“Such a waste.” Aspyn stayed in place. “Why do they want to kill each other?”
“Sons and daughters of Adam have strange ways of finding identity and power.” Jag watched the two police officers, the mayor, and Marcus Dillinger. “The offer of love and salvation is available for any of them.” He felt the pain of earth. “But they choose this.”
They needed a plan for tonight. Aspyn was small but capable. Jag believed in her. He steadied himself. “The biggest danger tonight is Dwayne Davis. One of us has to stay here at the center. Distract Marcus. Keep him from going out front. No way Dwayne’s coming inside the center tonight. Not with the police here.”
“I’ll stay. I can distract him.” Aspyn’s confidence was unwavering. “All of heaven will be praying. Don’t forget that.”
“Exactly.” Jag thought for a moment. “I’ll deal with the EastTown gang . . . and keep watch over Dwayne.”
Aspyn must’ve seen the look in his eyes. She put her hand on his shoulder. “You have nothing to avenge, Jag. Nothing to prove.” Her smile was weighted with understanding. “This is a new mission.”
“I know.” New mission or not, Jag had a score to settle with the enemy. He needed to succeed at this Angels Walking mission. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Aspyn knew Jag’s past, the reasons he hadn’t been on a mission in ten years. “Remember how this works. You can’t have the assistance of heaven unless you follow the rules.”
“Of course.” He reached out to her. “Let’s pray.”
They held hands and asked God to guide them, to give them wisdom and vision, and to help them prevent any loss of life—one of the directives of those angels who walked among the sons of Adam.
Jag turned to Aspyn. “Godspeed.”
“You, too.”
And with that they were gone.
5
JAG HAD NO TROUBLE finding the alley where the EastTown Boyz hunkered down, waiting for nightfall. He could see the enemy gathered in the shadows up and down the passageway. He could feel the presence of darkness.
You’re not winning this one, he thought to himself. “Jesus has already defeated you.” He uttered the words out loud and smiled when the demons in the shadows cringed, when they shrank back in fear.
The name of Jesus. Scripture was clear about the power of that one name. At the mention of Jesus the demons had no choice but to obey. Every time.
But that didn’t mean the enemy would run from a fight.
As soon as they gathered themselves, the dark beings lunged toward Jag, hissing at him, trying to scare him from their gathering. “This is our territory.”
But Jag wasn’t about to move. “I’m here in the name of Jesus.”
Again they twisted, writhing in pain at the sound of the name of the Savior.
Jag felt a holy satisfaction. How dare the enemy send his evil army to destroy the sons and daughters of God, His chosen ones, His creation? Moments like this made Jag impatient for the time when all angels would be unleashed and the enemy would be overthrown once and for all. When time ended and eternity began.
Until then, Jag wasn’t backing down. The scene about to play out tonight was all too familiar. He’d already failed on a day like this one.
While the demons hissed and spat at him, Jag remembered. The years faded and Jag was there again. That Angels Walking mission had also been in Los Angeles. Jag had been assigned to protect a man of great faith, a police officer. Terrance Williams was his name. He had been called to testify against one of the city’s most notorious drug dealers.
There had been only two days left in the trial when Jag failed.
Up until that point Jag had kept Terrance Williams safe at every turn. Two hit men had been assigned the job of killing the officer. In the weeks that led up to that fateful day, Jag had found ways to distract Williams, ways that had saved his life. Jag had also created obstacles for the killers, delays that had kept the men from carrying out the murder.
The whole time Jag knew the situation. The murder was the bad guys’ only hope to avoid a guilty verdict. If the trial reached a guilty verdict before the hired guns could kill Williams, then the deal was off. No hit, no payment. No point. With only two days left in the trial, Jag was hovering behind Officer Williams’s car when the man stopped at his son’s school.
This was not part of the plan.
Jag hadn’t known that on that day the man’s son was in a class play, or that the boy had invited his father to watch. Jag had missed that. Even now, with a host of demons threatening him, Jag could see what had happened that day. Terrance Williams had parked his police car across the street from the school and gone inside. Jag had been nervous, his instincts on high alert. His Angels Walking partner had been across town, working behind the scenes at the courthouse.
So Jag was alone.
He stayed in the auditorium with Officer Williams for the entire hour-long school program. It was an hour Jag could still remember, every detail. The boy attended a Christian school and that day he sang a solo from the front of the stage. “How Great Thou Art.” Halfway through the performance Jag saw Terrance Williams wipe tears from his eyes.
The boy was ten years old and everything to the man.
Which created a problem. What if Terrance decided to take the boy home with him early? For weeks, when Terrance picked his son up, Jag had his Angels Walking partner with him. Together they had been able to protect both father and son.
But that day Jag could feel the demons, same as he could feel them now. Without his partner he would be outnumbered if a battle ensued.
Long before the program was over, Jag knew the hit men would be waiting for Williams, their guns trained on him from the moment he left the school. They had followed him here. Jag knew he would have to appear like one of the parents picking up their child at school.
But he had wondered if his efforts would be enough.
As the program ended, Jag had materialized in a hallway outside the auditorium. He looked like any other parent as he walked into the crowded room. Quickly he found Terrance Williams and his son, Ryan. Jag had walked up and put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Hello. You’re Ryan Williams, right?”
The child looked startled. Same with his father. Officer Williams stepped forward. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Jag. My nephew Billy Goodall is in Ryan’s class.” Jag smiled. But he could see the confusion on the officer’s face.
“How do you know Ryan?” The man pulled his son close.
“Ryan’s been a good friend to my nephew.” It was true. Information Jag had picked up during the mission. “Billy gets picked on by the other kids, but Ryan . . . he stands up for Billy.”
Ryan smiled and looked at his dad. “Billy’s my friend.”
Jag remembered feeling desperate. He was out of ideas. He needed time to figure out how to get between Terrance and the hit men. If Jag could delay the officer long enough, the hit men would leave. They needed the cover of a crowd to pull off their deed without getting caught.
“Okay, well . . . thank you for saying so.” Terrance Williams took a step back. “We need to go.”
Jag could still feel the way his heart had fallen. If only they could’ve stayed in that moment. He would’ve begged God to freeze time so that the father and son might’ve stayed there, safe in the auditorium.
But freezing time was not something angels could do.
“See you.” Terrance Williams waved and then he smiled at his son. “Mom made lasagna!”
“Hold on!” Jag had followed him. For five minutes he tried stalling by asking the officer questions. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. As they left the school, Jag stayed behind them. He saw the hit man across the street behind the wheel of his car, saw him lift his gun, aiming for Terrance Williams, and in that split second Jag tried to knock both of them t
o the ground. “Look out!” Jag had shouted.
But years of police training kept Terrance standing on his feet even as his son hit the grass face first. The bullet was through Terrance’s chest before Jag could say another word.
“Daddy!” Ryan screamed, and ran to his father’s side. “Daddy, no!”
Demons celebrated in the air above them as Jag rushed up to Terrance. A crowd gathered quickly, but Jag kept them at bay. “Give us room. I know CPR.”
But even as Jag began administering chest compressions, he knew it was too late. The gunman had been too accurate. Ryan stayed near his father’s head, patting his hair and crying. “Please, Daddy, wake up! Please, God!”
That afternoon Jag tried for twelve minutes until the paramedics arrived. Only then did he stand up and disappear into the crowd. He watched the rest of the scene from a few feet away, hovering over the fallen officer and his brokenhearted son.
Please, God, he had prayed. Don’t let him die.
Paramedics finally helped Ryan away from his dying father. Even then the boy stood as close as he could, reaching out both hands and crying for his daddy. It was a scene etched forever in Jag’s mind. They didn’t officially declare Officer Williams dead until an hour later at the hospital. By then Ryan’s mother was with him, along with half the officers from Terrance Williams’s precinct.
But none of that changed the truth for Jag.
He had failed.
The loss of Terrance Williams made Jag doubt his very purpose. He had been given one task—protect the life of Terrance Williams. Yes, God knew the number of a man’s days. But sometimes that number was small because the enemy had cut it short.
The demons in the alleyway hissed at him again, grabbing for him.
“Jesus will win this battle.”
Screeches filled the air, the demons recoiling in painful fear.
Jag remembered what happened after his last failed Angels Walking mission. The other angels had tried to comfort him. Failure was always possible. The enemy would win some battles—but not the war. The other police officers would care for Ryan Williams now. He would never be without the love of a father figure.
Jag had appreciated their efforts. Their words were true.
But none of that would ever give Ryan Williams his daddy back. Jag had failed. He would always believe the failure was his fault. He should’ve found another way to protect Terrance.
It had taken every one of the past ten years to believe he could be used by God again. When he learned of this mission, of the danger it entailed, he knew it was time. His chance—not only to find victory in this mission, but to make right the one he’d failed at a decade ago.
The sun was setting. Darkness gathered in the alleyway. The demons continued to hiss and scream. If they had it their way, someone was going to die tonight. Several people, maybe. And somewhere on the other side of the new Chairos Youth Center, Dwayne Davis was feeling the same way. Ready to kill Marcus Dillinger.
Jag wasn’t afraid.
This time he had a plan that would work.
6
MARY CATHERINE AND SAMI walked into the new youth center just after three o’clock. She felt more like herself again. Now that she had told Sami the truth about her heart. At their apartment earlier Mary Catherine had made Sami promise she wouldn’t treat her any differently.
“I’m not dying,” Mary Catherine had said. “Not yet.”
“But you will . . . too soon.”
Mary Catherine had held up her finger and shook her head. “None of us knows how long we have.”
Eventually Sami had agreed. “God wants us to live today, that’s what you’re saying? He’ll handle the rest?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Since then they hadn’t talked about it. Sami was a little quieter than usual, but nothing the guys would notice. Mary Catherine was only glad the discussion was behind them. As difficult as it was to share the news with Sami, Mary Catherine had wanted her best friend to know.
They headed through the triple gymnasium into the Virginia Hutcheson Hall, the place where tutoring would happen every school day afternoon and evening. Today, though, tables were set up around the perimeter for the grand opening. Marcus was carrying a box of plates to one of the tables.
Mary Catherine felt it again, the way her dying heart came fully alive in his presence. She chided herself to keep tight control over her emotions. Marcus wasn’t interested, anyway.
“Sami!” Tyler was at the opposite side of the room setting out plastic cups. She hurried to meet him.
Mary Catherine made eye contact with Marcus. At the same time, the box he was carrying broke open and plates started to fall to the ground a few at a time.
She hurried over and began picking them up. “Perfect timing.”
“So you were late on purpose?” Marcus set the box down and helped her gather the plates from the floor.
“Late?” Mary Catherine hoped he couldn’t see the heat in her cheeks. “It’s not fashionable to be exactly on time. You should know that.”
Mary Catherine and Marcus always slipped into this teasing type of banter. Sarcastic and even a little flirty. Nothing too deep. The two of them held the box together long enough to get it to the table.
“Seriously. How can I help?” Mary Catherine kept her tone light. She probably should’ve gone to the other room and helped Sami and Tyler. It did her no good being around Marcus. Not when he had this magnetic pull on her. Like being in his presence caused the oxygen to leave the room.
“I still have to wash down half a dozen tables in the back.” He winked at her. “You can help.”
Mary Catherine looked over her shoulder. “I thought the Waynes were coming.”
“They are.” He grinned. “Even more fashionably late than you and Sami.”
Before they could head to the back for the dirty tables, Coach Ollie Wayne, his wife, and his niece entered the room. “We’re here!” Rhonda Wayne led the way. “Ready to help!”
Mary Catherine took a step back. As she did, Shelly set her eyes on Marcus and came to him. She looked like a hunter eyeing her prey. Mary Catherine felt her frustration rise. Don’t be catty, she told herself. You have no reason to be jealous. Just walk away.
Shelly reached Marcus and gave him a long hug and a kiss on his lips. Marcus looked surprised, and maybe a little embarrassed. He chuckled. “Well, hey there.”
“Help can mean a lot of things, right?” Shelly spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.
Mary Catherine was ready for a new location.
She crossed the room to where Rhonda Wayne was helping Sami with the cups. Rhonda was explaining that they’d brought six flats of water bottles. “I’d like to get them in the fridge.”
“That’s another project.” Tyler was bringing in empty jugs. “Someone donated three additional refrigerators a few hours ago.” He made a face. “They work, but they’re filthy.”
“Perfect.” Rhonda clapped her hands and looked at Mary Catherine. “You up for some refrigerator cleaning?”
“Definitely.”
On the way back to the kitchen, Rhonda introduced herself. “I’ve heard of you. Sami can’t stop talking about how you taught her how to live.” Rhonda smiled. “You’re her hero.”
“That’s sweet.” Mary Catherine felt the compliment to the center of her soul. She had no idea Sami talked about her to other people. God was letting her help other people learn how to live—even while she was dying. “I hear a lot about your family, too. I guess yours is the hangout house.”
“Marcus lives in the neighborhood, and you probably know Tyler’s staying with him for now. They come over for dinner, and then a game of pool breaks out and the two of them stay till midnight. Happens all the time.”
Mary Catherine could picture that. Sami had been there many times with Tyler. Apparently,
Shelly was usually there, too. “You host a house church, right? That’s what Sami told me.”
“Yes.” They reached the refrigerators and found a few empty buckets. “Our pastor stepped down so our main church is in transition. For the next few months the staff encouraged us to meet in our homes. Invite neighbors, that sort of thing. Tyler and Sami have been joining us for a while now.” Rhonda found a few rags and she and Mary Catherine filled the buckets with hot soapy water. “Do you have a church?”
“I do. It’s an hour away.”
“Well, then join us tomorrow. We’d love to have you!”
The invitation was tempting. “Thank you. Maybe some other time.” Mary Catherine couldn’t attend. Not when Shelly would be there fawning over Marcus. In that setting it would be almost impossible to focus on God. Besides, the hour drive each way was good for her. Time to pray and sing and remind herself that true happiness could only come if she busied herself with things that mattered.
Things like this.
She and Rhonda worked for an hour cleaning the refrigerators, until the mold and the mildew were gone. They even found a box of baking soda in the pantry and after a few rinses the shelves actually smelled clean.
The whole time they talked about family and faith, how Rhonda and Ollie liked to think of their home as a church in more ways than one. “We ask God to fill our home, and then He does. Every time.” Rhonda’s laugh came easily. “Not saying it isn’t crazy around the dinner table sometimes, but it’s worth it.”
Mary Catherine tried not to feel jealous. That was the type of home she had always wanted. Instead she’d been an only child raised by wealthy parents. Parents too busy with their social clubs and charities to notice their daughter’s loneliness.
Maybe someday she would take Rhonda up on her offer and attend home church at their house. Whenever Mary Catherine stopped reacting every time she saw Marcus Dillinger. However long that might take.
When they finished, Mary Catherine and Rhonda joined the others in the hall. The place had filled up. Volunteers from the neighborhood had flooded the place and half the tables were full of cookies and cupcakes. In another room, neighbors were helping set up games and filling bowls with candy.