Dark Hope: Book One of the Archangel Prophecies

Dark Hope: Chapter 19

Mona jumped, startled awake in the chair where she'd collapsed. 

That noise, what was it? 

She looked around, trying to find the source. It was barely a scratch, it seemed. Maybe it was her imagination? 

No. There it was again. 

It was early morning, and she could barely make out the dim light of the rising sun through the slats in the shutters. 

Something was behind them. Outside. Trying to get in. 

She drew in a breath and rose up, clearing the space between herself and the window in a few strides. 

There was a candelabra next to the window, an antique the decorator had somehow foisted upon her. She picked it up as she heard the scratching again. The candlestick was heavy, substantial. She was sure it could knock someone out if push came to shove. 

Bracing herself, she raised the candlestick above her shoulder and pulled open the shutters. 

"Don!" she exclaimed. "What on earth—?" 

He was hiding in the shrubbery, bracing himself as if he expected her to leap through the glass and clobber him. In a second her mind took in his worn camouflage jacket and hiking boots, the obvious bulges where gear had been stuffed into countless pockets. 

"Mona, please!" he half-whispered, half-shouted through the glass, his hands lifted in the air to show he meant no harm. "I need to talk to you. Let me in, please?" 

She lowered the candelabra and set it down on the side table, taking the moment to look away and appraise the situation. Don would certainly have come alone. He had no friends to speak of. But that lack of friends meant that he'd have to leave Hope behind alone, and he wouldn't do that. Maybe she was here with him, too. Her adrenaline surged at the idea that her daughter could be nearby. Maybe this was her chance. 

She scanned the room, trying to remember where she'd left her cell phone. She should really call that FBI agent and have him come over and arrest her husband. 

It's too damn early for this, she thought to herself as she rubbed the narrow bridge of her nose. 

"Please," Don said plainly. He wasn't wheedling; he wasn't whining. She turned back and sighed. He looked up at her with shining eyes, working his cap over and over in his hands, and she felt herself caving in, just as she always had. 

"Come around to the garage," she grunted. 

He beamed at her, the smile of a man who knew his purpose and had no doubts, and he stood up to his full height. Even though the house was slightly elevated above ground level, he could look at her eye to eye when he drew himself up. That was one of the things she'd always liked about him. She could wear heels and not be embarrassed to tower over him. 

Irritated with herself for thinking that way, she closed the shutter on his smiling face and twitchy hands and made her way to the front hall. She looked into the mirror that hung there. Her hair was a disheveled heap on her head, one of Hope's borrowed headbands barely managing to stay in place. She licked her teeth and felt the coating of last night's wine. Grimacing, she rubbed her finger over her teeth and tried to smooth her hair into place. 

"Futile," she muttered to herself, before straightening her robe. It would have to do. 

She marched over to the kitchen door, opening it to reach into the garage. The big button glowed in the dark as if daring her to push it. 

Be cool, Mona. She might be close by. This could be your chance. She repeated the words over and over to herself until she had regained her composure. Then her finger reached out and once, deliberately, pushed in the button. The garage door groaned to life, slowly inching up.