LLOYD, PAUL R. (16 page)

Ahlman charged down the hill swinging
his battleax at Micah.

Micah could not see Glory.

“Behind you, Micah, for that is our
place always,” Ginny shouted.

Micah spun around. Glory held out
the sword and shield. Ginny stood next to her. Micah latched onto the weapons with
both hands but they dropped to the ground. “What are these things made of?”

“They are too heavy for you,
Micah,” Ginny said.

“Well, duh. How come Glory can pick
them up like they’re feathers?”

Ginny placed her hands on her hips.
“Glory is your page. She has been called. She has been honored, a martyr among
the saints. She is Glory. The weight of battle is nothing to her.”

“Then let her fight Ahlman.”

“You are the knight. The battle is
for you to win or lose, Micah. Pray. It is the only way. He approaches.” Ginny
pointed to Ahlman now within striking distance again.

Micah bent over to lift the sword
but could not budge it. Ahlman struck him in the area of his right kidney with
his battleax. He collapsed like deadweight and rolled over on his back in time
to see the grin on Ahlman’s face. Ahlman swung the battleax over his head and
dropped it down on Micah’s chest. Micah screamed.

Micah awoke in darkness with a
sharp throb in his chest. The light flashed on, and Barbara ran into the room.
Bob followed.

The master bedroom of the Oak Brook
house had originally impressed Micah with its clean lines and cherry Queen Anne
furniture. Now, he noticed the eloquence only to admit its lack of importance.

Bob puffed and bent over. “You have
a lot of stairs for a short man to climb.”

Micah strained to catch his breath.

Barbara came to his side, “What
happened?”

As his breathing eased, he focused
on the intense pain in the middle of his chest. He took his breath in slowly
and carefully.

“You okay?” Barbara asked.

“Heart attack,” Micah gasped.

“Ever have a heart attack,” Bob
asked.

“No.” Micah rubbed his chest.

Bob pointed at Micah. “Then how do
you know what one feels like?”

“Hurts like hell.” Micah dropped
his head onto his pillow.

“But you don’t have the other symptoms
of a heart attack.” Bob shrugged.

Micah exhaled a long breath. He
inhaled. “Lets… not… debate… Call nine-one-one.”

Barbara picked up the phone. “It’s
dead.”

“Maybe we should turn on the phone
service,” Bob suggested.

Micah gasped. “Water.”

“Be back.” Bob ran out of the room.

“Cell,” Micah said.

Barbara brushed back her red hair
and chuckled. “Yeah, we should have stopped at the phone store while we were
shopping for clothes.”

“Bob has one.”

Bob returned
with a cell phone held to his ear and a glass of water in his other hand. “Medics
are on their way.”

***

“I’m glad it wasn’t a heart attack.”
Barbara placed her hand on Micah’s forearm and leaned back against the red
vinyl seat of the restaurant booth.

“Yeah, it was just a bad dream.”
Micah leaned into Barbara.

Bob sat across the table. “About
your house burning?”

Micah peered out the large window
at the early morning traffic. He turned to Bob. “No, it was weird. I was dressed
in that armor suit I told you about. Ahlman Brown chased me with a battleax.
The girls gave me a sword and shield, but the weapons were too heavy to lift.”

“Wait a second, Micah. What girls?”
Barbara shifted in her seat.

“The girls. Two teenagers.” Micah
sipped his water.

“Anybody you know? In real life, I
mean.” Bob slathered jelly on his pancakes.

Micah rubbed his chin. “No, but they
show up in this dream I keep having where I’m in a meadow surrounded by a
forest.”

“Do they have names?” Bob asked.

“Ginny and Glory.”

 “I wonder if it means anything?” Barbara
bit into her eggs.

“So how did you end up with a sore
chest?” Bob lifted a bite of pancake.

“Ahlman chopped me with his battleax.”

Bob leaned back in his seat. “And
it affected you in the real world?”

Micah gestured with a fork. “Yeah.
He hit me on the head, too, but my head was fine when I woke up. Just my
chest.”

Bob sliced off a chunk of pancake. “We
need to talk to an expert.”

“Like?” Micah asked.

“Pastor John Fromritz for one,” Bob
said

“Who?” Micah sipped his coffee.

“My pastor. You’ll like him.” Bob
pulled out his cell.

“Shouldn’t he see a shrink?”
Barbara tilted her head to one side and frowned.

“Do we need to bring religion into
this?” Micah asked.

“Yes!” shouted Bob.

“Sounds like we’re going to
church.” Micah placed his coffee cup on the table.

Barbara patted Bob’s arm. “Ask him
if he can meet us at the Oak Brook house.”

Micah gazed at Barbara. “What
difference does it make?”

“I have a lovely new wardrobe
thanks to you, but a girl has to wash some of those new personal thingies
before she puts them on.”

Micah gestured with his coffee cup.
“You mean panties aren’t clean until they’ve been through the washer, right?”

“And socks and blouses and slacks,”
Barbara said.

Bob glared up at Barbara and Micah.
“May I make the call now? He’s a busy man. I doubt he can meet us in Oak
Brook.” Bob turned his head away. “Hi, John. It’s Bob Wolonsky. I’m with some
friends, and we need your expertise. I know you’re busy, but could we possibly
stop by today?”

Bob listened. His mouth turned
down. He frowned. “I see. Yes, I can understand that. Sure. Let me give you the
address.”

A smile planted itself on Barbara’s
face while Bob spoke the Oak Brook address into the phone.

“Yes, that’s right. Oak Brook. Yes,
it’s a big house. I’m sure we can arrange for dinner. Certainly. What time?
Seven o’clock for dinner it is. I know. Yes, I don’t like to drive in the rush
hour either. Okay, John. We’ll see you then.”

“Guess we have a guest for dinner
tonight, dear,” Barbara said.

“Bob gave out the address to our
secret hideout.” Micah shook his head from side to side.

“You want to meet with this guy or
not?” Bob asked.

 “No,” Micah said.

“Why not?” Barbara asked.

“Bob forgot to
ask this pastor friend if he considered Ahlman Brown an angel.”

***

Micah dabbed at the blood that glopped
down the side of Barbara’s head. The front of the Jaguar had crumpled in the
crash nearly to the front windshield. It was engulfed in flames. As Barbara
slid to the ground, Micah grabbed her.

Micah dabbed more cool water on Barbara’s
face. She opened her eyes. “I was thinking about you,” she said.

“Don’t think, rest. I hear the
ambulance now.”

“What happened?”

“Eighteen wheeler ran us off the
road and spun us around. The car behind us slammed on its brakes, went into a
tailspin, and plowed into us.”

“You okay?”

“So far.”

“You must still be wearing that
armor stuff. What about Bob?”

“He’s okay. Just shook up a bit.”

Bob’s face appeared next to
Micah’s. “Shook up a lot. You see the size of that thing?”

Barbara smiled and then grimaced. “So
I’m the only one killed?”

Micah patted her head. “You look
alive to me?”

“I don’t feel alive. Oww! Yeah, I’m
alive.”

“Weirdest accident I ever saw.”
Micah rubbed his upper right arm. “That truck came out of nowhere.”

Bob placed a hand on Micah’s
shoulder. “With everything going on right now, I’d assume there’s no such thing
as an accident. Not with Ahlman Brown, hags and mini-gargoyles traipsing
around.”

“And familiar cats, too,” Micah
said.

Barbara took the damp cloth from
Micah and patted her face with it. “So you guys are saying Ahlman sent the
truck? Which of us does he want to kill?”

“All of us,” Bob said.

“Maybe.” Micah rubbed his chin.
“But how do we know it was Ahlman and not Denise Appleby? Maybe she was after Barbara
in a jealous rage.”

“How do we find out?” Bob asked.

“So you’re an expert on spiritual
warfare?” Micah passed a heaping plate of mashed potatoes to Pastor Fromritz.

Pastor Fromritz plopped the
potatoes in front of his place and reached for the porcelain gravy bowl. “Spiritual
warfare is complicated. Most people don’t want to hear about it. Let’s just say
I’m a minister of the word. I know about the power of prayer, and I know Satan
scours the earth like a hungry lion seeking to eat souls.”

“There’s that lion thingy again.”
Barbara adjusted the bandage on the side of her face.

“Lion thingy?” Pastor Fromritz
asked.

“It’s an inside joke,” Bob said.
“We have a hag to deal with. She qualifies as the witch, but not the Wicca
kind. Barbara and Micah needed a complete new wardrobe because of two separate
fires we think are related. And if you add in a lion, you have the book title.”

“
The Lion, the Witch and the
Wardrobe
?” Pastor Fromritz asked.

Micah pushed back from the cherry
dining room table. “Exactly.”

“It was a different kind of
wardrobe, a big cabinet you could use like a closet. The one the book is based
on is not far away. It’s right over on the Wheaton College campus.”

Bob took a sip of red wine.
“Different kind of lion, too.”

“What kind of lion are you dealing
with?” Pastor Fromritz asked.

Bob placed his empty glass on the
table. “Murdering kind that hires eighteen wheelers to run sports cars off the
road. How’s your face doing, Barbara?”

Pastor Fromritz leaned back in his
chair, lifting the front legs off the ground. “You mean Lionel Langdon? The
police are looking for him.”

“Yes,” Barbara said.

“Or our big faerie,” Micah said.

Pastor Fromritz looked down his
long nose which he now pointed towards Micah. “A what?”

“A big faerie.” Micah stared at
Pastor Fromritz.

“A tall gay person?” Pastor
Fromritz asked.

“Ahlman Brown,” Micah said.

“You think Ahlman Brown is a tall
gay person?” Pastor Fromritz dabbed at his lips with his napkin.

“Not what I meant,” Micah said.

Pastor Fromritz returned his napkin
to his lap. “Of course not. He’s such an angel.”

“Ah, Pastor Fromritz, you blew it.”
Bob reached for the chardonnay.

Pastor Fromritz turned to Bob. “What
are you people talking about?”

Micah took a long breath. “Pastor
Fromritz, have you noticed that everyone in Naperville calls Ahlman Brown an
angel?”

“Do they?” Pastor Fromritz cut a
slice from his steak.

Bob finished pouring his wine. “Let’s
make this easy. Pastor Fromritz, bow your head and lead us in a prayer for
discernment concerning Ahlman Brown. Then we’ll listen to what God has to say. When
we are finished, you will know why we sent for you.”

“If you boys plan to pray, I’ll
powder my nose.” Barbara headed for the stairs.

“She not a believer?” Pastor
Fromritz asked.

“She doesn’t even use powder
makeup,” Micah replied. “But she may need to change the bandage on her forehead
from the auto accident.

After fifteen minutes of prayer and
listening, Pastor Fromritz said, “I see.”

“You see what?” Micah asked.

Pastor Fromritz frowned. “My steak
is cold. My potatoes are cold. My asparagus is cold. My wine is luke warm. My
salad is wilted. And you’re lady friend has not – oh, here she comes now.”

“You boys miss me?” Barbara smiled
and took her seat by Micah.

“I did,” Micah said.

“Do you see anything else?” Bob
asked.

Pastor Fromritz stabbed a cold
bite-sized chunk of his steak. “Why do I sense that I should listen to you
about Ahlman Brown?”

“Because you should,” Bob said.

“Why do you believe Ahlman is not
the good guy everyone makes him out to be?”

Micah leaned back in his chair. “See.
You’re free of the spell, Pastor Fromritz. You didn’t say angel.”

“Yes, well, I don’t recall, you
know, referring to him as an angel. At least not on a regular basis. He has an
angelic aspect, don’t you think?”

“No!” Bob shouted.

Micah gestured with a fork piled
with mashed potatoes. “He flies around on gossamer wings, and he beat the crap
out of me. Now he’s trying to kill me. And he burned down my Naperville house
and Barbara’s apartment.”

Pastor Fromritz raised his eyes to
the ceiling. “Really?” He stared at Micah. “Gossamer wings? A bit droll, don’t
you think?”

Bob pointed his tiny hand at Micah.
“He’s the only one who sees Ahlman flying around like a butterfly, Pastor. We
don’t know who set the fires. They’re still under police investigation, but we
are suspicious of Ahlman Brown and his lady friend. And somebody did beat the
crap out of Micah.”

Pastor Fromritz frowned. “I don’t
hear any proof, just nasty accusations.”

“What proof would you like?” Bob
asked.

“The usual. Witnesses. Evidence.
Motivation. Opportunity. Court-quality stuff. Did you say there was more steak
warming in the oven?”

Bob hopped out of his chair and
headed for the kitchen.

Micah smiled at Barbara. To Pastor
Fromritz, he said, “How’s this for a start? From now on, listen to the way
people in Naperville refer to Ahlman Brown. You’ll hear them call him an angel.
It’s the only word they will use. See if you don’t find it a bit odd.”

“I’ll do that, Micah. And what will
it prove?” Pastor Fromritz stabbed one of his asparagus spears and lifted it to
his mouth.

Micah sat back. “You’ll begin
wondering why everyone calls him an angel. You’ll ask yourself why no one in
Naperville ever speaks a negative word against Ahlman Brown. You’ll think about
whether some kind of spell has been cast on the city. Then you’ll wonder who is
casting the spell. Is it Ahlman? Or does he have a witch, excuse me, a hag, for
a friend? Ah, a hag, you’ll surmise as you notice that Ahlman Brown spends a
considerable amount of time with Denise Appleby.”