How Deep The Roots Go ( Book One)

Chapter 40

"Yes. For some reason he is a link, and I am assigned to find out why and what, how; etc." Temperance looked down at her nails absently.

"Being that we have a blood tie is why I'm to embark on this. I hope it doesn't lead me to nowhere."

"Daunting task," Father Alexander supplied.

Temperance smiled. She liked this guy. "I would have to agree. But being that he has a link to me, or I him, is why I am to search. I am assuming that once I find information I can then use it to help me in this whole thing." She lifted her shoulder.

"Although it may seem unimportant to the blood tie for you. Perhaps under all of that is what they ask you to seek."

"You mean the angels?" Violet joined in.

He nodded his head heavily and then clicked his tongue.

"Saint Augustine was not always a Christian. He did not always have constant faith, Temperance. He led a life that was filled with sin. One day he woke up... One day he saw the truth and stopped doubting."

"So you're saying all they wanted her to do was to understand that about her dead relative?"

Temperance cringed.

He chuckled. "No. That I cannot say for certain. But what I am saying is that if you do not have faith, you cannot endure."

Temperance lifted her eyes in surprise. Her mother had said that to her the night before she died.

"This man you say that is assigned to protect you. Is he solid in his faith?"

"Yes," Temperance answered without hesitation. She remembered the conversation the night before with him, and the one today. He held no doubt at all.

"That is good. This story sounds very interesting. Very..." he paused, his mind in thought, looking for the words.

"Unbelievable," Violet exclaimed frankly.

"Yes," Alexander said, chuckling low.

"What is his name?" he asked.

"Hmmm?" Temperance replied.

"Oh," she shook her head as if shaking out the cobwebs. "Roman. His name is Roman."

"Quite coincidental," he stood and moved back to the pulpit where his Bible lay.

"How so?" Violet eagerly inquired.

He thumbed through the thin paper, the sound from the pages, like crisp leaves in the fall.

He stopped at a specific page, scanning his eyes rapidly over the fine print.

"The book of Roman," his finger pointed to a passage then, and looked up. "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

"I'm trying my best here," Temperance retorted, an indication of intensity to her voice, rubbing her temple.

He nodded in heavy thought for a moment. " What I am trying to convey is that perhaps Roman is your path, like in the Bible, a gate to a clean slate, or a crisp, clear, crystal spring. His name reflects strength and power," he added, shrugging his shoulder.

Temperance's overactive mind froze for a moment, holding these new facts tightly. "So, he is supposed to be helping me? Is that what you think?"

"It would seem so. The signs, especially the name, would pinpoint to him being your ally."

Moments passed, short ones, but the kind that felt like years.

She sighed out, as if it would take the heavy rock like feeling out of her chest. "I have a question before we go."

"Sure."

"Do you think this is crazy? Like on the edge of being committed kind of crazy?" Temperance asked.

The Father laughed, then placed his hands together and looked at the cross behind where Violet sat.

"No," he said softly, with true, beautiful affirmation.

"I think God assigns his guardians duties, whether they be immortal angelic beings, or ones of flesh and blood. I would never question him, nor should anyone on planet Earth."

He smiled, and then slapped his hand down on the pew.

"He doesn't have to answer to a soul."

Temperance stared at him, a trace of understanding filling her suddenly.

"What is remarkable, Temperance, is that he chose you. A mortal woman that lacks faith in him."

He was on his feet again, standing before the two, in-between the pulpit and the pews now. "Yet he was the one that bestowed that gift of yours onto you. Whether it be loved or hated, it is yours, given by him."

He clucked his tongue, his expression in awe, his blue eyes scoping her then. "How is that for irony?"

"My thoughts precisely," she rebutted facetiously.

"Do you think you will find it?" Alexander asked as Temperance rose from the pew.

"I have no choice but to find it." She licked her lips nervously, and then looked up to the eye.

"The realm of Hell gains power by that humble piece of coal. I'll do whatever I need to before I allow Satan's soldiers to keep it." Her brow creased heavily, and her eyes firmly rested on the Father then.

"I'm the bait," she swallowed, continuing seemingly unnerved. "I think it's time to see what these creatures are made of."

"I will pray for you, Temperance," the Father said, struggling with the idea of all of this. "My doors will always be open."

"Thank you."

"Where will you begin to look?" he asked, his mood now shifting to palpable interest.

"Every place that is dark and welcomes evil," Temperance replied intently. "Hopefully another vision will come to me."

"Then you must remember what I said to you," he said softly, and continued.

"Satan feeds off any inkling of doubt, Temperance. It is like the last supper to him."

"Great," she said, her tone far from excited. "I won't forget, and thank you again."
No, she thought, as she walked out of the church and into the blazing sunlight.

She would never forget.

Authors Note:

Thank you so much for reading this chapter of How Deep the Roots Go. If you enjoyed it, it would be wonderful if you could vote. Feel free to leave comments as well. I answer every one. And last of all, if you follow me, you will find out right away when there are updates or new stories.

xoxo,

M