"Reporters thrive on the world's misfortune. For this reason they often take an indecent pleasure in the events that dismay the rest of humanity." -Russell Baker

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I remember is smelling bacon frying. I went to the kitchen. The boys were "helping" Michael make breakfast. Our otherworldly bodyguards were nowhere in sight. I assumed they'd gone once the immediate danger had passed and, though I no longer felt threatened, I knew from the forced cheerfulness of Michael's expression something was wrong. Something more than having been kept up all night by hordes of hungry half-demons who wanted to kill me, that is. "What is it?" I asked.

"There are reporters," he said.

Peeking out of the tall, skinny window next to the front door I counted half a dozen reporters camped on the front lawn .Even as I watched, another pulled up.

Despite the low thrum of power still humming in my body, I felt unequipped to speak to all those cameras. I didn't know how to control what was happening to me, or if control was even possible. I had no idea if the ability to speak was something I could summon up at will, or if I had to wait for the magic moments when it came upon me.

"What should I do?" I asked Michael.

He put a full plate of food and a steaming mug of coffee on the table. "You should eat breakfast."

So I did. Ignoring knocks on the door and a ringing phone, I ate breakfast, showered, washed the dishes, and did morning schoolwork with my boys. When I had the strength to deal with it, I put a scarf over my strange white hair, and drew it across my face, securing it with a pin. My family accepted my appearance easily enough, but Raziel's warning lay fresh in my mind. I went to the front door and took a very deep breath. Silently, I prayed. Help me. I have no idea what I am doing. This is your show. I opened the door to face the growing crowd on my front lawn. Cameras clicked and everyone swarmed in my direction. I held up my hands and they stopped in their tracks, apparently terrified that I would vaporize them all with my fire-power. A man I recognized from Channel Twelve thrust a microphone toward me. "How long have you thought you were a prophet?"

"Since yesterday," I said.

"Why have you covered your face? How can we be certain you are the same woman from yesterday?" another reporter asked.

"To show you a sign, yesterday, I had to draw very near to the Power of That Which Is. It left me marked. I assure you, I am the same woman. You must know I am, or you wouldn't be here, stalking my family and me outside our own home," I said.

"Are you having an affair with the angel?" Someone else shouted out.

I was taken aback. "No! I'm happily married. To a human. The angel is a messenger from God."

"How long have you known him?"

"Since this past spring. He warned me all of this was coming."

"Has he told you anything else about the future?" A man in a horrible brown suit called out.

"He has told me that the future is unwritten. It is unknown and unknowable because every created being has free will."

"Can you give us another sign?" the same man asked.

"If you didn't believe in the first, you won't believe in the second," I said.

"Have you had any word from the legendary community about your message?" Someone else inquired.

I remembered the long, horrible night and had to suppress a shudder. "Their reactions are mixed."

"Do you think that these are the end times?"

"I think that has yet to be determined. I believe that it is the Will of That Which Is for life to continue and flourish."

"Then why is he letting this happen?" The first woman asked, nearly pleading.

"He often allows us to reap the consequences of our actions. He will have mercy if we follow him. For thousands of years the message of the One has been clear. Love God. Love others. All else comes from that."

"Why should we believe that you know anything about any of this?" She challenged. "What makes you the expert? Why do you know anything we don't?"

I studied her closely. A swirl of voices moved near her. They tormented her about her boredom with her job, her husband, her children, her life. They were jackals, stalking the weakest member of the herd. "I don't know why I was chosen," I said. "I suppose God often chooses the most unlikely of messengers, that the credit may be given entirely to Him. But I was chosen, and the message I give is Truth. You would do well to heed it carefully. Don't be deceived into believing that the legends can satisfy the emptiness of your heart through pleasures and adventures as yet inexperienced. Your life is empty because you haven't filled it with love for your fellow man. Stop chasing glory and power. Give of yourself freely and you'll be filled."

She glared at me. "I think you are a religious fool."

The others stared back and forth from her to me. They weren't sure if they should step in or if they were capturing journalistic gold. "I'm not asking you to follow me. I'm simply passing along a message. It is my prayer that you heed it. I'm not omniscient, but I can tell you that you, more than any other person in this assembly, are in danger of losing yourself to the darkness."

As if signaled by some invisible conductor, they all started shouting questions. I held out my hands once more to silence them. "You've heard my message. It's not a new message. It's been repeated by men and women of faith for ages untold. Love one another. Seek peace. Honor God. There's no more to say until you have heard that." I left them shouting after me, and went back into the house, feeling totally drained. Michael waited for me, just inside the door.

The phone rang incessantly. Questions, death threats, even one woman begging to be my disciple. Obviously she had missed the point entirely. The worst part, though, was how very few voices I heard, on this side or on the other, who actually had any intention of doing any of the things I'd said.

After dinner we gathered in the living room. I had no interest in watching the evening news.

"Should we play a board game?" I asked, more joking than not.

"Those games are boring," Donovan whined.

Something inside of me snapped. "Do not say that again! Do you hear me? Never again!"

My boy looked genuinely terrified as I stood over him, shouting, but I couldn't stop.

"Do you see this mess that the human race is in? Do you see these powerful creatures--those with power beyond our imaginings? Do you see how we seek to destroy one another? How the world is falling apart all around us? Each day is worse than the day before! Don't you realize that all of this came about because of boredom? Boredom is a choice! You can see the world for all the wonder that is in it. You can imagine great things. You can occupy your mind and your body by doing good works, by praising God who made you, by allowing yourself to experience the best parts of creation. You have been given five good senses, and a healthy body. You have been given the capacity to love. That's not some fluttering feeling in your heart. Love is constant action. It's getting to know people, and taking care of them, and constantly working to figure out how your gifts and talents can be a service to them. Don't you ever say again that you are bored. Boredom is laziness of the spirit and the mind and it has no place in this house."

Donovan stared at me with frightened eyes. "Mom. You're glowing," he whispered.

I knelt in front of him, trying hard to reign in the power I could feel racing through my veins. "I'm sorry, Donny," I said. "I didn't mean to lose my temper. I just get so scared for you. Especially for you. You can hear them, just like I can, maybe even better. That means that they can whisper things to you, and make you promises, and influence your dreams. I remember how confusing that can be. When I was your age they would tell me things; things I couldn't really understand then, about these great adventures I could go on. They would say that they could make me feel good by doing what they said. They told me that it would be fun. But the things they were telling me to do were terrible! They would have been hurtful to me and to the people I loved most.

"I'm afraid that if you let yourself be bored, they will take you away from me. If you stop caring about the things that matter most, they'll give you new things to care about, and those things will be like shapes made out of smoke. They'll look cool but they aren't real. They aren't what they seem. They'll hurt you. They won't just hurt your beautiful, strong, healthy body, my boy. They will hurt your spirit; the special whatever that is inside you that makes you be you and no one else.

"I'm scared, all the time, buddy. I'm terrified that they will trick you and take you away from me. I know that things are so different and weird and hard. Everything has changed. That's true for the whole world, not just us. But we have to keep our thoughts, our hearts, focused on the right things. no matter what. It's more important than ever before. Do you understand what I mean?"

He met my gaze. "I won't let them talk me into anything, Mama. I promise I won't listen to them. I will fight with you. We'll wipe them out."

I pulled him into my arms and held him against me until he squirmed away, uncomfortable with the affection and the power that I couldn't shed. Tears of fear and exhaustion and regret ran down my cheeks his words echoed in my mind and I wondered. Is that what I'm asking of him? Do I want my son to fight?

We stayed tucked into our little haven for a few days and, in time, the reporters drifted away. Who could guess what sensational, gory event had lured them? It was a gorgeous day. I got everyone dressed and we headed out to the park. As soon as we were in sight of the playground, the boys took off running. I followed behind, more slowly, remembering my last eventful visit here.

I sat down on an empty bench to watch the kids climbing around on the structure.

A woman on the bench next to mine spoke. "I saw you on the news. They keep showing the clips over and over."

Facing away from her, I rolled my weary eyes. I forced myself to face her and respond politely.

"I don't think it's right that you're trying to scare everyone."

"I don't want anyone to be unreasonably afraid," I said. "I want people to be aware that their choices, every single choice that every one of us makes, have consequences. Even our thoughts have consequences. Now more than ever we need to be conscious of that."

She shouted at her child to watch out for the little ones, and then offered me her unsolicited opinion. "I think we need to be nice. I mean, these creatures, they've been... like... abused, right? They've been hunted for a thousand years. And they're really powerful, so they could have risen up and killed everybody but they didn't. Maybe we should stop judging them, and accept that God made more different kinds of people than we realize. I bet when our children have children they will look back and be ashamed of the ignorance that caused us to judge those poor souls, just like we shake our heads at our ancestors who kept slaves."

"I think you're right," I said. "The way of love is always the right path. But I think we need to be cautious. Some of the beings who have revealed themselves just want to live among us without having to hide their every movement, but there are others who would prey on the weak... the weak of spirit as well as the weak of body. Just like there are monsters among the humans in every part of the world, so there are monsters among the others."

She asked, "Is it true that some of them are asking people to sacrifice their children?"

"Yes. It's true," I said.

"What else?"

Why did she want to know? Why was she asking me all this? Was I supposed to have all the answers? Because, frankly, I felt as lost and confused as anyone if not more so. One moment power and wisdom erupted out of whatever was within me. The next I was mortal, and weak, and consumed by fear and self-doubt. I offered up a quick, silent prayer. Help me. Let my words be your Word. "Some among them crave every pleasure of the flesh. They want to eat and drink, have sex, bleed, live and die just as we do. They'll go to any length to achieve their ends."

"But they're not all like that," she said.

"No. Not all of them," I agreed.

"What about the angel you were with? Where does he fit into the picture if he's not your lover?"

I marveled at her audacity. "Raziel is an Archangel. He dwells at the Right Hand of the Throne, but he has seen men since our first day. He loves us. He is like a well-connected big brother to all mankind. He wishes us to be safe, and to learn from our mistakes, and move forward while we still have the chance to do so."

She scooted closer to me. "How do we know which ones are legit, and which ones are trying to eat us alive?"

"You could ask the same question about the humans in your life."

She started to say something and stopped. "Yes. That's true." For a few minutes she just watched the children, and I wondered if she'd run out of questions. Part of me, admittedly a fairly large part, hoped so. Then she asked me, "Are you really a prophet?"

"It would seem so. I never wanted to be. I don't know why I am, but it would seem that I've been asked to be a spokesperson in all of this. And isn't that what a prophet really is? Someone who speaks up and tells the truth for those who are willing to hear it?"

She nodded. "I believe you," she said. "I wasn't sure when I saw you on TV. I mean... how can anyone know if the people on TV are for real or not? But I believe you now."

"Then you're a fool." The harsh voice came from the other side of me. I hadn't even realized another woman was listening. "This one is a crack pot just like the hundreds of other crackpots that have come out of the closet spewing whatever nonsense comes into their heads. Do you know what I believe? I believe that we should figure things out for our own selves instead of being led around like sheep." The woman's irrational anger, her body language, everything about her was a giant red flag.

I asked her, "And what have you figured out?"

After dropping an impressive string of curses in my direction, she said, "I figured out that after a lifetime of being in pain every day and praying to a God who obviously didn't give enough of a crap to heal me, I needed to stop praying and find someone who could really help me."

"And who would that be?"

"Like I'd tell you, Van Helsing. Let's just say he asked me for something I had in abundance and, in return I get to sit here with my kids at the park, and not be in an agony over my aching body."

"I see. You've sold your blood to a vampire who has given you some of his as payment."

"Not that it's any of your business."

I stopped short of pointing out that she was the one who brought it up in the first place. The Power of That Which Is stirred within me; not a fiery inferno, but a hot, slow burn that swirled outward from my heart, and pulsed through my veins. "My guess is that you've given up more than you intended to this great benefactor who's come into your life. And believe me when I tell you that he'll use you as long as he can and then kill you or leave you to die and, by then, you will consider it a mercy. The One who Loves you has a greater life in store, but He'll not force you to take it."

"SPEAK NOT TO US OF THAT ONE!" she screamed and rushed at me. Without a thought I stood to meet her. I held out my hands, and she stopped abruptly and fell to the ground in a fit of tremors. It may have appeared to be a seizure, but the fury of the voices told me it was much more. I laid one hand on her head and one over her heart and said, "Leave this woman, and leave this place and inhabit no human body, ever again. In the name of Jesus Christ I command you." Instantly she stilled. Turning on her side, she started to cry.

The other woman was telling people, "It's OK. She had a seizure, but she's OK now. No. Don't call an ambulance. She's alright." The mothers tried to shield their children from the scene. Many of them hurried from the park.

The woman on the ground sobbed. "I don't know what to do."

"Embrace your life. Look all around you and see with wonder. Understand that you were created to love and be loved."

"Please leave me," she said and a horrible, pressing, profound sadness crept over me, not in spite of the Power, but because of it. She wasn't asking me to leave. She was asking God to leave. By rejecting the Light, she was wrenching herself away from the Source of her own existence. She had been created to love, and be loved, and she was severing herself from the One Who Loved her with a perfection so complete as to be incomprehensible. Every instinct in me wanted to stay and reason with her but, almost against my own will, I moved away from her.

A man stood, not far away, watching with a nearly predatory interest. He was around my age, with brown hair and eyes. I couldn't quite place him, but I'd have sworn I'd seen him before.

Donovan came close, holding Ike's hand. Tears filled his eyes. "It hurts the good ones, Mama. They're sad."

I focused my attention on my son, forgetting all about the gawking man. "I know, baby. But she's free to make her own choice." I scooped Ike into my arms. "Let's go home."

On the walk home, I noticed the leaves displaying the softness of color that happens before they explode into their full autumn glory. The trash had not been picked up in two weeks, and the animals had been at those bags that had been sitting at the curb. Litter scattered through the gutters, an ugly foreshadowing of the leaves that would soon follow. As we walked I saw the stop light flicker and go out. It was no surprise, then, when we got home and didn't have power. "No worries, guys. No power means Daddy has to make ribs on the grill for supper!" I told the boys. They both cheered at the prospect, but Donovan's joy was muted. He could hear the same gleeful, mischievous voices that I could. The power failure was no accident. There was no telling if or when it would come back on. The ever-fabled "grid" was falling apart. The humans weren't showing up to maintain it like they should. The others were constantly picking at it, hacking into the power supply and vandalizing it. That moment was the first time I really realized that society as we knew it was going to cease to exist.