Genesis of a Hero (5 page)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said with a frown that looked as though anger might start creeping into it at any moment. “You aren’t allowed back here. If you don’t leave, I’ll have to call security.”

Denise didn’t move and a small smile still lifted her perfect lips. The man leaned away from her as though she might be carrying some type of sickness.

“Have any troubles at the track lately?” John asked. This time, the man flinched and for the first time seemed to take in the fact that John was almost twice as big as him.

“Did Larry send you?” he squawked
, retreating a couple of steps. “Listen, I’ve already told him that I’d have the money to him by next week. He doesn’t need to keep harassing me. I get paid-”

“Larry didn’t send us,” Denise marched forward and her hand landed on his shoulder. A glow of the purest white grew from her palm and travelled down the man’s chest then up the back of his head. “We’re here to help,” she continued. “You can get your family back. Get your life back. All you have to do is have faith in God.”

“Why? He hasn’t ever done anything for me?”

“Did H
e guide you to meet your wife?” John asked and watched as the man’s memories focused on a beach from long ago.

“What? No, I…”

“The beach,” John jumped in. The man’s eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. “What made you go there that day when you met her?”

“I… it was a nice day.
How-”

“Do you even like the water?” Denise pressed and continued soothing the man with the Spirit. “Had you ever gone to that beach before?”

“No, I don’t know why I went there that day. I’d just been told I got into veterinary school and was driving around. I saw the beach and thought it looked nice. I… how do you know this stuff?”

“She loves you still,” John said. “Your kids love you. They want you back.”

At this the man fell to his knees and tears sprang down his face. “They moved out,” he bawled openly. “She won’t even let me see them. She won’t talk to me.”

“Promise her
you’ll never gamble again,” Denise said softly. “That’s all she wants. A complete family without you constantly being gone – both physically and mentally.”

“She doesn’t need a mansion,” John said plucking more thoughts from the man’s head. “She needs you. There’s no need for you to win a million dollars. She loves you for who you are.
You don’t have to impress her. Forget about the money and just be a dad and a husband. Be the man you were when you met her on that beach.”

“How?” the man cried with both hands covering his face.
“So much has happened. That was a long time ago.”

“Faith,” John said. “Live for God and watch him fill your life with love and peace.”

“I’ve never really believed that stuff. It’s all just stories. None of its real. My parents took me to church a few times when I was little. But I could tell then that it was just stories made up to try to control us. Noah and Moses… floods and plagues, it’s all crazy.”

John looked at the metal doors. “Have you ever heard the story of Daniel in the lion’s den?”

“Y-y-y-yeah, I guess.”

Without another word, John unlatched the doors and swung them open.

“Don’t!” the man yelled frantically. “I was supposed to feed them an hour ago. They’ll tear us apart.”

John only smiled as the first lion trotted into the staging area in front of the cages. It was the large mal
e with a shaggy mane that hung over his back and down his powerful legs. Next came two females with an eight month old cub between them.

The man squealed and scampered for the nearest cage.

“Faith,” Denise said and caught him by the arm. “Daniel survived the lion’s den because of his faith. You can as well. They’re not just stories. The Bible is God’s word to man.”

“But, what does
faith have to do with anything? I… can’t.”

“Watch and see,” John said and let his right hand reach out to pet the mane of the large male. The Spirit wrapped around the predator, invisible to the trembling man, but for John it was as bright as the sun. No harshness thrived in the light.
Only peace and love and the grace of God.

A deep, content
ed rumble growled from the lion’s throat. The big cat could almost look eye to eye with John, but he held no fear - for the Spirit was on his side. Slowly, the lion knelt then rolled onto his wide, tawny back. John playfully scratched a furry belly.

“How are you doing that?” the man said and stepped behind Denise.
“Brutus is usually really aggressive when he’s hungry. I’ve never…”

“You’ve already heard how,” John said softly.
“Faith. Trust in God and reach out. Believe in him; and you shall be saved. Try it. Say a prayer. Ask the Lord to protect you and take a leap of faith.”

For almost a full minute, the man’s eyes closed and his lips moved wordlessly. Tentatively, his
left hand rose towards one of the females. As his hand touched her head and ran down her back, a wonderful smile crossed his face. No more was the agony of all the missed time with his family evident. None of the driving desire
to “get one more step ahead”
in life existed.

“Thank you,” he said in a whisper. “I need to go.
I have to get to my family. But the lions…”

“We’ll get them back outside,” Denise assured.

He nodded and hit the door at a jog without another look back.

“Out with you,” John la
ughed and the Spirit touched the lions. The male jumped to his feet and followed the others into the paddock continuing with his deep, relaxed growl.

“That went wel
l,” Denise said happily after John closed the metal doors.

“I suppose so,” he
smiled. “But I’m leaving the feeding up to you.”

Without another word, she slid forward and her lips came to his. An electric pulse shot down his s
pine at the softness of her touch. The bundle of flowers pressed into the back of his neck where her hands were latched. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. For ten seconds, John felt as though the Earth was falling below his feet.

“That soul was mine,” a voice echoed in the small room
and made John and Denise jump in surprise. He’d been so absorbed by Denise; the presence of two people coming into the room had gone unnoticed.

Near the employee entrance stood a rather portly man with hardly any neck. A stubby cigar hung from the corner of his mouth. His skin looked greasy
; and matted hair clumped on top of his head. Beside him was a woman of the same make. Her longer hair was ratty and tangled. A very crooked smile was spread across her pimply face.

John immediately called on the Spirit and brought forth a magnificent shield as he yanked his scepter from the strap under his shirt. The shield shimmered and hovered in front of his left a
rm. Reaching over his head, he pulled the sword that had materialized when he caught sight of the pair.

“Charles,” Denise hissed. “
What are you doing here?”

“Spreading the good word,” Charles chuckled and peered around the room with his beady eyes. Stubbly, black hair grew on his cheeks and chin. If ever Lucifer could make
his own angels, this was the template. Terrible and powerful in the deceiver’s vile powers. “I’ve been working on that guy for a long time. I could have harvested him months ago, but it was fun to watch him whine and cry. Now, you’ve ruined all our fun. Haven’t they, Christy?” He looked sideways at his strangely giggling sister.

“Yeah, they have,” she cackled and black wings extended behind her back. Oily tar dripped from the rotting feathers.

“Did God grant you those?” John asked as he hunkered down – ready to spring into action at any second. “Or did Lucifer? If you got them before you fell from God’s grace, I bet they used to be a lot prettier. And they smelled better too. How do you stand that stench?” He wafted his hand in front of his scrunched nose at the sulfuric taint in the air.

“At least we know the truth,” Charles snarled
grinding on the butt of the cigar. “And even if you won’t accept it, we’re here to send you to the oblivion that waits for you when God gobbles your soul. More angels out of our way so we can do our work in… peace.” At that he laughed and looked over his shoulder.

Behind him, two more fallen angels tromped through the employee only door. One was a tall, black woman with mesmerizing, brown eyes. H
er putrid wings were spread high and thin. A red halo glowed over her head. Next to her was a short, Hispanic man with his chin tucked to his chest. Black fog wafted over his hands and crawled up the deadly broadsword held in front of him.

“If you manage to kill us,” Denise spat. “I’ll smile and pray for you when Jesus is wrapping me in his arms.
For God, we fight!” With that, she sprang through the grated gate that divided the room. Her wings and halo shined in the dim room. The Spirit sang worship as she struck at Christy with the curved sword in her right hand. From the scepter in her left, bright shots of divine power pelted at the fallen angels.

John darted forward and blocked a blow from Charles’ jagged blade. The swords sparked and John kicked out with his right foot. It caught the black woman in the chest and she careened into the closest refrigerator. It burst open and
gigantic sides of frozen meet clattered onto the concrete floor.

A cloud of putrid oil poured from the Hispanic man’s palms. The gagging smell of rotted eggs filled the room and reached for John. Only with the Spirit did he manage to hold the
paralyzing attack at bay. The soft light hit the oozing foulness and dissolved it with a hiss.

“It will be a lot easier for me to do my job after
you’re dead,” Charles growled and swung. John dodged and the sword plunged through the food preparation table as if it was hot butter. He turned to strike a blow that would incapacitate the fallen angel, but smoky shackles twisted into existence over his knees. Pain erupted from the fiery touch of Lucifer’s chains.

The Hispanic man laughed and squeezed his hand making the chains tighten until John was sure his legs might snap.
He flipped onto the ceiling with his wings flexed to hold him upright - above another slash from Charles. Thrusting towards his feet, he stabbed through two of the links. The pain lifted immediately as the chain puffed into black smoke. From his scepter a bright stream of power shot at the Hispanic fallen angel.

The burst of the Spirit
knocked the man from his feet, but before John could utter even the smallest shout of joy, a blur to his right yanked at his attention. “No!” he yelled as Denise fell under the onslaught of Christy and the black woman. Her sword tumbled across the floor into the pile of water hoses. John dove and crashed into Christy’s head. His weight crushed her to the floor in a heap. Vile curses and grunts of pain shrieked from her mouth. Black, smoky tar poured from her skin as she called upon Lucifer’s vile powers, but the pure whiteness of the Spirit’s touch melted and absorbed the filth.

Charles
swarmed at John’s exposed ribs with a terrible look of glee on his grubby face. The distance was on the fallen angel’s side. John’s arms moved, but knew he’d be too late. The sword was closing faster. Inch by inch it sped at its unguarded target. To plunge through his ribcage into his heart.

But b
efore the nasty blade pierced flesh, the door slammed open and Harold shot into the semi-darkness. A loud trumpet blared with his entry and he slashed at the black woman with the wrath of God. She managed to block the blow and sidestepped to gain room.

A
split second of hesitation from Charles let John slide Gabriel’s shield in front of the killing blow. The sword deflected off the Spirit-created guard and sliced through the black woman’s leg. Her heart pounding scream made the lion’s roar in their paddock – whether in delight or anger; John couldn’t tell. He pelted Charles with a blast from the Spirit then crushed down on Christy with his knees until she lay still beneath him.

Denise had retrieved her sword and was crouched like a predator with her eyes on the Hispanic man who was looking warily at Charles.
Grunts of pain issued from the corner where the black woman was pressing against the bloody gash in her thigh.

“Odds are on our side,” John said
and pulled on the Spirit. Shining manacles wrapped around Christy’s arms and legs binding her in place. “We have your sister.”

“You won’t kill her,” Charles grunted
. The cigar was still dangling from his mouth. Sweat was pouring down his face in dirty streams. Utter hatred flickered on his face like a snake testing the winds with its forked tongue. “You’re all weak. You won’t be able to keep her prisoner for long. She’ll get away from you and be back at my side in a day. Lucifer can’t be stopped.”

“Or she’ll find her faith again,” Denise called as she stalked forward inch by inch
, her sword poised for attack.

Charles howled with laughter and shook his grisly head. “Come on,” he bellowed and shot backwards out the door. The Hispanic man darted right behind him, but the Spirit flashed from Harold and engulfed the
injured woman. She twitched and winced then fell to the floor beside Christy. Chains of pure white snaked over her body like a boa constrictor.