The Willisby Orphans: In the Keys to the Bottomless Pit

The Willisby Orphans

In The Keys to the Bottomless Pit

G. Wil Hembree

Copyright © 2011 G. Wil Hembree.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-2364-4 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-2365-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-2366-8 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011914064

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WestBow Press rev. date: 11/08/2011

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

Where Spirits Roam

CHAPTER 2

The Holy Forces of Light and the Unholy Evil Legion

CHAPTER 3

Heads on a Silver Platter

CHAPTER 4

The Right Side of Wrong

CHAPTER 5

No One’s In Charge

CHAPTER 6

The Unholy Gilded Seat

CHAPTER 7

Six Winged Angels and Fallen Nuts Disease

CHAPTER 8

Never Is Forever

CHAPTER 9

Piles of Unholy Goo

CHAPTER 10

A Mystery One Day Revealed

CHAPTER 11

The Perfect Answer

CHAPTER 12

Odd Fart-Fogged Clouds and Brain-Butted Buffoons

CHAPTER 13

A St. Moonister Prank

CHAPTER 14

Is That You, Margaret?

CHAPTER 15

The Flame-Throwing Dragon

CHAPTER 16

Through the Narrow Passage

CHAPTER 17

The Coveted Drivers License

CHAPTER 18

Worthless, Unworthy Slime and Noxious Ev Fluids

CHAPTER 19

Cursing In Angelish

CHAPTER 20

A Masterpiece or What?

CHAPTER 21

Pigs Fly or Shall We Say Cars?

CHAPTER 22

Something Is Wrong

CHAPTER 23

Oh Holy Moly!

CHAPTER 24

All These Terrible Things

CHAPTER 25

This Terrible Fs Pandemic

CHAPTER 26

The Dust and Grit of Hell

CHAPTER 27

How Bad Can It Be?

CHAPTER 28

Put It In Fly

CHAPTER 29

Perfectly Good Ev’s

CHAPTER 30

Two Birds. One Stone

CHAPTER 31

This Charade

CHAPTER 32

A Bird’s Just a Bird After All

CHAPTER 33

The Unusual Paradox of Margaret

CHAPTER 34

Supersonic Electromagnetic Currents

CHAPTER 35

Dead Men Don’t Drive

CHAPTER 36

Killing Dead Archie Again

CHAPTER 37

A Mere Choice

CHAPTER 38

A Great and Final Escape

CHAPTER 39

There’s Been an Accident

CHAPTER 40

Something Is Terribly Wrong

CHAPTER 41

Grace Willisby Has a Broom and the Honorable Judge

To the honor and glory of God for unfaltering love and hope for each of us. To my family and friends and the many people that have inspired my life. I am blessed beyond measure. To the reader, may this story touch you and may your life be forever enriched.

"In

whom are

    hid all the

      treasures

         of wisdom

          and

             knowledge."

                Colossians 2:3

CHAPTER ONE

Where Spirits Roam

ZAP!

Lightning smacks a nearby tree, a limb crashes, and gravestones flash in the brilliant light. All eyes look up and watch the billowing clouds linger, threatening the bright blue day.

BBboooooommmmM! The eerie sound echoes across the sky, rolling in a bottomless chamber of multiple deep groans. The air is thick with suffocating humidity, and everyone is uncomfortable.

With tears in his round, blue eyes, Kramer Willisby whines, "I don’t want to do this. I’m scared."

Fifteen-year-old Katlyn sounds harsh as she says, You think I’m not scared? So what? We have to do this, so straighten up! When Kramer kicks her in the shin, she grabs her leg. Ouch! Even as she looks around at the dozens of people she doesn’t know, she clutches Kramer closer—as if she can shield them both from this day.

BBbbaaaammmM! The ground shakes, and everyone jumps at the sound.

Unseen to the human eye, a spiritual world, magical and mystical, lurks within the seconds of time. This eternal realm lies forever hidden within layers of dimension and chance as invisible forces wage a war of cunning ruse. Most people never notice or, if they do, they simply excuse the events as some fluke.

Few people glimpse all that is going on around them every hour and every minute of the day. To the naked eye, the sun rises and sets, and people go about their normal, day-to-day routine, unaware that when the winds grow loud or a breeze comes, spirits float about with swords drawn, and flaming battles swirl around them, seeking their soul.

So it is with Katlyn and Kramer Willisby as they stand at their parents’ graves, surrounded by strangers.

"Let’s go." Kramer sounds hushed and stern.

"No! You behave!" Katlyn snarls her upturned nose until Kramer is looking up her nostrils. He kicks her again.

Oooww! Katlyn clutches her leg.

Everyone glances at them as Pastor Gene Owloserra clears his throat and starts the service. Family, friends, loved ones, we are—

CREEeeaaaAK! CRAaaaccCK! GROooooaaaann!

All eyes look towards the fractured tree limb. They are blind to the hidden energy that steadies the branch. When it doesn’t fall, their attention returns to the preacher who continues undaunted by the noise.

Katlyn grabs her eight-year-old brother’s hand. They stand looking at the mound of fresh flowers covering their parents’ caskets. Reverend Owloserra’s voice is a steady drone as Katlyn tries to look at him and not the flower-laden coffins. This isn’t real, she thinks, and then worries if she’s said it aloud. Her eyes dart around like a caged animal. She is afraid. She feels like running. There’s no one now to tell her what to do. The Willisby orphans’ future is scary.

The church has handled the funeral arrangements while Katlyn handles one day’s shocked grief with Kramer. Now they stand in a cemetery feeling alone, surrounded by nameless faces in an unfamiliar town. Katlyn pulls Kramer closer to her, knowing he is trying hard not to cry.

Unnoticed by all those gathered for this somber occasion, unseen spirits move among them, casting golden light over the resting grounds and white stone markers. The air is calm as it sweeps over the crowd. The sky is an odd and brilliant blue, although one ominous cloud lingers above them.

Pastor Owloserra’s voice interrupts her thoughts. And two children are orphaned, Katlyn and Kramer Willisby. Their Aunt Grace Willisby here… He waves a hand to an aged and confused eighty-eight-year-old in a large flowered hat. She looks around smiling, not certain what the preacher is saying and not really certain where she is. God holds the Willisby orphans’ lives in His very hands. The pastor’s Southern drawl slows, dips low, and seems to lull on and on.

Katlyn feels forced to smile at the crowd looking at her with curious pity. She feels obliged to act mature, when all she wants to do is fling herself onto the dual caskets and stop the nightmare.

This isn’t real! Wake up! Wake UP! Katlyn commands but it doesn’t work. The elderly preacher keeps talking. The sweet aroma of fresh flowers is stifling in the early summer heat. Tears threaten to expose how vulnerable she feels as she dips her head hiding anxious, blue eyes. When her arm covers her brother’s shoulder in a protective hold, he moves closer.

Raphael, an invisible, holy, archangel, towers over the orphans. He touches Katlyn’s cheek. His aura envelops them within his bright, holy glow.

For a moment, Katlyn thinks this event is all a cruel joke and will turn out to be just another bad dream—a new Franken St. Moonister low. His cruelest prank since kindergarten, she reasons, as Raphael’s warm breath rushes over her. Mother’s at the manse just waiting for me to pass some test. As soon as I do, all will be restored. She exhales, calmed by the warmth of her brother’s shoulders, the sun, and the unseen angel beside her.

Kramer stops fidgeting. His tears dry as he’s certain Katlyn knows exactly what they are to do next. He kicks his toe in the dirt to say he’s just fine as Katlyn squeezes his hand as if all is well.

Raphael’s soothing aura surrounds the young orphans penetrating their minds and diminishing their fears for now. Neither Katlyn nor Kramer is aware of the archangel’s presence, nor do they sense the danger that is coming into their lives in the days to come. But Raphael knows. He touches Katlyn and Kramer gently whispering prayers for peace and protection.

Katlyn’s no longer worried that Pastor Owloserra has someone from the Department of Family and Children Services coming to split them up into properly supervised homes. Katlyn decides Aunt Grace is unaware of the pastor’s purpose here today as the stooped, elder beams at them, waving, as if they’re up for some award. Aunt Grace nearly loses her flowered hat, and Katlyn smiles calmly. I’ll wake up when mom calls from California saying this, indeed, is all a fraud conjured up in Franken St. Moonister’s sick phone-hoax department. He’s such a cad! Franken St. Moonister has been phone-pranking Katlyn since he was old enough to independently dial numbers on a phone. He’s evaded punishment since their kindergarten years and now he’s twisted and foul. His most recent 6 million-dollar, guess-the-name-of-this-song phone call dumped him into hot water in Katlyn’s former town of Simi, California. Franken St. Moonister thought it funny to say the mayor and a local DJ celebrity had guaranteed the prize money. Unfortunately, the person Franken called really thought they’d won this large chunk of change. They didn’t appreciate Franken’s weird sense of humor nor the mayor and DJ’s prompt denial of guaranteeing funds. When the lawsuits started flying, everyone stopped laughing—especially Franken St. Moonister.

Katlyn’s mother said Franken was finally getting his due, and Katlyn’s phone quit ringing with fake you-are-the-one-millionth-caller-and-have-won jokes. That was less than a year ago and, now, Katlyn thinks a mean-spirited St. Moonister is behind the recent nightmare of total strangers suddenly invading her life. She stands with Kramer, knowing he’s waiting for her to halt this terrible fiasco and tell the preacher and all these people to just go home.

Raphael removes his hands raising the sacred orb to the sky. He watches the suspicious black cloud floating above the crowd.

With Raphael’s touch gone, doubt returns to Katlyn’s mind that any St. Moonister is truly behind this two-day horrendous ordeal. She lied yesterday when Pastor Owloserra said the frightful words, foster care. Words rushed from her lips: Aunt Grace is the grown-up in charge. She prays the aunt she’s barely met hasn’t told Pastor Owloserra the truth. It’s oddly comforting to know that Grace Willisby doesn’t seem to realize she’s at a funeral. Aunt Grace looks around, toddles sideways, almost loses her hat, grabs it, and grins. She regains her balance as a tall, thin lady steadies her.

As he looks down at the children, Raphael aches for the days ahead. He motions for the archangel Zabkiel to let the tree limb go and bring more holy light to the orphans with so much trouble before them. Raphael points to the dark cloud where the evil fiends of Satan hide.

When Zabkiel moves from the tree, a hideous flying fiend races from the cloud and attacks. Swords clash and lightning shoots from the ground to the sky. The humans below look around. Katlyn sees nothing but a streak of light and shadows blocking the sun’s rays. She wonders if God is displeased with her. Is she being punished for the lie?

BbbboooommmMMMM!

ZZzaAapPP!

GgrrooaaannnN!

Lightning strikes the tree. With a groan, the limb falls away from the trunk and bursts into a small, smoldering flame. All eyes look at the flickering limb except Reverend Owloserra who continues the service. Several people watch the burning tree but no one seems disturbed by the threatening cloud that is the only dark spot in the weirdly blue sky.

No one can see the dimensions that lie between the thermosphere and the stratosphere, and the space of place and time where spirits roam, caught in currents of wind and nature, hidden in dark clouds and bolts of fire shooting from the sky.

No one is frightened, but they would be if only they could see.

"He who has eyes let him see." Zabkiel and Raphael whisper.

CHAPTER 2

The Holy Forces of Light and the Unholy Evil Legion

Raphael towers above the orphans. His holy, golden sphere draws a line that protects the Willisby’s from anyone who harbors ungodly spirits. As a high-ranking archangel, Raphael’s seen millenniums of war waged in the quest for Good versus Evil. Raphael and Zabkiel are numbered among God’s holy angels of goodness, the Forces of Light. These FOL warriors are the defenders of all things noble and fine.

The holy angels know that Satanic spirits roam the earth seeking people with unprotected hearts and no Hedge of Protection around them. These evil fiends attach themselves to a vulnerable person’s body and can inhabit a host for years until the person is drained of love and becomes ugly, unkind, and mean. Some people host multiple demons that do despicable things while ranting irrational or insane thoughts to the unspecting soul. The angels know of these foul fiends.

"Master, some believe that Hitler was host to legions of evil spirits."

"Indeed, Master Zabz, enough to annihilate a generation of Jewish souls."

"These are perilous times, Master."

"Indeed. Their news is full with those acting on Satan’s behalf. Look at those Lucifer sent for the Willisby orphans."

"Indeed, Master Rapz. That’s why the FOL’s job is vital."

Raphael is God’s guardian over Katlyn and Kramer Willisby. Raphael’s large bronze form glows inside the space of air he occupies. His light radiates from kind eyes and a face that is sincere and truthful. He’s stately, tall, and full of ancient wisdom. Raphael smiles as Zabkiel begins tangling with a demon that tries to disrupt the service.

Soft lovely voices fall from the heavens but people hear only the wind. The warring spirits listen to the melody floating on the under currents of each draft. Raphael knows the crowd is blind to the many spirits surrounding the church’s grounds. He throws another bolt of lightning to help Zabkiel’s battle. People notice the wind and brightness of the day while random light rays streak across the weird, blue sky.

I go to prepare a place for you. Reverend Owloserra says. In God’s house are many mansions, and were it not so, I would have told you. He doesn’t acknowledge the burning tree as if the crowd shouldn’t find it creepy and strange.

But Katlyn does. It’s all strange. Strange, indeed. Katlyn wrestles with the thought of being alone in a town she never wanted to come to in the first place. How can this be? This has to be some new St. Moonister madness. It just has to be.

Raphael turns to Zabkiel. "My heart is heavy." Raphael touches Katlyn’s face. My poor child.

I understand, master. Zabkiel says before punching the ugly, snot- dripping demon in the nose and knocking the fiend into the flaming, flicking tree. Black smoke rises and fire pops as if an accelerant is present. The demon goes up in a puff of gassy goo. It stinks.

Everyone looks at the tree and then at each other. A farty smell fogs the air and each person silently proclaims it wasn’t them as Reverend Owloserra continues his eulogy as if these things were absolutely normal.

Raphael’s holy beam surrounds Katlyn and Kramer. He feels the Willisby’s heartbreak and fear. I would claim their pain if only I could.

I know, master, Rapz. Zabkiel says watching for other nasty fiends.

Katlyn pulls Kramer closer to her and tries to ignore the smelly tree. No one seems troubled by the odor, the lightening, or the tree, and Katlyn wonders about these strangers.

Zabkiel’s angelic shadow covers the area in holy light as Raphael shouts at the evil fiends hiding inside the dark cloud:

All those in Zabkiel’s presence are within a Hedge of Divine Protection and God’s golden light stands within the gilded sphere of the Master’s archangel, moving at God’s direction and for His Will!.

Yes! Zabkiel adds. So Stay Away, You Smelly, Unholy spirits!

The cloud floats off at the sound of the angels’ voice. Several birds call in a loud song until all that’s heard is twittering and quiet, murmuring wind.

Katlyn and Kramer look up as light blankets the service when the cloud moves out. Katlyn wonders now if the preacher will make Franken St. Moonister call to apologize. She wonders if she and Kramer can sue over this cold, cruel joke.

Zabkiel bows to Raphael and a small, whispering breeze passes over the crowd. For a moment, Katlyn and Kramer feel abnormally calm as the wind brushes her and Kramer’s hair lifts in the draft.

The tree top sizzles and ashes float down covering the pastor like dandruff on an unwashed head. The preacher barely flinches even as the smell grows into a funk and people begin to shield their noses.

The FOL archangels do not intervene nor do they make their presence known. These angelic spirits remain invisible as long as they abide by the rules on Divine Intervention. Much to the evil fiends delight, Divine Intervention Rules are often restrictive to God’s angels.

Raphael and Zabkiel stand twelve foot tall spout well-defined arms of massive muscle, and their jaws are straight and firm. They are pleasing to look at and comforting to those touched by their holy light. Even if no one sees them, people sometimes sense something hidden within a dimension of space that is undiscovered and undefined.

Katlyn smoothes Kramer’s wind strewn hair and her touch is gentle now. Kramer looks at her confident she knows what she’s doing. Katlyn is, after all, seven years older than he. Kramer rests against her, satisfied in the angel’s glow of pleasing calm. The burning limb, showering ash, and smelly fart seem surreal to the orphans, and Katlyn considers the babbling preacher and all these strangers just a part of a very bad dream.

Raphael wishes that Katlyn and Kramer could know of the various spirits walking among them. He wants them to see Satan’s demonic warriors entering a human’s space and attaching themselves to a person’s body or mind. Raphael knows the Unholy Evil Legion can penetrate his light shield as long as they care nothing about the pain from holy light. The angel recognizes the evil drawn to voids in a person’s heart or mind where the dark fiends of Satan seek constant entry and a permanent home.

No one notices as their mood grows dark, unchecked, or foul. There’s no recognition that unexplained bad feelings are present when evil enters the bloodstream. Raphael knows Satan wants to devour all people in his path and Satan’s own Unholy Evil Legion is out there, waiting, in the trees or disguised in a dark, frumpy cloud.

Reverend Owloserra continues talking in spite of the distracted crowd and funky smells.

Raphael says, The wickedness of Satan’s dark ruling hand fights to corrupt the souls walking on God’s dear Earth. He’s after Katlyn and Kramer Willisby now.

"Indeed, master. It’s a pity." Zabkiel towers behind the preacher protecting him and the crowd from the evil vapors coming from the tree.

"This battle with the UEL is long and sometimes I grow weary. Now it’s particularly bad as Satan’s cronies have been loosed upon the earth and they have but a little time."

"Indeed, master Rapz. Time is short."

Raphael and Zabkiel, as part of the angelic Forces of Light, fight daily to save all who seek God’s face. Their spirits are present and walking among us, hidden within the fabric of physical properties so vast that scientist continue to study even to this day.

Katlyn tries to concentrate. The pastor recites Psalm 23, but the smoldering, ash-blowing, fart-popping tree is distracting, and Kramer bursts with questions. Katlyn stops his hand when he tries pointing.

Not now, Kramz. Katlyn whispers.

Reverend Owloserra continues undisturbed.

The warning of lightening-felled, tree burning limbs and fart-filled clouds hanging overhead is not sufficient. Those attending this sad eulogy don’s see the terrible things that will come to any town housing the Willisby orphans.

Raphael looks at Zabkiel. "This is going to get bad."

"Indeed, master, Rapz. Really, really bad."

CHAPTER 3

Heads on a Silver Platter

The Unholy Evil Legion, sometimes called the UEL, is lead by Beelzebub, Moloch, and Baal. The UEL are ugly demons, gross, malformed and foul. They are appointed by Satan now to this time and place and to these children.

The Willisby orphans are the main assignment for these malevolent leaders. The Unholy Evil Legion’s singular purpose is to take God’s people into Satan’s evil, empty, and heartless camp and to enslave them forever until the end of time.

So Beelzebub and Moloch surround the outskirts of the church’s grave yard disguised as birds. Baal mans the cloud with a host of underling fiends, disposable to Satan.

An unusually cold wind blows in the early June skies. People shiver hoping Pastor Owloserra will finish soon. No one knows these children and they’ve only come to show the town’s support for these orphaned newcomers. Everyone agrees, it is tragic, but it’s a world where bad things do happen despite a person’s goodness. Now everyone is ready to go home. The cold air stinks.

Zabkiel looks around searching the perimeters of the church yard for demonic spirits. Zabkiel nods his head to Raphael who thrusts the golden sphere to include more people within his protective light.

Beelzebub sits in a tree undetected. "I’m a wise old owl and proud." He says this despite his grotesquely ugly blob of iridescent grey squashed into an owl’s body making Beelzebub the fattest, ugliest owl in the land. Beelzebub has a crocked beak instead of a flat owl face. Other than the nose and too much blubber, Beelzebub may be mistaken for an owl.

Moloch laughs, "You’re a fat, misshapen do-do bird, see?"

A majestic and worldly Owl, you moron! Beelzebub glares at him.

Your nose is too long, see.

You’re an idiot. Beelzebub says.

The leaders of the Unholy Evil Legion sit on gravestones bickering and surveying God’s FOL warriors hovering seven and eight feet above the children. Holy light surrounds the service and some in the crowd still hold their noses against the acrid smell.

The fiends laugh.

The group pretends to listen to Reverend Owloserra’s message but the smoldering and flame-licking tree less than 20 feet from the grave continues to distract everyone but the pastor.

"You, Beebz, see, are one ugly bird. We don’t have to scare them with burning trees. You, just show your hideous self, see. One look at your hawk-nosed owl face will frighten them more than a bit of lightening striking a tree! See?"

"Shut up, turd for brains. You are rather frightful yourself, dear Moozzzhh." Beelzebub draws the ‘osh’ sound out just to irritate Moloch.

It’s properly pronounced Moe Losh, see? Moloch is indignant.

"Sure, Moozhh. And that’s pronounced Mooossssssshh." Beelzebub says to infuriate his fellow, ugly demon. In the deepest pits of hell, everyone laughs when Beelzebub screws up Moloch’s name.

But Moloch isn’t laughing and returns to study his prey. Beelzebub farts but it is lost in the sour air. Moloch knows the two Forces of Light angelic warriors are here to protect the Willisby orphans. The fiend knows they wish to annihilate the UEL in the battle for the souls of God’s children.

The demons know that FOL archangel Raphael was given the Willisby children at birth as appointed by God. Katlyn and Kramer’s names are written in the Book of Life, sealed with seven seals that are later to be opened.

Beelzebub hoots. That Raphael’s so arrogant with his flaming sword and flowing golden hair. Even his skin shimmers. That bronzed, tan do-gooder Raphael thinks he’s hot stuff! Arrogant, I say.

Yeah, and his muscles see? Humph! He thinks he’s high and mighty, see? Moloch is jealous.

Yeah, a soldier with pumped up arms and long girly hair. He’s nothing! Beelzebub’s nose is in the air.

Moloch’s oblong luster of bottom-heavy goo settles in the rear of the bird he chose. Moloch slips backwards, slowly at first, but the goo globs in his butt making him whip around the limb until he almost falls. Moloch secures the branch with a clawed foot and dangles by one leg as the ground sways below him. Help, see.

Beelzebub snickers cruelly and his front-fat owl body shifts too far forward, and then he’s swinging around in a perfect circle as if he’d meant to. Truthfully, it’s an accident, but he’s not about to admit that to Moloch. Beelzebub’s afraid it’ll happen again and, as he’s tries to readjust, unannounced, he tips forward again. Quickly, and perpetuated by the redistribution of low-belly fat, this causes several automatic swings of front-loaded blubber to whisk him back to the top of the branch. He grabs hold.

Moloch snickers.

"Whoa!" Beelzebub says. "That was intentional." He seizes the limb gouging toe claws into the bark.

Moloch hasn’t the patience to worry about Beelzebub or his tree limb problems. Moloch has problems of his own. Moloch is dangling upside down, holding on with one foot with ugly claws in a death grip around the narrow limb. Moloch’s eyes protrude and grow round as blubbery fat rushes to his head. Now his head is bigger than his butt.

Help, see! Beebz. Help! Moloch cries.

Beelzebub sneers watching Moloch flail flapping wings that quickly fill with goo. Moloch reaches his wing towards Beelzebub who delights in Moloch’s stupidity and his fright. Moloch holds on swinging his other leg up trying to connect with any part of the tree.

Help! Moloch pleads. You useless unwise owl, help, see?

Beelzebub’s crooked, beak-like owl nose drips, running down his front, burning all it touches. He slings a glob at Moloch.

Oh! Moloch calls out almost losing hold of the limb. "Idiot, see!"

Beelzebub ignores the other demon’s plight and enjoys Moloch’s struggle to get in an upright position. Beelzebub shakes his head. You ain’t gonna make it.

Shut up, see, and help, ole mighty, evil, bugger-eating bird.

Ha! You’ve bumped your head or something. I’m not your keeper.

"You’re a slim bucket, see? A nose-picking, profane piece of cow dung. That’s what you are, see?" Moloch kicks the air with his free foot while his claw strains to hang onto the limb.

Well, you need to quit playing around. We’ve got work to do.

"I need help, Beebz. See?"

"Humph! Right, Moozhh. Again, you’re not my brother. I’m not your keeper. You’re on your own."

I’ll be remembering that, see?

Well, you, dear Moozhh, need to pay attention. That stuck up, do-gooder Raphael is already declaring victory in this battle.

"Idiot! See." Moloch manages to get upright with his last swing. Now, Moloch teeters on the limb, dizzy. He’s seeing fifteen Raphael’s and about as many Zabkiel’s. His fat eyes bulge and the large head of goo begins to settle downwards as Moloch tries to focus. Beelzebub’s grotesque body is replicated through dizzy eyes. I have a headache. See.

Beelzebub looks at him. It’ll hurt worse if you look in the mirror.

"You’re very ugly, see? Every one of you, in fact."

Shut up, big oaf! We’re talking about the One-of-Whom-we-cannot-speak-His-Name’s warriors. That do-gooder Raphael is giving Him glory as if the FOL has won this battle. And we haven’t even begun.

Yeah, see? They’re always declaring success and stuff. And I never liked that FOL Zabkiel either, see? Humph! They think this fight’s going to be easy. We’ll show him, see, Beebz. Right, huh, right?

Yes, we’ll do some mighty do-gooder butt busting. That’s for sure.

Yeah, see, to do-gooder butt bashing. It’ll be divine, devilish, and decisive, see?

Well, that’s a mighty big thought for a teeny, tiny brain, dear, Moozhh.

Yeah, anytime, see.

Well, they know we have to get through the petition force to pierce the Hedge.

"Yeah, but that’s only a matter of time, see, ole fat feathered fiend of all things wicked and sinister."

You’re a dimwit, Moozhh. A disgustingly dumb dimwit. Beelzebub nods emphatically and his large beak throws him forward. He spins several times in circles around the limb before regaining control.

Idiot. See? Moloch laughs.

When Beelzebub is a right, he holds his head up speaking as if nothing happened. "Yes, just a matter of time is all…is all." He sees multiples of FOL Raphael and Zabkiel and the grotesque Moloch rotates in loops around his brain. And we’ll break that Hedge of Protection. That Hedge of Protection.

Straight from the Beelz’s double-speaking tongue, see. You got that right. A Hedge is horrible and hellish, see! Moloch drools.

‘Duh, oh many-eyed and evil-tongued, Moozhh. More layers to a Hedge. That’s all. Nevertheless, our battle will be vicious and hopefully short. The Willisby’s are an easy target now with their parents out of the way."

Yeah, parents in the way, see. But not no more. We may have lost the boy and the girl with parents in the picture. Interfering, see? Putting down rules and praying and crap. Our UEL division disposed of those two hindering souls nicely. See.

Of course, my dull-eyed, mush for brains, Moozhh. Their parents were of no use to us anyway. Lost to us long ago to Him. Beelzebub spits on Moloch.

Hey! They’re out of the picture now, see.

"Yes, Moozhh. No more excuses."

Hey, see, it’s taking more time but it ain’t my fault, Beebz.

Beelzebub shrugs as if he doesn’t believe him. "You are a big excuse."

Moloch raises his wing, whips it at the ugly owl, misses, slips, and swings around the limb with heavy goo sloshing inside the blackbird. Help!

Shhh, oh brainless-excuse of a bird. Katlyn and Kramer Willisby’s heads belong to me.

Moloch is finally upright and holding on tight. Yeah, see, and then we get their hearts.

"Yes, it will be a silver platter moment of which victory will be mine." Beelzebub dips his beak in excited agitation. Snot falls from his nose sizzling on the grass, wounding whatever it touches.

A glob hit’s Moloch and burns. Moloch flings his wings too fast scrambling to stay on top of the limb.

Beelzebub snarls at the fiend. I enjoy fighting with any angel. Satan’s or those from the FOL. The-One-of-Whom-we-cannot-speak-His-Name’s holier than thou warriors! Beelzebub’s eyes gleam in cunning and evil anticipation.

Yeah, see, I like to fight, too. Let’s wipe out their bright, bronzed glow, see,

Yes, we’ll wipe them out!

Those Willisby orphans are blind to our spiritual world, see. Moloch adds. They don’t even know we exist. We can do whatever we will. See? And they are blind, blind, blind. See. Blind!

Yes. Beelzebub grips the tree branch afraid of flipping around again.It’s good they have no vision. Beelzebub snarls at Moloch’s large, misshapen blackbird body with goo spreading to Moloch’s rear like water into a balloon right before Beelzebub’s eyes. You’re a freak, Moozhh.

Thanks. It’s good, see. The-One-of Whom-we-cannot-speak-His-Name has them seeing through a glass darkly. A dark glass. Now, what’s up with that action, see?

"Humph! And they can only know in part. The-One-of-Whom-we-cannot-speak-His-name, doesn’t even give them the whole picture."

Yeah, Beebz, wants them to walk by faith, see? Just trust me. And again, what’s that about, see?

"Yes, The-One-of-whom-we-cannot-speak-His-Name thinks Himself clever. Humph!"

Moloch’s head darts about waiting on the Hand of God to smack the Unholy Evil Legion fiends right off this tree limb and back into the fiery pits of hell. The UEL fight against Him because they know He exists. Demons are scared of God. When the lightening doesn’t come, Moloch says, "Then our mission is easy. See?"

Yes, poor orphans, stranded in this small town. They’re thousands of miles from home with a bunch of church do-gooders and an old, flower-headed aunt who hasn’t a clue the kids are orphaned. I have devious and terrible things in mind.

Yeah, it’ll be easy, see. A slice of pie. Moloch says.

"Cake, turd bird."

Pie, see.

"No, you moron. It’s a piece of cake, I say, dumb demon. The FOL hasn’t a chance. I am more cleaver than Him. Beelzebub is cruel.

Moloch’s watches for that bolt of lightning to zap Beelzebub good for dissing The-One-of-Whom-we-cannot-speak-His-Name’s name. No zapping occurs so Moloch continues.These kids are caught up in their problems right now, see — a slice of cake.

A piece of cake, Moozhh.

"What?"

A Piece of cake, you blubber-butted bird.

"Cake. Pie. Butter. Whatever. Who cares, see?"

Beelzebub rolls his eyes."You smell of stinking rhinoceros pooh."

"Not true, see."

"Is, too. Anyway, Moozhh, no one knows we are here."

"Zabkiel or Raphael may spot us. See?"

"Yes, but, certainly none present." Beelzebub waves towards the crowd and almost knocks them both off the branch.

"Watch it, see. And even if people think something odd is going on or if they say anything, people just scoff at them."

Yes. Hooray for the ignorant and blind generations.

See, they’re afraid to mention it because someone will say they’re a nut case or crazy. So, see? Moloch sneers at the two orphans. "They look at me and I look like a raven. They haven’t a clue. See?"

Ha! More like a crow! Beelzebub cackles.

"You, see, are a butt wipe with feathers and a non-owl, broken-beaked nose."

Brilliant light shifts towards the banter, and the holy FOL warriors seek out the evil they know lurks just beyond the crowd. Both angels feel it. Both can smell them.

Zabkiel searches the trees, and Beelzebub and Moloch try not to recoil when the holy light burns their bird feathers. Both UEL fiends freeze as Zabkiel’s illumination stays on their tree longer than other trees in the grove surrounding the church.

A large stink cloud surrounds the two feverish fiends, and Beelzebub almost blows it when he flies lazily from the tree lined grave yard knocking Moloch off his perch.

Moloch spins around, slips loose, and centrifugal force slings him through the air, crashing into a gravestone several feet from the group. A blast of air knocks the ground dirt away and, for a moment, everyone stares at the ruckus just graves away. The strange, large blackbird jerks it’s head back and forth as if in some rabid fit.

Zabkiel and Raphael see the crow knowing the people present assume the bird accidentally flew into the granite gravestone for no reason. The crowd turns its attentions again to the preacher.

Reverend Owloserra keeps talking as if nothing is out of the ordinary on this very unordinary day.

Katlyn stands with Kramer as the casket shifts and a flower falls to the ground. The fragrant aroma of rose wraps her in a singular scent of sweetness mixed with burning wood. She keeps a protective hand on Kramer as if she can halt this unraveling nightmare that’s she’s sure will end in a Franken St. Moonister frenzy.

Raphael’s warmth covers her as Katlyn cradles his shoulders and Kramer moves closer alternating between watching the preacher and studying the tree. He toes the ground with his shoe as Katlyn takes his hand. He kicks at the dirt again.

Raphael’s holy hand touches her back and, for a moment, Katlyn’s only concern is how well Kramer is holding up. She’s now forgotten her own pain and is concerned for her little brother. She squeezes his hand.

Katlyn notices the moss covered headstone where the crow sits shaking his large, black head. The bird looks at her with beady eyes, dark and ugly, glaring at her. A menacing chill climbs over Katlyn, and she looks away and then back again but the crow is gone.

Raphael feels her unrest move through him and he pays attention to whatever it is that’s hurting Katlyn right now. Raphael concentrates on trying to keep Katlyn calm. But wariness plays along Katlyn’s spine as if death can rise from the graves and overtake all those living that stand here, pulling them into the ground, and covering them with soil. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust, runs through her mind and she remains outwardly calm despite her lingering disbelief.

Birds sing and the crow soars, flapping its wings above her and then it’s high in the sky darting about. The crow flies straight up, and then it’s dashing to the Earth as if swatted down by a giant fly swatter. The bird crashes to the ground, knocked out, and lies motionless.

Oh. Katlyn wonders about Tennessee tornadoes or other southern meteorological events that throw large birds to the Earth. She glances at the others to see if any are intrigued with the bird, too. But no one seems concerned if the bird is dead or alive as they listen to Reverend Owloserra’s long eulogy.

Raphael and Zabkiel concentrate their holy, burning light onto UEL Moloch who is on the ground shaking his bird head singing, "…ya da ya da ya da… and Ouch…ouch…ouch.."

A shadow slides over Katlyn and the others as Raphael and Zabkiel’s light is focused on the UEL fighters. Katlyn glances around amazed that the preacher still talks.

Moloch’s black bird disguise is blown to the FOL. Zabkiel and Raphael keep their holy, gilded swords on the offending fiend, blasting him to the ten millionth power in holy, soul-penetrating light.

Unholy Evil Legion leader, Beelzebub, sits several trees away laughing as Moloch sizzles from angelic blasts of goodness burning Moloch’s black and evil heart. But Beelzebub’s heart is darker, he knows. It’s darker than the deepest cave where a hand can’t be seen ten inches from a face.

Katlyn finds the air thick and breathing difficult as she studies the bird and the small flame-flickering tree. Black smoke rises in a thin string of air and Katlyn glimpses ominous things in the perimeters of the grave yard. All of a sudden Katlyn wants to run but Kramer relies on her to keep them together. She doesn’t know what to do except pray, and then she doesn’t know what to say to God on these issues. Finally, it’s a simple, silent thought, running through her mind: Lord help me. God is my refuge and strength.

Raphael hears and returns to comfort her. He leaves Zabkiel to deal with Moloch who tries to escape the holy sword and its painful power. The black bird hops around unable to take flight.

Katlyn grows less anxious as soon as Raphael touches her. Now she stands under a power she doesn’t have, and is amazed she’s not rolling around on the ground, sobbing, unable to help Kramer or herself. She doesn’t even scold him as he kicks a hole in the ground with his good shoes.

Raphael’s guardian light flows over Katlyn and tiny tingles run through her, calming her. Raphael knows some can feel his presence and he sees hearts that seek knowledge but haven’t yet found the key. He applauds their seeking and the angel wants to tell Katlyn of the spirit world thriving in a sphere shared simultaneously by all. Raphael can see it, but Katlyn cannot.

This greater element is neither seen nor heard, and spirits of light and forces of darkness operate hidden and unrestrained except through prayer, free will, or apathy. These warring beings move between the heavens and the Earth in the outer worlds that flow into galaxies and beyond. Despite any scientific disbelief, this realm lurks within the veil of atmospheric pressures, the mesosphere, and other unexplained phenomena.

A brilliant, shining Hedge, layered with prayers, protects those present. No one sees this circle of unending love that covers the Willisby orphans, and by extension, these strangers including the unfamiliar, yet always smiling, Aunt Grace.

AUUG UWE. AUUG UWE.

The sound of Zabkiel’s ancient, golden horn pierces the heavens, and dogs howl, but no human can hear the sound. The tree limbs rustle and Katlyn closes her eyes again. If God be for me, who can be against me?

More angels head towards Katlyn’s faithful words.

Raphael proclaims: "To God’s Archangels appointed at birth for a territory divided by the four winds. Angelic thrones assigned by God to bring justice to those who cry out to Him. To bring direction to the hurting and needful. To bring protection and comfort. To His Glory and Power. Forever!"

Amen. Zabkiel moves behind Katlyn and stoops careful of his twelve foot size. His flowing robe surrounds Katlyn who scratches at her ankle never discovering what is tickling her. Katlyn feels a slight breeze and her back heats up and she thinks it is the sun. She wonders what more this preacher can say about a family he’s never met. Katlyn is oblivious to Zabkiel and to her guardian Raphael who touches her cheek. Her face grows warm and Katlyn wonders if she has a fever.

Raphael places a protective hand on Kramer’s shoulder as he thrusts the fiery sword towards the heavens. The holy beam shoots through the sky declaring a Force Of Light victory for this time and place.

Katlyn is stoic and glad that she’s calm. She’s glad the horror that’s smashed everything she’s known to smithereens has not yet come to her. The preacher’s tenured voice is tranquil and soothing words lie in the background far removed from her.

Aunt Grace smiles at Katlyn and Kramer, and Katlyn knows she has no clue she’s to take charge of these orphans after the service — even if that’s what Pastor Owloserra wants to believe. Aunt Grace is clueless about a lot of things, Katlyn reasons.

Grace Willisby stands under the large hat randomly nodding at every word. The eighty-eight year old eyes twinkle as if she knows things other’s don’t and is delighted. Grace Willisby lives somewhere in the Chattanooga area, and that’s all Katlyn really knows about her except that she is old. Really, really old.

Katlyn has walked on auto pilot these past two days. Nothing feels real. It’s as if it’s already known to Katlyn that Franken St. Moonister is behind this awful charade, and the jokester’s arrest is surely forthcoming. It’s just a very bad joke, Frankie boy.

…and in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Katlyn looks up and the preacher and others are moving towards them. She keeps Kramer with her and soon she’s shaking hands, hearing names she’ll never remember as the congregation of her father’s new church, First Family Presbyterian, converges on them.

The caskets lift and metal clangs before dirt clumps on the polished wood coffins. Katlyn shakes hands and, Yes, thank you for coming, tumbles from her lips over and over. Some people ask bane questions and Katlyn’s hand is out, answering, Yes, we lived three years in California just outside of Los Angeles. We’ve only lived here one week. Yes, the mountains of Tennessee are indeed beautiful. Thank you for coming.

On and on it goes and everyone is certain that Reverend Owloserra from Brooks Chapel Presbyterian is in charge of the newly-orphaned Willisby’s. No one inquires as no one knows to.

Zabkiel and Raphael listen watching the black cloud of the UEL lurk lower threatening this peaceful farewell.

Katlyn watches as Aunt Grace is lead to the church parking lot. Katlyn and Kramer wave feeling like actors in a play. The preacher speaks to a group, and Katlyn glances at the parsonage that sits next to the church. It is their new home, or was to be. Now Katlyn feels they won’t kick she and Kramer out as that would be too cruel.

Thankfully no one asks so Katlyn doesn’t say how strongly she argued against moving to Tennessee. Everyone now is busy visiting other’s they know, and she and Kramer know no one. Kramer continues leaning into her as Katlyn absent-mindedly rubs his back as her mother had done. Her mind drifts to the terrible argument when her parents left four days ago and she’s told to unpack their clothes.

I don’t want to be here! I had friends in Simi, and you made me leave. I don’t have any friends in this hick town. Whoever heard of Red Bank High School, the home of the blue and white-necked Lions or whatever?

Katlyn that’s unkind. You’ll make friends here. Her mother tries to coax her into a better mood. The car idles as her father and mom head to the airport for the flight to California. All furniture and personal belongings are to come back by U-Haul. They’re to start their new life here. Her parents will be gone five or six days and her father has given her $1000.00, a visa card for dire emergencies, with instructions on trash pickup and phone numbers of everyone she may need.

Katlyn’s arms cross tightly in front of her and she glares at her mother. Her voice is anguished. I’ll never like it here. You’ve ruined my life. I could have stayed with Lolita and her mom until I finished school.

That’s still a ways off, dear. Her mother’s voice is kind and so are her eyes.

Katlyn refuses to be swayed by Rita Willisby’s gentleness. Angry eyes flash at her mother. You must truly hate me or something!

Rita shakes her head and her eyes remain calm and gentle. That’s not true, Katie.

Don’t call me that. She hates her mother invoking the baby name she used when Katlyn was small.

Katlyn that’s enough! Her father’s voice is stern. You take care of your brother—

He’s a dweeb! Her voice is angry.

And… Her father emphasizes. You do as you’re told or we’ll have to get Aunt Grace involved to stay with you two.

Katlyn slings her head and looks at her father and back to her mom. That ole bag doesn’t know us from Hansel and Gretel. She’s senile and old. She kept calling me Margaret even after I told her my name is Katlyn at least 14 times.

That’s mean and not nice, Katlyn. You need to show respect for your elders. She simply forgot your name, that’s all. Rita Willisby’s voice is gentle.

Well, she’s dad’s aunt. Not mine!

She’s your great aunt and she may be old but she does know people here. Her father’s tone is firm.

When she can remember them. Katlyn grumbles.

What?

Nothing.

Her mother reaches her hand out the window. Katlyn, it’s just a few days and we’ll be back. We can talk about it then. You know what an opportunity this is for your father. He won’t have to work two jobs now and he gets to preach full time and—

I know. I know. And we’ll have a permanent home. Katlyn rolls her eyes mocking her mother. Why does it always have to be about what dad wants?

We’re a family. That’s what it’s about. Her father leans over his wife and looks a bit wounded by Katlyn’s words. We’re a family and we stay together no matter what! Staying together is the most important thing. You may want to remember that, young lady!

Katlyn stomps away muttering, So? Maybe I don’t want to be a part of this family anymore. Maybe I want to be free to do what I want to do.

Katlyn, what did you say?

She ignores her father.

Katlyn Christine, did you hear me?

Yes, sir! She slings the words at him and throws herself onto the porch swing as Kramer takes hugs and kisses from both parents.

Man! Katlyn mutters and fumes as her parents pull from the driveway. She refuses to kiss them, look at them, or even return their goodbye waves because of her anger.

Katlyn crashes back into the present when the Reverend Owloserra touches her arm. She blinks to dispel the vivid memory knowing she can never un-say anything. She knows now that second chances don’t always come and, once a word is loosed, it is out there forever and can never be withdrawn. She knows words are powerful and irreversible. Katlyn wishes she’d known it last week. She wants to take that last look, that last kiss, and Katlyn longs to re-do a day that is gone and wrapped in forever.

Ms. Willisby? The pastor looks concerned.

Katlyn blinks again feeling every movement and thought surreal. It’s just an action and she doesn’t really see or hear. She just responds. She thrusts out her hand. Thank you for coming.

I’m Gene Owloserra from Brooks Chapel up the road about twenty miles or so in Sale Creek. I talked to you on the phone. Ummm. The pastor clears his throat as the two orphans stand like two school children waiting to be excused. Ummm. Yes. I’m so sorry for your loss. The preacher pauses looking briefly at the teary eyed Kramer whose left shoe is covered in mud. He addresses Katlyn. You two will be okay?

Sure. Katlyn says as if he’s asked if she liked ice cream.

You’ve got your Aunt Grace.

Yes, we have Aunt Grace.

Yes, yes. Grace Willisby. A fine woman I hear.

Katlyn stands there as Kramer crowds closer to her almost standing on her feet. Raphael and Zabkiel watch the exchange

Well, good. Good. Reverend Owloserra says and relief floods his face. Well, that’s great! So, I’ll just be getting along. I’m sure you have much to do. He pulls a card out. Here. He hands her several business cards. My numbers are there if you need anything. Your Aunt Grace has one.

Sure thing, sir — uh, Pastor, sir. Katlyn mumbles and Kramer reaches to grab a card for himself.

Pastor Owloserra eyes are kind. Well, I never met your father, but I hear he was a mighty good man.

He is. Katlyn says as if her dad is expected back soon.

Yes. Yes, I’m sure. He looks thoughtfully at Katlyn shaking their hands again before heading to his car. The pastor is certain they’ll be in good hands with Grace Willisby. Everyone speaks highly of her and he’s satisfied as he starts his car. He waves as he pulls from the church’s parking lot.

But if the reverend knew of Satan’s imminent plans to affect the free will and lives of the Willisby orphans, then Pastor Owloserra wouldn’t leave. Instead, he would call the Department of Family and Children Services for housing, supervision, and protection. Gene Owloserra would call everyone he knows to pray fervently and often for the orphaned Willisby’s, and for their safety and the safety of others in the community. The preacher would not drive off leaving them alone had he any vision of the Unholy Evil Legion’s methods of breaking the minds and spirits of unsupervised orphans.

But the pastor drives away unable to see