Spirit Fighter (Son of Angels, Jonah Stone) (4 page)

“So you said my grandfather was—”

“One of the Fallen,” Eleanor said. “He is a fallen angel.”

Jonah thought for a minute. “Why did you say
is
?”

“Angels are eternal, Jonah,” said his dad. “They were created by Elohim, and they never die. Somewhere, Victor Grace is still very much alive.”

“I thought that angels and all of that stuff were just a story,” Jonah said. “You know, like a fairy tale. I believe in Elohim and in the Bible, but I thought angels were something people made up. Floating around on clouds and playing harps and stuff. Do they do that?”

His mom and dad laughed. “Not exactly,” his father said. “Angels are some of the most powerful creatures in the universe. Elohim created them to be in the service of His kingdom. But some of them—the Bible says about one-third—decided they didn’t want to serve under Elohim’s rule anymore. One of them even thought he could be better than Elohim.”

Eleanor continued gravely, “A great battle took place. Michael, the leader of the angelic army, brought his forces to battle against the great deceiver, the angel who led the rebellion. He has been known by many names—Satan, Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness— but among angels he is known as Abaddon, the accuser. After a violent struggle, Michael threw Abaddon down to the earth, along with those Abaddon had convinced to fight with him. They are known as the Fallen, and they roam this earth, doing their master’s bidding, still waging war against Elohim and His forces.”

“Your father was a fallen angel,” Jonah repeated, still not sure that he could bring himself to believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” Eleanor said, slowly tracing the rim of her coffee mug. “One who wanted a child.”

“Why would one of the Fallen want a kid?”

Benjamin began to turn the pages of his Bible. “You are a quarterling, Jonah. What do you think that makes your mother?”

“I guess that means she is half angel,” Jonah said. Then he looked thoughtfully at his father. “Dad, are
you
. . . ?”

His dad laughed. “Oh, I can assure you, I am entirely human. Your mom can vouch for this too. But you are right: she is half angel.” He gazed at her. “Although she’ll always be one hundred percent angel to me.”

“Benjamin, stay focused,” she said, but smiled as he began leafing through his Bible again.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, fingering the right page. “Genesis 6:4 explains that the children of supernatural beings who had married human women became famous heroes and warriors. They were called nephilim and lived on the earth at that time and—as we have ample proof here at this table—even later.”

He put his finger on the verse and turned it around for Jonah to see. Jonah read it several times slowly until he felt like he had the gist of the passage.

“So Mom is a . . . how do you say it?”

“
Nephilim
, pronounced
NE-fi-lim
,” his dad said slowly. “The Bible says that angels came down and married women and had offspring by them. These offspring were known as nephilim. As you can see, the Bible says that they were quite extraordinary.”

“Famous heroes and warriors,” Jonah said, rereading the passage. “Cool.” He cocked his head and looked at his mom for a minute. “But . . .”

“I think one day you’ll learn to recognize that there is something special about everyone, dear,” she said, smiling.

Suddenly two distinct memories flashed across Jonah’s mind. One from a few years ago, on a New York street. A man tried to grab his mom’s purse and run. But suddenly, instead of a quick getaway, he was on the ground, dazed. Eleanor had him pinned to the sidewalk and was calmly lecturing him while they waited for the police to arrive.

The other was from last summer. It was of his mom crossing the finish line of the annual Peacefield marathon in first place. He remembered how odd it was that she hadn’t even broken a sweat, and how it seemed like she had slowed down at one point just to let the fastest guy catch up. At the time, he couldn’t understand why she had politely declined the invitation to run in the famous New York Marathon.

“And Eliza and Jeremiah?”

Benjamin nodded. “They are quarterlings too.”

“But none of this answers why a fallen angel would want to have a child.”

Benjamin and Eleanor looked at each other uncertainly.

“So far, the answer to that question remains a mystery,” Benjamin said slowly.

Eleanor stood up from the table and kissed Jonah on the forehead. “And I believe that’s quite enough new information for now. It’s time for this young man to go to bed.”

“Just one more thing for tonight,” said Benjamin. “I know you have many more questions about this, Jonah, more than we can possibly answer. There is much we do not know, and there are many men and women wiser about these things than your parents. Now that you have learned these things about yourself, now that Elohim has begun to reveal who you really are, I want to make sure you grasp the most important thing. It is going to start to become much clearer to you that life is not what you thought it was. We told you there was a great battle between the angels of Elohim and the Fallen. Well, that battle still rages today. Elohim does not intend for us to be ignorant of it, nor does He wish that we are simply casual observers.”

Benjamin looked intently into his son’s eyes. “He intends for us to fight.”

Jonah sat back in his chair, lost in thought. But his dad stood up from the table too.

“Your mom’s right,” he said, rubbing the top of his son’s head. “They’ll be plenty of time for more of this later. Right now, it’s time for bed.”

Reluctantly, still wanting answers, Jonah climbed the stairs to his room. Jeremiah was already curled up in bed, his sleepy eyes still half-open.

“G’night, Jonah,” he said, managing a half smile, and rolled over toward the wall.

“Good night, Jeremiah,” said Jonah. He climbed up to the top bunk and tried to slow his mind down enough to get some sleep, having little doubt what he would dream about tonight. In the center of his swirling brain, one thought continued to dominate.

This is all real
.

Elohim
, he finally prayed,
I don’t even know where to start. Am I really part angel? A quarterling? All I can say is, I am going to need You to help me figure all of this out. Deal?

Suddenly, he had an idea. Jumping back down, he grabbed his raggedy-edged Bible from his desk, along with his small reading light. He climbed back in bed, pulled the covers over his head, and thumbed back to the index, searching the
A
s.

“
Ananias, Andrew, Angel
. . . there we go.”

There were dozens of places in the Bible that mentioned angels. He flipped over to the first one that caught his eye.

“Second Corinthians 11:14,” he whispered to himself, “. . . for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.” He didn’t like the sound of that. He quickly moved to another passage, listed in the notes of his Bible.

“Hebrews 13:2,” he said, turning the pages until he found it. “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” His mom and dad were always inviting people over for dinner, mostly from the church. Maybe he had sat across the table from an angel without even knowing it.

One more caught his attention, Revelation 12:7: “Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back.”

Jonah studied this passage for a long time, trying to imagine the battle. Michael, the warrior angel, with his troops, fighting against the rebellious fallen ones and their leader, the dragon. Jonah knew this was probably another name for the chief of the Fallen himself. Abaddon.

He pulled the covers off his head and stared at the ceiling until his eyes grew tired, thinking about everything he had heard and read tonight. The fake glowing stars he had stuck on the ceiling when he was five were still there. And all he could see were angels swooping around them in perfect figure eights.

FOUR
A B
ULLY
A
FTER
S
CHOOL

I
am one-quarter angel
.

There’s a battle going on between good and evil
.

I have supernatural powers
.

Those were the thoughts Jonah awoke to. He pulled on his jeans in the dark.
Are these Dad’s?
Flipping on the light, he looked at himself in the mirror. No, they were his jeans. They were just two inches shorter than the day before.

Weird. Did I actually grow taller overnight?

All he could think about that day was his conversation with his parents. When he awoke from a daydream during math class and found himself staring at a poster that said Fractions Are Fun!, he wondered if he could use his super-strength to throw a pencil so hard it would go straight through the wall.

He was on the way to catch his bus after school when he heard voices ahead around the corner, laughing loudly. Looking down the alleyway between two buildings, he caught a glimpse of a group of boys. Three kids were standing in front of one smaller boy, pushing him against the brick wall. They had him surrounded. Jonah immediately recognized the ringleader as Zack Smellman. Beside him were two of his friends, Peter Snodgrass and Carl Fong.

Smellman had his long index finger pointed right between the small boy’s eyes, a boy with dreadlocked hair Jonah vaguely recognized as a fifth grader. He looked terrified, on the verge of tears.

Jonah’s first reaction was to keep on walking. He didn’t need one more thing to worry about right now.

But the boy saw him as he was about to pass. In his face, with tears about to spill, Jonah saw a look of sheer terror. And then something inside Jonah welled up, overtaking his desire to ignore what was happening.

It was an irresistible feeling, almost like a voice, telling him to walk into the alley. He found himself taking a step in, out of the sunlight and into the shadows.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked. His voice cracked, and inside he kicked himself for sounding so wimpy.

“
What are you guys doing?
” Zack mimicked as Snodgrass and Fong snorted. He raised his voice. “Get outta here, Stone! We’re just taking care of some business with our good friend here.”

Smellman was at least eight inches taller than Jonah, and Fong was just a little shorter than that but must have been twice as heavy. Snodgrass was Jonah’s height but built like a bulldozer.

Yesterday, Jonah
would
have gotten out of there. But not today. Something compelled him into the alleyway. The fear in the boy’s face. And something else. He had to admit, he was curious to see what he could do with his new power.

“How about letting him go?” Jonah’s voice was louder now, and steadier, the confidence in it surprising even him.

Zack stopped pushing the boy against the wall and turned to face Jonah, Snodgrass and Fong right behind him. At least he had their attention. But now he had to figure out what to do next.

“Stone,” Zack said, crossing his arms as he towered over him, “take your shorty pants, raggedy shoes, and your pathetic basketball skills, get on the bus, and don’t butt your nose in where it doesn’t belong!”

Jonah was definitely outmatched. All he could see, though, was the look on the boy’s face; all he could think about was that this was wrong. Just plain wrong.

Later, Jonah would remember the next moment as simply a blur. Somehow he must have suddenly grabbed Smellman’s wagging finger and used it to turn the bigger kid’s arm all the way around his back.

“Hey,” a surprised Snodgrass said. “Let him go!”

He and Fong moved in. Quickly, Jonah grabbed the back of Smellman’s head and slammed it into the heads of both Snodgrass and Fong. He let Smellman go, and the three of them fell on the ground, in a daze. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Jonah stood over them, breathing hard as the wave of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing. Pure instinct had taken over. Then he remembered the boy again, who was still plastered against the wall.

“You okay?” he asked. The boy looked down at the three kids and then back up at Jonah, wide-eyed.

“How did you do that?” he asked. “That was awesome! You took them down, man! Wow!”

Zack and his gang were still dazed but slowly starting to stir.

“We’d better get out of here,” Jonah said, quickly walking out of the alley. The boy followed him, trying to keep up, and extended his hand toward Jonah.

“I’m Freddie Johnson,” he said, still smiling excitedly. “Who are you?”

“Jonah,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand, remembering where he had seen him before. “My sister’s Eliza. I think you’re in her class. And we ride the same bus.”

“Oh yeah!” Freddie said. “Eliza, the reeeeeeaaaalllly smart girl. She’s your sister? She’s kind of cute.”

“I’m afraid so—Did you say
cute
?” Jonah said, and then turned to Freddie before walking to their bus. “Hey, if you don’t mind, Freddie, can we keep what just happened to ourselves?”

“But you saved my life, man!” Freddie said. He saw the look on Jonah’s face, though, and said, “Okay, sure. Whatever you say.” Jonah nodded and began to climb on the bus, but Freddie pulled on his arm.