Gabriel's Story - Part 4b
Remember when I wrote, “Some of these posts will be raw, unedited sections of our new book… Still others are unique short stories or anecdotes that come to me in my dreams or my prayers.” Well, this was one of those “raw, unedited” moments. I jotted down some ideas and hit send as I was headed to the airport. But after reading it again, I think it could use some more attention. There is so much potential here, so, let’s build this out a bit…
Sean waited quietly, looking deep into Gabriel’s eyes almost expectantly. He appeared to Gabriel to be searching for more, trying to see through to his soul. In the silence, Gabriel could hear the wind picking up outside. The lights in the house flickered. A pole down the street snapped and in an instant they were in complete darkness.
***---***
The blue Ford truck putted along at barely fifteen miles an hour when Abaddon shrieked in anger, the foreign scream emanating from his host.
The guttural, inhuman cry coming from her husband’s throat shook Sara to her core. She had heard that noise before, but not since the Catholic priest had performed the exorcism. Before then, Gary, her husband, was an abusive alcoholic who enjoyed beating her as much as he did forcing Sara to buy the ecstasy he would eventually dissolve in his moonshine. All the online articles told Sara that her husband should have been dead of seizures or a heart attack. The doctors she consulted refused to believe her when she told them of her husband’s nightcap habit. That’s when she turned to her priest who, with the help of Gary’s brothers, performed the exorcism that Sara thought would save her husband and her marriage. That was two years ago to the day, and Sara had begun to think Gary was in the clear. She closed her eyes and prayed, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” When she opened her eyes and looked at her husband, the face staring back was so contorted physically that Sara couldn’t recognize it. His cheeks were hollowed and his eyes had darkened.
The more Sara prayed to the Holy Mother, the angrier Abaddon became. It was bad enough his battalion failed to warn him of a new believer who had snuck into his neighborhood, but to be subjected to the weak, powerless banter of his host’s wife poured salt into the wound. Abaddon had laughed in the face of the priest who tried to exorcise him two years ago, acquiescing to the man’s faithless calls on a Jesus the priest didn’t really know as part of the demon’s master plan. He needed one more year to put all the pieces in place that would destroy her faith and her life in a single night, but that plan was now shattered thanks to the believer’s arrival. Abaddon would improvise.
The demon summoned his battalion who gathered, kicking up the wind in response. He whispered into his host’s ear, “I’m back, Gary. It’s time to play.” Gary reveled in the power he knew came with the voice and gave himself over to his demon. As he had many times in the past, Abaddon took over Gary’s mind and body, showing himself openly on Gary’s face. He hit the accelerator and aimed the Ford truck for the nearest power pole. It took less than sixty feet for the Ford to reach forty miles per hour before jumping the curb and slamming into the pole, snapping it and severing the power lines overhead. The force of the impact split the Ford in half, ejecting Sara onto the wet ground. Abaddon tore himself free from his burned and bleeding host, ripped through the deflated airbag, and launched toward Sara. The revenge in his eyes allowed the demon to see only Sara, lying helpless on the ground. He summoned unnatural strength as he physically grabbed the live power line and jammed it into the wet ground beside Sara.
Electricity sparked and Abaddon flew backward unexpectedly, slamming uncomfortably into the side of the mangled Ford pickup. His battalion of demons gathered at a safe distance to watch the spectacle. In a ball of evil lumped beside the truck, Abaddon could see Sara lying unblemished on the ground while the sparks jumped all around her. The physical pain and rejection Abaddon felt couldn’t have come from the power line – he was immune. The dark angel of desolation stood slowly, eyes closed, and gathered power from the fear that the total darkness caused throughout the neighborhood. As he readied for another attack he began to feel the presence of something that didn’t belong, someone who wasn’t welcome in his neighborhood. With his demonic senses he felt his battalion gathered around just as he ordered, but there was a hole in his perimeter. When he opened his eyes Abaddon was immediately paralyzed with fear as the holy light emanated from the massive angel who stood protecting Sara. The angel’s his holy sword of truth was jammed into the earth at the exact point Abaddon had plunged the power line. In his rage, Abaddon had completely missed the angel’s arrival.
In a move uncommon for the princes of America, the angel released Abaddon’s ability to speak, but held his authority over his power to move. With a voice altogether terrifying, yet too enticing for even his fallen brother to ignore, the angel commanded Abaddon. “Speak!”
The voice that reached Abaddon’s ears burned as the cacophony of righteous tones assaulted his senses. The same fear the demon often invoked in humanity rose from his very own bowels and threatened to overtake his constitution. He, lowly Abaddon, Prince of Desolation, was under assault by God’s great communicator! “Mighty Gabriel,” in an uncontrollable, autonomic response to speaking the holy name, Abaddon bowed his head in deference, if not reverence, “why are you bothering me? This neighborhood belongs to me. None of the hearts that are here are yours, except that one.” Abaddon pointed toward the house where the human Gabriel and Sean sat in darkness. “That woman is not one of yours, either, for she is a daughter of deception.
Why have you come on this All Hallows Eve?”
In less time than it took for a man to blink an eye, the Angel Gabriel withdrew his sword from the ground and closed the distance with the dark messenger. He wrapped his long, meaty hand around Abaddon’s throat and squeezed. God’s personal communicator gripped the demon’s putrid neck with a righteous hand capable of crushing it minimal effort.
“Please…don’t…kill me!” Abaddon begged in fear. “Don’t send me away!” He could feel his battalion gathering around in anticipation of the beating the angel was bound to levy against their leader. Their bloodlust was boundless. They would pay for their insolence.
The Angel released his hold on Abaddon’s throat, but not over the demon’s being. A righteous fire blazed in Gabriel’s eyes. He raised his sword to the demon’s throat, lightly piercing his deep brown, leathery skin. “I bring a message for you, for your fallen battalion.” He swept his sword around the circle in a threat that was seen and felt by each minor devil of the Desolation Battalion before returning its tip to rest against Abaddon’s breast. “The man Gabriel and his preacher Sean are off limits. They are not to be tested. They are not to be troubled.”
The Angel Gabriel felt the presence of evil grow as Agares arrived. The Duke of Hell stayed outside the protective ring of lesser demons, but Gabriel could see him ready to summon his thirty-one legions of demons if needed. Agares was no match for the great angel, but he wasn’t to be trifled with, either. Gabriel lifted his sword slowly, pulling and tearing at Abaddon’s flesh in the process. He aligned its tip in a challenge aimed directly at Agares. “Touch them at your own peril.”
