just because of my personal life. Every day the chaos in the headlines intensified with wars and rumors of wars, calamities, hunger and homelessness. Yet at the same time, false revivals across America were increasing in staggering numbers. Miracles and supernatural encounters abounded.

            A so called prophet that many believed was Jesus was adamant that the Bible Sabbath was changed to Sunday. My wife was one of the many that were buying in to it. Until then it seemed my wife and I might have been making headway in repairing our marriage.

            Then when I explained that Jesus’s second coming would be visible to all, and that there would be false Christ’s and false prophets, she didn’t like it. All of our endeavors at marital healing started to go sideways. Then the call for mandatory worship on Sunday became a reality. One would no longer be able to buy or sell unless they proved, mostly via their phones, that they had checked into a religious service. They could even do this through zoom if they were housebound.

            I vehemently refused to comply, and my marriage went from sideways to backwards. Karen filed for divorce and wanted me out of the house for good. She was very concerned that my refusal to comply with the Sunday laws would make her guilty by association.

            I never felt so alone that first day as I gathered some things and moved out. But things looked up rather quickly. My cousin Zella and I had fully repaired the breach that separated us for years. I joined her little band of believers, and they all, even her husband Seven, welcomed me with open arms.

            The Storm’s graciously invited me into their large home after my wife kicked me out of ours. They were living self-sufficiently. They had an abundant garden of which we all chipped in to help keep up with maintenance and harvest. There was also a network of fellow believer’s living the same way with all of us working together to defy the mark of the beast and its national Sunday law.

            God had a remnant people! During the loud cry, everyone was given a choice. Either embrace the commandments of God and the seventh day Sabbath of the Creator, or the commandments of men and Sunday, made popular by human tradition. Although most of humanity followed the beast and adhered to Sunday observance, many came out of spiritual Babylon and embraced the Bible Sabbath.

            The out pouring of the Holy Spirit was being experienced in abundance. Despite my many trials in the recent past, I had never experienced such peace and contentment as I did with my new life. There was a deep satisfaction that came from giving my all to God. Be still and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10) became something I had experienced to the fullest. But it wasn’t without its challenges.

            Seven Sallie spoke before congress. Brock and I accompanied him. It was dangerous. In some parts of the world, Sabbath keepers were being put in prison and even to death. Sabbath keepers were being blamed for the calamities and strife throughout the planet. And what happened in that government building that day did not make things better.

            Despite Seven Sallie fluently and eloquently explaining Bible truth, the majority of our political leaders would have none of it. Suddenly people began to get rashes. Then the rashes turned into blistering sores. A rancid smell filled the room. Murmurs turned into shrieks. I was beyond confused. Compared to my spiritual brethren, I was still somewhat of a child in Biblical matters.

            “What is going on?” I mumbled to Brock, dazed by what I was witnessing. Yet he, Seven, and I were unaffected by the sores.

            In a solemn voice he replied, “It seems to be the first of the seven last plagues.” (Revelation 16:1, 2)

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 11

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 11

ZELLA LaSTELLA SALLIE

BEHOLD, I SEND YOU OUT AS SHEEP IN THE MIDST OF WOLVES. THEREFORE BE WISE AS SERPENTS AND HARMLESS AS DOVES (Matthew 10:16)

            My whole body tensed when I opened the front door and saw my cousin standing on the stoop. Lieutenant Louis Lewis gazed at me with hound dog eyes, his hands jammed into his pockets. I froze because it had only been a day since my husband had been arrested for inciting civil disobedience on his podcast.

            But then as I took in the woebegone countenance of my one time childhood playmate, I recalled Seven telling me that Triple Lou had been not only fired but arrested himself for reiterating my husband’s call to obey God rather than men.

            “Lieutenant,” I greeted.

            “Former Lieutenant,” he corrected. Then he forced a smile. “You can call me Louie if you like.”

            I couldn’t help giggling. He hated being called Louie when we were kids. He often barked, “I’m Louis, with an s, not an e.”

            “How about Louis with an s,” I said with a warm smile.

            The curl at his lips didn’t seem forced this time. “Suit yourself, but I’m fine with Louie. I’m not a sensitive kid anymore that couldn’t wait to be a grown up. Now I’m a grown up that wishes he was a kid again.”

            “Seven told me what happened, I’m sorry.”

            He shrugged. “That might not be the worst of it. Karen and I got into a big argument today. It’s not good. Not good at all.”

            “Over what you told that TV reporter yesterday?”

            “Well, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. Actually, maybe I should say the boulder that broke the camel’s back. She has always been more churchy than me. When I studied out this Sabbath issue, I discussed my findings with her, and she didn’t like how I did an about face on the Sunday law situation. Her being quite religious, she was proud of the fact that I was in charge of Sunday ordinance enforcement in this area.”

            I felt like I should invite him in, but there were a couple areas of concern. For one thing this wasn’t my home. We were guests of Destiny and Brock Storm, who graciously took us in after our house was destroyed by fire. Destiny and I had been preparing dinner when the doorbell rang. With her hands covered in flour, she had asked me to answer the door.

            Another reason was the discussion at the kitchen table and its five occupants. Seven, Brock, Inga, Inga’s brother Brent, and Benito Bonanno were discussing a plan to capture Paloma’s killer. This plan entailed using Inga as bait; an agenda the former Lieutenant adamantly opposed.

            I looked over my shoulder and gave a start. Destiny was standing right behind me. She giggled. “Sorry, sweety, I didn’t mean to sneak up and have my ugly mug frighten you.”

            I laughed, but Louis Lewis spoke. “If you have an ugly mug, I’m an outright monster.”

            “He’s right, you’re anything but ugly,” I told her.

            Destiny was like a Barbie doll come to life. Only she dressed like a country girl in her usual attire of flannel shirt and jeans.

            “Ah shucks,” Destiny replied. Then she quickly dismissed the issue by asking, “Won’t you come in, Lieutenant?”

            “Former Lieutenant,” Louis Lewis corrected as he stepped through the threshold.

            “Oh, yes, sorry,” Destiny winced.

            “Hey Cous, you didn’t correct me when I said I looked like a monster,” Lou said as he walked into the Storm residence, eyeing me ruefully.

            I grinned and my heart soared. Not just at his lightheartedness, but because he called me cous after years of estrangement with my family. I reassured him, “You’re not a monster.”

            “Just ugly,” he said.

            “No, you’re not ugly either.”

            “Now, don’t be bearing false witness,” he said with a little smirk. But his eyes were contradictorily sad. “We come from some of the same gene pool, right?”

            “Of course, primarily Grandma Birdy and Grandpa Ike.”

            He nodded and asked, “So if you get to look like Halle Berry, why didn’t I get to look like Jamie Foxx?”

            I felt embarrassed at his offhand compliment and didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Inga sauntered up and put her left arm over my shoulders and her right around Destiny’s. “How do you think I feel hanging out with these two lovelies? I look like something the cat dragged in.”

            “Now, young lady,” Triple Lou said. “You’ve got a pair of the most striking eyes I’ve ever seen.”

            “Only because they’re so light blue they sometimes seem white. But my nose is pointy like a witch. My lips are thin, teeth are crooked, and my body looks like a scarecrow.”

            “You would look interesting with green skin,” Seven said as he joined us in the foyer. Then he bellowed after Inga kicked him in the shin. “Ouch!”

            “Opps, sorry,” Inga said with a mischievous smile. “I forgot I was wearing cowboy boots that Destiny gave me. They have kind of a hard point, don’t they?”

            “I can definitely verify that,” he groaned.

            “If you think Inga would look interesting green, I have to say, you look interesting with a red face dear,” I told my husband.

            “With comments like that, you won’t get any loving from me,” Seven declared.

            “Is that supposed to be a threat?” I replied with a smoldering grin and an arched eyebrow.

            Seven’s eyes widened as he seemed to realize how ridiculous his warning challenge was. “No, of course not, dear. I miss spoke. You can have as much of me any time I want.”

            “It should be you can have as much of me any time YOU want,” I mistakenly corrected, as I realized he said that on purpose.

            “Oh, okay!” Seven said happily as everyone laughed. “Thank you, Dear.”

            “So Lieutenant,” Destiny said cheerfully. “What can we do for you?”

            Lou looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. “Um, it’s former Lieutenant.”

            “Yeah, Seven told us that you were, um…”

            “Prison mates,” Seven broke in.

            “I was gonna say let go,” Destiny said, giving Seven a playful shove.

            “Fired would be more accurate, “Lou clarified.

            We all looked at him, and he gave each one of us an uneasy glance. Then he turned toward the door and said, “I better go.”

            I grabbed his hand and called him something I hadn’t since we were barely teenagers. “Louie, how come you stopped by if it isn’t police business?”

            Although he faced us again, his uneasy expression intensified. Destiny sought to put him at ease. “Mr. Lewis, you’re very welcome here. I guess we just didn’t know whether it was police business or pleasure.”

            “Um, well,” Lou shifted his feet and then rocked on his heels. “Everything is happening so fast. I mean several weeks ago I was in charge of Sunday ordinances. One of my tasks was to monitor Seven’s podcast. To be honest, I thought of him as an enemy. But I felt a need to be fair, so I studied out the issue and discovered I was on the wrong side of the issue. Now my position cost me my job and likely my marriage.”

            “So you and your wife disagree on the Sabbath issue?” Destiny asked.

            “We do,” he nodded. “But we’ve had some history with marital problems. We’ve separated a couple times during our twenty two years. It’s not easy being married to a cop, let alone a cop in charge of other cops. Ironically, when I was put in charge of the Sunday thing, it pleased her. It brought us together like we hadn’t been together since newlywed days. But when I turned to the other side, it, it… How do I put this?”

            Inga broke in. “Is it sort of like if you were put in charge of vice and then started seeing a hooker?”

            Lou gazed at her for a few seconds with hooded eyes, then acknowledged, “That’s kind of a creepy analogy, but I suppose it does make the point.”

            “So if you’re not here because of the investigations…,” I said. Then I asked warm and inviting, “Are you here for fellowship then?”

            With hands deep in his pockets, he shrugged a shoulder, and then nodded. “I guess so. Or maybe I’m looking for confirmation that I did the right thing.”

            As often as my husband liked to clown around, he did have a serious side. He usually seemed to know how to balance the two and now was one of those times. He read from the book of Matthew, chapter 10, verses 36-39:

            “A man’s enemies will be those of his own household. He who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who loves son or daughter more is not worthy of Me. And he who does not take his cross and follow Me is not worthy of Me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it.”

            “That’s easy for you to say,” Lou said solemnly. “You and Zellie came together seeking the truth.”

            “Not exactly,” I interjected. “Seven and I started seeing each other before we became converts. Seven went first, you might say, and I thought it was going to cause our brief relationship to end. But then I went to a prophecy seminar held by his then teenage daughter, Sevenia. It was during these that I experienced a transformation in my life and became converted.”

            “Fair enough,” Lou shrugged. “Guess I’m comparing apples to oranges. Everyone has their own trials.”

            A ding from the doorbell revealed FBI Agent Nora Medora. Destiny invited her in, and I noticed her eyes widen when she discovered Lou not only present but staring her down.

            “Oh, Lieutenant, hello,” she greeted my cousin.

            “Former Lieutenant,” he replied coolly.

            “I see,” she replied, then regained her composure, folded her arms and eyed him coolly. “I suppose you blame me.”

            “Well, you got the ball rolling,” he said and then sighed. “But no, I don’t blame you. I don’t like you, but I don’t blame you.”

            She snorted. “Tell me what you really think.”

            “I did,” he barked. “You do your job thoroughly, and by the book. But you’re also cold, and don’t care who you step on in the name of duty.”

            “I’m not gonna argue,” she said with a casual shrug. “You’re entitled to your opinion. But I don’t feel I step on people while fulfilling my duties. I had no desire or intention of you getting fired. I simply thought your superiors should understand your mind set and thereby get you back on track.”

            “Who’s to say I’m not on the right track?”

            “Look, I didn’t come here to argue. And I truly didn’t intend for you to get fired.”

            Lou put up his hands in a sign of truce. “And I truly don’t blame you for my firing. If I would have toed the line, I wouldn’t have lost my job. But I had to follow my convictions.”

            “Nora, why are you here?” Destiny inquired. “I don’t mean to sound unhospitable, but, you know, with all that’s been going on lately. Plus I doubt you came by hoping to find a Bible study to join.”

            “Right,” Agent Medora said, and then eyed Inga with true sympathy. I felt my toes curl with the look of compassion on the world hardened agent’s face. “I was just made aware that Pricilla Rosenwinkle was found dead in her apartment only a few hours after she arrived back in Las Vegas.”

            Inga gasped, but then cautiously asked, “From what, a drug overdose?”     

            Agent Medora drew in deep breath as she shook her head. “She was strangled.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 10

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 10

SEVEN SALLIE

  WE OUGHT TO OBEY GOD RATHER THAN MEN (Acts 5:29)

            When it rains it pours! As I sat in a holding cell at the county jail, this idea had never applied to me more than now. First Inga Cognito’s sister was found murdered down by the river. The next day an arsonist burned our house to the ground. Three days after that I was charged with civil disobedience and therefore arrested.

            I was given one phone call and chose my lawyer. He was not only a good friend, but a brother in Christ. He was also very astute. Just as the prophet Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the king’s delicacies (Daniel 1:8), Roger Maxwell refrained from all artificial stimulants and ate whole foods rather than junk foods. His daily exercise routine also kept him in better shape than most twenty year olds, despite being sixty something.

            This fitness coupled with an unwavering faith in God made him, in my opinion, the most honest attorney on the planet. Those of us that were close to him affectionately called him Mad Max. Obviously his name was part of the reason we referred to him by this moniker. But there was something else.

            The other reason was an ironic twist of Roger Maxwell being just the opposite of angry. Even in heated court battles, Roger never lost control. As a matter of fact, his friendly countenance garnered him a second nickname, Mr. Roger. This one after the legendary host Fred Rogers of the children’s program ‘Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood’. He even looked a little similar to Fred.

            The first time I was arrested, an officer escorted Roger to my cell. So that’s what I was expecting the second time. But before he arrived, Lieutenant Louis Lewis entered with two officers. I found this curious.

            I was getting the feeling that his sympathies lay with our cause. But now he appeared to be coming to talk with me accompanied by two uniforms. But it only appeared that way. The trio went past my cell to the empty one next door. But it wasn’t empty for long. As Triple Lou entered my neighboring cell, one of the escorting officers, clearly the younger of the two, said, “Sorry to have to do this, Lieutenant.”

            “You’re just doing your job, son,” Triple Lou replied.

            “You don’t need to apologize,” the older uniform said. “He’s essentially our former Lieutenant. Didn’t earn the rank either, got it for another reason.”

            “Is that right, Hanover?” Triple Lou said testily. “What would that be?”

            “I think you know. You’re the one that busted me from sergeant for getting rough with one of your kind.”

            “What’s my kind, Hanover?”

            “This…” Hanover was beginning to say a racial slur but stopped himself. “This lowlife was resisting arrest, and I put the poor little angel in the squad car too rough.”

            “The poor little angel was knocked unconscious and had to get a dozen stiches, because my undisciplined officer slammed his head into edge of the car’s roof. I wanted to fire you, not just demote you, but I got overruled.”

            “Jail duty on top of it,” Hanover complained. “I’d have been better off fired. Do you know how many low life’s I’ve had to see drop their drawers and bend over?”

            “Don’t lie, you probably enjoy that, Hanover,” Triple Lou said testily.

            The young officer looked like a deer in the headlights. I’m sure I looked a little stunned myself. I had gotten to know Lieutenant Louis Lewis a little over the previous weeks, and he was one of the most even keeled people I had ever met. So to see him lose control, if that’s what his comment suggested, I was a little surprised.

            Hanover turned and began to walk away. As he did so, he said, “I better get out of here before I get another charge of police brutality.”

            Triple Lou snorted, shook his head, and folded his arms across his hefty chest.

            In a voice like a 1930’s gangster, I asked, “Hey pal, what cha ya in for?”

            He glared at me, his dark eyes looking like burning coals in their sockets. “Why did our lives have to cross paths?”

            His comment took me by surprise. When that happens, my mouth often cracks wise before my brain can stop it. “Well, I’m quite fond of you too, Lou.”

            He snorted, sat down hard on his cot and glared at me. I sat on my cot and raised my eyebrows at him. “Please Lou, I don’t mean to be flippant. But how on earth did you end up in a jail cell?”

            “For defending your fool mouth.”

            “My foul mouth? What do you mean? I don’t swear or talk crude.”

            “Your fool mouth, fool.”

            “Oh, fool, as in foolish.”

            “Ding, ding, ding, give the man a prize.”

            “Now you’re calling me a ding bat?”

            Triple Lou dragged a hand over his weary hound dog face. I truly thought he said foul rather than fool. But now I was being facetious with ding bat. Thinking better of it, I got us back on track.

            “Listen, Lieutenant…”

            “Former Lieutenant,” he interrupted.

            “Okay, listen, Lou…Is. I’m sorry if you got in trouble over me, but…”

            “No if about it,” he interrupted again.

            “Like I said, sorry. But if you wouldn’t mind, tell me how this came about.”

            He sighed. “It started with Agent Medora. She and I got into a debate about the Sabbath. I was defending your position. Long story short, she threatened to tell my superiors that I was rebelling against the Sunday laws. She followed through, and as I was sitting in your church the other day, I got notified by my Captain that I was suspended. When I went in to talk with him and the chief, they were not happy with my position. Then today they decided to fire me. I cleaned out my desk, and when I exited the station, low and behold, the press was there. After I explained my getting fired, they asked me about you and your latest arrest. They said you were inciting people to disobey mandatory worship. They asked if I agreed with you, and I said your dog gone tootin. Then I expanded on the topic. Next thing I know, I’m cuffed and stuffed.”

            “Dog gone it, Lou, you shouldn’t have sworn at ‘em.”

            “I didn’t swear… Sallie, I don’t know about you.”

            “Sorry, sometimes my mouth speaks before my brain can stop it.”

            “Sometimes? How about most times. Your mouth is why you’re sitting in lock up.”

            “I guess you’d know,” I said and then winced. “Sorry, there I go again. But so much for free speech. I guess it’s a thing of the past. Huh?”

            “Yeah,” he sighed. “But it is confusing.”

            “What is?”

            “I mean all of the revivals and miracles that have taken place seem to have combated crime and violence better than law enforcement. I can see why there has been a call to worship. I do question whether I made the right stand.”

            “This was prophesied to happen.”

            He snorted. “What, me ending up in a neighboring jail cell with you?”

            “No, that right before Christ returns there would be a controversy over the law of God. The Sabbath aspect of the Ten Commandments in particular. Obviously the Sabbath was instituted at Creation (Genesis 2:2,3). So I find it fascinating that Revelation 14:7 instructs us to worship Him who made heaven and earth. Then in verse 12, it says here are they who keep the commandments of God. Which obviously includes the fourth.”

            “At this point you’re preaching to the choir. I wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t have a basic understanding of the prophesies.”

            “You’re the one that said you were confused.”

            “I know, I know,” he said waving a hand. “But it’s one thing to be sitting in my study reading about it. It’s another thing to lose my job and get arrested in a protest.”

            “Remember that you’re gaining treasure in heaven,” I reassured him. (Matthew 6:20) “All things are possible to him who believes.” (Mark 9:23)

            He nodded but said, “Lord I believe help me with my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24)

            The main door opened and the young officer that was with Hanover escorted a bedraggled looking man with a scraggly gray beard into a cell. Then he stopped in front of me and said, “I’ll be coming back in a few minutes to take you before the judge. Your lawyer is here as well.”

            “Thank you, officer,” I replied.

            He grinned at me. “I don’t get thanked by the inmates very often.”

            After the officer left, I said, “I should be home by supper then.”

            “I wouldn’t count on that,” Triple Lou said.

            “What do you mean?”

            “This is your second misdemeanor. Two together equals a felony. You’ll be transferred to the main jail indefinitely awaiting trial.”

            My whole body electrified, and I numbly said, “You’re kidding?”

            With a deadpan expression he said, “Yes I am.”

            His face was so utterly serious, I repeated, “You are kidding, right?”

            For the first time in our short relationship, I saw him not only smile but laugh. Then he said, “How does it feel, Mr. Jokester?”

            I felt relief wash over me as I grinned back at him. It was an odd place to be sharing a bit mirth with each other. Especially for the first time in what was actually becoming a friendship. It made me think of when Paul and Silas prayed and sang hymns in prison. (Acts 16:25)

            (Writer’s note: I would just like to reiterate that this is a work of fiction, and my imagined scenario of future prophetic events is simply what I’ve been envisioning could happen, not what will happen. Just as no one knows the day or hour of our Lord’s return (Matthew 24:36), no one knows the exact circumstances that will bring about the final events and test for humanity and God’s people. Only that it will center on the law of God vs. the law of man. In other words a combined religious/political system in the future will institute a system where you will not be allowed to buy or sell unless you have this mark of the beast (Revelation 13:16,17).

            I personally believe the particular test point will be over the  Biblical Seventh Day Sabbath, opposed to Sunday. Sunday as a sabbath really took flight when Constantine made Christianity a legal religion in the fourth century. A side effect of this legal religion was many pagan rites were brought into this church/state religion. One crucial aspect had to do with sun worship and the venerable day of the Sun. So Sunday quickly evolved into the day most of Christianity recognized as the Sabbath.

            If you would like a more concise study on prophetic issues that go much deeper than my little story, issues like America in prophecy, who is the antichrist, what is the mark of the beast, I have a couple suggestions which I have mentioned before. Amazing Facts Ministry has excellent study materials. You can also find their main speaker, Doug Batchelor, on YouTube. Also on YouTube, and maybe my favorite prophecy series, is David Asscherick’s ‘Five Good Reasons.’

            One more thing I would like to reiterate while I am here. I do this because I love to write, but these stories are rough manuscripts. My wife is my first reader, and although I am very pleased with her work, she is not a professional editor. So there will be errors and inconsistencies from time to time. That said, thank you for your interest! May God richly bless you and yours!)

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 8

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 8

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

IN ME (JESUS) YOU MAY HAVE PEACE. IN THE WORLD YOU WILL HAVE TRIBULATION, BUT BE OF GOOD CHEER, I HAVE OVERCOME THE WORLD. (John 16:33)

            As we all stared at the bedraggled, trembling man in handcuffs, Inga began to shake her head emphatically. She looked at Triple Lou. “Lieutenant, there’s no way Don killed our sister.”

            “Do you know this man then?” he asked.

            “I just know he went by Donny. We were acquainted in the homeless community. He can barely tie his shoes, let alone… Well, you know what happened. Besides, like I told you before, very few people here knew me as Inga Cognito. Just the Sallie’s and some of your officers.”

            “What’s this about Inga Cognito?” Brent asked. “You often called yourself that when we were kids.”

            The Lieutenant pulled her brother aside and spoke in a low voice so Inga wouldn’t have to hear the description of their deceased sister again. Then he explained to Brent about the words carved into Paloma’s flesh, ‘Inga Cognito is a fake.’

            Brent’s jaw clenched as he looked at his sister. His gaze was fierce but softened as he took in the sight of Inga meekly chewing her lower lip. Her arctic blue eyes were wide and frightened as she perceived what Triple Lou had told her brother.

            “I’m taking a leave of absence and staying with you, Sis,” Brent told her.

            Inga looked at me and then my husband. “But I’m living, I mean staying with the Sallies”

            “I’ll get an extended stay hotel or something,” he told her.

            “You’re welcome to stay with us,” I offered.

            “I don’t want to impose.”

            “It’s no imposition.”

            Seven stepped next to me and whispered like a ventriloquist. “Honey, he doesn’t want to impose.”

            “I insist,” I told Brent. In the Biblical parable of the two sons, Seven was very much like the son who initially said no but went. So now I whispered like a ventriloquist into my husband’s ear. “Inga’s sister was murdered; she needs her brother. She needs the stability of our home.”

            “We insist Brent,” Seven said.

            “Are you sure?” Brent asked.

            “Absolutely,” my husband reassured him. Then he spoke as if it were his own idea. “She’s been staying with us for a couple weeks, and could use the stability and familiarity she’s found in our home.”

            He grinned at me. Suspicious of possible smugness, I stepped on his foot and ground my heel in just a little. He grunted, groaned, and then frowned at me. I gave him a sweet smile. “Oops, sorry, Honey.”

            A uniformed officer entered the room escorting a fifty something year old man with a long gray beard and a long gray ponytail. His gray eyes were intense. By his side was a tall red haired young lady who appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties.

            They were an odd pair. He looked like an old hippie stoner in his faded jean jacket and jeans. She was rather goth in appearance. Two small rings adorned her lower lip. She wore a black t-shirt with little red skulls all over the front and back. Black jeans that were ripped and torn with red tights underneath, and motorcycle boots.

            “Lou,” the officer said. “This young lady and gentleman say they may have information on the murder of Paloma Likas.”

            “Little Priscilly!” Inga exclaimed as the two women embraced. “Only you’re not so little anymore.”

            Priscilly appeared to be all of six feet tall, compared to Inga’s five foot six. Then she and Brent exchanged greetings, only they shook hands rather than hugged.

            “I’m so sorry about Pal,” Priscilla Rosenwinkle told the siblings. Inga nodded, and both women wept as Brent looked solemnly at his shoes.

            Triple Lou gave them a minute and then spoke to the old stoner. “You say you have information regarding the murder of Paloma Likas?”

            “I do,” the man replied and handed the lieutenant some type of credentials.

            Triple Lou frowned as he read, then his eyebrows raised as he looked at the stoner. “Agent Jeffery Tull, FBI?”

            “At your service,” the federal agent acknowledged with a little bow.

            “Any relation to the musician Jethro Tull?” Seven asked with a little grin.

            I rolled my eyes. Why did my husband always have to think he was funny?

            “Haven’t heard that one before,” Jeffry Tull responded with a straight face. “You do know Jethro Tull is the name of a band, not a person. Well, I mean, he was person, but he was a British agriculturist or something, not the writer of ‘Locomotive Breath’.”

            “I knew that,” Seven said, waving a dismissive hand. “I was just…”

            “Thinking he was funny,” I interrupted.

            “Trying to be light hearted during a tense situation,” Seven said looking at me with such a serious expression I had to purse my lips to keep from giggling.

            Triple Lou waved a commanding hand. “Okay, enough with rock history. What’s your story, Agent Tull?”

            “I’ve been undercover at Bryson Bronx’s compound for quite some time. I can’t give any details on what for, that’s confidential. Pricilla here is an informant of mine. Long story short, one of Bronx’s hench men fancied her, so she got close to him to help me out.”

            “You could say I prostituted myself for justice,” Priscilla cut in.

            Agent Tull eyed her for several seconds. Whether his gaze held scorn or admiration, I couldn’t tell.

            “Anyway, I’ve been there for going on a year and I got nothing. But then about a month ago Priscilla was able to get a tap on her lover’s phone.”

            Priscilla scrunched up her face. “Don’t call him my lover!”

            “Sorry. He goes by the nickname Buzz. Anyway, Priscilla’s sister got word that Bryson heard that Inga was part of a homeless community here in Iowa. Then low and behold, an hour after Priscilla gets word that Bryson knows Inga’s whereabouts, Bryson gets an assignment to come to Iowa. Coincidence? I think not.”

            “But I couldn’t get a hold of Jeffery,” Priscilla cut in. “He always told me if I found something out to only go to him. But I needed to do something, I didn’t know how to get a hold of Inga. So I told Paloma, thinking she would know what to do. I didn’t realize she would come out here and get herself…”

            She looked at Inga guiltily. Inga hugged her again. “It’s not your fault.”

            “Talk about bad timing. I was on a three day retreat looking for UFO’s,” Agent Tull said with a look on his face that said he thought such a thing ridiculous. “No phones allowed, and we also fasted. Talk about a long three days. But I couldn’t say no, or my cover would have been blown.”

            “As soon as I told Jeffery, we took a red eye out here,” Priscilla said.

            “My cover is likely blown now,” Agent Tull shrugged. “But here’s the thing. They know they killed the wrong sister. They sent Bryson a picture and his reply was twofold. He told them, ‘look at the eyes you idiots! That’s Paloma, not Inga. And if Inga’s out there your phones have been bugged.’ They obviously ditched them. Before we came here to the police station, I traced Buzz’s phone to the Cedar River.”

            “So you think they’re still around?” Brent asked Agent Tull.

            “At this point I can only speculate,” he replied. “But yes, that’d be my best guess.”

            “How in the world will we find them?” Brent asked.

            Inga stared at her brother. Like me, she probably noticed he said ‘we.’ She boldly declared, “I need to be a decoy.”

            “Oh no, you’re not,” Triple Lou responded, shaking his head and waving his arms like a football official signaling no catch or missed field goal. “I can not put a citizen in harm’s way like that.”

            “You also can’t deny a citizen their freedom to walk the streets,” Inga said.

            Giving her a hard look, the Lieutenant said, “As long as the citizen abides by the law and doesn’t, say, shop lift.”

            Inga gave her brother a nervous glance and then looked away, ashamed. I stepped to her, put my arm around her shoulder, and tugged her into myself. She looked at me and I gave her a reassuring smile. My whole gesture implying the Apostle John’s beautiful words from 1 John 1:9. ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’

            She forced a smile in recognition. Then she added her own spiritual reassurance, saying, “Be still and know that I am God?” (Psalm 46:10)

            “Right,” I responded, still smiling.

            Little did I know that I would need to completely rely on her admonition in the coming days. About ten seconds after her words of encouragement, a uniformed officer burst into the room. With a voice filled with urgency, he declared, “Lou, there’s a four alarm fire! It’s Sallie’s home, Sir, and it’s fully engulfed!”

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 6

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 6

LIEUTENANT LOUIS LEWIS

HE REVEALS DEEP AND SECRET THINGS; HE KNOWS WHAT IS IN THE DARKNESS, AND LIGHT DWELLS WITH HIM (Daniel 2:22)

            “Is that shrug a yes or no?” I had asked Inga Likas, also known as Inga Cognito. The question was whether or not she had supernatural powers. Just to be clear, I did not believe that she had supernatural powers. But I was looking for was whether she thought she did.

            “Maybe,” she replied with another shrug.

            “How do you maybe have supernatural powers? Either you do or you don’t. Let me rephrase that. Either you think that you do, or you don’t. Yes or no?”

            “Yes, we all can have supernatural powers. And I mean you as well, Lieutenant.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “I mean if you have faith as a mustard seed, you can move mountains,” she declared. (Matthew 17:20) “Do you not believe that?”

            “I’m not here to discuss my faith. I’m…”

            “Or lack thereof,” Inga interrupted.

            “Now listen here,” I began to defend. Then I paused, regained my composure, and calmly said, “We need to stay on the task at hand. And that task is for me to investigate the death of your sister.”

            “You’re the one that asked if I had supernatural powers.”

            I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Why did my detectives have to be overworked, compelling the Captain to assign me personally to this homicide case? He had a twofold reason for doing so. For one thing, he put a lesser value on the murder of a seemingly homeless person. For another thing, I could tell he was not pleased when I requested to withdraw from overseeing the ever increasing Sunday laws.

            “Ms. Likas, tell me about this former fiancée. Why do you think he was behind it and not someone, say, from the homeless community?”

            “Because of what you said was carved into her flesh,” she replied. Then she paused as she choked on a sob. “Nobody here knows I sometimes went by Inga Cognito other than members of your police department, and my friends, Zella and Seven Sallie. Do you think one of your officers may have done it?”

            “Absolutely not!”

            “Well, I say the Sallie’s absolutely did not do it either.”

            “Okay, tell me about this former fiancée.”

            “Before I do, let me make this statement. In my thinking, I wasn’t his fiancée. I was being forced into a marriage that wasn’t legitimate, since he had multiple wives and I was only sixteen years old.”

            “Can you tell me who he is and where he is?”

            “His name is Bryson Bronx, and the last I knew he lived on a compound in the California desert. He’s very wealthy, I’m sure he’s a billionaire. He’s also the leader of a wacko alien cult. There were more than two hundred of us living on the compound. My sister, Paloma, who you found… Who…”

            Inga put a fist over her mouth and began to cry. My cousin Zella put an arm around her. I gave her space to grieve.

            “So tell me, Inga,” I began gently after she calmed. “If this Bryson Bronx is a very wealthy man way out in California, how do you think he tracked you here to a homeless camp in Iowa?”

            “Oh, I don’t believe he did it himself. But I do believe it was one of his hench men, bodyguards, thugs, whatever you want to call them.”

            “What can you tell me about these hench men?”

            “He had seven of them. He was obsessed with seven.”

            “I assume you mean the number and not this gentleman sitting at the table with us?”

            A smirk played at Inga’s lips. “Did you mean Seven Sallie?”

            “I did.”

            “Okay. The gentleman part confused me.”

            “Hey, that’s hurtful even if it might be true,” Seven replied with self-deprecation.

            Inga burst out with a laugh. Then it instantly morphed into sobs. She croaked, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking at a time like this. The truth is, Seven’s the most wonderful man I have ever met. If it hadn’t been for him and Zella taking me in, I most likely would have been killed with my sister.”

            I took in the scene for a moment. My cousin Zella with her arm protectively around Inga on one side, and Seven giving her hand an affectionate squeeze on the other. I had judged Seven and his zeal over the Sabbath vs. Sunday issue as Pharisaical. I felt he was knit picking, and disrupting community unity by rebelling against the Sunday laws. But their taking in this homeless girl was living out Christianity at its core.

            I had seen Inga Likas, also known as Inga Cognito, two or three weeks earlier at the station. Let me tell you, she was rough, dirty, and weathered. But now after only a couple of weeks with the Sallie’s she looked clean and healthy. This despite red rimmed eyes caused by grief.

            Getting back on task, I inquired, “Please tell me what you meant by Bryson and the number seven.”

            “He felt seven was the Biblical number of perfection,” Inga replied with a shrug.

            “I can’t argue with that,” I added.

            “Really?” Seven asked with an arched eyebrow.

            I didn’t know if he was inferring about the seventh day Sabbath or himself. But I knew I had walked into it, so I walked right back out of it by moving forward. “You were to be his seventh wife. Is there anything else regarding Bryson and seven?”

            She shrugged. “He had his seven hench men, seven house keepers and butlers, seven cars, stuff like that. But here’s the thing about his seven wives. When I was to become his seventh wife, it was more like his, I don’t know, eleventh or twelfth at least.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “It means when he finds an interesting prospect for another wife, his least favorite of the seven mysteriously disappears,” she explained, using air quotes while saying ‘disappears.’

            “So you’re saying he has them killed?”

            “All I know is they disappeared. Having them killed would be my guess. Or maybe he really is in communication with aliens.”

            “So let me get this straight. He’s into Biblical things, but has people murdered? His so called wives no less?”

            “I didn’t say he was a Christian, but he is interested in aspects of the Bible. But more  like secret Bible codes rather than, say, the Gospels.”

            “I see. So did you witness any of these disappearances?”

            “From the standpoint of hearsay. You know, like, oh Brenda’s gone. Then a month or two later, there was a new wife for Bryson from among our ranks. Then around a year later, oh Jenny’s gone. Then a month or two after, there’s was a new wife for Bryson. And Jenny was the vacancy that was supposed to pave the way for me.”

            “How long did you live on this compound?”

            “I was twelve when we moved there, so about four years. My mom got intrigued by the cult, divorced my dad and married one of Bryson’s seven hench men. Most of the followers on the compound lived in dorm type quarters. But because my stepdad had rank, we lived in a pretty decent apartment.”

            “Is your mom still there?”

            “I’m not sure. When Paloma and I ran away, Bryson was not happy at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if she disappeared,” she said, again using air quotes for ‘disappeared.’

            “Have you been in contact with your mother since you left the compound?”

            “Nope.”

            “So you were sixteen when you left the compound?”

            “I was days away from turning sixteen and Pal was eighteen.”

            “What about your father?”

            “I haven’t seen him since I was twelve.”

            “He didn’t have joint custody or anything?”

            “He couldn’t. He had a couple domestic violence charges against him. Besides, he always doubted whether he was actually our father. And with good reason. One of his domestic violence charges came after he caught our mom in bed with a friend of his.”

            “Is he a possibility in the death of your sister?”

            “I don’t know, I suppose. But it’s been so long since I’d seen him, it didn’t really occur to me. It was Bryson’s men who tried to hunt us down after we left. Like I said my dad wanted nothing to do with Paloma and me. The only one of us three he liked was Brent.”

            “Who’s Brent?”

            “Our brother. He’s two years older than Paloma, and four years older than me.”

            “Do you know his whereabouts?”

            “He joined the Marines as soon as he turned eighteen. I haven’t seen him since and only talked to him twice.”

            “Were you and your brother ever close?”

            She shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, for growing up in a dysfunctional environment, we got along quite well. My dad liked me the least. Brent protected me from our dad’s wrath. You see, the friend he caught in bed with my mother had unusually light blue eyes like me.”

            Inga’s eyes were indeed striking. So arctic blue, they sometimes seemed to glow.

            “My eyes are the reason Bryson chose me to be his wife,” she continued. “Even though Paloma is prettier than me. He felt like because of my eyes I was some type of gateway to other worlds. He thought I could make, how do I put this? Contact.”

            “You mean contacting aliens.”

            “Yeah, something like that.”

            “How old is Bryson?”

            “By now he would be in his mid-fifties.”

            Paloma’s face was beaten beyond recognition. When Inga said her sister was prettier, I thought it would be good to see how much the siblings resembled each other. “Do you have any pictures of Paloma?”

            Inga pulled out her phone and pulled up some pictures of Paloma. The two women definitely looked like siblings. Inga was also being humble in declaring her sister prettier. Although Paloma had a more curvy, voluptuous body, Inga’s arctic blue eyes made her face more striking, compared to Paloma’s darker blue-gray eyes. Would the killer have noticed the difference?

            As I held Inga’s phone in my left hand, I pulled my own ringing phone out of my pocket with my right. It was my desk sergeant.

            “Hey Jeff, what’s up?”

            “Hey Lou. There’s a man here who says his name is Brent Likas. Says he’s the brother of the murdered woman from the homeless camp.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 5

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 5

ZELLA LaSTELLA-SALLIE

HE HEALS THE BROKENHEARTED AND BINDS UP THEIR WOUNDS (Psalm 147:3)

            I felt a wave of anxiety when I saw Lieutenant Louis Lewis’s unmarked police car in our driveway. Then it transformed into anger. I had been paying close attention to my husband’s podcast and knew for a fact he said nothing amiss about the national Sunday laws.

            The worst, according to officials and authorities anyway, would be his explaining the Holy Scriptures rather than the traditions of men (Mark 7:8, 9) and for teaching the Biblical Sabbath rather than the commandments of men (Matthew 15:9). But it seemed we were rapidly losing the right to free speech.

            My jaw was clenched as I made my way to the front door of our home, so I tried to think positive. Maybe my cousin, the lieutenant, had shown up to make amends for the rift between him, his family, and me. They had judged me for the way I lived my life in my teens and early twenties. Fair enough, I can see how I might have brought shame to my conservative family.

            But even when I experienced a spiritual conversion, when I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Savior, it still wasn’t good enough because I worshiped on a different day from them. This only caused more disapproval from them when national Sunday laws were established. Yet not one of them opened the Word of God to show me my error from Bible.

            I was barely through the door when Seven pulled me into an embrace. This felt odd because I could see Triple Lou sitting at our kitchen table watching us. Nonetheless, I took the opportunity to inquire about my cousin’s visit. Placing my lips a quarter inch from my husband’s ear, I asked, “Are you in trouble again?”

            In a low voice and looking me in the eyes, his own gaze as intense as I had ever seen it, he said, “Don’t panic, Inga is alright. Physically anyway. So, your cousin had reason to believe she was murdered. But it turned out to be, possibly, a relative of Inga’s. But she became distraught and ran into her room. Maybe you should go to her.”

            “I will,” I replied as I dashed off. Inga hadn’t closed the door, so I peeked in. She was lying face down on the bed with her forehead resting on her crossed forearms. She was whimpering and I softly spoke her name. “Inga, honey?”

            Her head popped up and she turned to look at me. Then she rolled off the bed and took a couple quick steps toward me. For the second time in only a minute, I found myself in a tight embrace. Only this time the hugger buried her face in my neck and sobbed.

            “Ssshh,”  I soothed as I stroked her hair.

            “My Pal, Pal is gone,” she croaked when she calmed a bit. “The only person I truly ever loved.”

            “Was she your best friend, Honey?”

            “Yes. Not only that, she’s my sister… Was my sister.”

            Saying ‘was my sister’ brought on another round of hard sobs into my neck. I could feel the wetness on my skin, but I didn’t care whether it was tears, slobber, or even snot. Apparently, she became aware of the moisture she was expelling onto me as well. She quickly separated from me and grabbed at a tissue box on the nightstand.

            “I’m so sorry,” she said, and with trembling fingers she pressed the Kleenex to my neck and shoulder.

            I put my hand gently over hers. “It’s okay, Honey. Why don’t you sit down.”

            “I don’t know what to do,” Inga croaked as she plopped hard onto the bed.

            “I didn’t know you had a sister,” I told my friend of only about two weeks as I crouched in front of her. “We could have put her up as well.”

            “I didn’t know she was in town,” Inga replied as if guilty of something.

            “Where did you think she was?”

            “In Nevada, probably Las Vegas.”

            “Can I ask why you weren’t with her?”

            “Because she was employed by the oldest profession, and I’d rather be homeless than do that, or even be supported by that.”

            “Why are you homeless, Honey? Where did you grow up?”

            Her grief turned to a look of alarm, but then she calmly said, “I better go talk to Triple Lou. I do not want to go over my life twice.”

            “I’m sorry, Honey, I shouldn’t pry.”

            She fiddled nervously with her fingers as new tears leaked from her eyes. With quivering lips, she said, “I’m so sorry, Zella.”

            “Honey, for what?” I replied, incredulous. “You just found out that your sister was… You know… So why would you need to apologize?”

            “Because you took a chance on a homeless woman, and what do I do? I bring this… This trouble to your home.”

            “It’s not your fault.”

            “Does God hate me?” she squeaked.

            “Oh Honey, no!” I told her as I sat on the bed next to her, putting my arm around her. She leaned her head into the crook of my neck. I almost asked why she would say that. But obviously she had just found out that her sister had been murdered. I prayed silently. “Lord, what do I say?”

            “Honey,” I began. “It seems to me God put you in our path for such a time as this. You might have been killed with her. You weren’t. Not only that, you have us to help you get through this crisis.”

            “You mean you’re not gonna kick me out?”

            “Oh course not! Why would you think that?”

            “Well, Triple Lou is gonna want to know where we came from. Once you hear… I don’t know… I won’t hold it against you if you decide differently.”

            I opened my mouth to protest. But then I closed it. Although I didn’t believe the worst about Inga, did I really know her? Yet I trusted the Holy Spirit when He urged us to take her in. However, when I opened my mouth a second time, I said, “Do you feel up to talking to the Lieutenant now?”

            “I guess so,” she replied, but eyed me curiously. “Do you see him more as Lieutenant Louis Lewis or Cousin Louis Lewis?”

            “Right now as Lieutenant.”

            “Because of my sister?”

            “No, because I’m mostly estranged from my family.”

            “May I ask why?”

            “First because I got involved with racy things.”

            “You mean by marrying Seven?”

            “No, not race as in ethnic background, but racy as in lewd. I was a nude model.”

            “So you did porn?”

            “No, it was, um, erotica.”

            “What’s the difference?”

            “I didn’t have sex on film. Well, very minimal anyway.”

            “What do you mean by minimal?”

            “Honey, this doesn’t seem to be a good time for this discussion.”

            “You’re right, I know. I guess I’m both stalling and trying to understand how much I can trust Triple Lou.”

            “With this, I’d say you can trust him.”

            “Just not with the Sabbath inquisition.”

            “Yeah,” I smiled sadly. “It is weird that my family has shown more hostility at me not following the mainstream on the Sunday laws than they were for me being a centerfold. I thought when I repented, reformed, and accepted Christ and Christianity it would put me back in good graces with them. But apparently it wasn’t the right kind of Christianity. So instead the wedge in our relationships became deeper and, well, more wedged.”

            I stood and offered my hand to Inga. She sighed, stood, and put a limp hand in mine. “My head is swirling with so many things, Zella. Mostly grief and fear.”

            “I know, Honey. But trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5)

            “I will,” she said as her grip on my hand tightened. She eyed me earnestly for a few seconds. “Because the Lord put you and Seven in my life for such a time as this, right?”

            “Right, Sweety.”

            Inga and I walked hand in hand toward Lieutenant Louis Lewis and sat at the kitchen table with him. The first thing he said to Inga was, “I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Likas.”

            “Thank you,” she replied meekly.

            With an odd mixture of stern and gentle, he asked, “Do you have any idea who might have killed your sister?”

            Inga took a deep breath. “My best guess would be my former fiancée.”

            I felt myself tense. Inga had a former fiancée?

            “And do you have any idea why this former fiancée would want your sister, and maybe even you, dead?”

            “He was a wealthy and polygamous cult leader. When I turned sixteen he chose me to be his seventh wife. My sister helped me escape.”

            “You’re now, what? Twenty four?”

            “Yes.”

            “So that was eight years ago. What makes you think he would still be after you all these years later?”

            “I have my reasons. But the short answer is, he’s demonic and vindictive. He also thinks I have supernatural powers he can somehow harness.”

            “Do you think you have supernatural powers?” Triple Lou asked with an arched eyebrow.

            Inga just shrugged. I was puzzled by this response.  Triple Lou frowned and seemed to peer into her unique arctic blue eyes. Then knowing Seven and I didn’t flow with the mainstream, he glanced dubiously at my husband and then me. My cousin Lou and I got along great as children. What happened that as adults we seemed to regard each other with suspicion and disapproval?

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.”

BLACK SABBATH – CHAPTER 1

Posted on by Johnathan Embers

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 1

SEVEN SALLIE

NOW THE LORD IS THE SPIRIT; AND WHERE THE SPIRIT OF THE LORD IS, THERE IS LIBERTY (2 Corinthians 3:17)

            As I exited the courtroom, a young lady that had been ahead of me for shoplifting stepped up next to me. She said, “I’m surprised they let you go.”

            She appeared to be in her thirties. I’m not good at guessing ages, but my wife is. Her shoulder length dark brown hair was dread locked and grungy looking. Her jeans were dirty, her black converse sneakers had seen better days, and her faded flannel shirt was frayed at the cuffs. My first impression was homeless, and I wasn’t wrong.

            “Why do say that?” I asked cheerily with an arched eyebrow.

            “Triple Lou brought you in himself,” she said as if this delighted her.

            “Triple Lou?” I inquired, arching my eyebrow a little higher.

            “You know, Lieutenant Louis Lewis,” she said, separating lieutenant and making it sound like two separate words. Lou tenant. “So what did you do? The plaintiff wouldn’t let me stay in the courtroom to hear you go before the judge.”

            “The official charge was inciting civil disobedience.”

            “Wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening. They were the brightest blue I had ever seen in a pair of peepers. I even wondered if she wore colored contacts. “What kind?”

            “On my podcast I encouraged people to keep the Biblical Sabbath. The Sunday ordinance will lead to mandatory worship and that would be unconstitutional.”

            “That’s pretty lame,” she said dejectedly.

            “Yeah, thankfully the judge thought it was a pretty lame charge as well.”

            “No, what I meant by lame, was when you said civil disobedience, I assumed you organized a riot or something.”

            “Sorry to disappoint you.”

            She eyed me thoughtfully, putting a finger on her chin. Then her eyes widened again. “Hey, didn’t you used to be Seven Sallie?”

            “Actually I still am.”

            “No you’re not.”

            “What do you mean ‘no I’m not?’”

            “I mean you used to be crazy popular. Somewhere between Rush Limbaugh and Bill Maher. Then you just suddenly fell off the map. What’d you do, have a sex scandal or something? Or are you some kind of pervert?”

            I liked this girl; she was spunky. However, my hands did feel the slight urge to go around her neck. “My name is still Seven Sallie, regardless of a drop in popularity. What’s your name?”

            “Inga,” she replied.

            “Inga what?”

            “Cognito.”

            I smiled. “Your name is Inga Cognito?”

            “Your name is really Seven?”

            “It’s my actual middle name,” I told her, pulling out my driver’s license and handing it to her. Her eyebrows arched in surprise. I suppose because I trusted her enough to hand over my personal ID.

            “Sebastion is your first name?” she asked with a look on her face as if she bit into something sour.

            “It is.”

            “No wonder you go by Seven. Why is your middle name Seven?”

            “I was the seventh of seven kids. My twin brother’s middle name is Six.”

            “So are your other sibling’s middle names one, two, three, four, and five?”

            “No,” I replied. “So what is your real name?”

            She handed me back my license and pulled a book bag off her shoulders. She dug into it and pulled out an ID. It wasn’t a driver’s license; just an official state issued ID from California. If it wasn’t a fake, she was only twenty four. What kind of life had she lived that she looked like she could be in her thirties? My hands no longer wanted to go around her skinny neck. I felt more inclined hug to her.

            “Inga Marie Likus,” I said.

            “That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” she said casually. “So you didn’t tell me. How did you fall off the map from your popular radio show?”

            “I simply changed my main broadcast topic from politics to teaching the Bible and religious history. Most of my sponsors let me go, so I was forced to start my own podcast, losing most of my listeners in the process.”

            “So it was becoming a Christian, rather than being a perv?”

            “Sorry to disappoint you.”

            “I’m not disappointed at all,” she said, and pulled a pocket size Bible from her flannel shirt. “I’m a believer too.”

            “That’s good!” I told her. I paused, and very gently asked, “So why did you shop lift then?”

            She looked me square in the eyes. “Because I hadn’t eaten in two days.”

            Although it was she that broke the eighth commandment, it was me that felt a sense of shame. Meekly, I replied, “I see.”

            I looked at my shoes in the bustling courthouse hall. I was relieved when my wife stepped to my side. “Inga, this is my wife, Zella. Zella, Inga Cognito.”

            “Inga Cognito?” My wife frowned.

            “Oh, he’s crazy. My name is Inga Likus.”

            My wife looked rather puzzled about me conversing with this wild looking young lady. But then she smiled warmly at her when Inga declared, “Wow, what are you an African princess?”

            “No, I’m afraid not.”

            “You look like Karrueche Tran.”

            “I assume that’s a complement, so thank you.”

            “It is, she’s lovely. So what are you doing with this very pale radio has been?”

            The urge to put my hands around her neck was returning.

            “I don’t know,” Zella said, looking at me with a frown. Then she grinned and winked.

            “Inga here is shop lifter,” I said, then instantly regretted it. “Sorry, that was low.”

            Inga simply shrugged. “Only when I’m hungry or otherwise need something to survive.”

            “Where do you live?” Zella asked.

            “In a tent, if it’s still where I left it.”

            “Hey,” Zella said, her face lighting up. “Our son is up in Minnesota for the summer at his grandparents farm. You could stay in his room for a while to get back on your feet.”

            I looked at my wife, stunned. Then realized I was shaking my head. I turned my gaze onto Inga, and she was looking at me with a sad countenance. “That’s okay, I’ve never had solid footing to get my feet back onto.”

            Jesus’s words flashed through my mind. “Whatever you have done to one of the least of these My brothers and sisters, you’ve done for me.” (Matthew 25:40, 45)

            “Zella is right,” I told Inga. “Please come and stay with us, and we’ll help you get your feet on solid ground.”

            “Why would you invite me into your home?” she asked meekly. “One of the only things you know about me is that I’m a thief.”

            I felt my toes curl. Was this a warning? Oh well, anything she might steal from us was replaceable. But the Holy Spirit, also known as The Comforter, comforted me by giving me these words. “Another thing I know about you is you carry a pocket size New Testament with you.”

            Zella happily took hold of one of Inga’s hands. Inga pulled back, a little startled. But then she let my lovely wife hold her hand. “Inga, come have supper with us. I made a lasagna and there’s plenty. Then take a long shower while I prepare your bed for you.”

            Inga had a look of awe and gratitude on her face, like we were offering a great gift. It occurred to me how often we take for granted everyday blessings. She croaked, “Okay, thank you.”

            Over dinner, Inga was reluctant to say much about herself. When I asked how she ended up in Iowa, clear from the west coast, all she said was a girl she knew was coming here and that there were more jobs to be had than in California. Inga had now been in Iowa six weeks and had not found a job. She shrugged and said, “Kind of hard when you have no address to put down on an application.”

            Inga certainly took Zella up on a long shower. I heard the water running for almost a half an hour. I think the only reason she stopped was she ran out of hot water. When she was done, Zella helped her get settled in the bedroom. I’m ashamed to say, I stood outside the closed door and eavesdropped.

            “Oooooh, this is so comfortable.” I heard Inga purr.

            “I’m glad you like it,” Zella enthused.

            “I love it! Thank you so much!”

            “You’re very welcome.”

            “I haven’t slept in something softer than my sleeping bag in four years.”

            My mind’s eye saw the tattered sleeping bag as she carried it into our house.

            “I’m so glad you like it, goodnight.”

            I heard the door handle jiggle and quickly tiptoed the short distance to our living room. I sat down on the couch and picked up a book. Zella walked briskly toward me with what appeared to be a stern expression. My first thought was that she was gonna scold me for eavesdropping. But how could she know?

            Instead, my wife sat down hard next to me on the sofa, grabbed a decorative pillow, pressed it to her face and sobbed.