THE SHADOWED ONYX: A DIAMOND ESTATES NOVEL (28 page)

Joy’s body hovered higher and sailed through the air above Diamond Estates. She glanced down as if in an airplane looking at the earth below. From up high, it looked serene, almost insignificant. Her body dropped until she floated outside the bedrooms and was magnetically drawn to one.

She flitted like Tinker Bell into the space where two girls slept soundly in their beds and two beds stood empty. Moving closer to one of the bunks, Joy peered at the face of the sleeping girl. Oh, she was one of the three who came running out of the kitchen when she was with Mark. The young black girl—what was her name? Tonya?—had a Bible open on her chest as though she’d fallen asleep reading. That was a little extreme, wasn’t it? Well, if the Bible were any indication, she’d probably be going home soon. The other bunk?

Ah. There lay Paige on the top. Sleeping beauty. How strange to see her in that setting when photo spreads of her actual home—make that
homes
—usually filled four or five magazine pages. Her closet alone was big enough to engulf Joy’s bedroom at home.

Joy moved back toward the doorway and surveyed the space above the beds. Peaceful.

But, wait, there was something there.

Joy trained her eyes on one spot and allowed them to fall in and out of focus like she was looking at one of those pictures where staring intently enough pops an image out of the confusion. She fixated on the scene until she could zero in on what she was trying to see.

Oh. She fluttered back a few inches at the glorious sight.

Standing watch over Paige’s bed was an angel. She almost couldn’t make out the form, but she sensed its presence. One thing she knew for sure, it wasn’t like any angel Joy had ever seen before. There were no big white wings, no halo, no white flowing robes. Just peace … if peace could be worn like clothing.

The angel shifted his stance. Oh, the angel was a man. A powerful one. The peaceful feeling came from the protection his stance promised. He held a sword in his hand, high, drawn, ready. A shield in his other. He was a warrior.

Why hadn’t she seen it all right away? Maybe because it was revealed to her a little at a time so she could process, so she’d believe. Was that how all matters of faith were handled?
Hmm
. She’d have to consider that more later.

Did the angel see her? Of course he did. How could he not? Yet he’d barely flinched in acknowledgment of her presence. Instead, he stared down at Paige’s face like a newlywed—or a new father. Yeah, that was closer. His gaze caressed her as if a father standing watch over his beloved newborn baby.

Joy dove to the ground as the sword flashed. It swung in the air above Paige’s sleeping form, cutting through the air like a whip. What was happening? Who was the angel fighting? Joy strained to see.

With a blink, she floated over the tile floor in the foyer, facing the prayer room. Disappointment washed over her. She’d wanted to see the battle the angel was fighting over Paige. Was it
for
her? Who won?

She shook her head to clear her focus as it was obvious her attention was meant to be on the scene in front of her. Somehow even in the semi-dreamlike state, Joy knew she’d be back there in that prayer room in just a few hours, yet there she was in her spirit. What was she meant to see?

She inched herself closer and closer to the arched opening. It was silent and dark inside. No movement at all. It made no sense to go in there. Maybe she should just go back to bed.

Joy shifted the weight of her body as if to propel herself from the house and back toward her bed, but she felt herself being shoved the other way. Or was it pulled? Or both? Someone, or something, wanted her in that prayer room.

Where was Silas? What would he do if she entered the prayer room? She would’ve found out in the morning, but it looked like she would be a little early.

Joy surrendered to the wishes of the unseen and inclined her head forward as she directed her body through the opening. She lingered over the threshold then pressed through.

What? She clasped her ears and curled into a ball, trying to drown out the sounds of screaming and war. She scrunched her eyes closed, desperate to seal out the sights she already saw. Death.

Joy turned her body away and reached toward the doorway. Toward the peace that waited on the other side. She had to get out of there. Please, move. Please.

But she remained tethered to the floor like a hot air balloon. As she fluttered through the air space in the room, she encountered a battlefield where a war waged and blood was spilled.

She was pummeled from every direction with sounds and sights. She was battered around the room, physically moved by the scuffles and scrimmages of spirits as they bumped into her. She ducked to avoid a swinging sword. Could it actually hurt her? She’d rather not find out.

Joy squinted, trying to focus on the spirit realm. Was this the other half of what she’d been shown in Paige’s room?

Was that real blood? She needed to know what they were actually fighting for so she could decide whose side she wanted to be on. Was it some kind of senseless war?

Or was it the battle for souls?

Her eyes began to ache as brightness filled the room. Where was the light coming from? She searched the space, tracing the source. The swords. The light came right from the swords of some of the warriors. Their opponents seemed to crumble as the light grew in intensity.

Joy clamped her hands over her ears. The screams … they were too much. How could she make them stop? She dropped to the floor and fell to her knees. She pressed her hands harder over her ears and squeezed. “Stop!”

Her vision grew fuzzy. She couldn’t make out the shapes any longer. The sound muddled together into one loud scream. Whose was it? Who was the winner?

Her head. “Stop!”

Would someone hear her screams and come to her?

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” A feather tickled Joy’s forehead. “Joy? It’s Ginny. Open your eyes.”

Joy blinked as Ginny’s hand brushed the hair from her eyes. Ah, that was the feather. Where were they? She felt beside her body, patting the soft blanket. Oh. Back in bed? Well, then, where was Silas? Why had he allowed her to go through that? Unless …

Had he caused it?

“It’s okay. You’re here in bed. You had a bad dream.”

Joy tried to shake her head, but a migraine headache clutched her skull in a vise.

“Joy, come on. Snap out of it. It was just a nightmare.”

That was no dream. Not that she could tell Ginny that. Her eyes blinked open and focused on Ginny’s face. She’d never be able to help her. No one could.

“You okay, sweetie?” Ginny rubbed her forehead.

Joy nodded. More like a living nightmare. How would she ever set foot in that prayer room tomorrow?

“… free to worship …”

Music blared from Ginny’s room across the hall. Joy glanced at her bedside clock. Five thirty? Didn’t the woman know what time it was? Joy grabbed the sides of her throbbing head. When would the pain stop?

The music played on.

Oh, must be Ginny’s alarm clock. That’s right—prayer time. Joy’s heart sank.

She’d have to face the music and return to the battlefield in the prayer room mere hours from the devastation she’d witnessed the night before. But after what she’d seen, how could she possibly go in there? Joy glanced down at Silas. Where had he been last night?

He looked up at her, panting, smiling, begging her to need him.

Joy lowered her feet to the cold floor and searched for her fuzzy slippers with her toes. Her legs screamed in pain with every movement. Why was she so sore?

As she stood to her feet, Joy thought she’d crumple to the floor. Every inch of her body hurt as though she’d been pummeled within an inch of her life. Had she?

She moved as quickly and gingerly as her injured body would allow until she stood before the mirror.

She gasped in horror. Her arms and legs were covered with bruises, and her face looked like it had been punched. What had happened to her? No, she’d have to figure that out later. For now she needed to cover her body.

Scrambling in her suitcase, Joy grabbed the first thing her fingers touched and pulled it over her head. Her favorite sweatshirt settled over her body like a soothing massage. Now for her legs. Denim would only irritate her injuries. Ah, yoga pants. Perfect.

Joy shuffled to the bathroom and pulled the door closed. Ugh. Another mirror.

Maybe she should tell someone about the bruises all over her body—they’d let her rest and heal. Maybe they’d even be able to help her. Or they’d think she was crazy.

She probably was.

She brushed her teeth and ran a brush through her hair. She’d have to wash it tomorrow, but she could get by one more day. The thought of raising her sore arms above her head … no thanks.

She yawned and covered her mouth with her hand. Would there be time in the day for a nap, or was she locked into some schedule from sunup to sundown? Then again, if she slept … Sleeping was out of the question after last night.

Ginny knocked on the doorframe. “You about ready?” Her jaw dropped as she saw Joy’s face. “What on earth?” She rushed over and touched Joy’s swollen lid. “What happened?”

Tell her, or not? She looked at Ginny’s concerned, yet clueless, face. Definitely not. “I bumped into the doorframe when I went to the bathroom last night.”

“Oh, hon. Do you need ice?”

Aren’t you the nurse? You tell me
. “No. I’m fine.” Change the subject. “I’m ready.”

“Good, I don’t want you guys to be late, especially on your first day.”

Joy stepped into the hallway where Savvy stood waiting. She gasped at Joy’s appearance.

“Hey.” Joy averted her eyes. On second thought, Joy looked back at Savvy. “You should see the other guy.”

Ginny pulled her office door closed behind her. “Ready? Let’s go.” She opened the front door with a key.

They’d been locked in? Seriously? Was that even legal?

Joy pulled her hands up into her sweatshirt. It was too short a walk to mess with a heavy coat, but shivering just made her body ache more.

They trudged through the snow in the dark toward the brightly lit house with the smoke coming from two chimneys. Sure was inviting from back here. At least from the ground, while conscious. On the back stoop, they banged their shoes against the concrete and watched the snow fly off in clumps. Joy winced as every bang of her foot sent a hot poker through her body.

“You guys all set?”

What if she ran into the bathroom and pretended she was sick? Joy glanced down at Silas and locked eyes with him. If only she could convey her intent. She wasn’t going in there to pray to God, but she had no way of letting him know that. If he would just keep looking into her eyes, he would know.

The girls tried to squeeze past each other to get in the prayer room. If they’d been through what Joy had …

She watched as the bottleneck cleared and everyone scattered to a beanbag chair or cushion. Many sat in groups of three or four where they’d supposedly pray with their friends. Big
if on
that one.

As the group filed in, Joy took a deep breath. It was almost her turn to enter. Avoiding the stares at her bruised face and swollen eye, Joy shuffled toward the opening as the line diminished. She arrived at the doorway and lifted her foot, raising it over the threshold. Her body revolted against entering that room, like a lamb suddenly aware it’s being led to slaughter.

No more stalling.

She put her toes down on the other side.

So far so good. Here goes.

Joy let her entire foot make contact with the floor.

Nothing happened.

No flash of lightning. No clashing of swords with lightning from their tips.

Hmm. Okay. So it was no big deal. And thankfully, Ginny didn’t seem to have noticed her trepidation. Joy lifted the other foot in a similar way up over the threshold and planted it firmly in the room. Still nothing. Even Silas behaved at her side. She locked eyes with him and nodded. Good boy.

Now, where should she go? She’d take a private location, thank you very much. Joy walked to the supersize beanbag chair on the floor beneath the Nativity window—she chuckled at the irony. She’d been involved in a baby Jesus burning. Now she sat near Him in a prayer room.

She sank into the beans. At first her body cried out at the contact, then it relaxed and settled down in the soft comfort. Ah. Even better than standing. Soothing, like a bandage.

Glancing around the room, she locked eyes with Ben Bradley standing on the other side, watching. How much had he seen? Joy would have to be on the lookout for him. That dude was a little too smart.

Soft recorded music filled the room. Was that …? Yeah, George Winston on the piano. Shocking it wasn’t some kind of churchy music. Cool.

Silas curled up by her feet, content.

All around her, sounds of whispered prayers reverberated off the walls as the girls prayed for their families at home and for each other. Some prayed silently. That would work for Joy.

She closed her eyes and moved her lips. Hopefully no one would look closely enough to see she mouthed the words of her favorite songs, one after another.