Spirit Fighter (Son of Angels, Jonah Stone)
Read Spirit Fighter (Son of Angels, Jonah Stone) Online
Authors: Jerel Law
S
PIRIT
F
IGHTER
S
PIRIT
F
IGHTER
Son of Angels
J
ONAH STONE
Book 1
JEREL LAW
© 2011 by Jerel Law
Cover illustration by William Graf, © 2011 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.
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Scripture quotations are from the New Century Version
®
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Law, Jerel.
Spirit fighter / Jerel Law.
p. cm. — (Son of angels ; bk. 1)
Summary: Seventh-grader Jonah Stone discovers that he is one-quarter angel—his mother is the daughter of a human and a fallen angel—and when she is kidnapped, Jonah and his sister Eliza must try to rescue her, with the help of prayers and a guardian angel.
ISBN 978-1-4003-1843-8 (pbk.)
[1. Angels—Fiction. 2. Guardian angels—Fiction. 3. Christian life—Fiction. 4. Kidnapping—Fiction. 5. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 6. New York (N.Y.)— Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.L418365Sp 2011
[Fic]—dc23
2011023191
Printed in the United States of America
11 12 13 14 15 QG 5 4 3 2 1
Mfr: Quad Graphics/Fairfield, PA/August 2011/PPO# 124573
For Susan,
my angel
C
ONTENTS
21. New York City Asylum for the Insane
The Nephilim were on the earth in those days and also later. . . . These women gave birth to children, who became famous and were the mighty warriors of long ago.
Genesis 6:4
NCV
J
onah’s alarm blared in his left ear, but his eyes stayed shut and he didn’t flinch, his left leg hanging over the edge of the top level of his bunk bed, a puddle of drool coming out of his mouth and onto his Star Wars pillowcase.
Just a few more minutes of sleep. That was all he needed.
Thump thump thump
.
“Ungh . . . ,” Jonah moaned.
Thump thump thump
.
Jonah felt the board under his mattress move. He pulled the covers over his head and tried to ignore the frantic buzzing, knowing what his clock said without even having to look: 6:03 a.m. His least favorite time of the day. He’d slept horribly the last three nights, waking up each morning with the same fuzzy memory of a dream. Something about evil faces . . . howling wind . . . and angels.
The bunk beds began to creak and shake, and he knew that Jeremiah was not going to leave him alone. Even though Jeremiah was only seven years old (Jonah was thirteen), he was already catching up to his older brother in size. The bed bounced again, and from underneath the sheet Jonah felt the warm breath of a face about two inches away from his.
“Jonah!” Jeremiah said in a loud, raspy voice—his version of a whisper.
Jonah didn’t move.
Jeremiah grabbed his older brother by the shoulders and shook. “Jonah! Get up! It’s time for school!”
Jonah yanked the sheet down off his face.
“Jeremiah . . . ,” he said, tired and cranky. But his brother was just sitting there grinning at him in his Scooby-Doo pajamas, breathing in his face.
The bedroom door opened. “Boys,” came a girl’s voice, “it’s time to get up. We’re going to be late for school if you don’t start moving, you know.”
Their eleven-year-old sister, Eliza, stood across the hallway, teasing her hair into place in front of a mirror on the wall. She was lanky like their mother, and she frowned behind her wire-rimmed glasses at a wild curl that wouldn’t stay in place. Jonah launched his pillow at her, which she saw coming out of the corner of her eye and avoided just in time. It smacked harmlessly against the wall. Jeremiah fell back in the bed, laughing. Jonah drew his head back under the sheet for one more minute and let his mind wander.
Lately, Jonah’s life had not gone as planned. Even though he was in seventh grade, he was still in the same school with Eliza and Jeremiah. Granger Community School had recently expanded to include students all the way from kindergarten to eighth grade, so he was stuck walking the halls knowing total embarrassment could be waiting around any given corner.
Two weeks ago Jonah was in the lunchroom when Jeremiah walked in and spotted him. He saw the wild look in his brother’s eyes, which made him drop his cafeteria taco on his tray, splattering it all over his shirt, and murmur to himself in quiet humiliation, “Oh
no
.”
He knew what was coming; he just couldn’t stop it.
“JOOOOOONNNAAAAAHHHHH!”
His brother launched himself into a full-fledged sprint to come give him a bear hug. Two tables, eight lunch trays, and a very frightened Mrs. Clagmire were no match for his excitement, and they all went flying onto the floor.
And then, just the other day, the principal made this announcement over the school intercom:
Congratulations to our very own fifth grader Eliza Stone for her recent accomplishments. She won first place in the science fair, the blue ribbon at the Math-letes Regional Competition for the Academically Advanced, and the gold medal for the local chapter of Whiz-Kid Computer Programmers International—all in the same week! Brilliant, Eliza! We at Granger Community School are privileged to have such a gifted student in our midst. Bravo!
Since then, Zack Smellman and his bully buddies had taken every chance they could to remind him that his little sister was smarter than he was. Which was funny, coming from a group of guys still taking third-grade math.
Jonah sighed loudly and finally forced himself to climb down from the top bunk. He pulled his clothes on quickly in the dark.
Still half-asleep, he staggered down the stairs, landing in a chair at the weathered wooden table beside Jeremiah, who was halfway through his bowl of Frosted Flakes. Eliza was already finished with breakfast and waiting by the door impatiently, her book bag strapped tightly to her back.
“Mom, why do Jeremiah and I
have
to share a room?”
Jonah’s mom smiled at him sleepily, pushed the wispy blond hair from her face, and planted a kiss on his forehead. Even in her rumpled bathrobe, Eleanor Stone was stunning. Tall, with wide shoulders, hair pulled back in a ponytail, she commanded attention wherever she was.
“Haven’t we been through this before, dear?” she said, running her fingers through his thick, black hair. “We only have three bedrooms, and Eliza’s a girl. She needs a room to herself.”
Jonah sighed. He imagined what it would be like to have a room to himself, where none of his stuff got bothered and broken, where he could lock the door and play video games or read a comic book without being pestered.
“What would you like for breakfast, hon?”
“Cereal is fine,” he said, snapping out of his fantasy. He shook the flakes into a chipped green bowl while she poured milk from a plastic jug. “Where’s Dad?”
“He had a late meeting at the church last night, so he’s sleeping in this morning.”
Jonah nodded, crunching on his cereal slowly. His dad was the pastor of All Souls United Methodist Church in Peacefield, and late-night meetings were a regular thing.
“Don’t forget your basketball shoes and shorts, dear,” she said, using one hand to try to tame his mane of hair. “Tryouts are today, remember?”
It was often easy for Jonah to forget things, like homework (he forgot to do two English assignments last week) or chores (his parents had started attaching brightly colored notes to his tennis shoes and video games), but forget that basketball tryouts for the middle school boys’ team at Granger Community School were today? It was all he had thought about for weeks. True, he was a little shorter than most of the boys in his class, but he was fast, and he had been practicing in his driveway every single day for the last month. He was ready.
“Yeah, Mom, I know,” he said, munching a little quicker, suddenly feeling more awake.
His mom lifted his chin with her finger and looked at him with her bright green eyes. “Just know that whatever happens, your father and I are very proud of you.”
Jeremiah suddenly hopped up and wrapped his arms around Jonah’s neck, tightly squeezing as he talked, so hard that Jonah coughed up some of his breakfast. “Yeah, Jonah, we are
proud-of-you
!”
Eliza still stood at the door, her arms crossed and scowling. She wore a pink, sparkly blouse and a black skirt with leggings. Even Jonah had noticed she was dressing differently this year. No more sweatpants and raggedy T-shirts. But she was still his little sister. “Yes, yes, we are all
so
proud of you, big brother,” she said sarcastically. “Now can we get going, please? You’re going to make us miss the bus!”
They had to run to the bus stop, but they made it. In almost no time the bus pulled up to a campus of large, one-story brick buildings. Granger Community School sprawled out in every direction, connected by an intricate spiderweb of cracking concrete walkways.
Jeremiah stood at the bottom of the bus steps waiting patiently for his big brother. “Come on, Jonah, take me to class.”
