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

that one was a woman with hair cut short to match her two brothers.
“I’m Ruth,” said the woman extending her hand, her voice was flowing like water upon the thirsty rocks, “These are my brothers, Kadmiel and Caleb.”
Hadassah shook their hands in greeting after which they each surrounded Hadassah. Every word they spoke awakened her, they even revived and strengthened her. Though they all wore the same uniform that Raphael had imparted to the others, they didn’t frighten her, until they stopped talking and starred at something straight ahead.
Though she couldn’t see what they saw, she felt a familiar presence, the same comforting yet undoubtedly fearful, imposing presence she’d felt when her guard had died.
The presence waited, like a sentinel, nothing was done, it just patiently waited, full of a sorrow Hadassah could not fathom.

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In Timisoara all chaos broke out, in the midst of which no one could find Damian, nor could they locate the father and son, so instead the Officers apprehended Pastor Lucas.
Lucas protested loudly in shock and terror at the turn of events, they were making a mistake, but no one listened to his pitiful cries. Now he found himself seated on a hard wooden chair that hurt his back, with the Chief of the Securitate starring him down. He had been faithful to his country only to be rewarded in this cold, humiliating manner. Full fledged anger burst out of him at the unbelievable predicament.
He then looked up, finally meeting the eyes of the Chief, unfaltering.
The Chief smirked, “You know more, and you’ll speak now, I think.” He said icily.
Pain emanated from his battered ribs, Lucas found it hard even attempting to breathe. Suddenly he found it incredibly impossible to serve both sides. He wanted to serve his country, but he was realizing that his country was no serving him or his people whom he had blindly entrusted to them. Somehow he thought it was right that his people submit to the government, that was written even in the Bible right? But at what cost should they keep submitting? His thoughts went back and forth making him dizzy. Ah, but now what? He was in too deep, he must show them that he’s still useful, then, later he’ll somehow be able to help those imprisoned after he’d gained the Chief’s trust.
“Yea, I do, so what? I tell you then they turn on me.” Lucas stated simply.
“They won’t, unless you tell them.”
For a long time he didn’t answer, weighing the pros and cons.
“There will be a prison break at Jilava.” he finally spat out.
The Chief smile calmly and signaled for the two officers standing at the door. “Take Pastor Lucas here, somewhere where no one can get to him, until we can confirm his words.”
Lucas’s eyes became wide, “What? Where? You can’t, just let me go.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that quite yet.” said the Chief, taking pleasure at the Pastor’s discomfort and fear. As the officers dragged him out, he picked up the phone, to find if truth could be found in this snake’s mouth.

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Pain seized them as one, something errupted. Though the Dark Ones had fled their presence, they had gone to wreak havoc elsewhere. Now they were preying on weaker minds, whispering and mesmerizing others with their glamorous lies. The trouble with lies is there was always one thread, one seed of truth in it. A treacherous decision, a grand betrayal had just taken place. But since the beginning of time there was always a Judas spirit roaming and feeding the doubts of the weak. Then there would be a kiss, so sweet, but birthing death.
Zipphorah wept.
The Pastor, his wife and daughter were also crying, tears freely cascading down their faces.
The entire auditorium was filled with moaning, feeling the cost that would be paid. Doubt had no foothold here, every single one knew that though it all seemed wrong, it had first passed before the throne of God. Gone was the divisions that had once resided among them, healed was all anger in their hearts. This day, in this place there had indeed been An Awakening, just as their theme was.
Often they had sought a sign of their God, yet no sign would be given but that of Jonah, the most painful sign of all. It would have been better had they not asked, yet throughout all time there was always a sacrificial lamb. What was once, will be again.
“Open their eyes Lord! It’s not what it seems!” cried Zipphorah.
With that the battle exploded.

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As the last had entered through the secret tunnels, I heard loud enraged voices behind us.
“Run! Run fast!” I ordered.
Confused the captives looked at me as if I’d gone mad.
Desperation filled me, “Trust us, we are here to save you, run!”
They didn’t need further prompting, their desire to live pumped adrenaline through their veins as gas would pump through a car. A younger girl, the last in line attempted to flee but collapsed. I gathered her frail body in my arms and carried her, swinging the door to the passageway shut.
But they followed, just as vultures would seek dead corpses, so they followed us, guided by the Dark Ones. I heard the sound of footsteps echoing on the other side. Without looking back I ran, imploring with each breath the help of heaven.


CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

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John 15: 13 Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.

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There is a preacher of the old school but he speaks as boldly as ever. He is not popular, though the world is his parish and he travels every part of the globe and speaks in every language. He visits the poor, calls upon the rich, preaches to people of every religion and no religion, and the subject of his sermon is always the same. He is an eloquent preacher, often stirring feelings which no other preacher could, and bringing tears to eyes that never weep. His arguments none are able to refute, nor is there any heart that has remained unmoved by the force of his appeals. He shatters life with his message. Most people hate him; everyone fears him. His name? Death. Every tombstone is his pulpit, every newspaper prints his text, and someday every one of you will be his sermon.
--Author Unknown

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Irrational rage filled him, mostly directed towards Lucas the fool, though it shouldn’t have been. That’s what was irrational. Damian had planted each seed of doubt in the mind of a person whom should have been steered in the right direction not the wrong one. He had been a weak soul and he had only fed his weakness. To late for remorse now, he thought. He knew what the Pastor would do, even in the instant that he’d made the decision and saved the father and son, he knew what he would do. It had been what he had wanted at the time.
So as soon as the father and son were secured in the care of a guardian, he flew like the wind to the airport. Well, not literally flew, he just drove really, really fast which felt like flying, especially over all the potholes that took his breath away. He had reached Bucharest just as the sun made it’s descent, casting eerie shadows over the busy city. Renting a car took longer then he thought necessary, and dodging through traffic was more then even the most patient Watchman could bear, let alone a human.
Conflicting emotion gave their own brutal battle within him. What had come over him anyway? Why did he care? But of course he cared, just not about himself. Why should others matter? Because they were innocents, that’s why! He screamed inwardly. On it went like a ping pong match with himself.
He gave a groan as the Dark One appeared in his passenger seat. Just peachy, he thought.
“What do you think you’re doing?” it hissed, sounding more like a snake then a once heavenly being.
“Exactly what it looks like.” Damian replied boldly.
“Fool, what do you think you’ll accomplish with this? Redemption for your pitiful traitorous soul?” it attempted to form a laugh but the sound coming from this creature was more like a gurgle.
“Nope.” he replied popping the p.
It was a Kodak moment the look on its face, Damian would have laughed, but he knew better.
“You’ll regret this Damian, I promise this will cost you.”
Damian tried to come up with a comeback to that but the Dark One disappeared. It was already costing me, what else could I possibly loose? Thought Damian.
All he wanted right now was to warn his all to trusting, gullible brother that they had been ratted out. Maybe save the beautiful Hadassah as a bonus. She struck some type of cord in him, reminding him of one lost so long ago, a time when the love of a woman was once possible for him. He smiled at the thought of Hadassah’s deep dark eyes, that held the mysteries of the universe buried in them. But redemption, for him? Part of him dared to hope, but most of him knew he was beyond redemption.
He knew where they would be, Raphael had discussed those plans within earshot. His brother may yet thank the heavens for his change of heart. Even in the increasing darkness he could see the outline of the three vans. The car screeched to a halt right beside them, he lunged out not even closing the door. In the blink of an eye he was rooted beside Hadassah and the triplet Watchmen, he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t. Instead he followed their gaze which was fixed on a spot right bellow the barbed wire fence. Amazingly he saw what they saw, his eyes truly saw what he had been blind to for decades, and he didn’t know what to make of it. So enraptured was he by the beauty of the immense being that it took a while to register what it’s presence always, always meant. When it did register he knew he was too late. Something was wrong, he had of course failed, as he always, he had failed.
Still, he made one last pathetic attempt to be the hero, to be the good guy that everyone needed and waited for.
“They’ve been tipped off, they know of the escape, I’m going in.” His determined voice startled them, they had not even noticed him there. Typical, he thought bitterly.
“W-what are you doing here, what about--” Hadassah started.
“No time for that, I’m going in.” He didn’t wait for their protests, he didn’t expect any. His brother was in there. He broke into a run just as he saw prisoners emerging from the ground. They looked weak like they were not alive at all, but the walking undead emerging from their cold graves.