That which we fear…
As the day wore on, Antonio felt more and more at odds. He paid Berto for the yard and advised him to go home and stay there. He was thinking of the younger man’s safety. After the deep-fried demon corpse attack, he had no idea what else to expect, but he didn’t want anything to happen to Berto. His sister would never forgive him, that was for sure. He could see her face clearly in his mind’s eye, alternately feisty, obstinate, and beautiful. No, he couldn’t let anything happen to either one of them. They needed to stay away.
At first, Berto refused to leave him, his innocence not allowing him to comprehend the danger. Antonio knew danger. He’d lived in it for the past three years, but this was something different, something far more sinister. He knew how to fight insurgents. They were predictable. He understood their strengths and weaknesses, their strategies. It was what he’d trained for, but this new threat was anything but predictable, and he knew absolutely nothing about it or them. He was fighting blind, and that scared him. Fear was healthy when he knew what he was facing. It kept him on his toes, but in this case, fear might get him killed. He couldn’t put anyone else in the line of fire.
He’d sent Berto home with a direct order to stay indoors and to make sure he kept Blanca in the house as well. They lived too close to ground zero.
Once he was alone, he made arrangements for his father’s burial.
The representative at St. Francis, Brother Alvinio, had been kind. He’d explained that they would send someone from the funeral home they used to pick up his father’s body from the morgue. From there, the remains would be prepared for burial, and a mass would be held at the chapel on the grounds of the monastery. Afterwards, Eugenio Diaz would be laid to rest in the consecrated soil of the monastic cemetery. It all felt surreal to Antonio. On one hand, he was glad they would handle everything. On the other hand, he felt he wasn’t doing enough.
By mid-afternoon, he was left with nothing more to do. He paced the house like a caged tiger, looking in drawers, closets, cabinets, trying to locate the key. The silence inside the house was interrupted only by the constant ticking of the mantle clock.
When his search yielded no productive result, Antonio quit. Frustration grated on his last nerve as he settled into his father’s recliner. The chair sat near the fireplace and faced the television, an old bulky tube TV that weighed a ton, unlike the new, lightweight flatscreens. His Pops always said, “What do I need some new-fangled television for when the old one works just fine? It still has a purpose for as long as I can still watch my westerns. I don’t know why you youngsters are always so keen to toss out perfectly good things for the promise of something new and shiny. You should appreciate what you have.” Then he’d click on the behemoth, flip to his favorite channel, and watch Charles Bronson and Yul Brynner in The Magnificent Seven.
A chuckle escaped Antonio’s lips and he smiled. “I hear you, Pops. I hear you.”
It was closing in on five in the evening. The sun would set soon. Apprehension slithered down his spine. It couldn’t be true…could it?
The idea that a rare blood supermoon would suddenly turn him into the wolfman sounded like a bad joke. Yet he couldn’t make himself rise from the chair. It felt like the only safe place on earth. It was the last bit of his father left where he could find some comfort, as if the arms of the chair were his father’s arms, supporting and holding him through this nightmare. If he got up, something bad would surely happen. But if he stayed put, everything would be all right.
That was the child inside him rationalizing. The grown man that he was now knew better.
Five came and went. Six drew near, bringing the last rays of sunlight with it. The light waned through the blinds, casting shadows on the walls. As the darkness overtook the room, the clock on the mantle chimed the hour, startling Antonio, and jerking him out of his reverie. He stared at it, heart pounding. Never in all these years had the clock chimed. It wasn’t that type of clock, or so he’d thought. It ticked but was otherwise silent. Now, it struck six with an unexpected chime like that of monk’s bells. Fear snaked through him, turning his blood cold.
Rising slowly, he approached the clock, reaching it as the sixth chime faded into silence. He waited, on edge, staring at the timekeeper with new eyes.
Old one works just fine. It has a purpose…
His father’s words rolled around inside his head.
A loud knock broke the silence. Antonio jumped. He whipped around, walking to the front door, approaching with caution. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and had, in fact, warned everyone to stay away, including Hector. With the stealth of a trained soldier, he peered through the spy hole. The top of a dark, curly head was all he could see. The knock sounded again. Taking one step back, he pulled the door open, keeping it between himself and whoever was on the other side. When he saw who it was, he froze.
“Hey.”
Blanca Ramos stood on the porch holding a bag from which delicious aromas wafted, tempting his stomach.
Antonio stared, speechless.
“What?” Her eyebrows rose. “Do I have two heads or something?”
He looked angry.
“What are you doing here, Blanca?”
She lifted the bag. “I brought dinner. I figured you probably didn’t have time to go shopping, and I wanted to thank you for helping me and Berto.” She left out the part where she’d been thinking about him all day. Memories of that cocky smile he’d left her with the night before had both unnerved and intrigued her. She knew he was trouble, but the nagging urge to be near him would not be ignored.
“That’s not what I meant. I told your brother to make sure you both stayed in tonight. Didn’t he tell you? Someone broke into my house today!” He left out the small detail that it was a charred demon from Hell.
She shook her head. “I’ve been at work. Haven’t even gone home yet.” She stepped around him, inviting herself inside.
He watched her, astonished at her tenacity. “Blanca, it isn’t safe…”
She ignored him, seeking out the kitchen. “I’ve always wondered what the inside of this house looked like. Pretty nice.” She set the bag down and began pulling out the contents and placing the packaged dinners on the table. “It’s fajitas, beef and chicken. I didn’t know which one you’d prefer so I brought both.”
Antonio joined her in the kitchen, caught between being angry she was there, and thankful for her gesture. He hadn’t eaten all day. Worry left him without an appetite, until he smelled food. The scents were so wonderful, his head swam. On top of it all, Blanca was in his house, looking adorably sexy in a tight red t-shirt and even tighter jeans. He really liked the way they hugged her backside. The sight of her bending over the table awoke a different kind of hunger within him, one that brought forth a strong desire.
Antonio stopped that train of thought at once. He shook himself and stepped back, wondering where that idea came from. Then his vision blurred. Something was wrong. He reached out, grabbing the archway separating the kitchen from the living room.
Blanca dropped the plastic forks and rushed to throw her arms around his waist, holding him up.
“Antonio, what’s wrong?” She shifted her weight, trying to lead him to a chair.
He pulled away, trying not to give in to the need to smell her neck, grab her body, and... “You can’t be here, Blanca. Go now! Before it’s too late!” His voice deepened to a raspy growl.
She looked at his face, his handsome face, she thought. Stop that! Something shifted in his eyes. They glowed amber, reminding her of a wolf. Blanca swallowed down the sudden fear that rose up like bile.
“Antonio? What are you talking about? I don’t understand. If you’re sick, you need help. I can’t leave you if you’re ill.”
“Get….OUT!” he growled, panting as he doubled over, pushing her off.
“Step away from him right now and get behind me!”
Blanca and Antonio whipped around, startled by the booming voice coming from behind them.
A large man with long, dark hair approached swiftly. He was powerfully built with shocking lavender eyes. Dressed head to toe in black from his shirt to his boots, he exuded power and strength.
Antonio recognized him instantly. This was the man he’d seen on the ridge in the Helmand River Valley, the man who’d appeared out of nowhere and had looked right at him from miles away where he sat, camouflaged.
The stranger put himself between Blanca and Antonio, reaching out to lift her off the ground with one arm.
Blanca struggled, kicking and shouting.
“Put me down! Who the heck are you? Let me go!” She turned her head, seeking Antonio. “Help me!”
Without hesitation, Antonio launched himself at the man, going for his throat. A muscular arm swept him away as easily as if swatting a fly. Antonio flew back, hitting the wall where he slid down to the floor.
“Stay down,” the man ordered, pointing at him. He looked at the woman under his arm, dangling three feet off the ground, spitting like a cat.
“We need to get you out of here. You’re in danger, Blanca.”
Blanca ceased fighting immediately. She stared at the man, wide-eyed. “How do you know my name? Who are you? What do you mean I’m in danger? From who?”
“From him!” The man pointed at Antonio who was now writhing on the floor, moaning in pain.
Blanca looked at him. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. One moment Antonio lay, muscles rippling, crying out in pain, and the next, as if by some crazy computer graphics special effects, a wolf began to take shape.
“What the actual—”
“Now do you see? I’m going to set you down. Run behind me and get out of here. Move!”
Fear slithered down her spine, compelling her forward on unsure feet. She wanted to flee, but she didn’t want to leave Antonio alone, and especially not with a stranger.
“No. I’m not going.”
The man stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Frustration flashed in his lavender eyes. “Woman, I don’t have time for this. He doesn’t have time for this.” He took three steps forward, reaching Antonio’s side. He scooped up the Marine as if he weighed nothing at all. “If you won’t leave, we will. I have to protect you both.” He sent a glare in her direction. “If you insist on staying, lock the doors after we leave. Don’t open them before sunrise!”
He turned, tossing Antonio over his shoulder, and ran out the back door. Blanca stood, mouth hanging open, staring at the empty doorway. The man had exhibited superhuman strength and speed. Shock froze her in place. Finally, she realized the door was wide open, and she was alone in Antonio’s house. Quickly, she ran to the door, slamming it shut and throwing the lock. Her chest pounded with fear and anxiety. She needed help, needed to talk to someone. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and hit number one on the speed dial.
“Berto? Oh, my God, you won’t believe this!”
***
On the edge of the weak amber light cast by the streetlight, Esteban Del Fuego stood, drawing in the soothing smoke from his cigarette. His eyes glowed an eerie shade of red, reflecting the burning ash as he inhaled.
“So, Gabriel, you’ve decided to interfere, eh?” Del Fuego muttered, then dropped the cigarette butt on the sidewalk, crushing it beneath his heel. “I wonder why? What’s your connection to this guardian?” He sneered, watching the house. The angel had entered through the front but flew out the back with the guardian over his shoulder. Something else was going on, something he knew he needed to know. Esteban sucked in a deep breath and blew it back out. His body shimmered and shifted into a mass of black smoke that began to rise. It drifted swiftly over the house, following the trail left by the archangel.
Don’t forget to SUBSCRIBE now for FREE so each episode lands in your inbox every Monday!
Last Week’s episode: Click here.
All Episodes: Click here.
Reminder, the first 4 books in the Angelic Hosts series will be presented here FREE! We are now in book 4, Nephilim Rising. This is an epic fantasy/paranormal, action-adventure romance. And there will be more books beyond book 4… (Announcement)
All you need to do is subscribe. New episodes every Monday.