Genesis of a Hero (11 page)

“We need to find the fallen angels and either capture them, make them find their faith… or kill them,” he griped to Denise through his scepter. It was late in the evening in
Sevilla where he was currently located. He was lying on his back in a small room that only had a narrow bed and a tiny nightstand.

For Denise it was lunch time
at the third day of the Revival. She’d taken a break from a worship service to speak with him – as she’d done every day since he left. “I have some good news for you,” she said lightly.

“What’s that?” he sighed trying to get comfortable to ease the aches in his muscles and the pounding in his head.

“Xavier has been working on Melody whenever he gets a chance,” her voice sounded as sweet as the tastiest wine. John wished he could reach out and draw her into his arms. “A couple of days ago, they moved her out of that cell by Christy… John, she found her faith. She renounced Lucifer and accepted God again.”

“That’s… fantastic,” John offered thinking about the pretty, black woman they’d had in their custody for the last month. “Has she let them search her mind, just to be sure?”

Denise laughed and John pictured her shaking her head. He saw her hair swaying with the movement. Smelled the sweet fragrance that carried with her wherever she went. The way her eyes looked hard and rigid, until he’d learned to find the complete depths of love beneath her facade. “Always so wary,” she said. “I think we should just accept the good news with open arms. I’d expect you’d like some after all the bad stuff you’ve been seeing lately. And Aaron did search her mind.”

“I would,” John sighed. “It’s awful here…
When I was a kid, all I dreamed about was fighting demons. Going on hunts to destroy the devil’s monsters. But now that I’ve been doing it non-stop, I’m ready for a break. There’s so much death… I’ve seen more blood than anyone should see. Four angels have died right in front of me-”

“I’m sorry,” Denise consoled. “Maybe you should take a week off and come to the Revival. It will lift your spirits, John. Seeing people grab a hold of their faith… there’s nothing like it.”

“I wish I could,” he said sucking in a deep breath to hold the desperation at bay. “But I can’t back out on them here now. They’ll never be able to do something like the Revival if we don’t stop this Nido del Diablo group.”

“I’ll make sure everyone prays for you,” she said. “Stay safe.”

“Doing my best,” John said trying to muster a chuckle. “I love you. I… miss you.”

“I love you too,” she said and he could feel a smile on her mouth. “Will you have time to call me tonight?”

John thought back to the meeting he’d attended before retiring to the room to call Denise. “I doubt it,” he groaned. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes to attack a house where the reidlos have been using as kind of a base. Hopefully the fallen angel who raised them is there too. The things are mating like crazy. We need to exterminate this horde before there are thousands of them.”

“God protect you,” she prayed. “I’ll pray for you. For God, we fight.
John, I love you.”

“For God, we fight
,” John chanted. “Love you too.” His scepter went dark as Denise broke the connection. He stretched and winced as pain shot from a new scar on his left leg he hadn’t had when he woke up that morning. A shudder went up his spine as the painful memory coursed through his mind. The selvo had met its demise, but its claws had left him with a permanent reminder of Lucifer’s hatred.

After a short prayer, he left the room to join Jan, Harold, and the others. More demons waited in the dark, cold world. And he knew, God had given him the gifts to bring justice to the monsters… and faith, mercy, and love to those in need.

Chapter 8: God’s Calling

The man trembled and died at John’s feet.

All John
could do was watch helplessly as the light faded from brown eyes. Putrid, black wings twitched one last time then began melting into the blood stained carpet. The Spanish curses that had been flying a couple of minutes before were forever silenced. Waxy fear had twisted the man’s face with his last gasp.

“John!” Harold yelled and stomped to his side. “Are you okay? We lost sight of you when those four
sinna demons attacked. I thought…” He swallowed and color began filling his dark face. “You got him.”

John nodded not daring to speak. Anguish wa
s washing against his chest like a tidal wave. The fight had been a nightmare of chaos. Demons everywhere. Snapping fangs and slicing claws. Then the fallen had stormed into the house. Their black blades had brought death to two of their group before John and Jan reached them. “Is Jan okay?” he managed to utter.

“Yeah,” Harold said. His powerful hand landed on John’s shoulder with a tight squeeze of comfort. “The other fallen is chained.
They captured her.”

“This one is dead,” John shivered at the words. He’d tried to heal the man. The Spirit had surged into the gaping hole in the heaving chest, but the blood had sprayed too quickly. John’s robes were covered in the red grime of it. He wobbled on shaky knees and collapsed against the wall of the derelict house. Dust lifted with his crumpling descent.
His hands covered his face to hide the building sobs.

“There was nothing you could do,” Harold said and knelt. “John, you did your best. We can’t save them all. Most of them don’t even want to be saved.” At these words Harold’s teeth clamped together as though he’d fought unsuccessfully to hold them in.

“It’s wearing on us,” John said to his friend. They’d been in Spain for nearly a month now. The war had ravaged the chalets and piso across the country. People had screamed. Demons had roared. And fallen angels had cursed. The nightly calls to Denise were the only thing holding John together. He prayed for strength with almost every waking breath, but nightmares followed him day and night. “I’m ready for it to be over,” he added.

Harold’s head bobbed up and down slowly. His
coffee-colored eyes searched the room as though looking for some sign of hope, but they came to rest on the dead fallen angel. Another soul to fuel Lucifer’s vile powers. “Maybe with these two fallen… removed,” Harold cleared his throat. “We’ll make some headway. There can’t be that many demons left. We’ve killed thousands of them.”

“And lost almost fifteen
angels in the process,” John quaked.

“Come on,” Harold said standing and offering a helpful hand. “We can’t let that get in the way of our mission.
This War is terrible. All of us know the perils, but we also know what we’re fighting for. Innocent people must be protected so faith can be spread. Like Aaron always says: we’re the start of a seed that will light the Earth. All we have to do is keep moving forward, then we’ll be able to get back to our… normal lives.”

John let his friend help him up and followed him out of the dreary room without another word. Raging images of the man’s dying eyes assaulted his mind no matter how hard he tried to shake them away. He reached and grabbed a hold of the Spirit. God’s grace settled on his racing heart. The darkness retreated from the
warmth and John inhaled his first true breath in the last five minutes.

“Thank God,” Jan shouted shrilly a minute later. She sped forward and threw her arms around John and Harold. Her short frame was spread to i
ts limits to encompass both men. “I lost track of everyone during the fight. What about the other fallen angel?”

“He’s… dead,” John said. “He almost killed me several times. I tried to heal him, but-”

“We understand,” Jan breathed and bowed her head for a brief moment. John heard an echoing prayer of mercy lifting through the Spirit. He knew it would do no good for the fallen angel. The fiery pits of hell were already consuming his soul.

Over the next three hours, the angels searched the ruins of the house
for evidence of the fallens’ plans. Piles of disintegrated ash were all that remained of the demons by the time they made their way out of the broken front door. Carrying their dead angel comrades between them, they flew to the Cathedral in Sevilla. The captured female fallen angel was bound in chains and floated with snarls and growls between John and Harold.

At the
front door, Phillippe was waiting. His somber eyes closed when he saw the dead figures. Slowly, he caressed each of the angelic faces. But he froze when coming upon the man John had killed.

“This…” he said with his hands clenching. “It is Manuel Zapatero!”

“What?” Jan questioned looking at the fallen angel. “But isn’t he one of Juan Ramirez’s leaders?”

“Si,”
Phillippe said. “I went to school with Manuel. I never saw him lose a fight.” He looked at Jan with wonder shining on his olive face. “How did he die?”

“He was killed in a fight with John,” Jan said glancing sideways.

“I… stabbed him through the chest,” John said quietly not looking at Manuel’s dead body. “I couldn’t heal him. I tried, but there was nothing I could do.”

Phillippe
was watching him carefully. Uplifted eyebrows seemed to be piercing every aspect of John’s frame. “I am happy you were successful,” Phillippe intoned. “Saving Manuel would have been good, but he was deep into Lucifer’s ways. Having him out of the picture will help our cause. We think we may know where Juan is hiding. His support is failing. Rest for a while and I will have food brought. We will meet in the library to talk.”

John’s stomach trembled at the idea of another meeting. The Spirit hadn’t left him since he called upon
the divine power in the house. Over and over, the calming nature soothed the thundering war inside his head, but the frightful sights and sounds and smells of the battle hammered relentlessly. He searched for something to soothe his aches. His thoughts landed on Denise. On her eyes. On her perfect nose. On her smiling lips. The way her presence made his heart race.

“I’
m going to my room to get cleaned up” he mumbled and retreated from Harold’s grasp. Under a jet of warm water in the shower, he let the Spirit take complete control. It lifted him out of the Cathedral and sped to the west. He saw Denise singing with a young boy bouncing on her knees. Her smile was bright as a ray of sunshine. Behind her, lurking in a shadowy fog, Xavier was perched on the edge of a chair. Melody was to his right with her eyes locked across a wide arena. There, Aaron was laughing and joyfully preaching the Word of God. A well-worn Bible was waving in his hand.

John concentrated as the images swirled
into a mix of cloudy, blurred haze. He tried to hold them, but it was like catching sand through an hour glass. The Spirit called him away with Denise’s eyes finding his through the distance as though she’d caught a hint that he was watching. He awoke on the floor of the shower. The warm water had turned icy and a foggy steam was drying on the mirror. With a flick of his hand, he swept the Spirit forward and turned off the water. Visions raced before his eyes. Denise. Xavier. Melody. Aaron.

A tingle of dread ballooned in the pit of his stomach. A feeling carried with the Spirit like the whisper of doom brought by Satan’s minions. John stumbled from the shower and dried then dressed. He found his way clumsily to the library where everyone was eating fish with round bread.

“Long shower, huh?” Harold teased.

“Do what?” John asked trying to shake away the
blaring call of the vision. Droplets of water fell from his hair and beard.

“You took long enough,” Harold said offering a plate of vegetables.
A quizzical expression bent his face as he watched John. “You okay?”

“How long was I in there for?” John questioned absently taking the dish.

Jan reached over and rolled a handful of the vegetables onto her plate. “At least an hour,” she said. “We figured you were talking to Denise. Harold was about to go get you.”

“I wasn’t,” John said perplexed. It felt like he’d just left their side at the Cathedral doors. He sat without eating as
Phillippe stood impatiently and began pointing to different spots on a map of Spain. For nearly an hour, the leader of the Spanish angels broke down different factors in their search for the remnants of Nido del Diablo.

“That’s why we are almost certain he is in the caves here,”
Phillippe ended grandly. His finger was near the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, but at the moment John didn’t care. He’d barely followed the discussion and plans. Instead he’d been absorbed in his vision of Denise and the others in California.

“When do we leave?” Jan asked as she nibbled on the remnants of her last piece of bread.

“In thirty minutes,” Phillippe smiled. “If we can catch Juan, we can end much of our troubles. Everyone meet at the gate at 11:30.” With that he left, followed by all the Spanish angels.

“An end to it all…” Harold pondered. “After everything that’s happened this month, I pray that it’s true.”

“Maybe this will be our last fight,” Jan said with a deep, slow breath. “Then I can get back to Ed.”

John looked at his two
friends. The Spirit was there - still burning near the center of his senses. He hadn’t consciously drawn on the power, but it had remained within his body without his attention. “I’m not going,” he said softly.

“What?” Jan protested and almost choked on her last bite.

“What’s going on, John?” Harold asked. His dark eyes scrunched, but no accusation was evident. “We’re almost there. The finish line for this whole mess is in sight.”

“I know,” John said and lifted his chin. “But I’m being called in a different direction.”

“All of us have felt like that in the last month,” Jan said with her voice rising. “We’ll need you in this fight. You can’t go. You’re our best fighter.”

John looked at her with peace glowing from his face. He wasn’t sure if she’d understand, but he wasn’t going to let her stop him. “I’m leaving,” he said standing in a flash.

“Where are you going?” Jan called as he began striding for the door.

“To California,” he shouted and hit the door at a jog.
He didn’t pause when Jan and Harold hollered for his attention. He didn’t even get his bags from his room. The gate to heaven absorbed his eyes as he ran towards it. The brilliant white arches called his name.

She was standing and laughing. A great host of people were clapping in tune with
I’ve Got the Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart
in an open aired, half-circle stadium. The wonderful song lifted to heaven through a perfectly blue sky over northern California. In her arms, Denise was playfully dancing with a baby girl who couldn’t be more than two. The girls curly, blonde locks of hair bounced with a crescendo of words as the song ended in smiles and cheers.

John stood back and watched her for five minutes. He couldn’t stop a smile as Denise handed the girl back to her parents and mingled with everyone around. Masking his presence with the Spirit, he approached her from behind.

“Nice song,” he said. She spun around so fast that she nearly tumbled over her feet.

“John!”
Her slender arms slung around his neck. A peaceful breath filled his lungs at her touch. No more did the tightness rip at his stomach. “I didn’t think they were going to let you leave Spain until the fighting had died down.”

He shrugged and kissed her softly for a brief second. “Something… brought me here,” he said not knowing how to explain his presence. The mad dash to the Revival had only taken him a couple of hours. He’d ignored calls on his scepter from Harold and Jan
for the first of those, but it had gone eerily silent after that. This was where he was supposed to be. The Spirit had guided him here. He couldn’t be wrong.

“Did Harold come back with you?”

“No,” he answered shaking his head. His nose brushed against hers and made an involuntary chuckle shake his chest. “They are still in Spain… they know where the leader of the fallen group is hiding. They’re going after him right now.”

“And why are you here?” she questioned leaning back to look him full in the face.

“God called me here,” he said righteously.

Her eyebrows
rose out and up at his pronouncement. “What do you mean?”

“Not sure,” he laughed. “But I know I’m supposed to be here.”

“I’ve never heard of you not wanting to go to a fight,” she said with a grin turning the corners of her lips upward. “But it’s… good. I didn’t think I was going to get to see you again so soon. There were so many times I wanted to race to a gate and go to Spain, but I couldn’t leave the Revival. We’re doing so much good.”

John cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I never would have asked that you leave,” he said and kissed her again. “
You should never be anywhere close to the things I was seeing in Spain.”

“What about the Justice Ministers? Are they going to be mad at you for leaving?”