The Elder Prophets (To Absolve the Fallen Book 2) Page 7

  ***

  In front of Alex sat Elizabeth, looking much like the one he knew. She sat alone in a fast food restaurant, stirring a small cup of coffee. Her eyes kept drifting to the doors of the establishment. It seemed that she was waiting for someone. But, from the way she’d look back to her coffee, Alex gathered that she was ambivalent about what or whom she was waiting for.

  Taking her by surprise, her dad sat in the booth across from her. For as little as Elizabeth had changed over the years, her father looked like he’d aged poorly. The once-thinning hair had receded all the way back to form a cul-de-sac on the top of his head. His eyes drooped from fatigue. His skin was a pasty white color. And, Alex noticed, his hands shook slightly.

  “Liz,” he acknowledged, forcing a smile.

  She didn’t even try to smile. “Dad.”

  “You look good,” he noted. “My little girl is growing up.”

  She sighed and looked down to her coffee. “I need money for college.”

  He nodded slowly, sadly, as if he had expected her to say exactly that. “Liz, honey, I can’t help right now. If you could wait until next year, I should be fine then.”

  “No,” she said. “I’m not waiting. You sent Martina to school; it’s only fair that I should go, too.”

  “Debby sent Martina to school,” her dad corrected. “I pay the bills, and Debby handles the extra stuff. You know that.”

  “Dad, that’s a cop out. Everything Martina wants she gets. She got a new car. She gets to go to college. She isn’t even a good student. All I’m asking is for you to have a little faith in me and help me accomplish my dreams.”

  “Oh,” her dad replied sarcastically, “that’s all? Accomplishing your dreams seems like a fairly lofty goal. I told you, I’m not in charge of Martina’s car or her college. I’m just trying to make sure everyone has a roof over their heads and food to eat.”

  Liz suppressed a laugh. “Dad, we can’t afford tuition. You haven’t paid child support in nearly a year. We’re doing the best we can. Unlike Martina, I actually have to work for the things I want. I wish Debby was nice enough to send me to college, but, since she isn’t, I think that’s your responsibility. I can understand that you budget things a little different in your house, but it’s still the same money. If the two of you can send one of Debby’s daughters to school, you should be able to send me, too.”

  “Can’t we get together at least once without talking about money?”

  Elizabeth rolled her head back in frustration. “Dad, it’s about money because I don’t have any. I make just enough to pay for my car, the insurance, the gas, and what it takes to fix it. I don’t have a whole lot of other money laying around that I can put toward school.”

  “Well, what happens to all of it?” he asked, coldly. “Do you use it for drugs?”

  Elizabeth stared at her father, stunned. “What?”

  “It was a joke,” he answered without a smile.

  “It didn’t sound like a joke,” she replied. “It sounded rude and like something a father should never accuse his daughter of. This was obviously a mistake.”

  Her father looked out the window. When he looked back to her, there were tears in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I’ll do whatever I can to get you some money.”

  “No,” she sneered at him. “That isn’t good enough. For years, I’ve been trying to get you to be the father you should be. And, for years, the only thing you would do is send money. Now, you won’t even do that. You never once came to see me play softball. You never once watched me compete in academic bowl. When I won an award for computer science, you didn’t even return my call. So, I ask you for some money, and, until you’re guilt-tripped into it, you don’t even consider my needs. Fine. I’m done talking to you. I hope you enjoy your family. And, when you come to the realization that they’re using you and will dump you as soon as you’re no longer useful, you can reflect upon this conversation and try to figure out where you went wrong.”

  Again, Elizabeth’s father slowly nodded his head. He slid out of the booth and walked toward the door. He turned to look at her, but she only stared into her coffee. He hung his head and walked out of the building.

  Then, someone else sat down at Elizabeth’s table. She looked up, alarmed.

  “Who are you?”

  The man looked up at her with a grin, ashed his cigarette on the floor, and told her, “My name’s Jeremiah. Maybe, I can help you.”

  “Whoa,” Elizabeth said. “Jeremiah? Well, Jeremiah, perhaps you can help me by explaining why you’re sitting at my table.”

  He chuckled. “Would you like the long version or the short version?”

  “Let’s make it the short one. And, could you put that cigarette out or something? I’m allergic.”

  “No you aren’t,” Jeremiah returned smugly, without making any move to extinguish the cigarette. “Okay. The short version. You see, Elizabeth, I need someone who’s good with computers. You need someone to send you to college so you can learn to be better, so you can explore yourself, enrich your life. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “And, this is how you scout, hmm? You go to some burger joint, get a drink, smoke a cigarette, and listen to people’s sob stories? Right. I think I’ll be going, now.” She got up, picked up a coat, and started walking toward the door her father had just exited from.

  “Before you leave,” Jeremiah called after her, “answer a question for me.”

  Elizabeth stopped and slowly turned around.

  “You’ve already hurt your father. But how will your stepmother and her two daughters pay for what they have done?”

  She narrowed her eyes at Jeremiah. “What?”

  “Debby, Martina, and Amber. How will they know that you have made something of yourself, while they squander their lives in a white trash paradise? Aren’t those almost your exact words?”

  Elizabeth looked around the restaurant in confusion. “I said that to my mother yesterday.”

  “Yes,” Jeremiah said, smiling. “I know. Please, sit down.”

  Elizabeth shook her head, as if she didn’t know quite what to do. Finally, she did sit down across from Jeremiah. She placed her coat over her lap. She set her palms flat on the table and looked up at him.

  “Who do you work for?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Are you going to be forthcoming with me at all?”

  Jeremiah closed his eyes and seemed to ponder the question for some time. When he did open his eyes, he said, “I own Prometheus Broadcasting.”

  “You own Prometheus Broadcasting?” she asked, disbelieving. “The entertainment giant? And what exactly do you want with me?”

  “As hard as it may be to believe, Liz,” Jeremiah continued, “there’s more about you than you can currently fathom. You have skills that will be vital to bring my plans into reality. Money is no issue. State-of-the-art resources will be available to you. I have already selected a staff for you to see over. All I’m missing is you.”

  “I have no experience in broadcasting,” Elizabeth protested. “What good would I do Prometheus?”

  “Prometheus is more than media,” Jeremiah explained. “Prometheus and its subsidiaries represent a new, progressive power in the economic world. And I would like you to be my personal technical assistant.”

  “I find it hard to grasp that I’m the best you could find.”

  “That’s because you aren’t the best I could find—not even close. Nevertheless, you are the one I want.”

  “Why?”

  Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “Elizabeth, why aren’t you religious anymore?”

  “I don’t know,” Liz replied, confused. “I suppose that it was too hard to believe in the God I was taught. His plan, his way of doing things never made much sense to me.”

  “That is called a lack of faith. And, unfortunately, it is also the reason why I can’t divulge everything to you now. I’m willing to start training you immediatel
y, and my people are anxiously standing around, waiting for someone to show them the way to go. As far as more information, that will have to come when I determine whether or not you’ll be capable of understanding.”

  “We should discuss this with my parents.”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “I’d rather not.”

  “Because this is a scam.”

  “No,” Jeremiah replied patiently. “Because they would want me to tell them what I won’t tell you. All right. I have an idea. Your mother has always wanted to move to the Keys. What if I buy her a house there, and you tell her that you’ll be going to school in Nevada? Anytime she wants to talk to you, she may—and vice versa. That way, I can prove to you that I am who I say I am, and you may stay as long as you like. The longer you stay, the more I’ll tell you. The more I tell you, the more—I think—you will be inclined to stay.”

  Jeremiah got up from the table, threw some money down to cover the tab, and offered, “In three days, your mother will be presented with a job opportunity in the Keys. One of the perks of taking the job is that she will be given a new home that overlooks the ocean. You should help convince her to take the job and say that you have been approached for an internship at the University of Las Vegas, which will, naturally, cover all of your school costs. So, you may both leave without feeling guilty. On the evening of the third day, I will call you at home and ask you for your answer. If you agree to take a risk with me, I will send my private jet to pick you up and fly you to Vegas. By that time, I hope that you will believe the things I tell you.”

  “You want me to lie to my mother?”

  “Nothing I have suggested to you is a lie. If a house and a college education are all I have to pay for to get your services, I consider the bargain more than fair.”

  “And I can leave at any time?”

  “That’s right. Think it over for three days. You may give me your answer when I call.”

  “If I decline?”

  “Your mother will still get to choose whether or not to take the new job. I also own the company she works for. Regardless of your decision, I will not rescind that offer.”

  Then, Jeremiah walked out of the restaurant, leaving Elizabeth to, once again, stare into her coffee.

  The scene became blurry, and Alex could feel himself being lifted away from where he was. His body took on the heavy feeling of reality, and he was aware that he was in a moving vehicle.

  ***

  “Matt,” Jeremiah directed, “you need to take the next right. That should take us all the way to Munich. I hope that our friends there can get us back to the United States without incident.”

  “Elizabeth,” a voice groaned from the back.

  Jeremiah and Matt both turned to see Alex rubbing his forehead and looking down at the unconscious prophet.

  He looked up to the two in the front and, fatigued but angry, admonished, “You shouldn’t have let her touch me. Matt, you should have known better.”

  “Relax, Alex,” Jeremiah advised, “she’ll be fine. How are you feeling?”

  “As for you,” Alex said, glaring at the demon, “you and I have a lot to talk about when we can find somewhere private.”

  Jeremiah’s eyes narrowed and a curious smile formed on his face. “Excuse me?”

  Alex had not diverted his stare from Jeremiah. He wished he could look into the demon’s soul and find even one shred of human decency within him. He wanted Jeremiah to be good, to be kind, to be trustworthy. Even if Alex could not have that, he at least wanted Jeremiah to not be as evil as he was before.

  “I need to find out if you’ve learned your lesson,” Alex replied. “I need to know whether or not someone can change, if there’s hope. I need to understand your motives and see your growth.”

  Jeremiah looked very serious. “What do you mean?”

  “Jeremiah, we’ve been thinking about this all wrong. We aren’t on your side; you’re on ours. You may have brought us all together. You may have given us all of the resources we’re going to need. You may have trained us in the arts of being prophets. But this is our battle. Prophets and humans are what this war is about--not demons, angels, or God.”

  Jeremiah looked confused. “So...are you telling me that you don’t want me to be a part of it?”

  “No, that isn’t what I’m saying. To be completely blunt, I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you to fight alongside us. I don’t trust you to see to our affairs. And I don’t trust your decision-making skills.”

  “You insolent, little--”

  “Enough!” Alex interrupted. “I believe that I am fully capable of making my own choices now, as are Matt and Elizabeth. Demons have manipulated us like puppets for thousands of years. If I learned nothing else from the stories you told me, I can glean that much. Help us, Jeremiah, if you wish, but don’t use us.”

  “If it weren’t for me,” Jeremiah reminded him, “none of you would know what you could do; this battle would have only been a dream, and Metatron would be well on his way to gaining everything. Yes, we have always been at the center of things, and your kind has danced for us throughout the centuries. But you can’t change that. The only way for you to get into our game is to play by our rules. Without me, you won’t have the money or influence to fight a demon. To say that this war does not involve demons is preposterous.”

  “I can’t trust a demon to run the show.”

  Jeremiah chuckled. “There you go again, reminding me of how different we are. Ask Matt how that conversation turns out.”

  “Are we similar?” Alex inquired.

  “We have the same goals.”

  “That isn’t enough, Jeremiah. The methods must be the same. If you ever want to get back to Heaven, you’re going to have to play by some rules, yourself. I happen to know, from a trustworthy source, that it’s all about learning lessons. And I’m not sure you’ve done that.”

  The demon opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He turned around to face the road. “You’ve changed, Alex,” he finally said. “You aren’t timid, like you used to be. You are inexplicably more powerful. Matt told me that you defeated Metatron when he kidnapped you. You defeated him a second time outside of his castle. You even seem to carry some of him inside you. And I realize that you frequently speak with God.”

  Jeremiah rolled down the window next to him and lit a cigarette before continuing. “More importantly, I realize my place in this little adventure. Historically, angels have had the role of protector, advisor, friend. We were, however, always outsiders. I wish to be an angel once more, so I’ll act like one. My place has often been as a servant at the sides of prophets. If my methods are in question, I shall change them.”

  Alex wasn’t sure how to react, and Matt drove on silently.

  “Jeremiah,” Alex added softly.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for risking your life to rescue me.”

  Jeremiah nodded after taking a long drag. “It’s what we do.”

  Alex smiled. “Yes, I agree.” He moved forward and patted Matt on the shoulder. “And thank you for trying to save me from myself.” After making physical contact with Matt, Alex suddenly looked sad. “If I had listened to your intuition, none of this would have happened. Don’t blame yourself for what took place today.”

  Jeremiah said, “You didn’t kill those men either.”

  Alex thought on this and then responded, “I’ve been questioning my methods too. I keep thinking of things I should’ve done. If I would have been a little faster, I could’ve saved Lao Shi. If you and I had killed Metatron on the stairs, everything would be different right now.”

  “I think that the best advice I’ve heard,” stated Matt, “is that we don’t think about that now. Liz is still passed out in the back, and we should do something to remedy that.”

  Jeremiah threw his cigarette out the window, turned around, and moved into the back. “Trade me places, Alex.”

  Alex nodded and got into the front seat, but his eyes were fixe
d on Jeremiah. Alex watched as the fallen angel took Elizabeth’s right hand into his own and closed his eyes.

  “Oh,” Jeremiah said, “she’s not far away. I don’t know what Abbie was complaining about.”

  “Hers was a little different than Matt’s.”

  “Ah, yes,” Jeremiah returned. “I can imagine.”

  “Hey,” Matt shouted. “I’m in the van with you.”

  “Sorry,” the other two offered in unison.

  ***

  Elizabeth had watched unhappy portions of her life pass before her. All the while, she felt safe, though sad. She felt as though she wasn’t alone. Someone was holding her hand, as she endured these visions.

  She was now watching an event unfold that she remembered very well. She saw herself sitting in front of her computer screen, crying. Elizabeth knew why she was crying; the computer had just suggested that Alex was the love she’d been waiting for. She walked up and read the words on the screen. She knew what they said; they were burned into her memory. When she looked at them a second time, though, they seemed to mean something different.

  How much had changed in a week? So much.

  She watched Marla walk in and console her. Then, the two left the room. She stood over the computer, passing her hand through it in an attempt to touch it. Everything seemed so real.

  Why was she being shown this? The other events had been significant to one of the most important people in her life, events that she had thought about hundreds of times. This memory was a new one, but it was also one that made her do a great deal of thinking in the recent past. Somehow, her feelings for Alex had changed dramatically since she threatened him. She couldn’t help but see some of his good qualities.

  He seemed so assertive, now. When he planned Jeremiah’s rescue, everyone listened intently to what he had to say, including Elizabeth, whom he barely made eye contact with. He was becoming a leader, just like Jeremiah had predicted. The very brief description he gave of his fight with Metatron was evidence enough that there was more to Alex than she had previously given him credit for.

  Then, she understood. There was meaning in this vision; there was a message.