“He’s summoning a demon! He’s summoning a demon!”

Joey stared at his screaming grandmother. She stood in the door to his room, her face red in horror, her shaking hand pointing at him. “I wasn’t!” he said, knowing nothing he could say would fix things now.

“You! You monster, you evil creature, how dare you try to bring the devil into this house.”

Robert appeared at Sandra’s side, out of breath from running up the stairs. “What is going on?”

“He was talking to a demon through a video! I could hear the devil’s music through his headphones. He was talking about finding someone. He’s trying to bring another demon into our house!”

“No!” Joey said. “I wasn’t doing that.”

“What were you doing then, boy?” Robert said. “How did you get a music video? Did Annabelle let you have it?”

“No, no, she doesn’t know. It was all me. I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not!” Robert stepped into the room, rage oozing from his glare. “Did you find one of your kind? Try to bring them into a Godly house to take me down?”

“He’s not a demon, I swear.”

Sandra spoke up, her voice still shaking. “Then why did you talk about being a demon? About finding someone. You knew them and they knew you.”

“I—I don’t know. He’s just a regular guy, honest. I can’t explain it.”

“No need.” Robert lunged forward, both hands around Joey’s neck. “This is finally the end, you beast. It’s back to Hell for you!”

Joey didn’t listen to his grandfather’s desperate prayers to have his evil soul banished from this world. As he scratched at the hands gripping him, completely unable to breathe, he knew he wouldn’t be saved this time. Annabelle was not there. She was at work, in the city, far away, unable to reach him in time even if she tried. He writhed and kicked but the grip was like steel tightening around his neck. Maybe God really was channeling through his grandfather this time. Finally giving him the strength to kill. That meant God was okay with killing. Joey was a demon after all. Jesus’s words really did mean nothing.

The thought of what awaited him on the other side now filled his mind. The fiery pit of Hell still seemed such a terrifying place. He was not ready to go there. He still needed to meet Jack Harper. More than anything.

The schematic of his room came quickly and he latched onto the first throwable object he could see. The lamp on his desk flew through the air and into Robert’s head hard enough to knock him to the floor. With his neck released, Joey collapsed too, gasping loudly. Sandra was screaming, begging God for mercy. Robert got to his hands and knees and picked up the lamp. The shade had come off and the light bulb had broken, the glass sticking out of the end of the long, thin lamp base like the edge of a javelin. When he raised it to thrust at Joey’s chest, a heavy drawer from the dresser flew at high speed into the man’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He dropped the lamp.

Joey stared at his injured grandfather. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him. He knew it only made things worse. Only a demon would throw objects at someone with their mind. And even if he’d had a chance at Heaven, surely it was gone after this.

“Get out,” Robert growled, struggling to push himself up. “If God will not give me the strength to destroy you today, then I simply want you out of my house.” He gasped for air, unable to get farther up than his hands and knees. “Leave. And if I see you again, I will take drastic measures to remove you from this Earth.”

If strangulation wasn’t drastic enough, Joey didn’t want to know what his grandfather had in mind. He was equally as stunned that after years of being locked in a room he was being told to leave. To be free. He jumped to his feet and ran, ignoring his screaming grandmother as he passed her.

Outside the sun was setting. He continued to run having no idea where he was going and not caring. As long as he got as far away from that house as possible, that was all that mattered.

* * *

“Well hello my dear Miss Annabelle!”

Annabelle entered the bedroom with a smile, taking the old man’s hand once she reached his bedside. She squeezed his boney, dark-skinned fingers. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Taylor?”

“Better than I did before you came in.” The man’s voice was raspy, his words slow, but his smile was wide.

Annabelle put down her duffle bag and took off her jacket. “Tiana says the pain has been worsening.”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Sometimes the road to meet the Lord is long and tough, but I know I’ll see him in the end.”

“That’s right. He’ll be waiting with open arms.” Annabelle took out her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from her bag, then listened to Mr. Taylor’s shallow breathing and uneven heartbeat. As she noted down all of the vitals in her notebook, she couldn’t help but notice how quickly her patient was declining in comparison to her previous two visits with him. She suppressed a sigh of disappointment then checked the IV pump and lines. He was already on a high dose of morphine, but the occasional random winces of pain told her even that wasn’t enough.

As she began her routine of giving her patient a sponge bath, she did her best to smile. All of her patients told her it was her smile that they loved most about her, and she could see in their faces how her simple gesture soothed them. Once Mr. Taylor was clean and redressed, she took her Bible out of her bag and sat beside him.

“Miss Annabelle,” the old man asked, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Have you ever had to care for a patient who didn’t believe?”

It was an odd question considering the hospice provider she worked for was a Christian-owned business, but she was glad to have an answer. “Yes, I have. A gentleman with colon cancer just like you. His children are very faithful, and even though their father was a strong atheist, they wanted one last chance for him to accept Jesus into his heart before he passed on.”

“Did he?”

Annabelle shook her head.

“How hard that must have been for his children. For you.”

“It was. He was cruel to me at first, and I noticed that any time I tried to discuss God his pain increased. He would get so angry. So I stopped. I know that his children wanted me to get him to see the light in addition to my regular nursing duties, but I had to make the choice that was really best for him. I started speaking to him more about the things he was already passionate about, his hobbies that he couldn’t do anymore because of his illness, and he became calm and friendly and respectful toward me. In the end he was a very kind man and I’m proud to say that I helped his last days be filled with peace, no matter where he ended up after he was gone.”

Mr. Taylor raised his eyebrows. “You don’t feel guilty about letting a man go to Hell in peace? Shouldn’t he have suffered?”

“No. I took a pledge as a nurse to adhere to a code of ethics, including acting with compassion toward all patients. Besides, that’s what Jesus would have done, isn’t it? Loving even those who didn’t believe in Him?”

The old man smiled. “You know, Miss Annabelle, you have more of a heart than anyone I know. You’re right. Shame on me for wishing ill on someone like that. Forgive me.”

“It’s all right.” She placed her left hand on the old man’s skinny arm.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Are you not married, Miss Annabelle?”

“No.”

“Do you have a special someone in your life?”

“Not yet.”

“Ah, well, whenever Mr. Right comes along, he will be one lucky man. I’d suggest my son, but even if he didn’t live in California, I doubt your father would be approving of a relationship with a black man. No disrespect meant to you, of course.”

Annabelle smiled, hiding her disappointment that this man was probably right. “Never mind that. If your son is anything like you, I’m sure he’s a wonderful person and I’d enjoy meeting him.”

Mr. Taylor winced again, this time for longer, and he placed his hand on his stomach. Annabelle knew she couldn’t give him any more morphine without the doctor’s approval. For two years now she’d sat at the bedside of her patients knowing she could likely ease their pain or even heal them on her own, but withheld it. There was always that voice that told her no. It was telling her no again right now and she hated it.

“Miss Annabelle,” Mr. Taylor groaned. “Will you say a prayer with me?”

Annabelle stood. She held his hand with her left, then under his blanket placed her right hand on his stomach. “Close your eyes,” she said softly, and once he did, she prayed aloud. “Lord, please lay your hands of comfort upon this man who holds you dear in his heart…”

No. The guide voice was stern and firm.

She continued to pray, one part of her mind focusing on the words while the other part begged whoever was in charge of her powers to please listen. I just want to ease his pain.

No.

Her hand was not glowing as she was trying to command it to. I don’t have to heal him, just ease the pain.

No.

She tried to channel deeper, but it was clear she did not have full control over her abilities. Just this one thing. Have mercy. Have peace.

The voice continued to argue and Annabelle continued to channel as deep into her soul as she could. Soon it felt like she had some sort of hub within her that she could tap into. It was full and she grabbed some of whatever power was there and pushed it through until she felt her hand tingle. She could see a faint glow through the blanket, felt warmth in her hand, and continued her prayer focusing only on calming the pain. Mr. Taylor soon relaxed, his eyes still closed, a small smile upon his face.

“In Jesus’ name, amen,” she finished, shutting off the power and removing her hand. The guide voice was silent and she hoped she wouldn’t be in some sort of trouble for ignoring whatever it was. Especially if it was God.

With Mr. Taylor calm and on the verge of sleep, Annabelle bid him goodbye as well as his daughter on the way out. Once in her car, the guide voice came back, insistent and determined.

Go.

The insistence that flowed through her from the word reminded her of that night she almost lost Miranda. Something was wrong with Joey. He was in danger, and she could think of only one person who could be responsible for that.

But it was rush hour, and driving to her parents’ house from the southwest side of Chicago would take over an hour. As she got on the road she began to panic.

“This is punishment for what I just did, isn’t it,” she said aloud. “I’ll never get to Joey in time. How could you do this to me? To him? I’m just trying to help!”

She drove as fast as she could without speeding too much, and slammed her fist on the wheel and bounced in her seat during the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the highway. Tears came as time went by, the voice still reminding her to keep going. The insistence did not get stronger, however. It remained the same, and she took this as a sign that she still had a chance.

Almost ninety minutes after leaving Mr. Taylor’s apartment, Annabelle pulled into her parents’ driveway and burst in the front door. “Mom! Daddy! Joey!”

She could hear her mother weeping faintly upstairs, so she ran up them to the long hallway. Joey’s door was closed, but her parents’ bedroom was not. She saw her mother sitting on the bed, wiping her eyes. She stopped at the sight of her daughter.

“Annie! What are you doing here?”

“What’s going on, Mom? What’s wrong?”

As Annabelle walked toward the room she saw Sandra’s face become fierce. “Come look at your father. Look at him!”

In the room her father lay on the other side of the bed, resting on his left side. He was shirtless with icepacks on both his stomach and his head. He lifted them to show the bruises there.

“What on Earth?” Annabelle gasped.

“That demon boy,” Sandra growled. “He did this. He attacked.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Joey did this? No…”

“Oh yes he did. That vile monster tried to summon another demon with that devil’s music. A video! Did you give him a video?”

“No, I didn’t give him a video. What are you talking about?”

Sandra stood, shaking. “He was talking through a video, looking for another demon. I stopped him, thank God.”

Annabelle looked back down the hall toward Joey’s room.

“He’s gone, Annabelle.”

Looking back at her mother, Annabelle studied her stoic expression that tried to hide the fear. Her breath caught in her throat. She was too late.

But she was also still alive. He must also be alive.

“Did you hurt him, Daddy?” Her voice broke before it got stronger with anger. “Did you try to kill him?”

“I did try,” Robert said. “And I know God was giving me power, but it wasn’t enough. He’s too powerful. But he no longer lives in this house, and he is to never come near us again.”

Annabelle blinked. “You threw him out? He left?”

“Yes. As much as I hate setting a demon loose in the world, I can’t have him in my house. I can’t have him associated with me in any way.”

“But he’s only sixteen! He can’t be thrown out like that.”

“Too late. And don’t you even dare try to convince me to take him back. I listened to you before about him and I regret that with all my being. That monster is not allowed back in my house.”

Annabelle didn’t need the guide voice to tell her what needed to be done. “Then relinquish custody to me. I’ll take him.”

* * *

Just as it had on the night Miranda was attacked, the voice led Annabelle turn by turn to the prairie reserve. It was dark now and she couldn’t help but wonder if somehow Joey had been drawn to the area where he was conceived. Had he actually tried to summon another demon? His father perhaps? The voice never answered her questions, just pointed her in the direction of where he was.

To her relief, he was not farther than the picnic area by the parking lot. She saw a silhouette hunched over a picnic table, head buried in his arms. “Joey?” she called, and he sat up. The initial bright look immediately turned dark and he buried his face again.

Annabelle sat on the bench beside him and put an arm around him. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

Joey shook his head.

“Please. I don’t want to believe what Grandpa and Grandma said about you trying to summon a demon through a video. I want to know the truth.”

“You’ll be upset.”

“Did you try to summon a demon?”

“No!”

“Okay then. Tell me what happened.”

Joey sat up slightly, but kept his elbows on the table and head down. “I discovered a new band. A secular metal band.”

Annabelle’s heart sank and she closed her eyes and sighed. He was getting off the good path.

“They aren’t satanic,” Joey continued, now looking at her and clearly having read her last thought. “I promise you they aren’t. If they were I wouldn’t listen. Please believe me.”

After a pause, Annabelle said, “We can talk about that later. You can show them to me. But I want to know about this talking through a video thing.”

“Oh. I…I wasn’t talking through a video. I was just…talking to myself. The music really speaks to me, it’s really powerful and I feel like…it’s like they know me. And since I don’t have anyone to talk to…”

Annabelle hesitated. She didn’t want to believe her mother over Joey. And the incident with the TV the week prior still stuck in her mind.

“Joey,” she said softly, “you can be honest with me. I will always listen and I will never judge.”

Their eyes met and Annabelle made sure her thoughts conveyed her words. Without wavering his gaze, Joey said, “I’m telling the truth. I promise.”

She nodded, though deep down she was still skeptical. “Let’s go home.”

“I can’t. They kicked me out.”

“I meant my home. You’re coming home with me.”

Joey’s eyes widened and a smile slowly appeared. “Really?”

“Yes. You’re too young to be out on your own like this. Besides, it’s obvious you need to be close to me.”

They stood from the bench and walked toward the car. “How did you know I was here?” Joey asked.

“I just did. I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner. I tried.”

Joey smiled. “You really are my guardian angel, aren’t you.”

* * *

Once settled in Annabelle’s second floor apartment on the north side of the city, hanging the few clothes she’d grabbed from the house in a spare closet and preparing some blankets on the couch, she pulled out Joey’s tablet and handed it to him. “I want you to show me that band. That video.”

As Joey pulled up the website he had found it on, he said, “They’re called Beautiful Apocalypse. Their music is different from anything I’ve ever heard. Really complex. Fascinating.” He pressed play on the video.

It was nothing like she expected. It wasn’t even like the other bands he had played for her. To her musically untrained ear it at first sounded like a mess of notes, no regular beat to it, but then it evened out. During the long stretch of music before any singing began she studied the band members. They, too, were not what she expected. Short hair on three of them? Scruffy still, but not drastically unkempt or mean looking. When the singing began there was a closeup of the singer and guitar player and Annabelle found her breath caught in her throat. He was strikingly handsome, somehow far superior to any of the clean-cut gentlemen she found attractive in church. When Joey snickered, she glared at him, feeling her face redden in embarrassment. When he began singing she listened to his words. She tried hard to find some sort of devilish message in it, even something subtle or subliminal. She couldn’t.

“Okay,” she said once the song was over. “I guess it’s not bad. I’d rather you not listen to secular music like this, I mean this heavy metal stuff. But I know I can’t stop you.”

“I’ll be careful, Annie. I promise you. Honestly, I don’t really want to listen to anything besides this band. And all of their songs are like this. I won’t listen to anything satanic. I swear.”

Annabelle couldn’t help but hesitate to trust him, but his pleading eyes that never left hers and the lack of a guide voice to tell her otherwise made her consent. “Okay. Don’t make me regret this. Please.”

“I won’t. Thank you.”

Joey put the tablet down and hugged her tight. She reciprocated, resting her head against his. A weight lifted from her, something she hadn’t realized she’d had. He was safe with her now, the only danger being his apparent fall into temptation. That might be the hardest battle of all.