Angel Fire by Valmore Daniels (electric book reader .TXT) 📖

threw my hand out as if pitching a fastball, and a bolt of flame shot out. It missed Barry, but exploded against his car.

Winded and shaken, Barry slipped on the gravel as he tried to skid to a stop before colliding with the fiery door of his vehicle. He fell on the ground and could not get his feet under him.

I lifted my arms out at shoulder height and tilted my head back. In my thoughts, I willed that entity within me to come out and do what came natural. Flames erupted from my fingertips, and tendrils of smoke rose from my arms.

For the second time in my life, I was about to commit murder. The man to whom I had once been married lay on the ground in front of me, one pleading hand help up toward me as he begged for his life.

He cried, “No! Please don’t! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

My heart turned to stone. He deserved to die for everything he had done. I wanted to be the one to kill him.

“No more,” I said through clenched teeth and raised my arms higher in the air.

A fireball the size of tire grew above my head like a burning sun—

“Darcy! Stop!” The voice penetrated through my rage, and I faltered before delivering the killing blow.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Neil on the other side of the street. The horrified look on his face made me hesitate.

“What are you doing?” he called. “You can’t do this!”

I could see the shock on his face; how appalled he was at my actions, and I felt a burning shame. The fireball above me faded as a trickle of tears spilled down my cheeks.

“Don’t you understand?” I pleaded to Neil as he hurried across the street to me. “Barry won’t ever stop unless I stop him.”

“Not this way.” Neil stopped in front of me and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Don’t do this.”

I sensed, more than saw, Barry scramble to his feet and run off as fast as he could.

Someone down the street shouted a warning as, beside us, the Camaro’s gas tank blew, and the entire car burst into flame with an ear-shattering thump. Metal parts sailed high into the air and fell back to earth.

I fell into Neil’s protective embrace, shielding myself against the blast. He pulled me a safe distance away from the burning vehicle, and in a daze I looked back at the wreckage.

So much destruction!

“I’m so sorry,” I said to him. Now that the fire inside me was back in its cage, I was horrified at how I had changed when using it. I had been a different person.

“It’s all right.” He made a shushing sound, as if trying to soothe a baby.

“No it’s not,” I said. “I thought I could control it, but…”

I struggled for a way to explain how I felt. Whenever I used the fire, I became more like it and something less than human. Or more than human…

“It’s a part of me,” I said in a small voice. “It’s not a curse; it’s a thing, and it wants out. I can’t control it.”

A thought came to me. In her journal Beatrice had said there had been a great sin in humanity’s past: when angels had lain with humans. God had banished those angels from heaven. Did those who had fallen now want to punish mankind? Was there truth in it? Was this, in fact, one of those fallen angels? But why me? Why was it inside me? Was it punishing me? Neil put his hands on my shoulders. “It’s over now. It’s going to be all right.”

As if a dam had broken, the tears that had started as a trickle were now a torrent. “There’s something inside me, something primal and furious,” I said when my sobs lessened. “I can borrow its ability, but every time I do, it grows stronger and I grow weaker.”

A troubled look fell across his face as he realized what I had been saying. “It? What, you mean like … it’s possessing you?”

“Yes,” I said, and then changed my mind. “No, it’s something different, something more than that. Can’t you feel it when you use the power? A presence inside you? A fallen angel.” I said the last in a whisper.

I looked up into his eyes, searching for reassurance that I wasn’t alone in this, that he experienced the same thing.

“I never thought about it, but … I guess yes, I feel a kind of separation,” he said finally, eyes wide with revelation. “It’s like I’m standing outside of myself when it happens.”

I nodded. “Like we’re being pushed out. They tempt us with the power, but it’s a trick. I think—”

The scream of a siren cut off the rest, and I turned my head.

Racing down Main Street, Sheriff Burke’s squad car skidded to a stop at the edge of the parking lot.

Barry, seeing his father from across the street, raced toward him and dove behind the police car.

Sheriff Burke jumped out of his vehicle. Keeping himself protected behind the open door, he drew out a rifle and pointed it at me. He put one eye to the sight.

“Darcy Anderson. You are under arrest. Get down on the ground with your hands behind your head right now!”

All along Main Street, people had stopped to watch in fascination. Cars pulled over and drivers and passengers stepped out to see what was happening.

“Shoot her!” Barry called from behind the police car. “Just shoot the bitch!”

“Shut up!” the sheriff snapped back. He kept his rifle pointed at me, however. “This is your last warning. Get down before I put you down.”

Neil stepped between me and the line of fire.

“Don’t shoot!” he yelled out.

I have no idea if Sheriff Burke misinterpreted the action, or if a nervous impulse made him do it. His rifle kicked and a split second later a devastating sound split the air. The crack of the rifle shot was the only thing I could hear, and the unexpected force of the sound stunned me.

“No!” I screamed when I saw a splotch of red blossom out of Neil’s back and grow in an angry red stain.

Neil stood motionless for a moment, and then sank to his knees. He tipped backward. I dropped down and caught him as he fell into my lap.

He stared at a spot far off in the sky, and I realized he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Opening his mouth, he tried to speak, but a bubble of dark blood leaked out and streamed down the side of his face.

“Oh, my God!” I cried.

Neil managed to utter my name in a very weak voice. “Darcy. I feel … it going away.”

“What? Neil. Don’t speak. Help is on the way.”

“It knows I’m dying…” were the last words Neil spoke before he sucked in one last raspy breath and fell still.

I threw my head back and opened my mouth in a silent scream. I couldn’t bear the grief that clawed at my heart. It suffocated me. I couldn’t think. I became something primal, something that bore no resemblance to anything human. When my voice finally returned, I emitted the most terrible sound imaginable; it was an elemental shriek that lasted for what seemed like an eternity. When I finally stopped to take a breath, I gathered every ounce of the power I could. I wanted it to take me over. I wanted it to possess me.

Whatever it was inside me had won: I gave myself over to it completely. I surrendered to it; I embraced it.

The air around me shimmered with heat.

All the rage I had tried to contain welled up within me.

The gravel around us shook; steam rose from the ground beneath us.

The anger, the despair and the frustration of my existence came to a boiling point.

Fire, hot and deadly, surrounded me and the dead man I loved. Flames danced around us, and grew until we disappeared into a furnace of fury.

I heard panicked screams and shouts. Through the smoky haze, figures raced away as the bonfire around us grew larger and larger.

The asphalt on the road not twenty feet from us started to melt. Telephone poles burst into flame and power transformers exploded in a shower of sparks.

A deep rumbling sound filled the street as the darkness in me exploded outward like an incendiary bomb. Windows shattered and the gas tanks of nearby cars blew. Barry and his father raced for cover as the squad car detonated, hurtling the vehicle into the air and slamming it back to the street on its side with a thundering crash.

The final explosion of fire and rage completely incinerated The Trough, every car in a one block radius, and most of the shops on Main Street.

There was nothing left but a charred and blackened circle of ash smack in the centre of Middleton.

 

Epilogue

Four days after the inferno that ripped a swath of destruction through Middleton, the town held two sets of funerals. Early in the morning, the charred remains of Barry and Martin Burke were buried in plain wood coffins. Father Tomas conducted the service. There were only four attendees: Maisy Bell, the mayor, the fire chief, and Jack Creel—who made it a point of going to every funeral in town.

Later that day, a much larger crowd, including Beth and John, gathered for a four-casket funeral. Two of the coffins held the bodies of Aunt Martha and Uncle Edward. He had never made it out of the hospital, suffering a second heart attack in the middle of the night from which he didn’t recover.

Uncle Edward and Aunt Martha had many friends, and it was mostly for them the attendees came.

The third casket was for Neil. His parents, when notified of their son’s demise, flew in from Maine just for the day; they were booked on an overnight flight back, and were not happy about paying their share of the funeral expenses.

Father Tomas again oversaw the service. He recited the prayers and motioned for one of the pall bearers to lower the four caskets one at a time.

The bearer pressed a control for the motorized pulley, and Aunt Martha’s coffin slowly disappeared below ground. The priest made the sign of the cross.

“Unto Almighty God, we commend the soul of our sister, Martha Johnson, and we commit her body to the ground.”

Next was for Uncle Edward:

“Unto Almighty God, we commend the soul of our brother, Edward Johnson, and we commit his body to the ground.”

Jack Creel dropped his head and crossed himself.

The priest then proceeded to the third casket.

“Unto Almighty God, we commend the soul of our brother, Neil Dawson, and we commit his body to the ground.”

Father Tomas came to the last casket and paused. The coffin was empty. There had been no remains to bury. He recited his prayer anyway:

“Unto Almighty God, we commend the soul of our sister, Darcy Anderson, and we commit her body to the ground.

“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”

In the front row, Beth clutched at John’s jacket and buried her face in his chest. Father Tomas prayed, “Grant this mercy, O Lord, we beseech Thee, to Thy servant departed, that he may not receive in punishment the requital of his deeds who in desire did keep Thy will, and as the true faith here united him to the company of the faithful, so may Thy mercy unite him above to the choirs of angels. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” was the muttered response from those in attendance.