Through a Glass Darkly (Harbingers Book 17) Read online

  “He’s what?”

  Eyes still closed, he spoke like he was repeating someone:

  “I’ll be okay, Mom. You got to go. Don’t stay because of me. Don’t look for me, you won’t find me.”

  “Daniel—”

  Chad opened one eye. “Will you shut up, please?” After another moment he continued, “I promise I’m safe. I’m hiding so you can’t find me. So you can go. You’ve got to go.”

  “Dan—”

  “They say it’s real important. You got to go.”

  “Daniel, you just can’t—”

  “I lost him.” Chad opened his eyes. “Guess he’s done talking.”

  “What? Where is he?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? Of course you know!”

  He shook his head. “He’s put up some kind of block. I told you he’s talented.”

  Andi gasped and we all turned to her. On her computer one letter after another began to form. Big letters that filled the whole screen:

  G O M O M !

  That was thirty-six hours ago. And yes, I’d checked his room. And yes, I looked everywhere I could think of. But if there was anybody more stubborn than me, it was Daniel. And like Pretty Boy said, the kid was smart.

  But we weren’t done. Not quite. One more e-mail came in. Just last night. Like the first one, it popped up on all our cell phones.

  And it was the one that finally got me on this plane:

  Daniel is safe.

  He is under our protection.

  Your participation is vital.

  Don’t forget those bathing suits.

  Chapter 3

  Taxiing into the terminal at Bagdad was uneventful. Wish I could say the same about going through Immigration. I get it when they give body searches before you get on the plane. But when you get off? Makes no sense. Especially all the extra attention they gave me and Andi. Then again, it might have had something to do with all them guards being male.

  That wasn’t my only hassle. We’d barely landed before my head began filling up with all sorts of pictures. The type I see when I tat someone’s past or future. But this was mostly ugly stuff. Killings, murders, tortures.

  First, I figured it had to do with the war. But the clothes were all wrong. Lots of robes, which I suppose could be from today, but somehow they looked different. Way older. A few even had gowns and furs with jewels like kings or somethin’.

  Then there were the animals. Some I recognized, like the lions in a pit with some kid. But the others—dragons, creatures full of eyes, spinning wheels full of eyes. But what really got my attention were the winged things with tail stingers. The ones that looked exactly like the fairy that attacked Daniel down in Mexico.

  Luckily they started to fade and were completely gone by the time we got to the luggage carousel.

  Once we grabbed our backpacks and stepped out of the terminal you could literally taste the dust. And the heat? I’m used to the desert. But 110 in the shade is pushing it even for me.

  “Excuse me! Excuse me!” Some skinny, fossil of a man waved a cardboard sign with our names on it. “You are the Americans, yes?”

  He seemed kinda familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Anyway, we nodded and he broke into a grin, showing a serious lack of dental hygiene. “Bijan Rezaei at your service. I am your driver.”

  He turned to the old Fiat behind him and pried open the passenger door. I noticed most of the right fender was missing and I couldn’t make out the car’s color. Hard to tell under all the layers of caked mud and dirt.

  “This is your car?” Cowboy asked.

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Figures,” I muttered.

  I slid into the back seat. Cowboy followed and took the middle, poor guy. But that was only ’cause Chad whined about getting carsick and said he needed the window. Of course he took time to wipe down the seat so he wouldn’t get his pretty-boy white pants dirty.

  “They’re Ralph Lauren,” he said. “Two hundred seventy dollars, and that’s a steal.”

  I shook my head. Some things just aren’t worth commenting on.

  Andi took the front seat and looked for the non-existent seat belt.

  “Do we have air conditioning?” Pretty Boy asked.

  “Oh, yes, yes. The best. I have only the best.”

  Which of course meant he had none at all. Unless you count the front passenger window which was broken and couldn’t be rolled up. No complaints. It gave a nice breeze as we cruised the city streets . . . but turned to a hurricane when he hit the open road and tried to set a new land speed record.

  “How far?” I shouted over the roaring wind.

  “Very well, thank you. And you?”

  I leaned forward, yelled louder. “No, no. Where are we going? How far is it?”

  “Just over 100 kilometers. We will be there very soon.”

  “No doubt,” I muttered, “the way you’re driving.”

  “And where is ‘there’?” Andi asked.

  “Ramadi. My home town.”

  The name meant nothing, at least to me. I sat back and closed my eyes. Big mistake. The pictures came back. This time angels with swords. Big fellas, cutting down anything in their path—animals, trees . . . people.

  Bijan dropped in a cassette, his version of music—if you call all the yelping and screaming music.

  I glanced over to Chad. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t talking. A welcome relief. But something felt wrong.

  “Hey,” I called. “Pretty Boy.”

  He gave a start and opened his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m better than okay. I’m brilliant.”

  I wasn’t surprised by the words. But it was his attitude. Totally missing. And Chad Thorton without attitude meant something was wrong. Still, the joy of his silence was a relief. I didn’t want to mess it up with any more questions.

  The sun had just started to set when we rolled into the ruins of what the driver called Ramadi.

  “Pull over!” Chad yanked at his door. “Pull over!”

  “What’s wrong?” Cowboy said.

  “Pull over!”

  The driver barely made it to the side of the road before Pretty Boy tumbled out and hurled his lunch.

  “Is he okay?” Andi asked.

  “Carsick,” I guessed.

  “I don’t know,” Cowboy said. “He looked a little peaked even ‘fore we landed.”

  “I do not think it is carsickness,” Bijan said. He shook his head. “No, I do not.”

  Before we could ask what he meant, Chad climbed back inside.

  “Are you okay?” Andi asked.

  “Of course,” he said as he adjusted his pants and made sure the car seat was still clean. “Just a little carsickness.”

  I glanced to the rearview mirror. Bijan was shaking his head as he pulled back into traffic.

  Ramadi was a war zone. Literally. A rusting, leftover tank lay on one side of the road. Two gutted and overturned armored trucks sat on the other. Not far away a third rested on its axels, its tires long gone. Collapsed concrete buildings were everywhere. Dozens of stories stacked right on top of each other like so many pancakes.

  “Were you here during the war?” Andi asked Bijan.

  “Yes, yes,” he said. “It was very bad.”

  “And your family?” Cowboy asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  Cowboy spoke louder. “Do you have family here?”

  He shook his head. “They have left. My wife, my boys, they are gone.”

  “To some place safe?” I said. “Away from the fighting?”

  “Yes, very far away. And they are happy. Heaven, it is a very happy place.”

  We traded looks.

  “Heaven?” Andi repeated.

  “Yes, they are in Heaven. Very safe. Very happy.”

  “I’m sorry,” Andi said more softly.

  “They are very happy.”

  We didn’t
know what to say. We didn’t have to.

  He continued. “Because my wife, because she became Christian they wanted me to stone her. That is the penalty for conversion. When I refused, they drove me out to the desert, many, many kilometers and made me walk home. Three days and two nights.”

  “That’s terrible,” Andi said.

  “I was the lucky one. My wife, my children, not so much.”

  “Because ISIS was here, because they invaded the city?” she asked.

  “No. They made it worse, yes. Very much worse.”

  “But you,” Andi gently persisted, “you survived.”

  He motioned across the wide, river we’d been following “Just over there. I was in prison so I was safe.”

  “You were safe?” I repeated. “In prison?”

  “Not from the devils, but from everything else.”

  “Devils,” I said. “You mean the guards?”

  “No, no. The devils. The four devils who will become loosed unless you do something. That is why you are here. Yes?”

  We had no idea how to answer.

  He looked in the mirror. “Perhaps . . .” He hesitated. “Before I take you to your hotel, perhaps I should show you.”

  Before we could answer, he threw the car into a U-turn. Horns honked, tires squealed. No one was happy, least of all Bijan’s passengers. But somehow we avoided getting killed.

  I hoped our luck would continue.

  Chapter 4

  Minutes later we were on a narrow road crossing the river. But it wasn’t a bridge.

  “Are we on top of a dam?” Andi asked.

  “Yes, a dam. You are correct.”

  “And the river, it’s the Euphrates?”

  “You are in the cradle of civilization. The Garden of Eden was here in my country. And the tower of Babel.”

  “And Abraham,” Cowboy chimed in. “Isn’t this where he started out?”

  “And Nebuchadnezzar and Daniel. And buried here we have the bones of Ezekiel, Ezra and Jonah.”

  “That’s a lot of Bible,” Cowboy said.

  “Iraq, it means country of deep roots. Next to Israel, there is no country mentioned more in the Bible.”

  But I wasn’t as interested in history as in what I saw. “This dam,” I said, “everything about it—the road, the walls—everything’s in perfect condition.”

  “Yes,” Bijan said.

  “But everything else in the city is ruined—buildings, homes. Why wasn’t the dam destroyed?”

  “Which is the reason you are here.”

  “Come again?”

  “There are many cities downstream of this river. Using the dam, ISIS cut off all their water. When we won back the city and reopened the floodgates, it changed the river’s course slightly.”

  “What’s that got to do with us?” I said.

  “And the four devils who will be loosed?” Andi asked.

  We’d reached the end of the dam. Instead of answering, Bijan turned right onto a road even worse than the last one. “Just ahead, you see those buildings?”

  I craned my neck and spotted a big, broken down complex. Most of the roof was gone. Walls were collapsed and crumbling. And rubble. Everywhere you looked, rubble.

  “This is where I was in prison. On the banks of this river.”

  He slowed the car. I heard a moan and saw Chad holding his head. He looked pretty bad.

  But Bijan continued. “This is where we heard the screams. Every day. Every night. As the river dried they grew louder and louder. Many of my fellow inmates, I am sorry to say, their minds, they have not been the same.”

  “They went crazy?” Cowboy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “From the screams?”

  “It is difficult to explain. They were more than screams. We felt them inside. Our heads, our souls. They never stopped.”

  “Where did they come from?” Andi asked.

  “Below. The prison, it was built upon a large cavern. The only entrance to the cavern and the only exit was through a cave far underneath the river.”

  “And then the river changed course.”

  “Yes. Not much. But our neighbor to the north, Turkey, she is hoarding water and now the level drops every day.”

  “Time out,” I said. “You’re telling us these devils are somehow trapped in a cavern sealed up by water?”

  “Yes. But as the course changes, as the water level lowers, they are much closer to escaping.”

  Silence stole over the car . . . until Cowboy recited the verses from Revelation, the ones the professor had given us:

  “And I heard a voice saying . . . Loose the four angels which are bound in the great river Euphrates. And the four angels were loosed, which were prepared to slay the third part of men.”

  More silence. I took a breath, then asked the question we’d all been thinking. “And what exactly do you want from us? Why are we here?”

  Bijan looked in the mirror, cocked his head. “I thought I said.”

  “Remind me again.”

  “To prevent their escape.”

  “‘They’ being . . .”

  “The angels, the devils.”

  I blinked and swore. I figured Andi and Cowboy were doing the same but in a more PG version.

  And Chad?

  “Stop the car!” he shouted. “Stop!”

  Bijan pulled over, but this time he was too late. Pretty boy choked up the last of his meal . . . all over those pricey Ralph Laurens.

  “Say, Bijan?” Cowboy said.

  “Yes?”

  “Now might be a good time to visit our hotel.”

  “Yes, I agree. Your equipment, it is already in place so tomorrow you can get an early start.”

  We traded looks. But he wasn’t done.

  “And bathing suits? I believe you were instructed to bring bathing suits?”

  “For what?” I said.

  “To enter the cavern.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “To ensure the angels remain bound there is no other way.”

  Chapter 5

  One thing you can say about the Watchers, they treat us good. The hotel was top notch. Well, as top notch as you could get in Ramadi. (Think of a two-star Motel 6 with cockroaches the size of Volkswagens).

  Still, no major complaints. Least the place had showers. Okay, one. And who needed hot water in all that afternoon heat?

  Anyways, the sun had just set and I’d barely toweled off and thrown on some clothes before the boys came into our room.

  Chad still wasn’t doing well.

  “You look like crap,” I said.

  “I look better than I feel.”

  “It’s the voices,” Cowboy said.

  “Voices?”

  “Yeah.”

  Chad crossed to the sofa and was ready to sit.

  “Might want to check under that cushion first,” I said.

  He bent down and flipped it over. Good call. A dozen silverfish scurried for shelter.

  “By voices, you mean impressions?” Andi asked.

  He plopped down and nodded.

  “But you get those all the time. That’s one of your gifts.”

  “Not like these, I don’t. These mothers are mean. Vicious.”

  “Demons,” Cowboy corrected.

  I arched a brow.

  Chad answered. “Me and Jock-o here, we’ve been talking. He says if I’m not careful, my gift can turn on me.”

  “Meaning?”

  Cowboy answered, “The spirit world has a good side, but it also has a dark side. Our gifts are kinda like doorways.”

  I walked to the window and looked out into the night. It sounded like we were in for another sermon. I wasn’t wrong.

  “If we don’t ask God to stand guard, the bad spirits can come in and really mess things up.”

  “Demons,” Andi repeated.

  “That’s right. But Jesus, he has authority over them.”

  I turned to Cowboy. “This from a guy whose faith n
early crumbled when we ran into that fairy thing?”

  He smiled. “He’s also pretty forgiving.”

  I looked back out the window.

  Chad motioned to Cowboy. “So the troll here, he’s been telling me I have to give my gifts to God or I’ll always be open to—” he made air quotes—“deception.”

  Cowboy nodded. “Occult counterfeit.”

  No one answered. Without turning from the window, I said, “I suppose that goes for me, too? And Daniel?”

  “It goes for all of us, Miss Brenda. Look, I don’t mind praying for everyone’s protection, but it’d sure be easier if you’d ask the Lord for yourselves.”

  I looked to Andi, our resident Jew. She didn’t seem bothered. Either she was cutting Cowboy slack or, like me, she was starting to buy into all his superstitious mumbo-jumbo. A year ago I would have chewed him up and spit him out.

  But that was a year ago.

  I looked back into the night just in time to see a blazing something fill the sky. It was big and getting bigger by the second. I blinked hard and it was gone. Another vision. I swore under my breath.

  “So,” Andi said, changing the subject. “Who here has ever gone spelunking?”

  “Spe— what?” Cowboy asked.

  “Cave exploring,” Chad said.

  I turned to her. “You’re serious about doing that?”

  “The Watchers certainly are serious.”

  “Is it just me, or is each assignment getting weirder?” I asked.

  “It’s just a cave,” Chad said, obviously trying to regain his macho status.

  “He’s right,” Andi said.

  “Right,” I said. “And tell me again, what exactly are they using to lock up angels these days?”

  Quiet chuckles all around . . . ’cept for Cowboy.

  I continued. “And another thing. If God’s supposed to be, you know, all God-like, and he says it’s time to let the angels go, then who are we to—”

  “He doesn’t,” Cowboy said.

  “Come again?”

  “The timing, it’s wrong. The angels, they’re not supposed to be released ‘til other things happen first.”

  “Other things? Like what?”

  He shook his head. “Ugly things.”