World War S 2

Chapter 4

“Heavenly Father, Dear Lord, we pray for Abegail, who has dedicated her life and her whole heart to you …”

“No!” Abegail shouted with a force that made Martha shudder. The tea spilled into her lap, but she was so mesmerized by the woman’s strange reaction that she didn’t even notice. Lylian pretended that nothing happened and continued the prayer.

“… And she’s accepted Jesus, your Son, as her redeemer …”

“Shut your mouth!” Abegail shouted in a bizarre male voice, jumping up from the couch. The two women tried to hold her back, but she resisted. “Leave me alone! I know nothing! I follow the instructions of the angels!” she said, escaping from their grip. Lylian waved that they should let her go—this was not the first redeemer prayer she’d initiated.

Abegail hid behind Martha and shouted to the others from there. “Leave me alone, I don’t want to continue! I’m scared!”

“All right,” Lylian nodded, sitting onto the couch. “No problem. Tell us when we can continue.”

“But she’s scared,” Martha said. She didn’t understand why these words came through her mouth—it sounded like somebody else was saying it.

“This is completely natural. This frightening feeling is the force that keeps her in bondage. Those spiritual beings that she prayed to before are manipulating her emotions. They don’t want to let her go,” said one of the women seriously. She had the same bizarre, disapproving look as before. At least that’s how it felt to Martha.

Abegail grabbed Martha’s hand and pressed closed to her.

“She’s trembling,” Martha said, caressing Abegail’s hand.

“That’s not unusual. It’s the physical manifestation of what is going on inside her at the moment,” said Lylian. The two other women sat beside her and bowed their heads. “The redeeming isn’t always simple.”

Martha looked back. She saw Abegail’s frightened eyes as she looked at the others over Martha’s shoulder.

“The redeeming from what?”

Lylian stood up and walked to the table. She picked up her cup and poured fresh tea into it. She mixed in some honey until the liquid turned a yellowish brown, then she lifted it to her mouth.

“From whatever force called himself an angel,” she answered after a sip.

“Why? Is it a problem that I’m speaking with the angels?” Abegail asked fearfully, still standing behind Martha.

“It’s very important to understand,” Lylian explained, “that the entity you prayed to day after day was not even a quarter of what he called himself.”

“But the successful treatments, the angelic messages?” Abegail asked back. “The course for angelic healing I participated—”

“Those are not what you thought they were.”

A deep silence descended into the room. Martha didn’t know what to do. She found herself in a situation where she didn’t know who was right. She was so young in her faith—she’d heard about angels, but she didn’t have a clue when it came to whether those beings were harmless or not. But she felt Abegail’s fear so intensely that she was swayed to defend her.

“The Bible speaks about angels, and what’s more, the angels brought the good news about Jesus’ birth …” tried Martha.

“That’s correct.”

“They even announced the news of the birth of John the Baptist.”

“This is also true,” nodded Lylian, “but God sent those angels. Yet all those false prophets who rule the world today don’t deem it necessary to turn directly to God with their questions. They look for new intercessors—the angels that have a totally different task. And the servants of Satan know that.”

Abegail backed towards the door. Then Lylian took a few steps in her direction.

“Don’t try to stop me!” Abegail said, holding her hands in front of her.

“Please, Abegail, don’t leave!”

“I don’t believe you. The angels can’t be bad.”

“Those aren’t angels,” Lylian articulated, stepping closer to Abegail. “The angels would not be afraid of God’s Word.”

Martha felt the urge to intervene. She stood before Abegail and flung her arms open.

“Leave her, Lylian! She only needs some time. Leave it for the next meeting.”

“I’m not sure there will be a next time. I doubt she’ll follow us to the next meeting place.”

Martha was struggling with her own desire to run away. Since she’d gotten together with Will, she’d felt it growing stronger inside her.

“I’ll help her,” Martha said finally, but she had no clue where she got that suggestion. She was not even sure about herself, how could she be helpful to anybody else?

“Martha, I don’t think that’s a good idea, you being a young convert—”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. The sharp noise rang through the living room, rooting everybody to the spot. Lylian moved to the front door after a few seconds’ delay. She let somebody in, and they heard the incoming steps. Suddenly William Ridmoore stood at the doorway of the living room.

“Oh, so here you are!” he said smiling, and headed straight for Martha. “I knew you’d put your heads together here.”

“Will, let me introduce Abegail, she’s new in our church,” Martha pointed to the confused and fidgeting woman, who obviously wanted to use this chance to leave.

“William Ridmoore, appointed congregation leader,” he raised his head, smiling. “I’m so happy to have another sheep in my flock,” he said, shaking Abegail’s hand a moment too long. The woman immediately changed, becoming relaxed and seeming to turn back to her old self.

“I’m so happy as well. This is my first time here, but I think not the last.”

Martha secretly looked at Lylian, but she didn’t turn a hair. The women on the couch exchanged quick glances as well.

“So we’ll surely meet again then,” nodded Will, he could barely seem to part with Abegail’s hand. “Don’t you want to come with us? We can stop for a drink on the way home …”

Martha was conscious of something bizarre happening. As if something inexplicable was going on in the background, something she couldn’t see. She only felt that returning, growing fear that she had felt in Will’s presence many times before.

And jealousy. It looked like Will was flirting with this woman.

“We’ll leave you alone, ladies. We have to go,” said Will with a broad smile, opening his arms, as if there was nothing he could do about it.

“Of course. We’ll continue next time, at the new place,” said Lylian. Martha expected to see malice on Lylian’s face, but she seemed calm and balanced.

Will stayed close to Abegail on the staircase, plying her with questions till they reached the lift. Martha followed a few steps behind them. She turned back to see Lylian standing in the doorway.

This time her eyes were burning. They were alight with flames that burned deep into Martha’s soul, twisting it, squeezing out all falseness that lay behind the previous situation.

But in the lift, she was engulfed in waves of fear again. She stared at the backlit numbers showing the approaching ground floor. Martha felt like she was descending to the depths of hell.

Karnelo, the powerful demon of lust who lived in Will, arrived at the perfect time to prevent the prayers from casting out the demon of deception from Abegail’s body. This demon with a lower rank and Martha’s fetish demon had appeared to be weakening at the prayers of the three women, and their host bodies were influenced by demons’ fears. The pumping adrenalin and the negative feelings they induced in the amygdala finally sent the women fleeing, so the intercessory prayer came to a short end.

Karnelo’s demon legionaries, the members of the Gadarenes Demon Legion, forced God’s angels back, those who had come and successfully defended the three prayer warriors, but they couldn’t do any more for Abegail.

The demon of lust had been truly thrilled when he noticed the deception demon behind Abegail. Although the demon with the angel face was not a member of the Gadarenes Legion, he was a perfect ally to execute their plans. That was the reason Karnelo goaded Will into courting the woman. He felt the resentment of the fetish demon, which had been dancing around Martha, but who could resist Karnelo, the second most powerful demon in the legion after Vrangol? The fetish demon was too weak for that.

When they left the angelic stronghold, it was illuminated with glorious light that could even be seen from the street, signalling that disgusting prayers were taking place inside. These women would surely be the targets of strong new temptations in the coming months. The demons would try to alienate them from their God by all means.

Because Will would be their new God.

2.

The demon of deception—though he did not serve in the same legion—was not a stranger to Vrangol. At the beginning of the century, they had met in a poor district of the Ecuadorian capital, Quito.

They followed the Valdarez family for a long time. Vrangol, the demon of authority made his home inside the body of the father, who—as a businessman of that district—owned several buildings in the surrounding area. Although Vrangol was one of the most powerful leaders among all legions, even he could hardly break through the strong defending line of Ignazio, the head of the family and a man of strong faith. Vrangol followed him everywhere, including all the visits he made to collect rent at each flat and apartment on the weekdays. Despite Vrangol’s temptations, Ignazio showed kindness to those tenants who couldn’t pay the rent on time—he had never lost his temper or shouted at them. The tenants liked and respected him because he had shown understanding in the matters in dispute. He was a churchgoer who had never missed a Sunday. But Vrangol could wait. He had dominated so many lives and had seen many things before, so he could sacrifice his time for the sake of the plan.

Karnelo began following one of Ignazio’s cousins, Fausto, who was part of a newly organized gang. In Quito, they waited for the president to return from Europe, which led to rioting. Fausto took advantage of this chaotic situation, offering his services to the leader of the gang who was still in prison at that time.

Oliverio was the youngest in the Valderez family. This ten-year-old boy was deeply drawn to nature. He often scanned the sulphur clouds rising from the two active peaks of the Pichincha volcano and wandered about the forest situated at the foot of the mountain. His father, Ignazio, supported his interest in the natural world, but in the midst of their political chaos he was also anxious about his son roaming around the side of the volcano alone. He was especially nervous about the possibility that his son might come into contact with the missionaries living in one of the valleys. Ignazio, as a member of the Catholic Eglesia de San Francisco, kept clear of the missionary family that had settled there not long ago. A priest should remain unmarried, and he wasn’t going to have his son thinking about it any other way. Tom and his wife—the missionaries—came from North America and had worked in Peru for years. They moved into the Quito area in the last year of nineteenth century. They ran a school where they taught street children. Tom’s specialty was geography, and this captivated Oliverio’s attention. He wanted to know everything about the process going on below his feet.

One day as Oliverio came home from the missionary school, black clouds gathered above the top of the volcano. He quickened his pace as the mountain road grew slippery. On his right, there was a chasm with sharp, craggy volcanic rocks, and he nearly fell—it would only take one unguarded step or a more intense rain shower for him to lose his footing. He carefully balanced at the edge of the abyss, sometimes grabbing the roots of trees on the hillside. In this way, he reached the sanctuary standing in the middle of a clearing, where he sheltered below the small wooden roof. It was already raining heavily, big drops beating a rhythm on the leaves. The clouds closed, pulling a gloomy black covering over Quito.