Tartarus: Kingdom Wars II (16 page)

“Focus is essential,” Abdiel insisted. “Tell me. In which hand am I holding my sword?”

“Your left hand.”

Sue looked to Abdiel. “Is that correct?”

“He’s guessing,” Abdiel said.

“It’s in your left hand!” I said.

Abdiel shook his head. “He can’t see it. He’s guessing.”

“I’m telling you. His sword is in his left hand,” I said with confidence.

“Show us,” Sue said to Abdiel.

The sword materialized in Abdiel’s left hand.

“See? I told you,” I boasted.

“He guessed,” Abdiel insisted.

“Did you guess, Grant?” Sue asked.

Busted.

“Grant?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

Sue looked away. Her disappointment hurt more than I cared to admit.

“Maybe we should move on,” she suggested. “Try something else.”

“Unadvisable,” Abdiel said. “He needs to learn this. If he proves to be the key to unmasking Belial, he must be ready.”

“I’m not suggesting we abandon the exercise, just that we try something else for a while,” Sue replied.

Abdiel shook his head stubbornly. “If he doesn’t learn this, it will be a waste of time for him to learn anything else. He’ll be fighting blind.”

But Sue wasn’t backing down. “That’s the second time this morning you’ve complained about wasting time. What difference does it make to you? You live in eternity.”

“The fact that I live in eternity is irrelevant. How can he protect himself against weapons he cannot see?”

Sue turned to me. “We think you may be able to cross into different dimensions, which would allow you to transport quickly from place to place.”

“Not until he can see my sword!” Abdiel insisted.

“It’s faster than riding on a beam of light,” Sue continued, ignoring the angel.

“I demand we speak to the professor,” Abdiel said.

“No. He’s praying,” Sue said stubbornly.

“It will take but a moment.”

“He’s not to be disturbed.”

“I will speak to him. You cannot stop me.”

Sue Ling leveled a finger at the angelic being who was twice her size. “You stay right where you are, buster!”

Abdiel didn’t know whether to be shocked or amused. Frankly, neither did I.

“If the two of you shout any louder, you’ll bring down the house.”

The professor wheeled himself into the room from the back of the house. I don’t think Sue and Abdiel saw it, but there was a definite smirk on his face at the sight of Sue Ling engaged in battle with an angel of the Most High.

“Grant Austin still cannot see my sword,” Abdiel said.

Sue frowned. “We need a change of pace.”

The professor folded his hands in his lap. I was concerned about him. He looked wrung out. His shoulders slumped. His head hung heavy.

“I spoke with President Whitson this morning,” he said. “Tiffany Sproul has dropped out of school.”

“Oh no!” Sue exclaimed.

“Her father’s church is down to twenty members and can no longer support the family, so he’s selling washing machines at Sears to make ends meet. Tiffany is waiting tables at Bruno’s.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sue asked.

“It’s not just the money,” the professor replied. “Tiffany was getting threats at school. It’s no longer safe for her to attend classes.”

“Threats? That doesn’t make sense. All she did was find a jar in an underwater cave,” I said.

“Hostility needs no reason in this world,” Abdiel said.

A knock at the door turned all our heads.

“That will be Jana,” Sue said.

The two women embraced at the door. I hadn’t seen Jana in person since Jerusalem. She looked vibrant and attractive. Confidence became her.

Setting her purse and cell phone down, she joined the group. “I just came from the Sprouls’,” she said to the professor.

“They agreed to the interview?” he asked.

“They were very gracious. Thank you for arranging it.”

“The world needs to know that not everyone has been taken in by this Joker Jesus.”

“Neo Jesus,” Jana corrected him. “We’ll get fined if we call him the Joker Jesus on the air.”

“On what grounds?” the professor asked.

Jana grinned. “Racial. They don’t want to offend the Tartarans.”

“Preposterous!” Abdiel said. “There is no race of Tartarans.”

“Oh, by the way,” Jana said, “I was able to get Tiffany a job at the station. Nothing glamorous, but it pays better than Bruno’s.”

“Grant still cannot see my sword,” Abdiel said.

The professor motioned to the angel with his hand. “Patience, my friend. I wish to hear what other news Jana has for us about our adversary. Even the smallest bit of information might prove useful. Often great events swing on small hinges.”

I cringed inwardly over withholding information about Belial’s visit last night.

“He has appeared on all the major talk shows,” Jana said.
“Oprah, Letterman, Leno, Povich, Ellen, Montel, Dr. Phil. Jerry Springer
had two other guests on his show. A Neo Nazi and a guy who is calling himself Neo Buddha.”

“He is not Buddha,” Abdiel said. “His name is Abner Ray. He is a carpet salesman from Fullerton.”

“Really?” Jana pulled a pad from her purse and wrote it down.

“What happened on Springer’s show?” I asked.

Jana grinned. “He got the Neo Nazi to cry and the Neo Buddha to laugh so hard he had a hiccup fit.”

“This is a side to Belial I have not seen before,” Abdiel said. “He is known for deception and torture.”

The Belial I had spoken to last night appeared as neither the joker nor the sadist. I wondered if Abdiel had ever seen the genial side of him.

Jana continued her report. “Our competing network did an in-depth story on the rise and decline of churches since the discovery of the Alexandrian manuscript. Traditional churches are declining at an alarming rate. The churches that are thriving are those that are teaching what they call the doctrine of divine laughter. There are a number of variations, but the basic teaching is that laughter is a conduit of God’s grace. They draw from scientific studies that prove laughter releases endorphins, which have been touted as everything from a miracle drug to holy water. Their preachers preach that sanctified laughter can cure whatever ails you, promote weight loss, and—wait for it—stimulate follicle growth.”

“Men are going to church to laugh away male pattern baldness?” Sue exclaimed.

“By the millions,” Jana replied. “The decline of traditional churches is but the tip of the iceberg. Bible sales are down 80 percent. And a major publisher is rumored to be close to a deal with Neo Jesus and his apostle buddies to write a Neo New Testament based on their memoirs. The new scriptures would also include the Alexandrian text, placing it between the books of Acts and Romans.”

“What is KTSD doing to refute this nonsense?” the professor asked.

“You mean, ‘What am I doing to refute this nonsense?’” Jana replied. “I stand alone in my point of view and my producer’s patience is growing thin. He refuses to air anything negative about Neo Jesus because every time we do, the switchboard lights up with hate calls. That’s why I wanted to do Tiffany Sproul’s story. I know exactly what she’s going through. People are leaving paper bags with dog excrement on my desk. My car tires have been sliced. And my microphone mysteriously cuts in and out when I’m doing a story that raises questions about Neo Jesus. I have to scratch and claw for every minute of air time. In fact—” She turned to me. “In order for me to air the Sprouls’ story, I had to promise my producer that I could get an exclusive interview with Neo Jesus. Have you seen him recently?”

“Um—” Her question took me by surprise. “Next time I see him, I’ll ask.”

“I hope it’s soon,” Jana replied.

“And if you can’t air the Sprouls’ story?” Sue asked.

“I’m putting together a documentary called
Notes from the Catacombs.
A remnant of believers have refused to abandon the faith. But they’re under constant attack. I have interviews from pastors and Bible teachers who have had their family pets poisoned, swastikas spray-painted on their houses, and their children beaten up on the playground. Grocers refuse to sell their wives food, banks refuse loans or call loans due prematurely. Some have been shouted down while preaching in their own churches by Neo Jesus worshippers. Tiffany’s story will be part of a larger piece that documents the story of Christians who have refused to surrender their belief in the historical Jesus. I’ll try to sell it to the networks. If I can’t get them to buy it, there’s always the Internet.”

The entire time Jana spoke the professor sat with his head bowed. When she finished, he started praying. He didn’t announce it. He didn’t ask us if we wanted to join him. He just started praying.

“Almighty God, strengthen the faithful, bind the wounds of the fallen, and when the day goes hard and the standard falters and heroes run from the field, may we not be found faithless, but with one voice lift our faces heavenward and shout your name, so that there is no doubt upon whose side we stand. Amen.”

A long moment of silence followed.

“So, how are wonderboy’s lessons going?” Jana asked.

“He still can’t see my sword,” Abdiel said.

“I saw it yesterday,” I objected, not wanting Jana to think I was a complete failure.

The professor slapped the arms of his chair. “Sue, explain to Grant our thinking about teleportation.”

To Sue’s credit, she didn’t gloat over this change of direction.

“Teleportation?” Jana said. “To where? For what purpose? What’s your strategy?”

The professor answered. “Our strategy is as old as the Bible. Each person contributes according to his gifts. This is how every generation of Christians has fought evil since the time of Christ and we’ll not depart from it now, no matter how sensational the headlines. Let the preachers preach, the teachers teach, the administrators administrate, and the encouragers encourage all to the glory of God. Our task here is to find out what Grant’s gifts are. After that, it will be up to him to choose to serve according to his faith or not to serve.”

Or not to serve.
I latched on to those words, grateful that the professor acknowledged I had a choice in the matter. Fact was, since talking to Belial last night, my dream of a family and writing career in a small, quiet university town had been resurrected.

“And what can you do so far, Grant?” Jana asked.

“He can’t see my sword,” Abdiel said. “Without that ability he is useless as a warrior.”

I ignored him. “As you know, since Jerusalem I can see angels even when they have not materialized. And yesterday I heard the professor praying for me while he was in the back of the house.”

“You actually heard his voice? Do you hear him every time he prays for you?” Jana asked.

“Just the once.”

“Have you heard anyone else praying for you?”

It’s odd, but I never thought of other people praying for me. “No. Just the professor. And I have had limited success seeing spiritual weapons. Yesterday I saw Abdiel’s sword briefly. I also saw Sue’s sword.”

Jana laughed. “You have a sword?” she asked Sue.

“Everyone does,” I answered before Sue could. “A person’s sword is their spirit. Sue’s is elegant with a blue tint.”

“That is correct,” Abdiel said, glancing at Sue.

“Why a sword?” Jana asked.

It took me a moment to put it together. “Strength of spirit, and intent. A person’s sword reveals their intent.”

“Grant, that’s wonderful! Just by looking at a person, you can determine their intent?”

“He could if he was able to see their sword,” Abdiel said.

“So an elegant blue sword tells you what?” Jana asked.

This was new territory for me. I’d been so busy trying to see swords that I hadn’t given much thought to interpreting them. “That her spirit is—” I pulled up an image of the sword from memory. “Elegant—that would be nobility of spirit, wouldn’t it? And blue—peaceful, nonthreatening.”

I looked to Abdiel for confirmation.

“Elementary, but acceptable for now,” the angel said. “And what does mine tell you?”

On the off chance I might get lucky, I attempted to see his sword. When I couldn’t, I relied on memory. “A strong spirit, definitely. It shimmered gold—regal, pure, reflective of the One he serves.”

“An accurate assessment,” Abdiel said.

High praise from the big angel. I would have reveled in my success had not the image of Belial’s sword come to mind. Sinister black. Eagerly glistening. To do what? Evil. But he’d said black was Lucifer’s choice. Was the black blade merely a reflection of his leader?

“Do me next!” Jana said, sounding like a little girl. “What does my sword look like?”

I looked to Abdiel for help.

His expression was unyielding rock. I was on my own.