Blazing eyes, dying but not forgiving. It was done.
Chapter Twenty
The wind blew again, rising and falling.
Jebediah wept and Peck in the Crown sobbed with him. He looked back at me over his shoulder, his face still wet with tears. "How can you be sure that what you've done is right?"
"I'll be back for Danielle's body."
"That doesn't matter now."
"It's all that matters to me."
He couldn't hide his shock. "What if this was to be the time of judgment, and your meddling has doomed the world? How can you be certain that God himself isn't seething at this? Raging and gathering all the wrath and forces of heaven to be turned against you now?"
"You just remember what I said."
Crushed and bitten-through grasshoppers lay strewn across the Plain of Esdraelon. The monolithic child of Armon now lay in broken pieces that looked no different from the rest of the ruins and sacrificial altars of Megiddo.
No one else spoke to me. Jebediah and the rest of the coven simply walked off without a word. Marcus glanced at me as if he had a great deal to say, but in the end he trudged off without saying it.
Self climbed my father's costume and worked on his chest. It took a lot of touching up but eventually he got Dad's torso back in good enough shape that nothing was hanging out.
And the great day of his wrath has come, and who shall be able to stand?
The blood of the man named Yashua had dried on my hands.
Self asked, Now what?
We got back into the Jaguar and sat there for a while until the moon began to rise. It was no longer a wolf's moon but now shone cold and harsh and brilliant. Dad sat contentedly in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap, twitching from time to time. I left the window down and let the breeze wash over us, bringing me back again to those days on the beach before-before-
I started the Jag and let it out, the engine going from a purr to a dull roar. I didn't know what to do next or where we were going.
It was Easter Sunday.
My father turned his dead white face to me and said, "Woo woo."