Overcomer - The Battle, Judy Colella [first color ebook reader .TXT] 📗

slowly, and said, “About twenty-three years.”

Mrs. Kelly was staggered. She nearly had to lean against something to keep from falling down, and in fact went to the table where she collapsed into a chair. “Oh, I, oh, my God! You – holy – ! Have you any idea what you are like right now? Do you know what that’s done to you?”

Thinking quickly, Celeste decided silliness was probably in order. “Uh, made us, like, the oldest teenagers in the world? Or…No,” she added, “I’ve become….duhn-duhn-duhhhh….a Mutant Table Setter!”

She giggled, and it did the trick.

Mrs. Kelly visibly relaxed. She sighed as she got to her feet, rolled her eyes, and said, “Okay, never mind. As long as you don’t start acting like middle-aged biddies, okay?”

“Sure, if you’ll tell me what ‘biddies’ are. Does it mean we’re going to get an uncontrollable urge to join a Bridge Club or something?”

“Bid. . oh, very funny! No, a biddy is like an old maid, an older person with no family or any real friends who is prudish and cares too much about other people’s business.”

“Wow,” muttered Celeste, “all that and nearly as old as our Moms, too!”

Mrs. Kelly picked up a damp checkered towel draped over the side of the sink and, holding it by opposite corners, started twirling it into a rope. “I’m going to zap you with this,” she threatened, biting back a grin.

“Oh, no!” Celeste shrieked, and ran out of the kitchen and into the dining room where, amid some genuine chuckling, she set the table.

 

*******

 

Moloch. The name meant “king,” but the being’s original name was a lot less self-important and grand. As one of many such creatures of Light, it had been among those who spent its energies in worship. Upon being convinced by its older brother, whose title had once been The Star of the Morning, that a much better existence awaited in service to itself and not the Creator, it had joined the One-Third. Too late, it learned that despite its new, exalted name, it was still serving something – the now-fallen Lucifer whose own title would be given to another. But when it wasn’t groveling at its new master’s ethereal feet, it did enjoy the worship of certain members of the human race. The first had been a group called Ammonites, and Moloch had taken full advantage of the ignorance of this primitive flock.

Yes, it had so far been a pretty good run, all this eating of humanity, especially the youngest of them. Of course, as a different life-form than those it devoured, the sustenance didn’t come from the burned flesh itself, but rather from the energy emitted during the last moments of life as the child screamed out its pain and fear with as much strength as its dying gasps of air would allow. Once dead, the small pile of bone and ash was of no use to Moloch, except for some additional energy from deep sorrow the remains occasionally elicited from parents experiencing their regret too late.

Throughout the world this being had made itself known in one form or another. In the place called Ireland, however, its reign began to unravel. As Crom Cruach, it enjoyed the same kind of control as it did in the ancient Eastern world, but then that blasted human had defied his calling, defied Moloch, and gone for help to the one group that had access to the coveted Hub of Time. Millennia of searching had at last yielded that infuriating man’s descendants, and one in particular who Moloch thought would be particularly tasty. But the angels had interfered yet again, this time with the the help of that dratted Keeper, and now Moloch was facing a show-down with this same boy who it had been saving for dessert, as it were.

As the Dark Master had pointed out, Moloch had made a mistake by showing itself to the boy in his dream, but so what? Feeling defiant in an attempt to bolster its manufactured bravery when the Dark Master wasn’t there to call Moloch on it, the creature decided the time of waiting was over. Using the limited channels at its disposal to do so, it contacted a Messenger, who contacted Celesta (oh, how Moloch detested that one!) and Celesta came to the Keeper on his hill.

“Now.” That was it. She knew her Croghan would understand.

He did. He stood up from the stone, ran a finger along the shimmering strings of his harp, and as the sound echoed down the Halls of Time, gestured for Celesta to take his place.

“You will need to see Amergin before you go,” she told him when he turned to leave.

“Amergin?”

“His help will be needed when the battle is over. Be sure he is here and waiting at the moment and at the Portal through which you shall all return. You’ll know why, and when he sees you, so shall he.”

“Will he be helping Cian in some way?”

“He is needed for Celeste and Katie. You shall be the one to take Cian where he can be helped.”

Frowning at the cryptic nature of this last comment, he nonetheless nodded and took his leave. It was time, and he hoped the three of them would be ready. With the quiet knowledge that often came to him when he had to do something about which he’d been given no details, he went to the appropriate Portal. This one would bring him out into their Friday. By then, he prayed, they would have done everything they could in order to be able to leave without question.

And then he simply prayed.

 

*******

 

Exactly one week had passed since Cian’s first day at school, one week and one day since Celeste and Katie had first seen him at the Mall, and as the girls had suspected, nothing had been the same, nor probably ever would be. During that short, eight-day span, they’d met a strange individual called the Keeper, an angel who played the harp to dispel darkness, the Archangel Michael himself, had spent a total of nearly twenty-four years learning things they’d never even thought about before (all in the span of only a few hours), and Celeste had fallen in love.

Not a typical week.

“We only have a few days left,” said Celeste as she closed her locker. “When are we going to recite the Scroll again?”

Katie shrugged, shouldering her backpack as they headed away toward English II. “I guess when we can find six hours and a place where no one will disturb us. I mean, you have to admit it’ll sound pretty weird to anyone who might happen to hear us.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should go to my house after school. Um, we get home around three-twenty, so if we start right away, we’ll be done by nine-thirty, right?”

“True, but when will we get our homework done?”

Celeste stopped walking. “You’re kidding, right? Aren’t you the one who’s perfected the art of finishing your homework before you even get home?”

“Well, yeah, but mostly on Tuesdays and Thursdays when my last period class is a study hall. Today, Celeste, is Wednesday.”

“Hmmm.” They continued walking, each weighing the possibilities.

“You know,” Celeste said, as they reached the classroom door, “considering what we’re doing with Cian and all, I don’t see homework as the major priority anymore.”

“What are you doing with Cian?” asked a girl who was passing them on her way inside the room.

Celeste looked her right in the eye and said, “Certainly not what you wish you were doing with him.”

Taken aback by Celeste’s unexpected – and uncharacteristic – comeback, the girl goggled at her, and continued away to her desk.

“Good one,” Katie murmured, and in spite of their new-found maturity, they giggled.

“Good morning,” said Cian quietly, coming up to them.

They acknowledged him with hugs.

“Sleep okay?” asked Celeste.

“Fine.”

“Me, too, but somehow I didn’t think I would. Hey, listen, did your Social Worker guy notice anything different about you and like, say something?”

He nodded, smiling. “Yeah. He thought I’d gotten taller.”

“Before I could really say anything, my mother figured it out with that Mom-Radar thing they have,” Celeste said. “So I told her how long we’d actually been there and she started freaking out, but then I started acting all silly, and I think it convinced her I’m still my usual self.”

“She was okay with it?”

“She threatened to zap me with a damp towel, so yeah, she was fine.”

Cian took a deep breath. Zap. Have to find out what that means. . .

“I’m not so sure about what my parents thought,” said Katie. “They didn’t exactly say anything, but by the time I went to bed, they were both looking at me in that way that usually means one of them’s going to check my temperature any second.”

“Hope that’s the worst of it,” said Cian and they separated, going to their respective desks.

It wasn’t. After her daughter had left for school and her husband for work, Mrs. Grandol had called Eileen Kelly. “Have you noticed anything odd about Celeste?”

Had Eileen replied with a nonchalant “no, I haven’t,” that would have been the end of it. But instead, Celeste’s very honest mother had hesitated, and that was all Mrs. Grandol had needed.

“What is it? Eileen, what’s going on and what aren’t you telling me?”

“It-it’s nothing. . .bad, Kristin.”

“What? What isn’t bad?”

“Um, what are you doing today?”

“Cleaning, errands, the usual – why?”

Eileen had tapped her foot, thinking hard. “Uh, why don’t you come by for coffee a little later, before the kids get home, okay?”

“You know what? Why don’t I come over right now so you can tell me what’s going on?”

Eileen had been silent for a moment, feeling awful – not so much about everything that had happened, but because her long-time friend had found out she’d intentionally kept her out of a loop that included her child. And then she’d felt guilty about feeling that. “Listen, Kristin, I promise they’re okay, and…and…damn it. Just come over.”

There was a click, and Eileen had almost expected Kristen Grandol to be at her door the next second. She’d put on a pot of her best coffee, set out cups, saucers, a small pitcher of fresh cream and a bowl of sugar cubes (she always thought they were much nicer for entertaining than loose sugar), floral placemats with matching cloth napkins, spoons and butter knives, and whipped up some cranberry muffins from a dry sweet batter mix she’d made Sunday night to have for the week, adding milk, eggs, and some dried cranberries before pouring it into the muffin tins. Once those were baking, she’d put out a serving platter, and placed the butter on the table to soften.

A knock at the back door made her jump slightly, but she smoothed back her hair, went into the small hallway and opened it.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kelly,” said Croghan. “Ah! Something smells delicious!”

She’d stared, dumbfounded. He was, in fact, exactly the person she needed to help her explain things to Kristin, but in her haste and, honestly, panic, she’d neglected to call him. “How did you. . .I mean . . .please come in.” She’d stepped back, rushed into the kitchen and put out another place setting.

“I’m sorry – were you expecting company?”

“Yes. Katie’s mother. She noticed something odd about Katie and I, well, I guess I couldn’t hide the fact that something had happened to them, so when she flipped out because I knew about it, I told her to come over. Since it was too much to try giving her all the details over the phone, I invited her here. Having you here, too, ought to make it easier to explain things, so even though I didn’t ask you, here you are. Enigmatic man…” She’d put the napkin next to the spoon and stepped back. “There.”

Not sure how to respond to all that, Croghan had simply sighed and taken a seat at the table and a moment later, Eileen joined him. With the aromas of fresh coffee and cranberry muffins playing with each other throughout the room, they sat in awkward silence, waiting for Katie’s mother.

Another knock on the side door several minutes