Eye of the Oracle (53 page)

He bared my skin. He pierced my flesh. He robbed more than my life’s blood; with his brazen face and callous dismissal, he robbed my innocence. He shattered my image of a father’s love.

Once upon a time, a tall, strong knight took my little hand and led me to the edge of a cliff. Comforted by his powerful grip, I felt no fear, for this valiant knight would never let me fall. Below lay the jagged rocks, the raging river, and a thousand feet of cold, empty air. As I leaned over the precipice, the joy of beholding danger with unflinching eyes flooded my soul. I have an anchor. I have a sure hold in the land of promise. My father would never let me go.

Yet, he did let me go. Nay, he pushed me over the side. And now I fall, staring up at him as he coldly walks away. The wind chills my heart, and the certainty of eternal torment rushes at me with no savior in sight.

God of wonders, catch me now in your loving hands. Fly down on your stallion and rescue me from this plunge into despair. Let us ride together, buoyed by wings of faith and energized by the love that delivered your only begotten son, for he is the king who catches his falling sparrows. Let us waltz together in this dance of death, for you have called me to suffer with you in willing sacrifice and to burn the image of your crucifixion in my heart. Let us live together in the light of your resurrection, for I cannot survive this walk of faith without the comfort of knowing that you will never let go of my hand.

You are Jehovah-Jireh, my provider in times of trouble. You are Jehovah-Shalom, my peace in the midst of turmoil. And above all, you are Jehovah-Shammah, the God who is always there, a true father who rises to my aid when the specter has taken off his fatherly mask and exposed his treacherous heart.

Ask me for my blood, and I will give it freely. Yea, ask me for my life, for you have already crucified me on Calvary’s hill and raised me from the dead, purging the life of sin I left behind. Ask me for my soul, for you have already paid for it with your own precious blood, the holy blood of Jehovah-Yasha, my savior.

And now I see it. I can give you nothing that you have not already given to me. I am purchased, a slave of love. I am your vessel to be used in whatever way you wish. If you make me an urn for ashes, a common earthen jar to bear incinerated bones, leaving me to collect dust in a forgotten tomb, even then, I will be content. For just as you would not leave your son forever in the ground, I know you will raise me up from the land of the dead. You have not ignited this fire in my heart to be wasted in Sheol’s pit. Though dead, buried, and forgotten, I will rise again.

No matter what happens, I will never forsake you, for you will never forsake me. You are with me, no matter where I go.

Love,

Bonnie Conner

Bonnie nestled her head into her pillow and stared at the window. Snow cascaded across the screen, some of the flakes dusting the glass with powdery splashes. A lamp on a table cast a dim glare on the surface, but it suddenly vanished in a shadow.

“Bonnie?”

It was her father’s voice. Bonnie slid her journal under her blanket. “Yes?” she replied without turning.

His outline shifted back and forth in the window. “I have to meet someone at my office. Your mother’s taking a bath, so I thought you’d like to know in case the phone rings.”

Bonnie cleared her throat. “Can you make it to the campus in this weather?”

“The radio said the main roads are clear. Once I get out of the neighborhood, I should be fine.”

“Okay.” Bonnie threaded her pen between her fingers. “Um . . . Be careful.”

His shadow seemed to come a step closer, but it halted. “I’m . . . I’m sorry about today. That really was the very last time. I promise.”

Bonnie closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.

“Do you . . .” He paused, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you forgive me?”

Bonnie’s eyelids clenched tightly, and a pair of tears squeezed through. For a few seconds, it seemed that she wouldn’t answer, but she finally nodded, and her voice squeaked. “I forgive you.”

The shadow disappeared, and the lamp’s light returned. Bonnie opened her eyes and dabbed her tears with the edge of her pillowcase. Pulling out her journal again, she set her pen next to the page as if ready to write, but, after a wide yawn, she closed her eyes. Seconds later, her breathing settled into deep, rhythmic pulses.

Gabriel eased over to the window. Dr. Conner’s SUV pulled out of the driveway, sliding more than rolling, but once the tires grabbed the snowy road, he seemed to have no more trouble as he crawled toward the neighborhood’s exit.

As soon as the SUV’s taillights disappeared in the flurry of white, a Cadillac parked at the side of the road started its engine. Leaving its headlights off, it rolled forward and stopped in front of Bonnie’s house. Two men in trench coats jumped out and jogged toward the front door, one of them favoring a leg. Even through the curtain of falling flakes, Gabriel recognized the sinister face. Devin!

Sapphira dropped to her knees and wept. Bonnie’s words stabbed deep into her soul. This dragon girl, another freak of nature, mistreated and betrayed by her father, had torn Sapphira’s heart in two.

Lifting her head, she stared at her portal screen. Now the slayer lurked right outside Bonnie’s door! There had to be a way to help her! There just had to be!

She jumped up and ran to the other side of the screen. Finding her cross, she lifted it off the rocky floor and cradled it in her hands. “You haven’t ignited in a while, but now I think it’s time to try again.” She licked her lips and shouted. “Give me light!” Flames leaped from the wood. Each weathered sliver seemed to pop and sizzle as if laughing with joy.

She strode from the museum room and rushed to the elevator shaft. Snuffing the flames for the time being, she pushed the cross under her belt, grasped the rope, and shinnied down.

After swinging out to the mining level, she reignited her cross and followed the forbidding path that she had seen Morgan trod on so many occasions, leading condemned little girls to a fiery fate. This time, it was finally Sapphira’s turn to face the chasm, but it wasn’t Morgan who led her to the executioner, it was a flaming cross.

Sapphira turned through the final passageway leading to the ledge overlooking the chasm. Marching right up to the precipice, she gazed down at the boiling magma river. Hot air blasted upward, instantly drying her eyes and stinging them mercilessly. Although the liquid torture was far hotter than when she trembled at its sight so long ago, not a shred of fear tingled her skin.

She planted her feet firmly. Raising her cross high, she shouted into the upper reaches of the enormous dark chamber. “I was born Mara, a slave girl of the earth!” Her call echoed as if shouted back at her a hundred times. “And I once knew you as Elohim!”

The echo repeated,
“Elohim! Elohim!”

“But now I call you Jehovah-Yasha!”

“Jehovah-Yasha! Jehovah-Yasha!”

“I finally know what you want me to do!”

“To do! To do!”

“You want me to die!”

“To die! To die!”

“And to be raised from the dead as Sapphira Adi!”

“Sapphira Adi! Sapphira Adi!”

She waved her cross in a circle. A spinning cylinder of fire dropped from above and met the flames rising from the cross.

Sapphira stepped to the very edge of the overhanging rock. “Now take me where you want me to go, whether to heaven or to hell, to England or to Montana, or keep me here in this tomb forever. I will be content to serve you no matter what you decide . . . Jehovah-Yasha.”

Sapphira pulled the burning cross down and pressed it against her chest. The cross melded into her skin, her entire body burst into flames, and she leaped into the chasm. As she fell, she looked up, bracing herself for the impact. The cylinder spun down with her and wrapped her up in a fiery coil. Within seconds, everything vanished.

Gabriel zoomed toward the bedroom exit and flew right through Irene as she peeked in. He paused at the top of the stairs, drumming his radiant fingers on the banister.

Dressed in a long bathrobe, Irene whispered, “Are you asleep, dear?” When no answer came, she reached in and turned off the lamp, then padded quietly down the steps. Gabriel rushed ahead and zipped straight to the window at the side of the front door. Palin, standing next to Devin, raised a crowbar and slammed it against the glass, smashing a hole the size of a bowling ball. Reaching in with his gloved hand, he turned the deadbolt, and the two burst inside.

A ceiling light flashed on. Irene ran into the front hall and laid a hand on her chest. “Matt!” she called, angling her head toward the stairs, “get the shotgun! Hurry!”

Devin shed his outer cloak, revealing his chain mail and the red dragon on his surcoat. The glittering candlestone dangled in front. “The good doctor just left for an important meeting on campus.” He withdrew a long, silvery sword from a scabbard. “You do remember me, don’t you? You slashed my leg and fled like a coward, and about fifteen hundred years ago, you knelt before the king with a bogus plea.”

Resisting the candlestone’s pull, Gabriel glided toward an electrical outlet. He might have only one chance to zap Devin, so he had to avoid the candlestone and time his attack perfectly.

“Fifteen hundred years!” Irene tightened the sash on her robe. “Do I look that old to you?”

Devin took a step closer, wincing as he set his foot down. “Let us not play games, Mrs. Conner. Your dear husband told me about your dragon blood, so I am here to collect a healthy sample of it. Do you have a gallon or two to spare?”

Stripping off his own cloak, Palin dashed around Irene and stood behind her. As he drew his sword, his dark mail shimmered in the light.

Devin spread out his hands. “You may now reenact your pleading posture, and perhaps I will let you die quickly.”

“Do your worst,” Irene said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll never kneel to you.”

Devin drew back his sword. Gabriel stretched out to grab him, simultaneously plugging himself into the outlet. As the current buzzed through his energy field, he latched onto Devin’s ankle. Sparks flew up the slayer’s leg and sizzled across his mail. Devin’s limbs stiffened, and his fingers locked around the sword’s hilt. Light bulbs popped in the ceiling fixture, and the room fell dim. With the current no longer streaking through him, Gabriel collapsed and released his grip.

Palin stood transfixed, as if hypnotized by the glow of streetlights illuminating the room. Irene jerked away his sword and charged at the slayer.

Devin toppled forward, and with a stiff jab, thrust his blade into Irene’s stomach, slashing downward as he fell. He thudded prostrate to the hardwood floor, covering the candlestone.

Irene dropped Palin’s sword and grasped her belly. Blood oozed between her fingers. Her legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

Gabriel could barely crawl. His energy field sizzled as he willed his way toward Irene.

She fell to her side, her eyes still open. Palin jumped over her, retrieved his sword, and knelt beside his fallen leader. He shook Devin’s body. “My liege! Can you hear me?”

Devin stayed flat on the floor. “I hear you. . . . But I can’t see anything . . . except a lump on the floor. Did I kill the demon witch?”

Palin glanced at Irene. “A mortal stab, my liege. If she’s not already dead, she will be soon.”

Gasping for breath, Devin lifted his head. “An electrical shock. That mongrel . . . Gabriel . . . must have done this.”

“I see him,” Palin said. “Just a few glitters on the floor near your feet, and he seems paralyzed, but he’s definitely here.”

“No use . . . worrying about him.” Devin nodded toward the stairs. “Check the house. . . . See if the witch whelped any mongrels. Conner said he had no kids, . . . but make sure.”

“And if she has?”

“Kill them. But save . . . some of their blood.”

Palin turned and, stepping over Irene’s deathly still body, headed for the stairs. Gabriel followed, slithering along the thin planks like a dribbling stream of sparks.

Pointing his sword upward, Palin climbed the stairs slowly. Devin pushed up to his hands and knees. The candlestone again dangled from its chain, swaying back and forth as the slayer struggled to right himself.

Gabriel strained against the relentless pull. He had beaten the evil gem before, but would he be strong enough to get away this time? Stretching and clawing, he attached his energy to the heads of the nails holding down the wooden strips. Like scaling a sheer cliff, he grabbed one nail after the other and slowly edged toward the stairs.

Finally, the drag from the candlestone eased. He crawled faster and reached the carpeted stairway just as Palin stepped up to the top landing. Gabriel plodded upward, trying to float, but his energy field seemed mired in sticky mud. At least his sparks had faded. He would likely be invisible to the slayers now.

Palin disappeared into the master bedroom. Gabriel lurched forward. The slayer wouldn’t find anyone there, but Bonnie’s bedroom was next in line.

As Gabriel reached the final step, Palin poked his head out of the master bedroom and gazed down the hallway in the opposite direction. Gabriel slid into Bonnie’s bedroom and settled next to the outlet that fed the lamp, close enough to the door to grab Palin before he could reach Bonnie.

Palin stepped into the room. With every light off, he seemed more phantom than human. Gabriel plugged his fingers in again, but this time no painful buzz rocketed through his body. He yanked his hand back. That last jolt must have knocked out the electricity!

The slayer reached over to the lamp and turned its switch. Nothing happened. He leaned back into the hall. “Sir Devin! Are you up?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “Did you find anyone?”

Gabriel cringed. Would their conversation awaken Bonnie? Would she groan or cry out?

“Not yet,” Palin said. “The electricity’s off. Can you see well enough to find the circuit breakers?”

“Maybe. Hold on.”