Battle for His Soul Read online

  “I didn’t know you were afraid of the dark.” Papa’s eyes lit up, making him look downright amused.

  “I’m not. I’m just not going in there. Who knows what’s back there?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out.”

  “That’s what you’re here to find out. I’m here to contemplate my sins, remember?”

  Papa chuckled, slapped a lantern into his hand, and shoved him through the hole.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HACIENDA

  Ellechial

  Ellechial prayed while tending to his charge.

  Jarret rested his forearms on the fence and gazed without focus, his heartbeat and breaths coming slow and steady. His mind most likely wandered in the past.

  Ellechial knew that demons often used memories to ensnare one in feelings of guilt or to lure one back into a sinful relationship. Deth-kye, however, seemed to be using them to enflame Jarret to hostility toward authority, religion, and faith. He preferred for Jarret to trust in himself and follow the desires of his heart. Yet, whenever Jarret did so, Deth-kye never failed to accuse Jarret and to remind him of his wickedness. His plan, Ellechial now realized, was to use the memories of Jarret’s experience in the monastery to convince him that God had no interest in him. He was too bad for God to forgive, to love, to want. Religion was simply a trap, a way for some people to control others.

  The glass door off the back of the house slid open and Selena stepped outside.

  Ellechial rejoiced. Selena would snap Jarret from his destructive thoughts.

  Jarret turned at the sound of her footfalls as she approached. His heartbeat quickened and his pupils dilated.

  “Roland’s in the house,” she said. “He wants to stay inside. Come on in. You can watch me make a pitcher of lemonade.”

  Without protest, he walked alongside her to the sliding glass door.

  Nadriel and Roland sat at an oval, cherry-wood table in a breakfast nook off the spacious kitchen. Sunlight illuminated tall bay windows behind them, though the high ceilings maintained a comfortable level of shade.

  Selena invited Jarret to sit at the table as she bounced around a counter into a kitchen of cobalt blue with lemon yellow and chili-pepper-red accents. She set to work with a juicer and several lemon-halves, a canister of sugar, a pitcher, a container of ice, and three glasses nearby.

  Jarret took Nadriel’s seat. “Well, Pale Rider, I hope you got that outta your system,” he mumbled to Roland while he watched Selena work.

  Nadriel alighted by Ellechial.

  “Got what out of my system?” Roland ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. The cowboy hat had left an impression in his wavy hair.

  “All that about Papa and his past. What do you care how he grew up? You should be worried about what’s going on with him now.” Jarret glanced at Roland as he spoke, but his focus remained on Selena.

  She had been trying to use tongs to get ice from a container but ended up using her hands.

  “What do you mean?” Roland furrowed his brow. “What’s going on with Papa?”

  Jarret grinned, seeming pleased that he knew something Roland didn’t. “He’s got something going on with Miss Meadows. Don’t you know that?”

  “No, but so what? She’s nice. I thought he liked her, back when we had to help with that dig in Mississippi, right before you ruined things for them.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  Ellechial sighed. After being a widower for eight years, their father had finally found love again. Jarret, however, told their father that he, Roland, and Keefe didn’t like the idea. So their father backed off from the relationship for a time. He shouldn’t have. Jarret had only wanted to distract his father and avoid admitting to his impure relationship with Zoe and her resulting pregnancy.

  Jarret chuckled. “What did you expect me to do? You guys set me up, telling him that I had something serious to talk about. I had to say something.”

  “Who Papa sees is none of our business.”

  “Really?” Jarret folded his arms on the table and leaned toward Roland, an annoyed grin on his face. “You want a step-mother? Somebody else bossing you around? ‘Cuz I sure don’t.”

  Selena glided around the counter, glasses of lemonade in her hands. She slid one to each of them, simultaneously. “I hope you like it. I don’t use that much sugar.”

  Jarret took a sip. “Never had better.”

  She smiled, tucked her hair behind her ear, and sat across from them.

  “So how does it feel to live in a mansion straight out of Hollywood?” Jarret said.

  “Don’t let Papá hear you say that.” While she used the same term for her father that the West boys used for theirs, she pronounced it differently, stressing the second syllable. “This is his hacienda.” She smiled. “Besides, I know you live in a castle.”

  “Our castle ain’t nothing like this,” Jarret said. “I mean it’s big, and my father’s got a thing for antiques, but this place is like a luxury hotel. A hacienda he calls it? So where are the peones?”

  She laughed. “No peones. We have vaqueros.”

  “What?” Roland looked from one the other.

  “Vaqueros. Mounted ranch hands. But Papá is generous. He treats all the hands like family. Everyone is part of the hacienda society, so there are no peasants, no peones. That is his weakness.” She gazed at her glass, twisting it back and forth. “He is too trusting.”

  Roland brought his glass to his mouth but set it down again. “What did Rufino mean? He wondered if your father had told my father something. Something’s going on over here? He said Señora, your mother I guess, thinks someone close to the family is, well, I guess responsible for . . . whatever. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  Jarret settled back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s none of our business.”

  Ellechial and Nadriel exchanged glances. Jarret had never been one to mind his own business. He had only said it, no doubt, to impress Selena.

  “It is your business,” Selena said. “That’s why you’re here. Your father did not tell you?” She reached for Jarret’s empty glass. “Would you like more?”

  “More of what?” He gave her a crooked grin.

  She narrowed her eyes and took his glass to the counter. “Someone has been taking things from the house and the chapel.”

  “What?” Roland straightened up. “You mean stealing?”

  “Yes, stealing.” She returned with a full glass of lemonade and slid it across the table to Jarret.

  He nodded his thanks. “What does that have to do with us?”

  She shrugged. “Papá always calls on your father when he wants something investigated. Maybe he doesn’t know what an archaeologist really does.” She giggled. “Maybe he thinks he does investigative work.”

  Jarret and Roland both smiled at her.

  Their affection for her showed in their eyes. Hopefully, it wouldn’t lead to uncharitable competition. Ellechial sent a prayer up to heaven.

  “So, Papa’s supposed to check it out, huh?” Roland looked at Jarret as he spoke.

  Jarret shrugged. “Like he told me something?”

  “I don’t know what he’s here to do,” Selena said. “I only suppose it has to do with the . . . stealing.”

  “Maybe we can help.” Roland glanced from Jarret to Selena.

  “Maybe you can help,” Jarret said. “I’m on vacation.”

  “I’d love to help,” Selena said, and Jarret’s eyes snapped to her.

  “I was thinking I’d like to get to know the hands,” Roland said, “especially the ones who knew my father when he was young. So now I have two reasons.”

  “Man, you’re crunk.” Jarret glared at him. “Are you writing a book? What do you need to know about his childhood for? I’m sure he was as boring as you are now.” He grinned.

  Roland sneered. “I’m sure.”

  Selena laughed and they both smiled at her, but then Jarret noticed Roland’s
smile and shot him another glare.

  “I had hoped it was not in the Divine Plan for Jarret to come here,” Ellechial said to Nadriel. “Temptations for him abound. And I have sensed a great evil somewhere on the grounds.”

  “As have I. But I do not believe it will touch Jarret.” Nadriel floated closer to Roland, his wings flickering as if he were contemplating an imminent battle. “God has allowed Jarret to come here. Here, Jarret must find help.”

  “Roland?” Ellechial said. “You believe he shall be of help? He has a good heart, but the boy is much too fearful to confront Jarret. Jarret considers him weak and has no respect for his counsel.”

  A stale odor wafted on the air. Then Deth-kye appeared on the countertop, sitting with his lanky arms and legs sprawled out leisurely. He grinned at the angels as he blew on his fingernails and polished them on his distressed leather vest. “Did you catch what I did? Back at Rufino’s?”

  “I think Roland is ready.” Nadriel made not the slightest acknowledgment of Deth-kye’s presence. “True, he lacks Keefe’s courage to confront Jarret, but he longs for his brother’s friendship and conversion. And, lately, he has been pushing himself beyond his comfort zone. You should have seen him at the waterfall last week.”

  “Did you notice what I did with the joint?” Deth-kye hopped off the countertop and started circling the table, running his hand along the backs of the teens’ chairs. “Rufino had it hidden under a magazine, hidden good. Jarret would’ve never seen it.” His gaze lingered on Jarret.

  “At the waterfall?” Ellechial said to Nadriel, wishing Deth-kye would depart.

  “You know Roland’s deep fear of cold water,” Nadriel said.

  “Sadly, yes.” Ellechial spared Deth-kye a glance, remembering with detail how Roland had developed this fear.

  Deth-kye acknowledged the memory with a scornful nod. “So I rolled it out a wee little bit, the joint, that is, and his eyes snapped right to it.” He cackled, slapping Jarret on the back. Then he leaned and whispered something in Jarret’s ear.

  “While Roland stood on a stone in the river,” Nadriel said, completely ignoring the demon, “I read his thoughts on his face. He wanted nothing more than to avoid the waterfall, but Caitlyn had called him there. So he made a conscious decision to force himself through that which he truly feared, making himself a victim in order to get to the other side, to go where he had been called.” Nadriel held Roland in his loving gaze. “Yes, Roland is ready. You shall see. He may need to make selfless sacrifices, yet again, in order to follow God’s call.”

  “You would like that,” Ellechial said.

  “There is nothing more beautiful than sacrificial love.” Nadriel’s gaze turned heavenward the instant before he vanished.

  Deth-kye straightened and sneered at Ellechial. “Roland’s goodness will not rub off. You are powerless to protect Jarret. My boy is ripe for the picking. And . . .” He took a step toward Ellechial. “. . . my angel enemy . . .” His charcoal eyes grew wide and round, making his appearance even more hideous. “. . . by Satan’s command, it’s harvest time.”

  ❖

  Ellechial, taking advantage of his permission to travel on earth, left his charge for a moment and appeared in the Summers’ home.

  A look of pride in his eyes, Cyabrial watched Caitlyn as she paced the floor with the phone to her ear. “Praise be God,” Cyabrial said to Ellechial.

  “Now and forever,” Ellechial said.

  “Oh, oh, oh, I’m so glad you called me,” Caitlyn said into the phone, the slant of her eyebrows and her higher-than-usual tone giving away her anxiety. “You’re so right. This is something we can all help with. We’ve got to have faith. Call me back when you’re done with your phone calls.”

  Kiara on the other end of the phone said, “Will do,” before disconnecting the call.

  Caitlyn stopped pacing and called another number.

  “I have come to elicit intercessory prayer,” Ellechial said. “Grave temptations for my charge lie on the horizon.”

  Cyabrial smiled and lifted a finger to have Ellechial wait before communicating more.

  “Peter?” Caitlyn paced again. “I’m glad you answered. I’m calling you for a Stop, Drop, and Pray.”

  “Huh?” Peter sounded sleepy or annoyed.

  “A Stop, Drop and— Well, you know how when there’s an emergency, you’re taught to stop, drop, and roll?”

  “What? No, no, no.” Now he definitely sounded annoyed. “That’s not for any old emergency. That’s for a fire. You know, the smoke. You have to drop below the smoke—”

  “Whatever. Kiara told me about an emergency, and we decided that we should all pray about it. It’s great that we’re meeting at the church on Fridays, but shouldn’t we have an emergency prayer line? You know, so we can help each other when—”

  “Okay. Did you just say there’s an emergency? ‘Cuz you’re kind of rambling here.”

  “Oh, yes, um, one of the Finn’s children, the four-year-old boy— What’s his name? Um, well he’s missing.”

  “Missing? Like ran off and no one can find him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. I mean, you don’t live that far from them. Why don’t you go help look for him? Don’t you think actually looking for him would be more productive than just praying?”

  “Well, I can’t. I’m watching my little brothers and sisters. And you can’t because you live too far away. We aren’t always able to do something concrete. But we can always pray.” She stopped pacing and propped her hand on her hip, glaring as if he’d see it. “Why are you so against praying?”

  “Who said I’m against praying? I’ll pray. But hey, guess who’s coming to dinner Wednesday?”

  “To dinner? I just told you that a little boy is missing, and you want me to guess who’s coming to dinner? I’ve got other prayer warriors to call before I—”

  “It’s Keefe, Keefe West, evil Jarret’s nice twin brother.”

  Her eyes bugged. “Keefe? At your house? Why?”

  “Well, he didn’t exactly say. In fact, it was quite a weird conversation. But I think he wants to meet the brothers, or friars, you know, the ones staying here.”

  “Oh. Can I come over too?”

  “Uh, sure. We’ll have a big party. Maybe we can even pray with them, huh?”

  Ellechial nodded to Cyabrial. It was a good idea, though Peter sounded sarcastic.

  “Good,” she said. “So I’ll be over Wednesday. Can you call Roland? He’s still part of our prayer group, even if he is miles away. Tell him about the Finn’s boy, okay?”

  She no sooner disconnected that call than she started to call someone else.

  “Is this your idea?” Ellechial said to Cyabrial.

  “The Stop, Drop, and Pray?” Cyabrial smiled. “Not entirely. The girls developed it, Kiara and Caitlyn. I may have planted a seed. You know my fondness for prayer, how it stirs my soul to contemplate the desire of God to communicate with men.”

  “I am glad. Perhaps you could encourage the group to think of Jarret. The boy needs prayer, much more prayer. I feel as though he has entered a den of temptation.”

  “The Zamoranos? They are a good family.”

  “No, I do not mean them, exactly. I mean other forces around them.”

  “Zoe.” Caitlyn exhaled. The phone had rung several times before her friend answered. “I was wondering if you—”

  Loud voices in the background came over the phone, a man and a woman, both shouting though their words were unclear.

  “Caitlyn?” Zoe said. “I can’t talk right now.”

  “Can you go up to your room? I need to ask you—”

  “I am in my room. I’ll call you later.” Zoe ended the call.

  “Hmm,” Cyabrial said, thoughtfully gazing at the phone.

  “Yes, there is much work to be done. Farewell.” Ellechial sped back to Jarret’s side.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MAKING PLANS

  Jarret

  Jarret’s
heart swelled near to bursting with love for Zoe. He had never felt this way before about anyone. And it scared him to the core.

  Zoe smiled. She looked hot in her black dress, her raven hair shining under the chandelier, her amber eyes sparkling as she gazed at him from across the table. He could almost forget the fact that he had to eat Thanksgiving dinner with his archenemy Peter and the rest of the Brandts. And he could almost let go of his anger.

  Anger? Why had he been so angry?

  His heartbeat quickened as he tried to remember. A few minutes ago, he had been so angry that he’d almost damaged his own Chrysler 300. So angry he saw stars. What was it? What was— Oh, yeah.

  His gaze snapped back to Zoe.

  She no longer noticed him. She was laughing with Peter. What was so funny? She was keeping a secret from him, but Peter knew. Roland knew. Everyone knew. Lies. Zoe had lied to him. He hadn’t wanted her to be pregnant, and she said she’d taken care of it. She lied.

  His face burned as he pushed back his chair. He started around the table to confront her, but Toby, Peter’s little brother with autism, jumped in his way.

  “You eat Thanksgiving dinner with us,” Toby slurred, his hands flapping like a bird’s wings. “You eat dinner with us?”

  “No.” Jarret pushed him out of the way, maybe a little too hard.

  Peter jumped up from the table, shouting, “Don’t you touch my brother!” He lunged, his hands landing hard on Jarret’s chest.

  Jarret staggered back. Before he could regain his balance, something rained down on him, something silent and shiny. Glitter? What the—

  Peter took off.

  Jarret wanted to pursue him, but his gaze traveled to the empty table.

  Zoe. She was gone. Where had she gone?

  He dashed outside into the pouring rain. He knew where she had gone. He had to find her, to stop her. She changed her mind to please him. She was going to do it. He had to get to her before she—

  “The baby! Don’t do it. Don’t abort the baby.”

  Jarret sat bolt upright, his heart pounding, his body drenched in cool sweat. He threw back the sheets.