Lost Angel of Par Amor - The Tree of Knowledge

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Chapter 14 - Well Dressed and Well Spoken

Someone at the door knocked again…

“How did I…get up here?” asked Jane.

The door knocked again…

“What do we do dad?” Missy asked nervously.

The door was knocked on again, and again – this time it sounded impatient. Jesse finally was pushed into action when the door was pounded.

“Get her, uh, take her, uh,” said Jesse, stumbling over his words, “upstairs. To my study.”

“The study?” replied Missy, wiping smeared eyeliner from her cheeks with the straps of her tank top. “Why there?”

“Please just do it, and then come down.”

Missy ran up the steps and guided the glowing woman to her father’s study, while Jesse went to open the front door. Realizing he still held the knife Missy had handed over to him, he placed it on the table by the entrance and wiped the broken vase aside with a boot. The pastor took a quick breath, put on his “cheerful face,” and then answered the door. What greeted him appeared harmless enough at first, but strangely, a chill crawled up his spine.

There were three men, one was dressed in a dark-grey suit, tanned and with jet-black hair, and on either side of him were two smaller but blocky-built guys. The one to the suited-man’s left had wild eyes to go with his simpering expression, standing hunched at the shoulders. The one to the right stood taller and wore an almost weary, but nonetheless determined face, and both were identically clad in black – overcoats, pants, and all.

“Pardon me sir,” said the man-in-the-suit, wasting no time with pleasantries, “is this the residence of a one, Jesse Fisher?”

Jesse immediately dropped his cheerful-persona and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” Something about these men were making the hairs on his nape prickle.

“I am Mr. Smith, these are my associates” –his head titled slightly to his left – “Johnson” – then tilted to his right – “and Williams. You must be Pastor Jesse Fisher.” The man to his left snorted as ‘Pastor’ was uttered with a noticeable undertone of disgust.

“Yes, I’m Jesse Fisher. What do you want?” A sense of fear started to well in Jesse when he noticed the determined-faced Williams tense.

“Where is the young female?” said Mr. Smith, looking past Jesse into the house.

The pastor hesitated a little, “Ah…”

“You do recognize who we are discussing, apropos?” replied Mr. Smith, smiling. “The female with flawlessly white hair, the one who has been sermonizing at your church.”

“Oh, her,” returned Jesse, sensing these guys were not her for Jane’s well-being. “She’s, uh…staying somewhere else.”

Mr. Smith’s smile grew wider.

Before anyone could say anything Missy came down the steps. Still dressed in her tank top and pajamas bottoms, her face was now clean of all eyeliner.

Unexpectedly, the wild-eyed Johnson swiftly pushed his way past Jesse and pointed straight at Missy, in a hissing voice he said, “That’s her!”

Missy gasped as Mr. Smith and Williams entered the house just as fast, moving in concert. Grabbing him by the arm, Williams pushed Jesse back while Mr. Smith calmly shut the front door.

Turning away from the entrance and shaking his head, Mr. Smith said, “Blood-Ooze, you idiot” – addressing Johnson – “does she appear to boast white locks?”

The man originally called Johnson, who Mr. Smith now coined ‘Blood-Ooze,’ looked at Missy one more time, shrugged his hunched shoulders even higher, and replied, “I—I guess not.”

“No fool, she does not,” returned Mr. Smith evenly.

“If that’s not her, then where is she?” said the newly named Blood-Ooze. He whipped around angrily and hissed at Jesse, “Where’s the angel? We want her now!”

Angel?” Missy chimed. “What angel?” She truly looked taken aback when, without thinking, glanced up the stairs.

Watching the girl’s reaction brought another wide smile to Mr. Smith’s face, “Blood-Ooze, grab her.”

The hunched man bounded to Missy in two steps, grabbed her forcefully, then jumped to the wood flooring with a loud WHACK!

Slightly dazed from the landing, Missy called out to her father, “Dad.” It was like a call to action.

Seeing that they were now both held against their wills, Jesse had to do something. As hard as he could, he punched Williams in the gut then wrenched his arm away from the tight grip. Singularly focused on the knife, he lunged for it where it still sat on the table by the front door. The moment he grabbed it and lifted it he was about to turn and face these men when there, unbelievably, stood Williams, dead-pan expression and all. He clutched Jesse’s wrist, and with the next motion, very painfully twisted and contorted the pastor to his knees.

Jesse was absolutely stunned (as it felt like his arm was being ripped off at the elbow) these men had moved in a super-human manner. There was no way this ‘Williams,’ or whoever he really was, could reach the table as quickly as he did, no way. But it happened and he had the pain he was feeling at this very moment as undeniable truth. Jesse looked up hoping the man might ease on him to witness another unbelievable display. Using just the thumb and fingers from one hand Williams bent the blade back against the handle then crushed the knife to an unusable piece of metal and wood, finally throwing it away somewhere into the house.

“Please stop!” cried Missy, struggling against Blood-Ooze. “Can’t you see you’re hurting him?”

Williams lazily glanced at Mr. Smith, raising his eyebrows and waiting for any indication if he should stop. The slick-back, greasy-haired Mr. Smith flashed his white teeth through a grin and nodded – it was only then when Williams released the almost bone-breaking hold on Jesse.

Augh,” said the pastor, upon release. He rubbed his arm from the pain now realizing he was moments away from serious damage.

“Dad, are you okay?” Missy said.

Raising slowly to his feet and wincing, Jesse replied, “Yeah, I’m alright.” He bent his arm out and back at the elbow and moved it in circular motions at the shoulder, “I’m starting to get some feeling back.”

“Grab him Stench-Stye,” said Mr. Smith, addressing Williams as he moved toward the steps. “But be gentle, use the other arm.”

Stench-Stye/Williams took hold of Jesse and pulled him close, “Next time you touch me, I’ll break your arm.” This stocky and incredibly strong man dragged Jesse along until they reached where Missy and the other man stood, father and daughter kept purposely separated by the intruders.

“What do you wanna do with them Murmux?” said Blood-Ooze, his voice hissed menacingly like a snake.

Mr. Smith (who was now apparently called ‘Murmux’) stood at the base of the steps and looked as though gears were turning in his head. He let out an obviously fake sigh and said, “I did not desire to do this, but I suppose it will be for the best. Stench-Stye, Blood-Ooze, kill them.”

What—!” said father and daughter, together.

Jesse quickly added, “Why? We haven’t done anything to you.”

“Dispose of the bodies as I grant,” continued Murmux, ignoring the Fishers. “I will set out and acquire the angel, once secured we will then depart without delay.” He placed one foot on the first step and paused, “Oh and Blood-Ooze, please, no mess, do it out back.”

While Murmux began walking up the stairs slowly and deliberately, Blood-Ooze and Stench-Stye searched for the rear exit dragging their captives with them.

“Where is it?” hissed Blood-Ooze angrily. “How do you get out through the back?”

Please, you don’t have to do this,” begged Jesse. The more he struggled the tighter he was held.

“Daddy, I’m scared,” whimpered Missy.

“Shut up, girl!” said Blood-Ooze, shaking her like a ragdoll. “I’ll kill you right here.”

“Listen,” said Stench-Stye calmly, “just tell us how to get to your backyard. It’ll then be over quick.”

“Let her go, my daughter,” pleaded Jesse. “I’ll show you the way out, but please, don’t do anything to her.”

They had worked their way almost to the kitchen (where one of the doors leading out back could be found) when the burly men stopped.

“What do say, Blood-Ooze?” said Stench-Stye. “Let go of the girl, she can’t do anything.”

“Yes, yes, please,” interjected Jesse.

“Shut-up!” yelled Blood-Ooze, at the pastor, backhanding him across the face. Missy yelped and began to cry as Blood-Ooze turned his anger on his associate, “Are you crazy? You might not have the stomach to do this, but I do. Just hand him over to me. I’ll do them both.”

“But listen—” returned Stench-Stye.

“Forget it,” interrupted the wild-eyed man, he turned and dragged Missy with him into the kitchen. “Oh, look at this.” Stench-Stye followed with Jesse in tow to find Blood-Ooze and Missy next to a door. “See Stenchy, the way out’s right here.” Lifting one big foot Blood-Ooze kicked the door, ripping it with its hinges and outer screen to the backyard. “Now let’s go have some fun.”

“No, please,” said Jesse, blood trickling from his nose and the corner of his mouth, “I’ll stay, but let Missy go.”

“Daddy, forgive me,” cried his daughter, as she was yanked through the door. Outside and out-of-view her voice cracked and called, “I love you!”

The next thing Jesse heard was the spine-chilling sound of diabolical laughter.

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