Dark Hope: Book One of the Archangel Prophecies

Dark Hope: Chapter 20

Once again, I pulled the curtain back from the motel window and peered outside. In the fullness of night, there wasn't much I could see. The lonely lamps that dotted the parking lot stood like beacons and cast shadows that time and again I assessed for threats. Did that shadow just move? Was there something there, waiting for me to let down my guard? 

I let the curtain drop back into place and sighed as I leaned back on my uncomfortable perch. The tiny alcove by the window was not meant for sitting. The edges of the wall poked into my already tender skin. I jumped lightly down and began pacing the room. 

After Michael's warning, there was no way I could let myself sleep. 

My body, on the other hand, begged to differ. My bones ached, and my taut skin was now becoming itchy from the unnaturally rapid healing process. 

I needed something to do, something to occupy my mind. An idle flipping of television channels found nothing but old sitcom reruns and infomercials. There was nothing abandoned in the meager closet, no hotel magazine touting local tourist traps. I rifled through the drawers and pulled out the Gideon Bible I'd rushed past earlier in the day. 

It will have to do, I said to myself ruefully, as I fanned through the tissue-thin pages. 

After years of my father's tutelage and the monotony of Catholic school, I could recite countless verses by heart, had no need to even look at the delicate pages and the tiny type to remember the stories and commands that unfolded between the covers of the book. Except for the book of Genesis. I frowned as the pages fell open to its opening words. 

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the 

earth. The earth was formless and void, and dark

ness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of 

God was moving over the surface of the waters. Then 

God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. 

The little lamp next to the bed seemed to sputter and then righted itself. I eased onto the bed, plumping up the hard pillows as best I could to cushion me as I leaned back against the wall, and I settled in to read. 

I'd always hated Genesis. Once you got past the dramatic creation of the world in the first chapter, it struck me as very misogynistic, what with the "Eve out of Adam" and "woman tempted" bits. Every single son of Noah named and numbered, but the women mentioned only by their roles, nameless wives and daughters who add not a whit to the story. Add to that the endless lists—this river became that river, so-and-so begot so-and-so—and it was a real snooze. 

But I seemed to remember it had the story of Lot's wife, and some mentions of Nephilim. And since I didn't really know it, it might manage to keep my attention, so I dug in to read. 

I was barely into it when my mind began to wander. Unconsciously I was skimming the pages, barely registering their words as I kept one ear listening for the sound of rustling wings. Had the Fallen Ones been following us all along? I thought back to our visit to Enoch. Enoch, whose name I would undoubtedly find in one of these never-ending lists in Genesis. I shuddered as I remembered the shadow that had seemed to pass over me when he'd disappeared. Had that been the Fallen, hunting me down even then? 

I mindlessly turned the page, my eyes scanning without registering anything at all, when a verse caught my attention: And it came about when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother and killed him. 

Brother against brother, the Prophecy had said. I scrambled up and ran to my purse, rifling through it for the piece of crumpled paper Enoch had given me for safekeeping. I smoothed it out, running my fingers hastily over my scribbled notes, looking for the translation that had been jotted in the paper's margins. Hands shaking, I traced the words as I read them aloud: