Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) (36 page)

“I intend to kill you; you know it.
 
You hide your fear, perhaps thinking that I will spare the prophet who is not afraid to die.”

The woman laughed.
 
“Metatron, I’m not afraid to die, but it’s not in hope of pity.”

Metatron bent toward her.
 
“Drowning is a most frustrating way to die.
 
You do not lack the ability to live, just the environment.
 
I wonder what you will ponder on your journey to the bottom of the sea.
 
Will your faith falter?
 
Will God, for whom you have such adoration, forgive your moments of doubt and dread?
 
Maybe you’re counting on Him to send down a flight of angels to pluck you out of the water and deliver you to safety.
 
He didn’t do that for Jesus, you know.”

“If I die,” she spat at him, “it is His will.”

“I’m familiar with the cliché,” Metatron responded, as he picked her up by the ropes.
 
“The problem with it is that nothing ever changes.
 
I have listened to hundreds of prophets attest to the power of the ‘will of God.’
 
They have all died, and the will of God has not been realized, yet.
 
When is this will of God going to appear?
 
How many of you sheep are going to have to die before you accept that the will of God is sacrifice?
 
He’s never going to help you.
 
He’s going to watch as you suffer.
 
He’s going to watch while all the others suffer.
 
And He’s going to suffer—all in the name of faith and free will.
 
All the while, He’s not going to do anything.
 
We, angels, have always been the ones to protect humanity, to guide it.
 
Hannah, your faith has been strong enough.
 
We need good help like you.”

Hannah’s eyes widened.
 
“No.
 
You,
demons
, have always been the ones to deceive us.
 
I would never follow you.
 
Ever.”

“And here I had hoped you would see the terrible plight you’re in.
 
The water!”
 
Metatron shouted, as he motioned to the ocean.
 
“It’s going to swallow you, and yet another prophet’s voice will never be heard again.
 
Your gifts will nevermore be known by the needy.”
 
His tone dropped to calm again.
 
“You will admit, when I am done, that I ask so very little.”

“It doesn’t matter what you ask, fiend,” she retorted, “I will not comply.”

Metatron chuckled.
 
“Then, perhaps you will comply for the sake of your mother and two sisters, who could easily be on this boat, tomorrow.”

Hannah looked away.
 
“What do you want?”

“It’s amazing how loved ones change everything, isn’t it?
 
Just the thought of what I could do to other people makes you quake.
 
Well, you would live a lot longer if you didn’t think that way.
 
Perhaps, I could help those people you are trying to protect.
 
You’ve already purchased your plane ticket to go to Las Vegas.
 
Jeremiah has already spoken with you.
 
You intend to join his crusade and that boy, Alex.
 
What can a child do to me?
 
What hope do you have?
 
Who knows?
 
I might be able to persuade him, too, to join my fight—the winning side.”

Hannah closed her eyes, accepting a destiny that she’d run from for many years.
 
“And that is exactly the reason I would never help you.”

Hannah felt the thrust, the weightlessness, the splash.
 
She struggled for a moment, but without being able to move her arms or legs, she only sank.
 
Normally, the human mind kicks into a subconscious, sometimes irrational mode for survival—even if all is futile.
 
Her mind was clear, and she never once doubted God’s will.

***

Marla and Lao Shi sat in front of the mansion for many minutes, thinking.
 
Marla was trying to fathom how she would acclimate the prophet to his new surroundings.
 
The Lama was struggling to understand how bad things could happen to good people.

Finally, Marla turned to him.
 
“Would you like to go inside?”

“Yes,” he responded.
 
“I think it would be wise for me to learn this new environment.
 
There is no telling how long I might be here.”

Marla stepped out of the car and went around to the other side to open Lao Shi’s door.
 
He stepped out, stood up straight and examined his surroundings.
 
Marla put her hand on his shoulder.
 
To some degree, she wanted to comfort him, but more than that, she wanted to know his feelings.

“This place,” she started, “was built with prophets in mind.
 
The security is intense.
 
The technology is state-of-the-art.”
 
She chuckled.
 
“And the food’s pretty good, too.
 
I think that we will be able to meet your needs.”

“I need very little,” Lao Shi responded.

Marla looked away, uncomfortably.
 
“Yes, of course.”

Lao Shi reflected upon what he had said.
 
“I am sorry,” he added, smiling.
 
“My sorrow overwhelms me.
 
You are not responsible for my friends’ deaths, and I recognize that.
 
Please, do not be offended by my brevity.
 
I think, right now, it would be best if I could be shown to my quarters.
 
I will be better after some rest and meditation.”

“Sure.”
 
Marla nodded.
 
“I’ll take you to your room.”

They entered the house, and Lao Shi inspected the portrait of Jeremiah as they passed through the foyer.
 
Marla caught Lao Shi’s half smile.
 
He chose to remain silent, but Marla knew what he was thinking.
 
Jeremiah may have undergone important changes in recent days, but, in the long run, he’d changed very little.

“This is it,” Marla said, as she opened the door.
 
“Your room.
 
It’s sparse, but we thought you would prefer it that way, until you got the chance to design it.”

Lao Shi bowed.
 
“It is fine.
 
I appreciate your generosity.”

Marla walked inside and motioned to a button on the intercom.
 
“This is me.
 
If you need any assistance at all, push that button, and you’ll be in direct contact with me.
 
Otherwise, try to flag someone down in the hall.
 
Everyone will be told not to disturb you.
 
However, I think that you will get hungry eventually.
 
When you’ve recuperated and you’re ready to tour the mansion or get something to eat, just give me a ring.
 
Okay?”

“Yes,” he agreed, again bowing.
 
“I will do so.”

Marla bowed back, not knowing what etiquette required of her, walked out of the room and, after one last glance at Lao Shi, quietly shut the door.

Lao Shi stood motionless for several seconds, staring at the door.
 
He turned to inspect his room.
 
It was enormous in comparison to what he was used to.
 
He had gone, with the Dalai Lama, on many trips to the United States.
 
They certainly did live in luxury.
 
Even the hotel suites they had stayed in seemed like small palaces.
 
Now, he had a room in a very large palace.
 
It didn’t seem right to him, but he shrugged away the doubt.
 
Right and wrong were a little different here.
 
And, at the moment, only necessity was important.
 
He was needed here, and he needed to be here.
 
No matter how decadent it all seemed, he would have to stay and be gracious.
 
He had no intention of conforming, but he would be gracious, nonetheless.

***

There was a gentle knock on the door.
 
Elizabeth pulled herself away from the screen and wiped her eyes.

“Come in,” she said.
 
She already knew who it was.
 
The computer told her that Marla had returned with Lao Shi.

Marla opened the door and walked toward her, smiling.
 
But when she got within ten feet, she looked, cautiously, at the prophet.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Elizabeth averted her eyes, “Oh...uh...there’s nothing wrong.
 
How is Lao Shi?”

Marla stared at Elizabeth suspiciously.
 
After a moment, she sighed and admitted,
 
“I can’t tell.
 
He hides his emotions well.
 
I mean, I don’t know if ‘well’ is the right word.
 
Something very traumatic happened, and he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.
 
He only wants to get down to business.”
 
She put her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder.
 
“Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or am I going to have to question everyone on the compound?
 
They’re scared of me, you know.
 
I’ll threaten them with relocation to an uninhabited island.”

Elizabeth laughed, though Marla perceived it to be out of nervousness.
 
“That won’t be necessary,” the prophet replied.
 
“I can tell you, but not right here.
 
I don’t think I feel comfortable in this room, all of the sudden.”

Marla looked over Elizabeth’s shoulder and saw a message on the screen.
 
“Who is that?”

Elizabeth looked back at the screen and shuddered.
 
“I don’t know.”

Marla only looked at her, confused.
 
Who could possibly be on Elizabeth’s computer without the prophet knowing?
 
If she had realized that Elizabeth had spent the last hour and a half trying to answer that same question, she might not have been so surprised.

***

“Alex, Son, how are you feeling?”

Alex turned, and his father stood before him in a sparkling white suit.
 
Alex was stunned.
 
The last thing he could remember was watching a movie with Matt.
 
Sleep must have taken him.
 
He hadn’t thought he was that tired, but it had been a long day.

“I guess I’m tired,” Alex responded.
 
“But I think I feel pretty good.”

“I’m glad,” his father replied.

“I met Abigail Martin, today.
 
I was more than a little intimidated.”

James Tanner chuckled.
 
“Yes.
 
She is faithful.
 
That kind of faith is noticeable and can be daunting.
 
She is also very powerful; she’ll take good care of you.
 
Come.
 
Walk with me.”

Alex walked over to his father.
 
A powerful yet gentle arm wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, and they began to walk.
 
As they did, Alex’s hometown, Kingstone, appeared before them.
 
They were walking down the peaceful streets; it seemed like there was no one else around.
 
Alex looked at the familiar buildings.
 
The age of the buildings reflected the back-to-the-basics mentality of the community.
 
He’d always thought that they symbolized a lack of growth and closed-mindedness of the people, but the buildings now seemed to speak of the adamant nature of old-fashion values.
 
He felt like he was walking between pillars of strength.
 
And he, too, felt strong.