SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part I}

COME TO THE LIGHT*19*

Fourteen critical days left.

He and Mary forbade her to use the powers of burning claws. Justice Hall pitied the young girl, but this pity only masked a greater concern, a much deeper compassion. He really wants to see her in all her natural brown African beauty without the power of darkness cloaking it. Justice wants her clean and free. Is he surprised at his attraction to her? No. It just happened. Mary watched him like a big sister. He can't fault her. At this point, he isn't sure when Idara is there, and when it is entirely... something else. Feelings are the easiest form of demonic manipulation. In fact, he was a bit wary of the strength and suddenness of these feelings. Out of all the women in the world, his big dumb heart had to see only this one, who more than anything else, first needed a great, mighty deliverance.

He wasn't looking for love! Did he even deserve it, after what happened to Ainsley? That night, while Miss Mary snored after a haranguing warfare prayer session, the chief's daughter, with a very sad face, peers at him from the side of his open door. She makes sure to catch his eye before knocking softly. He rises from his bed and puts on his shirt. Satisfied that he is proper, he meets her at his door. She stares into his eyes for the longest time, as if inside them are mountain peninsula, with oceans of sparkling blue water under an endless blue sky. Then she smiles like a child at him, "I like you." It is said so simply, so honestly, he can't help but smile right back.

"I know. Are you afraid?"

"A little...may I come inside?" She peeks round his torso at the sparse room.

"No, I can't let you. Unless--" his eyebrows lift.

Her eyes widen, her voice becoming an eager whisper, "Unless what?"

He folds his hands at the elbows and steps back from the door. "Unless you throw them out. Lose the silver, let go of the power."

"How?"

He feels her pain like it is a knife to his back, scraping at an open wound. He feels her rage like it is a rushing river coursing through his veins. She wants to be safe, she also wants revenge. But what she should be wanting fervently is God. He stands his ground, "You're fighting the wrong way. You're going to fail. You are going to lose yourself! Do you hear me? Until you learn to resist the darkness, I can't help you!"

He shut the door in her face and bolts it. But he doesn't go back to bed. He leans against the wood, listening to the sound of her frightened, very depressed footsteps receding down the hallway. His heart aches in a way it never has before, as he slides down to sit in a crumpled heap on the floor, he is not shocked to feel his tears soak up his shirt. Putting his trembling hands together, he begs God to help her. He doesn't sleep, and neither does she, alone in her room with nothing to see except burning claws, if her eyes are open, or if they are closed.

The first thing he does in the morning, is to go to her door and knock. She lets him in, she is covered from neck to ankle in Miss Mary's creamy nightgown. While she sits on her bed, he sits facing her in a high backed cane chair.

"You have to talk to God, and believe that He is listening, because He Is. Right now."

He waits for her to speak. Life has hurt her so badly; he can see it in her struggle to understand his intention, but none of that matters for whom the bell tolls; at the end of the journey there will be God to contend with, did she not understand that?

"Please God," she whispered into her clasped hands, "-oh God, in the name of... in the name of... Jesus Christ, please help m-me..."

He prayed with her, leading her through repentance, and her request to be a child of God, and her request for deliverance. Before he leaves he asks if she still sees the burning claws, to which she replied, "I never see it when you are near me. It is why I knocked on your door last night, and not Mama Mary's. Unless you go, I won't know if it's still behind my eyelids."