Andrew’s Journal – Entry 15
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 1
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 2
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 3
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 4
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 5
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 6
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 7
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 8
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 9
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 10
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 11
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 12
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 13
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 14
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 16
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 15
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 17
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 18
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 19
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 21
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 20
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 24
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 23
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 22
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 25
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 26
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 27
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 28
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 29
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 30
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 31
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 32
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 33
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 34
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 35
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 36
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 37
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 38
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 39
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 40
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 41
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 42
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 43
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 44
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 45
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 46
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 47
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 48
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 49
- Andrew’s Journal – Entry 50
Journal Entry 15
Jacob finally stopped berating me and told me to finish writing this before I got the rest of my memory back. He says it’ll be less confusing this way. We are racing to my house to get the coordinates. His gang is close on our tail. I don’t know what would be worse getting caught by an angel or Jacob’s old gang. Certainly, Jacob isn’t afraid of the police, given the way he’s driving. All he cares about is finding Avery and that’s fine with me.
Jacob is telling me to finish writing. Specifically, he is saying, “Wrap it up, Drew.” I hate to sound semimetal, but I like it that Jacob calls me, “Drew.”
Jacob had hid me in a hotel while he ran and got the ingredients for the second jinni summoning. Since I had no Watcher, angels would be hard pressed to find me. As long as I stayed away from the Morning Stars and got the GPS coordinates from my memory back, we’d be fine. That was until Joe the Barber showed up at the hotel before Jacob did. I only remembered him from reading journal entry 10. I have no actual memory of meeting him when he knocked at the door.
I checked the peephole. Joe the Barber called my name through the hotel door. He told me we needed to talk, asked if I remembered him.
Jacob had warned me not let anyone in. I flipped open my journal. I knew that I had written about him when I had gone back to the charm shop the second time. I skimmed through it and found, “he’s setting me up.” I had no feeling about him one way or the other, but my own handwriting told me not trust him and to trust Jacob.
I asked him where Jacob was through the door as a test. I told him that I’d only work with Jacob.
Joe assured me that Jacob was off my case and that he was put in charge.
A sort of blindness came over me. When I woke up, I had lived through every all of journal entry 10 again. The entire day. All the fear came back. Joe the Barber was scary like Jacob, but the Barber didn’t seem to care if I lived or died. I knew to stay away from him.
When I came to, I was lying on the bed. I saw that the door was busted open. The Morning Stars were in the room. Joe sat on a chair next to me.
The Barber demanded to know what happened in a calm voice at first, but after I didn’t respond, he became violent. He flung my journal at me. When he said, “Looks like someone’s getting their memory back,” I knew that he knew everything.
Joe told me to drop the act. He got up and sat next to me on the bed, dangling Jacob’s gun above me. He explained that he gave the gun back to Jacob the other day after I killed an angel. Jacob was supposed to lay low until this was over with.
He was right. Jacob had removed my Watcher and earlier that day he had taken me to see an angel to get my memory restored, but I hadn’t killed it.
After waking me up with the second injection and AED on the street, Jacob got a cell phone call that went like this.
Jacob: Preacher man. No, no payment this month. Got a favor instead. Need you to
call Barakiel and tell him there’s a problem with the machine.
Jacob: I don’t know make something up. I just want to get a peek at him. I’ll be out of
Jacob: Don’t worry about it. The less you know the better. I’ll be there in forty-five.
Jacob: Alright, what’s the earliest? I ain’t got a lot of time.”
Jacob didn’t explain to me what we were going to do, except that I needed to see an angel. At the time, I figured he meant a conversation.
We had to stop at Jacob’s house in Compton before he went. We were out of ammo. Jacob blamed me. He claimed that I used up his last good clip, which I had no memory of.
When we pulled down his street, he told me to keep my head down. Literally. I had to couch down on the passenger side matts. Jacob assured me, “Snickers and chickenheads are everywhere. They’ll see your cracker ass from a mile away.”
I didn’t bother to ask what a, “chickenhead,” was. I curled into a ball on the passenger side floor like I was told. My heart raced as Jacob slowed. I saw Jacob give someone a head nod. Then, he pulled into a single car garage and closed the door.
I asked why we didn’t just go to a gun store if it was so risky going to his place.
Jacob just laughed. He didn’t have a license. Then, then he tossed a bullet down to me.
I examined the bullet. It glistened… no, it danced. Flames danced on the metal. I closed my hand around it. It was some kind of special angel bullet. Jacob explained that it came from shards of angel swords. He called them angel killers
Jacob left me alone in his garage with instructions to run if there’s trouble. I wasn’t petrified. Before I lost Heather and Avery, being alone was awkward. I came from a big family. Granted I’m mainly close to my sister, but I had two other siblings. I was never alone as a child. As I grew up, I never craved being alone. I think that’s why Heather and I got along so well. She liked having other people constantly around too. Even if she was reading a book and or just not talking for hours. It was always better to have someone else in the room. The only time I was ever alone was when I commuted to and from work. Now. In Jacob’s garage. I suddenly knew I didn’t like to being alone either. I’ve felt so empty since I lost Heather and Avery. I was alone no matter where I was.
A women’s voice could be heard just outside the garage.
Rohanda: Jacob, quit stalling. I know you saw me. Get out here. We need ta talk.
Jacob: Chill Roh-Roh.
Rohanda: Don’t you Roh-Roh me. You’ll call me the name my mama gave me just
like everybody else.
Jacob: You need to check you volume.
Rohanda: Why? The Barber looking for ya?
Jacob: What it to you?
Rohanda: I just want to get mine before you get yours.
Jacob: Don’t forget who I am. You go tell the Barber that I do my thing until I’m
called by the counsel. Not him, and especially not you, gonna come on down me for doin’ my thing. You tell the Barber that if I see him sniffing around my client, he’s a dead man. Oh, and we’re through Rohanda. When I get back, your shit better be gone.
Someone banged onto the side of the garage. It was obviously the girl.
Jacob returned with the ammo. He called them angel killers.
We drove to an unassuming white office building in Santa Ann. It was nicer than the other buildings around it. I could tell it was government-owned because of the California and American flags that were in front of it. Unlike the other office buildings, the parking let was almost empty. Although there was plenty of room, Jacob parked in the back.
We were at the lotto offices, where they drew the names. The plan was to sneak in, catch a glimpse of an angel, and get my memories to start coming back.
When I asked why we were there to see an angel, Jacob answered, “Church is always the best place to find an angel.”
I didn’t bother asking the next logical question. Jacob led me through an unlocked door and into a small room. It was a lotto studio, where they filmed the live lotto drawings for the county. I remembered seeing it on TV. The room wasn’t more than 12’ by 12’. Jacob led me around the backdrop and up a ladder. We looked over the stage from behind stage lights and were only about10 feet up.
Jacob gave me last minute instructions.
Jacob: You need to believe to see Barakiel. And, If it goes down, it’s gonna go bad quick. Just get low and hide. You’re dead if Barakiel sees you without a Watcher. Angels don’t like people who are free.
Jacob: The Angel of Fortune. Runs the worship of greed. The priest here is on my payroll. He’s gonna call him in here. You just keep watch. Don’t make a sound. And everything should go smooth.
The door opened. Jacob grabbed my arm and covered his mouth with a finger.
This man with large wire framed glasses scurried into the room. He wore an ugly plaid shirt with kakis. He carried on a conversation by himself where he apologized for, “the inconvenience,” and claimed the machine wasn’t working right.
I turned to Jacob to ask him what was going on, but he covered my mouth. He moved my ear close and whispered, “Believe.”
I looked back to the plaid-shirted guy having a conversation with himself. I had no memory of any angels at this point. Just my words written in the journal. Did I believe my own writing? Did I trust myself? Is any of this real? Explainable?
Suddenly, the worker was flown into the air and bounced against the wall like a ragdoll. This angel appeared before me as though out of thin air. Its back was towards me with its wings fully spread. Blue sparks flicked from the tips of the wings. I couldn’t see its face, but I noticed its feet. Rabbit feet.
Barakiel: You will explain yourself. I run this machine. It cannot break. Why have you
Plaid-shirt: I told you.
Barakiel: A trap then. Or one of your human jokes. Not funny preacher. You have worked
for both sides long enough. Your successor is ready to obey.”
I turned away and heard the screams that I expected. The angel ripped apart the worker. I started to shake. Jacob put his hand on me. Barakiel was gone. It was just a matter of time until I started to get my memory back.
Of course, I started to get it back at the most inopportune time, allowing Joe’s men to get the drop on me.
Joe the Barber got frustrated with me and loaded a bullet into the chamber of Jacob’s gun. He demanded to know where Jacob was. One of his thugs jumped on me. He locked my arm. The Barber pushed the barrel of the gun into the palm of my hand.
I closed my eyes tight preparing for impact. Shots rang out. I opened my eyes. Jacob was in the doorway. Two of the Barber’s men were on the floor, leaving Joe and the thug on top of me. Joe let go of my arm, and I immediately clawed at the face of the thug who pinned me.
Joe ducked behind the bed while Jacob put two bullets into the thug. His lifeless body collapse on top of me.
Jacob fell to the ground and unloaded the gun into the space underneath the bed.
I clenched my eyes, hoping not to get shot.
They stopped. The bathroom door slammed. Jacob shoved the dead body off of me. He found his other gun that Joe had on the floor.
Joe called out. He said Jacob had a summons to appear before the Morning Stars High Council.
Pointing both at the bathroom door, Jacob yelled back, “No foolin’. I actually got summoned?”
Joe response was drowned out by Jacob’s gunfire. We ran from the room not caring to confirm if Joe was dead.
Jacob and I just arrived at my house. We are running in to find the coordinates. All my memory is back, except for the day after Journal entry 10.