Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel) (26 page)

Carson tapped his computer again and stared at Brandon. “As you might have figured out, that was Tamera Miller who most of you out there probably know has a nationally known show on fitness. She’s all about keeping the spirit healthy and keeping the body healthy. She has a book coming out this fall. She’s well respected.

“In other words, this isn’t some derelict off the street with a skewed view of Christianity. And you know her, don’t you, Brandon? Of course you do. She went through your training. So how do you explain her comments? Did you teach her and other people the things she’s talking about or didn’t you?”

Brandon clenched his teeth and ignored the voice inside telling him to stay silent. “Yes, we have gathered select groups of people over the past eleven months and have taught them how to go deeper with God. And yes, Tamera went through our training. But she isn’t happy with us because—” Brandon stopped. What could he say that would have any relevance to Carson’s audience? That wouldn’t come out sounding divisive? Plus it wasn’t anyone’s business why
Tamera wasn’t part of their inner circle, and it would be pure gossip to talk about her this way.

“Wooo, love it! So you’re saying this is a revenge move on Tamera’s part? Wow, the soup gets thicker fast!” Carson grinned. “Doesn’t sound like Tamera got set free.”

Brandon’s body felt like Jell-O. His phone vibrated with a text message and he struggled to lift his phone. It was from Dana. G
ET OFF THE AIR
. T
HERE’S NO SALVAGING THIS
. C
ARSON HOLDS ALL THE CARDS AND HE’S NOT PLAYING FAIR AND WON’T START ANYTIME SOON
. A
ND SOMETHING DEMONIC IS FEEDING HIM HIS LINES
.

Dana was probably right. It was unlikely Brandon could say anything to stop the tsunami that had just crashed on him. But he would try.

“We’ll get to more of your thoughts in a few minutes, Brandon, but first let’s take a few calls.”

Carson snapped a finger toward the window in front of him behind which sat Sooz. He glanced at his computer and winked at Brandon. “Welcome to the show, Lisa. You have a question for Brandon Scott?”

“More of a statement than a question but—”

“Fire hard.”

“Brandon, I’ve listened to your music since the beginning and have all of your albums, and I don’t understand how you could have slipped away from Jesus into the occult. What happened to you? What went wrong? Do you realize how many people you might take to hell with you?”

The woman’s voice echoed in Brandon’s head as he grasped for words that would stop this nightmare.

“What we’re doing at Well Spring isn’t occultic. It’s being led by the Spirit of—”

“Wait, wait, wait, Brandon.” Carson waved his hands. “I’m sorry, you know I love you, but I can’t let that statement slide by.
You’re talking about sending your spirit into other people’s souls? You’re talking about walking through walls? You’re talking about beaming around the universe like Scotty? Are you trying to tell me that’s from the Spirit of God?”

“I get it. I understand why you’re skeptical. I was too until—”

“Until your brain got washed on the full load cycle?”

“If you look in your Bible, you’ll find verses that support what we’re—”

“Sure. Of course. Just like I can show you verses that teach you to kill babies, but I’m not thinking that’s going to be happenin’ in the church anytime soon. Or hey! Wait! Do you guys teach that too?”

“I know why you’re coming after us, Carson, and you won’t win.”

“Just looking for the truth, baby, and keeping the sheep from being devoured by men like you.”

Brandon started to respond but Carson had cut off his mic again. Brandon’s phone vibrated for a second time and he glanced down. Another text message from Dana. D
O YOU BELIEVE ME NOW
? G
ET OUT
!

He read the message a second time, then blinked as if coming out of a trance. As he pulled his headphones off his head a second time, he stared at Carson and again struggled not to leap across the five feet between them and strangle the man. Brandon stood and turned toward the studio door as Carson’s deep bass voice seemed to vibrate through the room.

“Sorry, folks. Brandon Scott has tucked his tail firmly between his legs and appears to be heading for the hills. I’ll be back after our sponsors talk about a few offers you’ll probably like, and then I’ll take a few calls on why you think Brandon and his band of merry men have strayed so far from the truth. And whether this is the beginning of the end of Brandon Scott’s singing career. And finally, we’ll talk about what you can do to shut down these Warriors Riding retreats that are popping up all over the country. It’s about the truth, baby!”

Carson turned off his mic and slid off his headphones. “Thanks for coming on the show. That was a rough one, I know.”

“The enemy has his claws deeply embedded in your life.”

“Nah, just love a good show.”

“You set me up. You have to know Tamera is a loose cannon. Why?”

“I’m only trying to get to the truth.”

“What we’re doing at Well Spring is the truth.”

“The place you spread your lies. But not anymore. We just took a major step toward shutting off the lights.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know the situation.”

“I know a topic that needs to be discussed when I see it. You’re one of the most famous musicians singing Christian music in the world today. You could lead a lot of people astray.”

Brandon thought of five different responses and rejected them all. His wrestle was not against flesh and blood. He pulled open the door of Carson’s studio and strode for the station lobby, his head down, muttering ideas of what to do next, his mind still swimming in an ocean of disbelief at what had just happened.

The sound of voices brought him out of his daze. A crowd of at least ten men and women milled about the lobby chatting with subdued voices as if they worried a stray microphone might pick up their scattered conversations.

“There he is!” A lady in a dark blue blouse and black slacks jabbed her finger in his direction. Great. Apparently the interview wasn’t over. Brandon spun back the way he’d come and looked for an exit sign, but all he found was Carson standing in the middle of the hallway with a hand placed on the walls to his right and left, a wry grin on his face.

Brandon turned and strode toward the lobby. He had to be careful. If he pushed through the crowd, they’d say he fled the scene. But if he made any comments, they could easily be twisted into a negative and stories would pop up online and in magazines shredding the ministry. And shredding him. Carson was right. What would this do to his career? Audrey wasn’t going to be giving him
any
marketing
funds after this. And another contract? Uh, no. He had to turn this thing around now.

He stopped and put his hands up to quiet the crowd, but as he did the Spirit spoke.

Let it go.

Did he hear that right?

Let it go, Brandon.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have time to stop and chat at the moment, but let me assure you we are not what Carson implied we are. All I can say is seek the truth. Seek Jesus.”

“Nice cop-out, Brandon,” said a journalist with a smirk on his face. “If you think you can defend Carson’s accusations, then tell us here and now.”

Let it go.

Brandon gritted his teeth to keep from responding. There was no question the Spirit had spoken. The tough part was obeying. He blinked twice and turned to the journalist.

“Sorry, guys, not this time.” He pushed through the throng and stepped through the lobby doors. A few reporters followed, but he took the stairs and quickly distanced himself from the questions they shouted as he descended.

The Wolf, one. Warriors, zero. And Brandon knew this was only a skirmish compared to what was coming.

THIRTY-SIX

T
HE NEXT NIGHT
R
EECE GATHERED THE OTHER
W
ARRIORS
at his home and spent the first half hour debriefing on Brandon’s encounter with Carson. The Song had not only taken that shot, but the one with his record label as well. But if it gnawed at him, it didn’t show in his voice or the things he said.

“No, I don’t need to talk about my pal Carson anymore.” Brandon’s footsteps echoed back and forth over Reece’s hardwood floors. “We’ve been over it. I had a lot of time to think about it on the plane ride home. I was hammered, yes. But is that a shock? This Tristan character said . . . what’d he say at your breakfast, Reece? That we were going after the Wolf, but the Wolf was also coming after us?” The pacing stopped. “I certainly discovered that to be true. Which makes me more than ever want to know more about this Mr. Barrow, stalker, prophet . . . friend, enemy, whatever he is. I think it’s about time we find out.”

“I agree,” Reece said. “Let’s review each of your impressions about Tristan and his friends.”

Brandon paced again. “I’ve never gotten anything. Good or evil. They’re spiritual Switzerland.”

“Marcus, isn’t that what you felt with Zennon when he was trying to infiltrate your home using Abbie? That your spiritual eyes were dulled somewhat?”

“Yes and no. Even though my certainty wasn’t complete till
the end, something about Calen, or Zennon, felt incongruent from the moment I met him. However, I attributed it to not wanting my daughter to date till she’s older. With Tristan, Jotham, and Orson, I’m like Brandon. I’ve felt nothing.”

“I agree,” Dana said.

“So Tristan and his friends could be more powerful demons, who have a greater ability to shroud our spiritual eyes and ears,” Brandon said.

“Yes.”

“Just a thought,” Dana said. “It seems unlikely Tristan and his friends would be blocking us if they’re good, so can we assume they’re not our pals the way they claim to be?”

“It’s dangerous to assume.” Reece opened the face of his watch and felt the hands. It had become a habit and he did it even when he didn’t care what time it was. Maybe symbolic of time growing short and their need to act.

“There is one way to find out where they stand that will give us an undisputable answer,” Dana said.

Marcus coughed. “And what would that plan entail?”

“We go in.”

“Go through the gate and enter their souls?” Marcus asked.

“Yes.”

Brandon laughed. “Whoa, Supergirl, I think you’ve been sucking on a kryptonite milk shake. It’s weakened your brain. Aren’t you always the one making sure we don’t tear the envelope on the rules of engagement?”

Dana’s voice rose. “Am I crazy, Reece?”

Reece didn’t answer for a few seconds. “No, you’re not. I’ve been mulling over the same question.”

“You’re thinking about doing it too?” Brandon sighed. “Are you nuts? What about rule number two? Never go into a soul without explicit permission. That’s what got you into—tell me you’re not serious.”

“Yes, I am. But before we make a decision on that I propose we ask them for their permission to go in. It’s a way to call their bluff.”

“And if they say yes?” Brandon said.

“Then we will have received their permission and we ask the Spirit if we should go in.”

“And if they say no?” Dana said.

“Then we’ll have learned something and we’ll ask Jesus what the next move is.”

“When will you ask the question?” Marcus said.

Reece picked up his cell phone. “Right now.” He set his phone on speaker and dialed the number.

Tristan answered on the second ring. “Hello, Reece. Are we coming to Well Spring with you?”

“Before we discuss that, want to talk about something else. You’ve offered to help us. I’d like to offer something to you in return.”

“What is that?”

“We’d like to war for you. Help set you free in the deepest way possible.”

“What exactly does that look like?” Tristan said.

“I think you already know what that looks like.”

“I believe you’re right, but for the sake of clarity can you state it for me now?” Tristan’s voice was light, but somehow serious at the same time.

“We want to send our spirits into your soul.”

The phone went quiet and all Reece heard was the ticking of his grandfather clock and Tristan’s breathing. “And what would you do while you’re inside?”

“See if there are any chains to be broken, any wounds to be healed, any freedom to be fought for.”

“When done with the Spirit, that can be powerful.”

“Indeed. So? May we?”

“Regretfully that cannot happen. While I appreciate the boldness of the request, that is a boundary I’m unable to let you cross.”

“Unable or unwilling?” Brandon said.

“I’d like you to trust me.”

“You didn’t increase the likelihood of that with the choice you just made.”

“Our choices are often not our own. Can you think of another way for us to earn your trust?”

“Not at the moment.”

“I understand.” Tristan cleared his throat. “Then I believe there’s nothing further we can accomplish at the moment.”

“Are you for us or against us? What do you want from the Warriors?”

“We are for you. And what do we want other than your trust? Nothing.”

“Who are you?”

“As I’ve said to all of you, ones who would help.”

Reece hung up and turned to the group. “Thoughts? Any impressions as I talked to him? Who do you think he is?”

Dana sighed. “Someone trying to distract us. I say we stay away till we’re done with the Wolf, then we can worry about who Tristan is.”

Reece turned toward Marcus. “Professor? Do you agree?”

“My conclusion is the same as Dana’s. We put Tristan on hold for the time being.”

“What about you, Song?” Reece asked.

Reece listened to the sound of Brandon shifting in the brown leather chair to the right. “This guy knows way too much to ignore him. I say we have to find out who he and Jotham and Orson are, now. The big war is coming and I want to know if there’s someone who might be outflanking us or might be joining their forces with ours. But going into his soul without permission isn’t the way to find out.”

Reece didn’t respond. He’d asked the Spirit who Tristan was three times and all he’d gotten was silence. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask again. An answer came seconds later with stark clarity.