Page 34 of Gideon

“And if I can’t?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Go with the strength you have, and rescue them. The Lord is sending you!”

“Rescue who?”

“Asher.”

“You’re saying God wants me to save this town? Me?”

“Yes. Lead them into victory.”

“You must be joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Eric lifted an eyebrow.

Gideon stepped away from him. This guy really was crazy, but he couldn’t ignore his leg or Eric’s face. “I’ll admit something strange is going on that I can’t explain. But I’ll save you a lot of trouble. I’m not the right guy for the job, no matter what you think. No one’s going to listen to a thing I say. Trust me. I don’t even know what I would do or say. Where could I even begin?”

Eric closed in on him and leaned forward, saying quietly, “The Lord will be with you. You will destroy those who oppress this town.”

“I’m supposed to kill Fairfax? You want me to be an assassin now?”

“Our battle is not flesh and blood.”

“Right.” Gideon squeezed his forehead. “This is…this is?—”

“Crazy?”

“Yes. How do I even know you’re really speaking for God and not just some deranged lunatic?”

Eric pressed his hands on his hips, glancing down at Gideon’s leg. “You haven’t seen enough miracles for one day?”

“I know, but…” Gideon walked slowly toward the church, only because he couldn’t stand still any longer. He lifted his eyes to the cross. This was the last thing he’d expected coming back to Asher. If what Eric said was true, then he was woefully unprepared for it. And if not…

“It’s a lot to take in.” He turned, but Eric was gone. He swiveled, scanning the yard for a hiding place, but there was nowhere. He ran to the road and looked both ways. “Oh, come on.” He looked up at the sky. “Seriously? My whole life I don’t see one crazy supernatural thing, and then you hit me with all of this out of the blue?” He looked around again. “This can’t be real.” But he knew it was.

Chapter 10

The totems were burning.Smoke billowed into the sky, changing it to the color of a devastating storm. The green-tinged mass curled under itself, hinting at the coming destruction. Then the shrieks began. The carved faces contorted, their mouths open and screaming.

Gideon bolted upright in bed, his T-shirt sticking to his back.

He scrubbed at his face, trying to dislodge the images from the dream, but they were tattooed on the back of his eyelids and sharpened in the dark gloom of the room.

Throwing off his blanket, he went to the window, pushing back the curtain to look out at the dim early-morning light. The grass was white with a heavy dew. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the window, the dream still swirling close to the surface—so close that the heady scent of smoke was still infused in the back of his mind. To dislodge it, he tugged his shirtcollar to his nose and inhaled the soapy lilac, or whatever the powder was in the laundry.

With his night over, he went for a quick shower, then laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to conjure up an image of the totems as he’d seen them in real life. But even with the crisp memory of his day at the markets, the totems remained encased by fire no matter how many times he blinked.

He pushed up onto his elbows and grabbed the bird whistle off the bedside table, blowing lightly into the tail to fill the room with birdsong and let his mind drift back to the conversation he’d had with Eric. He had so many questions, the biggest of which was, if what Eric said was true, where did he start?

He blew too hard, and the bird sputtered, spitting water out its head.

“Where do I start, God?” The burning totems pushed into his mind again, and he rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t think straight with those images pushing for attention. Maybe if he went and looked at the real thing—got his mind reset with what they really looked like—he could make some room to hear God more clearly.

The road was empty on his drive into town, so he put the window down and cruised slowly along the highway. His truck bumped along at a snail’s pace while he watched the sun swell over the horizon, leaking its golden tendrils across the damp earth.

The perfume of grasses that flooded the cabin of histruck overpowered the smokey remains of his dream, although it still poked at him, trying to drag him back into the darkness.

He held his breath as he turned the corner into the square for reasons he didn’t care to entertain and let it out in a grunt when he saw the totems still standing, cold and dark. No writhing faces. No fire.

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