The Influence (Supernatural Thriller) Read online

  Sotare glanced around uneasily while Nomos studied Mark.

  ***

  Mark was very tired and utterly downcast. He slumped in the seat. A subtle urge to cry returned, but he forced it away with a groan and a flex of his fists. He let his body collapse further in the bench. Despair coursed through him. He stiffened in defiance and hit his thighs. “Crap!” he muttered.

  Completely dejected, he sat alone in the garden’s shadows. He thought about the inner voice that now seemed somehow not his own. He frowned and gritted his teeth. It didn’t make any sense. But he couldn’t shake the idea, the feeling that there was something else involved. That’s when he thought that maybe there was a spiritual force influencing him.

  “I’m losing it,” he said aloud. “I must be going crazy.” The two angels listened carefully, as did the evil creatures above.

  Mark shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense.” His own words were somehow soothing. “I’ve never seriously thought of suicide before. What’s happening to me?”

  He paused momentarily to look about the garden and listen to the trickling of the stream. A bird warbled in the distance. This was a serene and peaceful place but it failed to uplift his spirits. He let his head fall back as he stared at the underside of the roof. He could almost taste the despair. He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Stupid!”

  The angels kept their gaze on him, but occasionally glanced back at Nabal.

  “I wish I had answers.” He continued to stare blankly at the roof. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.” Mucus trickled down the back of his throat and he instinctively spat it out as he turned his head to the side.

  Mark turned his attention to the sky and he could see the early arrival of a bright star that had poked through the dusk. “God, I don’t know if you are there, but if you are, I need help. I need help. Please, I need help.”

  The evil creatures in the tree shuddered and the prince opened its mouth silently, displaying its fangs. It hissed in anger and warning.

  Both angels glanced up at them, still listening to Mark. He continued.

  “There is nothing left. I almost killed myself. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t even know if you exist. But if you are there, then I ask you to help me. I give up. I give up.”

  With that, Nabal howled. It was a terrible and hideous cry of anger. The slave demon trembled and cowered. Nabal struck it hard across the face with its fist and sent it plummeting down from the tree. The slave protested with a groan as it fell, but it quickly regained its composure and returned to where it sat before, bracing against the threat of another strike. Nabal’s attention, however, was now directed elsewhere; its steely-eyed expression was menacing as it focused intently on both the angels and the man.

  Sotare and Nomos had instinctively crouched. They flexed their wings to their full width as they waited for an attack. But none came. The prince stayed where it was, while the slave trembled at its side.

  The angels relaxed and turned their attention back to Mark. They were not sure why a prince would be involved, but they had learned long ago there are movements in the spirit world far beyond their comprehension and that archangels of God and principalities of darkness were somehow able to sense what was and was not significant. The prince was there because it had been sent by a principality, which meant that Mark had attracted the attention of an incredibly evil power. Neither angel knew the significance of Nabal’s presence, but both feared finding out.

  “Have you ever encountered a principality?” asked Nomos.

  “No,” replied Sotare. “But I have seen the damage one of them can cause to our ranks. I hope that the Sovereign will spare us both such an encounter. But if it should occur, we will both fight to the end.”

  Nomos nodded slowly in agreement. Above them, Prince Nabal was looking down, red eyes shining. Its mouth formed a grotesque mockery of a smile. Did it know something the angels did not?

  “What are we called to do?” asked Nomos. “You were the first here. Have you received your instructions yet?”

  “I have not. They will come soon.”

  Nomos looked up at the prince and the demon. “Why have they not attacked? A prince can defeat us both. Why do they wait?”

  Sotare did not answer.

  A soft breeze crept through the garden, soothing Mark. The angels were watching him.

  “Do you still wonder?” asked Nomos.

  “Yes.”

  They knew that humans were complicated emotional creatures, weak and irrational. They were capable of both good and evil, and they seemed to be easily influenced by the spiritual realm. They could not fly. They had to eat and dispose of waste. They possessed little strength. They got sick and grew feeble. They lived and died. Yet the Sovereign was interested in them and loved them greatly.

  “The Sovereign has his reasons,” said Sotare after a pause.

  The Almighty communicated his instructions through the angelic realm and the angels moved accordingly. So many times and in so many ways they were enigmatic instructions. But the angels knew that when God commanded, they obeyed. Even the demonic forces had restrictions and could only operate as was permitted by the Almighty. It was all beyond them.

  Of course, this greatly perplexed the angels, who did not know why God permitted the existence of evil. But they were not to ask. Their job was to carry out instructions in an inexpressibly complex and infinitely old plan in which they had long ago been created as participants. At the center of God’s ultimate propose was fragile humanity. They knew that God saw everything and was infinitely wise. They trusted His divine judgment even if they did not understand it.

  Sotare looked at Mark and wondered why this mere human, this weak and vulnerable biological creature was so important. Nomos stepped closer, moving next to Sotare. He, too, examined the man.

  Suddenly, Sotare dropped to his knees and gathered his wings around him. He pressed his chin to his chest. Nomos stepped back and also knelt down. Though they were vulnerable to attack, the evil ones did not move. They knew better. No evil one, however strong, had ever survived when attacking an angel while he was receiving instructions from the Almighty. Stories flourished about principalities and princes who had attacked the weakest of angels when they were receiving instructions, only to vanish into thin air, never to be seen again.

  Nomos took this time to study the man while he waited for Sotare to rise. Sotare continued kneeling, motionless, with his head down for two, three, four minutes. At long last, Sotare folded his wings back behind him, raised his head slowly, and stood up. Nomos stood up, too, saying nothing.

  “I have my instructions,” said Sotare. “I am to appear to the man and speak to him.”

  Nomos stared at Sotare in amazement before he turned to look at Mark.

  ***

  John still had traces of anesthesia flowing through his veins. That, combined with the rest he needed as his body continued to heal, caused him to nap frequently. After his prayer, he gently nodded off again.

  He was hooked up to IVs that dripped painkillers that he could push to increase the dosage if he needed it. Another bag sent some antibiotics into his veins. Electrodes on his chest were wired to a machine that recorded his breathing and heartbeat. If anything went wrong, an alarm would sound and nurses would rush into the room. Of course, no one expected anything to happen. His was a routine surgery and he was in a safe and secure environment.

  However, he was a participant in a spiritual battle and his prayers were a serious threat to the enemy. Though he did not know to what extent, nor did he understand the depth and power of his prayers, he prayed nonetheless, and the effect had already been felt in the spirit world. Demonic forces would undoubtedly be dispatched in an attempt to stop him. Too much was at stake.

  That is why, several feet beyond the hospital window, a being hovered, sustained by its beating wings. It looked around before slowly moving through the wall and into the room where John was laying. Folding it
s wings, he took a step towards John.

  Out in the hall a nurse walked by and glanced in. The being watched her and took another step towards John as she studied the patient. The familiar sounds of medical equipment beeped rhythmically. After stepping in to check around and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she left.

  The being turned his attention to John and all the equipment. How fragile he was. How vulnerable to an attack. John was old and his body had been weakened by the surgery. It was a perfect opportunity to try to kill him.

  The winged creature moved closer and slowly bent over the bed, bringing his face close to his. He scrutinized the man as he listened to the sounds of his breathing, aware of everything in the room. He looked at the IV, the electrical cords, and the bedsheets. How could it be done, he wondered? What would be the best way to kill him?

  The angel stood close by the bed, leaned over, and gently whispered into John’s ear, “I am Ramah. I am here to protect you. Rest, my friend. God is with you.” Then he slowly opened his wings and spread them over John, touching his side. Light filled the room.

  ***

  Mark was still in the garden. Enough time had passed since his near suicide that he was able to more objectively review the events and assess his emotional and mental state. The well-trained habits of methodical examination, developed during his years as an engineer, were kicking in. He was trying to figure out what it was about himself that would lead him to such a terrible act.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” he said aloud as he shook his head.

  A noise from inside the garden distracted him. He looked towards it. The moon was full and bright and dusk had not yet fully given way to the darkness. Still, the softening sunlight gave the garden an otherworldly feel. Mark listened. Did he hear something or not? He looked again towards where the sound was coming from.

  Wait, there it was again. He stood up. More noise. It sounded like footsteps. He stood there motionless, alert, focusing in the direction of the sound. Steps, he thought. They were getting louder. Someone was in the garden coming towards him. Mark’s heart began to race. His stomach tightened. Now he was certain that someone was there but he didn’t see anyone. He tilted his head slightly and looked down along the garden path, straining to see. There! Something moved in the shadows. Mark took a step back and instinctively glanced around for an escape route.

  “I am a friend,” came words from the direction of the footsteps. “I am here to give you answers.”

  Mark slid out of the gazebo one step, ready to flee if necessary.

  “I am a friend.”

  Mark noticed that the footsteps had stopped. He could see a figure between some bushes but couldn’t quite make the person out.

  “Who are you?” asked Mark.

  “My name is Sotare. I have come in answer to your prayer.”

  That was the last thing Mark expected to hear. He thought that perhaps it was a prowler, maybe even one of his neighbors. But the voice didn’t sound familiar.

  “May I come closer?”

  Mark weighed the options of running or staying and, since he could see no immediate threat, he tentatively answered, “Yes.”

  A man approached. Mark studied him. He was dressed in sandals with loose-fitting tan pants and a beige shirt; he had dark hair. He wasn’t of a particular race. Instead, he seemed like a mixture of them all.

  “My name is Sotare. You have been asking many questions and I have been sent to give you answers.”

  Mark furrowed his brow, still assessing the man and the situation, cautiously studying him.

  Sotare stopped and repeated “I am here to help you in answer to your prayer.”

  Mark raised his eyebrows and cocked his head back a little. How did this man know about his prayer? It occurred to him that he must have been in the garden listening the whole time. This meant he had been watching him. Mark looked to the rope that was still hanging from the tree. Whoever this was, he didn’t want his near suicide to get back to Kathy. He hurriedly untied the rope and jerked it down from over the limb, letting it fall on the ground.

  “I know about what almost happened. It’s okay. I’m here to help.”

  Mark started to walk backwards towards the house, keeping his eye on Sotare.

  “I will be here when you need me.”

  Mark continued backing up until he felt comfortable enough to turn around and hurry out of the garden. He reached the back door, flung it open, stepped inside, and slammed the deadbolt home. Rushing to the kitchen window, he looked out to the garden. If the man was there, he couldn’t see him.

  Mark headed for the phone. Call the police, he thought. He took one more look out the kitchen window.

  Ring!

  Mark jumped. He caught his breath after a second and lifted it to his ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Mark?” said Kathy from the other end. “How are you doing? How are you feeling?”

  He paused for a moment. He knew he had to choose his words carefully and that his tone had to be right as well. Should he tell Kathy that there was a strange man in the garden? No, that would really worry her. Then he thought about almost committing suicide and that he had felt like there was a voice in his head. Obviously, Mark chose to keep that to himself. He looked out the window into the garden. “I’m fine,” he said into the phone. He walked over to the back door and flipped on the outside light. It chased the shadows back into the garden.

  “Good. I was worried. You’ll never guess what happened. I was almost in an accident.”

  Mark’s attention was snatched away from Sotare. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I was driving along and for some reason this crazy driver swerved into my lane and almost hit me. Maybe he swerved to miss something. I don’t know. But it was very close, and it nearly scared me to death.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Everything is okay but I just wanted to call and see how you’re doing all alone there. You okay?”

  Mark quickly processed his concern for her and accepted that everything was okay. “I’m doing fine. I was out in the garden…” Mark paused, “…relaxing.” He glanced out the window again. “I’m here in the kitchen. I’m okay.”

  “You sound a little weird, Mark. What’s wrong?” said Kathy.

  That is when Mark realized that she could read his voice as only a wife could. He forced himself to relax and took a silent breath.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I got startled by a noise in the garden. It was nothing.”

  “A noise?”

  Mark instantly regretted saying it. “You know how the wind moves through the trees. It gets noisy sometimes. Look, I’m fine. Really, I am.” Mark glanced out the window again and gazed into the garden as he spoke to his wife.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, of course.” He forced himself to speak calmly, hiding the apprehension in his voice.

  “I’m glad to hear it, because, you know, the way you’ve been lately with all the questions and everything...” her voice trailed off.

  Mark felt a tinge of annoyance at her mothering. But he knew she was just being a good wife.

  “Well, I’ve just been worried, that’s all,” she continued. “I love you and miss you and I just wanted to talk to you and hear your voice and let you know that I’m thinking of you.”

  “I appreciate that, honey.” Mark quietly rebuked himself for mistaking her love for him to be mothering.

  He wanted to get off the phone and call the police, but if she sensed he was rushing her, she might get suspicious. Besides, it was good to hear from her, so he patiently talked to her while he kept his eyes on the garden. He glanced to the drawer where the knives were.

  She was calling on her cell phone from the car and explained that she had only three more hours to go before she reached the hotel. She casually reviewed her plans to Mark, making small talk. She would get up early and go the rest of
the way to the hospital. After that she would go to her dad’s place where she would get things ready for him to come home. She told Mark how she hoped everything went smoothly so she could get back to him as soon as possible.

  “I appreciate that,” he said. But deep down he really didn’t mind that she was gone. He just needed the rest and he wanted to be alone for a while.

  They continued to talk about her drive, her father, and how he was doing. Mark was careful not to divulge anything and sound too hurried or agitated. He did, however, glance out the kitchen window repeatedly. He wanted to make sure the stranger was gone. The sunlight had faded enough to make spotting anyone out there impossible from inside. Mark figured the man was probably a drifter or something and might be gone by now out the back gate that led away from the house. But, at the same time, he could not forget what the man had said about being sent from God.

  Finally, Kathy began wrapping up the conversation. “Okay then. I’ll call you tomorrow from my dad’s house.”

  “Sounds good. You take care on the freeway, all right? I love you very much.”

  “I love you too. Goodbye.”

  “Bye.”

  Mark hung up the phone as he stared out the kitchen window. He thought about calling the police, but by now the intruder was probably gone, so he decided to check the garden himself. Of course, he’d feel better if he had some sort of weapon with him. So, he hurried to the garage door. Next to some tools was a baseball bat. He picked it up, felt its weight, and gave it a small swing. He then headed back into the kitchen. In a junk drawer was a spare set of keys to the house and a flashlight. He grabbed them along with a padlock and headed out the back door, locking it behind him, the bat perched on his shoulder. He didn’t want the intruder to possibly sneak in while he was in the garden.

  At first, he was unsure and cautious. Was the man still there? Mark slowly walked towards the gazebo, taking care that he didn’t get too close to concealed areas where he might get ambushed. The flashlight gave him confidence, but it also betrayed his location.

  He took a circuitous route, repeatedly changing his direction and angle of view, making sure he had checked every potential hiding spot. Sotare was nowhere to be seen. He checked a few places again, just to make sure, until he was satisfied that he was alone. Only then did he lower the bat. He checked the back gate, which was closed and locked, and looked around a little more for good measure until he was satisfied the man was gone.