Hadassah's Watchman Trilogy, Evangheline Farcas [red scrolls of magic .txt] 📗

been revealed to me until this point. Once more I sighed, and shook it off, these people would be in good hands after all.


CHAPTER TWENTY


Matthew 12:39-40 But He answered and said to them, “An evil and adulterous generation craves for a sign: and yet no sign will be given to it but the sign of Jonah the prophet.
For just as JONAH WAS THREE DAYS AND THREE NIGHTS IN THE BELLY OF THE SEA MONSTER, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.
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In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don't. --Blaise Pascal

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“Faith isn't believing without proof – it's trusting without reservation.” William Sloane Coffin

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Damian couldn’t fathom how good his luck was. He didn’t even try to suppress the smirk off of his face, sure he had temporarily failed to thwart the plans of the renowned and ever-present, annoying watchmen thus far, but foolishly they trusted him. How ironic, he thought. He had been in Bucharest still when his fancy blackberry rang, he had remained there fully expecting them to come back to play the heroes and rescue their precious prisoners. But when the phone rang he almost kissed it.
Now he was driving in a happy stupor towards Timisoara to play the watchman once more. It was during this drive that his bubble was burst upon by his dark friend, he appeared as he always did quite suddenly almost giving him a heart attack in the process as he tried to keep his eyes on the pot filled road.
“Long time no see.” Greeted Damian through his teeth.
“We’ve been occupied.” It replied.
“So then, what’s expected of me since your goons have so miserably failed? Hmm?” asked Damian.
Damian looked to see if it would respond, but only silence was the response. The dark being’s eyes blazed, clearly not appreciating being scolded. Yet still it continued with its hateful silence.
Too many long minutes ticked away as Damian tapped impatiently on the steering wheel waiting for an answer, he hated how these beings mocked him, yet he needed them for now, he would be rid of them soon, he was sure. He would used them, achieve what he wanted and be done with them.
When no response came, seething Damian demanded, “And who’s to say my cover isn’t blown as well? Who’s to say this isn’t one of their very efficient snares that they are so well known for?”
He was vehement, he was boiling with inexplicable anger. He wanted so much.
“You were always doubtful Damian, virtually useless to either side.” It said as one of it’s wings caressed his cheeks sending a glacier of shivers down his spine.
“You question my loyalty.” he hissed back, indignant.
“Of course.” it growled darkly.
“Then don’t.” The deal stands. The mission will be completed, then we’re done, you won’t bother me, and more importantly the Most High won’t bother me. He won’t want to.” each word was pronounced as if the dark one had trouble hearing, after a brief pause he continued his ranting, “He’ll stop His relentless pursuit of the soul He thinks I still possess, His disgust with me will be complete, and I’ll be worth nothing more to Him then a dirty rag. Then those voices will stop, and you will stop.” He finished.
But even as He spoke each word trying so hard to convince himself he meant them there were voices trying to creep through, the voices of the Ones he could no longer see. He tried to remember when He had stopped seeing them, he tried to comprehend why, but only vague answered filtered through his raging soul. He could no longer see them the moment Hadassah’s parents had left this earth. They had begun to fade when they had been captured because he had left his post, had let down his guard. And for what? For a human, it was always a human, a normal regular, worthless human. Sure, sorrow so deep had engulfed him as if to the very bottom of the darkest ocean when they took their last breath, he had felt it, as all the watchmen in the area had. He should have been at Doftana jail, not Raphael, but he could not be found, so his brother, ever the brother’s keeper filled in for him.
The Dark One looked at him, his eyes penetrating, or trying to penetrate at least, into his mind. However both knew that neither angel nor demon could read the mind of a human, even an extremely old human. The Being remained unblinking, motionless as a horrible statue that the artist had miserably failed at, with colors that had once been so heavenly and brilliant, now only retaining a dull reflection of the heaven it had once occupied. But a moment later a smile swept across it’s face, “Just so long as we’re clear, don’t fail us Damien. If you do, you’ll wish the Most High would hear your pathetic cries, we promise.” It warned, pronouncing Most High with such disgust you’d think the Being had become nauseous.
Damien kept his eyes fixed on the road, on the amazingly slow horse and carriage laden with trinkets, he cursed then nodded.
“Just get it done.” and just as quickly as it had appeared, the once Heavenly Being disappeared and Damien gave an involuntary sigh of relief. He hated them, he hated all the world, everything had lost it’s wonder to him long ago and he was tired, as tired as a sick man on his death bed, no longer wanting, no longer having the strength to fight.

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Pastor Lucas was waiting for Damien, pacing in the small church. The securitate was counting on him, they were watching him. Did they suspect his doubts? He didn’t want to be a traitor to anyone. He didn’t want to betray his brothers and sisters, he didn’t want to betray his country. Was there no middle ground? Fear rushed him, ambushed him, what if this watchman, this Damien could see what he was contemplating?
In a small way he almost hope he would see, that someone would see. He almost hoped that someone would sit him down and help him sort through it all, through these conflicting loyalties. He loved both his country and his failing faith. Why did he have to choose? Why couldn’t all live in harmony. Couldn’t his brothers and sisters compromise just a little for the sake of peace? What harm would that be?
So, he continued to pace, wringing his hands, not even feeling the cold seeping into the church. He wondered if God truly existed, the still, small voice he had once known so well was fading. Memories of miracles he had once witnessed were being extinguished from his mind. Like the Israelites in the desert, though they’d seen so much, they still doubted, so Lucas also doubted.


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Once more we were on the road, I was becoming tired of these travels, yet there was an exodus that must begin. Bucharest was not so far now. Jilava jail was awaiting them, where prisoners must be set free, I prayed for heaven to help us, for this mission was beyond impossible. Already we had received news that torture in that jail was already increasing. Nails being pulled off of the Christians there, beatings, malnourishment. Yet still other reports came that praise resounded in that jail of darkness, confounding the guards, the torturers. Some of the guards erupted with more torture in response to the praise and peace found in the hearts of the imprisoned, while others just observed in awe not knowing what to make of it. None of the Christians cursed their persecutors, but only expressed their forgiveness even after each torturous deed.
How would this exodus take place? How? The word resounded in my mind, for though I’d seen countless miracles and courage in the face of the worst affliction still the present situation seemed incomprehensible and no solutions surfaced.


CHAPTER TWENTY ONE


Matthew 18:18-19 Truly I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall have been bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall have been loosed in heaven.
Again I say to you, that if two of you agree on earth about anything that they may ask, it shall be done for them by My Father who is in heaven.
For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst.

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Is it not enough that all the world is against us, but we must also be against one another? O happy days of persecution, which drove us together in love, whom the sunshine of liberty and prosperity crumbles into dust by our contentions!
--Richard Baxter


Weary sighs escaped from each of us as we settled around a table inside a busy coffee shop. We had been seated close to the back entrance, as far away from listening ears as possible. Steaming cups of much needed Turkish coffee was being nursed by each of us, warming us and coaxing energy back into our tired bodies. I was recovering from the hypnotic effect of the long drive and Hadassah rubbed her eyes, it seemed to take great effort to keep them open, dark circles were beginning to form underneath her eyes.
The duration of the drive had given them a wonderful opportunity to become acquainted with their three brave companions from Timisoara. Bogdan and Manuela were married, and in times past they had been the youth pastors of the Filadelfia church, Liviu was their son who they had adopted three years ago. Liviu was a lively yet shy boy of eighteen, with the eyes the color of brown leaves in the fall with curly unruly hair that matched them. Each of them had taken an instant liking to our Swedish guard Casper. We each spoke in the language common to all of us, English, although when we spoke it was with rich accents.
“How will we get in? And more important, how will we get out?” Asked Bogdan in a thick low voice.
“When will we go?” Manuela interjected.
Liviu’s shifted in his chair with nervous excitement, not in the least bit tired.
I lowered my voice further, “There is one officer in the penitentiary, actually he works in the psychiatric section of the prison, he will remain nameless for obvious reasons, he has prepared a way. Still, we do need to pray that God blinds the eyes of others who may become suspicious.”
Hadassah nodded and lifted her eyes already in silent prayer, she almost knocked down her coffee cup as her hands began shaking. I placed my hand on hers hoping to still her fear, hoping to take it upon myself. It only slightly subsided and I sighed my mournful sigh which was increasingly common now.
“He goes with us my friends, I know it, I feel it. That is not to say there won’t be any danger, for the enemy still prowls as a hungry lion seeking whom he may