Bones of Fire (The Fire Series #1)

Chapter One

The demon sat upon the neck of its unwary victim the way a small child would sit upon the neck of his father. His slanted eyes darted in different, unsymmetrical directions, each of the three following its own course. Its neck and head resembled a turtle’s, bobbing in and out of its crusty socket with cat-like speed, hiding from and spying on something, some enemy, real or perceived. His small paw-like hands were covered with tiny suctions. He poised his hands, ready to grip the man of God and torture him with debilitating thoughts of guilt and fear. But he had to wait for an opening.  

Pastor Edwin Styles was oblivious of the demon that had been perched atop his shoulders for the past thirty-five years, since he was just a boy of five. He didn’t believe in demons. Or more accurately, he didn’t think about demons. Or angels. Or anything supernatural. He was from the theological school of thought that believed the supernatural element of Christianity had existed at one time. But with the success of world evangelism in the first century, the writing of the Bible, and the death of the last apostle, supernatural occurrences had ceased.  

As a seminary graduate, he had read the writings of the early church fathers: Tertullian, Origen, Polycarp, and others. He had even read Eusebius. He was aware that some of these writers made references to miracles, demons, angels, and those sorts of things as common occurrences. But as Professor Stuart in seminary had said so many times: “These are only eccentricities of the early church. As the church grew in knowledge, it discarded its silly superstitions. It began to trust more and more in the ways of God: education, medicine, science, and empirical data.”  

Pastor Styles stared at his bookcase. He could almost see Stuart’s chubby face and bald head. He chuckled. The students had been right. He really did look like Humpty Dumpty. His gaze broke and he looked at the Scripture again. Yep, still there. As irksome and confusing as ever. “And Stephen, full of faith and power, did great wonders and miracles among the people.”  

He pushed away from his desk and stood up. “No wonder we stayed out of the book of Acts,” he said. It wasn’t a statement born of new insight, just frustration. “It just doesn’t fit.”  

With what? My Word or your theology?  

“Huh?” Pastor Styles turned around, startled at the question. There was no one there. Of course, no one is here, he quickly thought. Yet he knew that he definitely heard someone ask him that question. The voice was full of authority. It sounded foreign, yet deeply familiar, but it was a totally new voice. Too new for Reverend Edwin Styles. “I’m getting out of here,” he said.  

“Ed,” he heard his wife call.  

“Now I know who that is. Yes, dear?”  

“Food’s on the table. We’re running late for church,” his wife answered.  

“Coming right down.” His stomach growled in anticipation of dinner. He wore a smile as he entered the kitchen. His wife was a great cook. “I’m starved,” he said, and was immediately sorry he had said it. His wife was seated, and so were his two sons, Andrew and Christopher. But good heavens! Sharon was standing at the side of the table with a big smile.  

“Come on, Daddy. You sit here,” she said, as though he were a special visitor. “I’ve made your favorite.”  

“Ugh…oh…yeah, yeah. Okay sweetheart,” he groped. He looked at the boys. They were loving it. Christopher was only three years old, but he had a goofy smile on his face. A you’re-in-for-it-now-Dad smile. He was only three. How could he be so ruined already? And Andrew, he looked like he wanted to explode with laughter, but his mother’s cutting eyes convinced him that was a terrible idea.