The Battle Begins Page 3

  As the crowd thinned, Maggie found herself standing next to Eli, scanning the parking lot.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She ignored him and continued searching for Terrence, her sleepover of the week, who should be pulling up any minute in his clunker pickup. For the record, Terrence had no use for school…or work. But he found plenty of use for Maggie—particularly when it came to their after school, “extra-curricular” activities. Greasy hair, acne ravaged face, he definitely wasn’t her first choice. And she swore if he ever hit her again, he would be her last. But, you know what they say about any port in a storm? And, as far as storms, I’d whipped Maggie’s little life into a Category Four.

  But Eli just wouldn’t let her be. “How’s stuff?” he asked.

  She shrugged and continued searching for Terrence. Then, without looking, she asked, “Detention? You?”

  It was Eli’s turn to shrug.

  “Hey, Eli? Eli!”

  They turned to see Will Harper loping toward them, all smiles with those perfect teeth and that perfect body. Maggie couldn’t help but swear in disgust.

  Will ignored her and continued talking to Eli. “What you did this morning, in Preston’s class. That was really chill.”

  “No problem,” Eli said.

  “Seriously, you saved my butt.” Before Eli could answer, Will spotted his group of A-Lister friends and headed off to join them. But not before turning back to him, “I won’t forget it, man.”

  Eli nodded, hesitated, then called, “Hey, Will?”

  He turned back. “Yeah?”

  “About school and your future and all… You know there’s a lot more to life than just being the best, right?”

  The always agreeable Will grinned, “Yeah, right, you’re right. So right. Hey, gotta go. Thanks again, man.”

  Eli nodded and Will was gone…just as Terrence pulled up; his truck running anything but smooth.

  “Let’s go, Mag!” he shouted.

  Ignoring him, she turned to Eli. “You never stop, do you?”

  “What?”

  She motioned towards Will.

  He shrugged. “I just get off helping people, that’s all.”

  “Mag?” Terrence shouted. “Get them sweet cheeks over here.”

  “Hang on!” Then, back to Eli she said, “Yesterday, I saw you give some Goth lunch money.”

  “You did?”

  She gave no answer.

  “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

  “One of the advantages of being an invisible non-person.”

  “I just, uh, I had a little extra cash, that’s all.”

  “Maggie!”

  Happy to change the subject, Eli called over to Terrence. “That’s some truck.”

  “Piece of crap,” Terrence said. “I’m junking it and getting me a new Firebird.”

  “Yeah?” Eli strolled over to him.

  “Soon as I get me a job that appreciates my skills. Mag, let’s go.”

  “Actually,” Eli nodded towards the hood. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. You just need to change the plugs.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious. Check out the one for the third cylinder, it’s cracked. Change it and you’ll be good.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I uh, just check it out.”

  Terrence gave a snort and turned to Maggie. “Come on girl, get that hot little butt over here.”

  Suddenly, there was the screech of tires and the yelp of a dog.

  They turned to spot Bruce, the German Shepherd, lying on the pavement.

  All at once, I was feeling better. Things were looking up.

  Better than that, his owner, Savannah Turner had seen the whole thing. “Bruce!” She screamed, running toward him. “Bruce!”

  She arrived, dropping to her knees.

  But Bruce wasn’t moving.

  Benjamin Cho, the driver, leaped out of his little killing machine and joined them. “I didn’t see him,” he cried. “I swear to God, I didn’t see him.”

  Other students joined them. A crowd started growing as Savannah sobbed, “Bruce…Bruce, don’t die.”

  Eli started toward them, then hesitated.

  Maggie hung back with Terrence who seemed to enjoy the spectacle.

  Note to Self: Keep an eye on Terrence. He’ll come in handy.

  Cho continued his blathering, “He came out of the blue. I didn’t see a thing.”

  As Savannah continued her sobbing, “Bruce…Bruce…”

  And Eli? True to form, he couldn’t stop himself. He started forward, looking for some way to help.

  Amber was the first one to spot him. “Eli?” Heads turned toward him. “Eli, can you do something?”

  Savannah looked over to him, tears in her eyes.

  Norm spoke up. “Maybe you could, you know like pray over him or something.”

  Savannah croaked, “Could you?”

  Eli fidgeted.

  Excellent. The perfect trap. Snared by his own love.

  Kids stepped back, making a path for him. He took the bait and came forward. He arrived at Savannah’s side and kneeled down to the mutt.

  “Go ahead,” Brent said. “Do your Harry Potter thing.”

  Eli looked up to him, then to the others. Everyone was waiting.

  Time for me to step in. “Look at all those faces,” I whispered. “And the girl.”

  He turned to Savannah. She stared at him, eyes filled with hope, face wet with tears.

  “She’s had that dog since she was seven. Think of the joy you could bring her.”

  He was weakening. He reached out his hand, placed it on the dog.

  “Excellent,” I whispered, “just think of the possibilities.”

  He hesitated.

  Time to sweeten the pot with a few audiovisual effects. I showed him an image where he was silently moving his lips in prayer and…

  Voila! The dog gave a jerk and staggered to his feet. The crowd oo’d and aww’d as he began licking Savannah’s face.

  “Oh, Bruce,” Savannah cried. “Bruce!” She turned to Eli and threw her arms around him. “You did it! You did it!”

  “Very cool,” Norm said as others in the crowd voiced their approval; congratulating Eli, patting him on the back.

  Janice spoke in quiet awe, “You really are who they say you are.”

  Brent added, “Awesome, dude.”

  Others agreed.

  Beautiful. I’d done my work. I had him—until Eli suddenly turned the tables on me and thought: “No!”

  Poof! The vision was gone. We were back with the dead dog.

  “Not yet!” he thought. “It’s not my Father’s timing!”

  Alright. Fine. He wanted to go toe to toe? It would be my pleasure. “Yes, of course,” I whispered. “Your Father’s timing. Would you like to see the future Daddy has in store for you?”

  Before he could answer, I hit him with everything I had…

  Chapter Seven

  I filled Eli’s head with images of his future…

  He was thirty-something, wearing nothing but jockey undershorts and a torn shirt…as they dragged his beaten and bloody body down a dirt road by a rope around his neck. ‘They,’ meaning a couple dozen jeering men. Mostly rednecks. Beer bellies, muscle shirts, baseball caps—surrounded by beater cars and good ol’ boy pickups.

  “I know this,” Eli thought. “This is my love offering.”

  “Love!?” I laughed. “You call this love?”

  I showed him a close up of his battered face complete with missing teeth.

  “You want love?” I said as I changed the image. “Then take a look at my version…”

  He was sixteen again. Sitting on a luxurious bed in a posh hotel. He wore clothes. At least for now. But not sexy Savannah. The beauty was barely dressed as she sat on her knees behind him, nibbling his ear, hands wrapped around his chest, unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Wait,” he cried, “What’s she doing?”

&n
bsp; She whispered into his ear. “Just showing my appreciation.”

  He squirmed, trying to turn. “No, not like this.”

  “Come on, don’t be shy.”

  “Savannah, please.” He managed to turn and face her.

  “Not good enough for you?” I said. “Well, how about…”

  I brought Amber into the picture; sultry, wearing even fewer clothes than Savannah.

  “Hi, Eli,” she cooed as she climbed on the bed beside him.

  “Amber…” he protested

  “Shhh.” She pulled his face towards hers, murmuring through their pressed lips, “I want this as much as you.”

  To finish the job, I added Janice, suddenly appearing at his other side—stroking his chest, helping Savannah peel off his shirt. “It’s finally time for a little fun, don’t you think?”

  The girls giggled.

  “No,” Eli gasped. He tried pulling away from them. “I’ve come to help and serve you. This, this isn’t right.”

  The girls pressed in, making it nearly impossible for him to resist.

  But, he did. “I’ve, I’ve come to give you life,” he stuttered, “not this.”

  “Why?” I whispered. “When you can have them…and so much more.”

  “I’m to take their punishment,” he argued, “so they can live with God. It’s my gift.”

  “A ‘gift’ is it?”

  I brought him back to the jeering men. Only now he stood on the hood of one of the pickups, hands tied behind his back. The other end of the rope around his neck was being tossed up and over a large tree branch above him.

  “For a gift, they don’t seem to appreciate you very much.”

  A big-gutted man in a wife beater’s shirt had climbed onto the hood. He grabbed Eli’s shirt and finished tearing it off.

  More mocking and laughter from the crowd.

  “Don’t forget them undies!” someone shouted.

  Big Gut obliged by pulling down Eli’s underwear to his ankles. The mob cheered.

  Now Eli stood on the hood, stark naked, face and body covered in blood. The owner of the pickup thought he’d give him a little thrill. He revved the engine and jerked the vehicle backwards—not a lot, just enough to scare Eli by throwing him off balance.

  The crowd went wild with laughter.

  Eli shouted to me, “They don’t know what they’re doing!”

  I sneered back, “You’re a fool! You want appreciation? Take a look at my version…”

  Suddenly he was backstage at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. He was dressed in tight leathers and a white, silk shirt open to the navel. The makeup girl was busy applying last minute eyeliner as the house lights went down.

  The crowd cheered in anticipation.

  Music began, soft and building.

  The announcer’s voice shouted, “Ladies and Gentlemen!”

  Thousands of cell phones began flashing.

  Eli took a final swig of water.

  The music continued to build.

  “Direct from Ventura, California…Mr. Miracle Worker, Himself…Eliiiii Shepheeeeerd!!”

  The music roared. Pyrotechnics lit up the stage. And the crowd went crazy as Eli stepped out into the blinding lights.

  “No!” he screamed back at me. “NO!”…and the vision shattered.

  We were back in the school parking lot, the kids crowded around Eli and the mutt…as Eli withdrew his hand and repeated, “No.”

  Savannah turned to him, puzzled.

  “What do you mean, ‘no?’” Norman asked.

  Eli shook his head.

  “Come on, man,” Derrick said.

  “You can do it,” Amber said. “I know you can.”

  But Eli slowly rose, shaking his head.

  The crowd murmured.

  “What’s the deal?” Brent asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Eli said, “I…” But it was too much to explain. He simply shook his head then turned and moved through the crowd back to the school.

  “Jerk,” Derrick called after him.

  “I knew he couldn’t do it,” Janice said.

  Others agreed.

  Was I disappointed? Of course. If I’d gotten him to play by my rules, it would have been a different game. None of this, “Saving the world” nonsense. You all, every one of you, would have to suffer for your own stupid mistakes. But this? It made no sense. What type of idiot would turn down all the world’s pleasures just so he could die for it? Totally illogical.

  Then again, so is the Enemy’s love.

  Fortunately, I still had a few surprises up my cloak.

  Unfortunately, so did He.

  Eli rounded the building out of everyone’s sight. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath. I suppose it was some consolation that I had at least worn him out. But then a look came over his face. It was that love thing again.

  “No,” I thought. “Don’t you dare!”

  The expression kept growing.

  “No!”

  Then, completely out of the crowd’s sight, he raised his hand towards them.

  “No,” I shouted. “NO!”

  He closed his eyes and silently began moving his lips.

  “No!” I screamed. “Do it my way! Not for them! Do it for me! For you! For OUR glory! Not this!”

  But he wouldn’t stop.

  “No, no, no, no…”

  Until, on the other side of the building, I heard Amber’s voice cry out, “He’s moving! Savannah, your dog, he’s—”

  Janice saw it, too. “He’s alive!”

  Excitement rippled through the group. “He’s breathing… He’s okay… He’s alive!”

  I watched with disgust as Savannah threw her arms around the dog and began crying—this time with tears of joy. The animal staggered to his feet and, once he got his footing, gave a good, hearty shake. The crowd clapped, cheered, glad the injuries weren’t as bad as they thought.

  And Eli? Still out of everyone’s sight, he lowered his hand and took a deep breath. He had won. It had taken a lot out of him but he’d won. At least this round.

  Finally, he turned and headed into the building. No one had seen a thing.

  No one but Maggie. She had seen it all.

  Chapter Eight

  I love talking to Maggie. She listens to everything I say. Especially the parts where I tell her she’s such a loser. Hey, the Enemy’s Handbook doesn’t call me the “Accuser of the Brethren” for nothing. I’m a pro at getting you all to hate yourselves with feelings you don’t measure up. And Maggie was no exception. I just wish she would pay more attention when I tell her what she should do about it. I can’t even talk her into starving herself, let alone cutting. Sometimes she can be a real disappointment to me.

  But now the Enemy was up to something. I didn’t know what, but I didn’t like it. Twice now, He’d arranged for her to see things about Eli that He’d kept hidden from others. The first was with that Goth Eli had given lunch money to. The second was healing that mangy mutt. I was hoping the hours she’d spent with Terrence afterwards would take her mind off it. But, no. It wasn’t even dark before she made some lame excuse and left for Eli Shepherd’s surf shop on the beach.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded as she walked along the water. “He’s crazy. A holier than thou nut job!”

  And when that didn’t work, I went to Plan B:

  “You have no business hanging around someone that good. You’ll just ruin him. Like you do everything you touch. Maggie? Maggie, I’m talking to you!”

  But this time she wouldn’t listen. The Enemy had obviously put something in her mind, and if I wasn’t careful, things could get messy. Fortunately, I still had a little roadblock I could throw in front of her.

  She was a hundred yards from the shop when the volleyball rolled to a stop at her feet. She turned to see a bunch of high schoolers at a net. One, probably a freshman, but still hot, was jogging towards her.

  “Hey, Maggie,” he called.

  She bent down and pi
cked up the ball. “Who are you?”

  He started to answer but was interrupted by older sister, Martha, an average looking blonde with just a little too much cream filling around the edges. “Lazarus?”

  Too captivated by Maggie, he ignored her and asked, “Want to join us?”

  “Us?” Maggie said.

  “Yeah, we’re the youth group from Bethany Cathedral.”

  The kid was obviously interested, she could tell. But there was an innocence about him, too. “Might be fun,” I whispered to her. “Teach him the ropes.”

  Before I could go any farther, big sister Martha joined them. She was a devoted worker for the Enemy. The bad news was she did a lot of good for a lot of people in a lot of places. A real pain for me. But the good news was she thought she had to do all that work to earn the Enemy’s love. Oh, she wouldn’t say it, but deep inside she figured the better she was, the more the Enemy would like her.

  And for me, that was another hamster wheel, a perfect win/win:

  —If she failed at being perfect…she was filled with guilt and thought the

  Enemy held a grudge against her.

  —If she won at being perfect…she was filled with pride and secretly judged others for not measuring up.

  Such an easy target. Just keep the little servaholic so busy trying to please the Enemy that she has no time to love Him, no time to hang out with Him, no time to adore and be adored by Him.

  “Lazarus?” She joined her brother, snapping him back to reality.

  “Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Maggie, this is my sister, Martha. Martha, this is—”

  “I know who she is,” Martha said. “What’s up?” She forced a smile, but inside, those judgmental wheels were spinning.

  “I thought maybe she could, you know, join us.” He turned back to Maggie. “When we’re through here we’re going to have a bonfire and Bible study.”

  “Bible study?”

  “Yeah.”

  Maggie scoffed, “Not my thing.”