Peter and Davy walked between each row of pews in St. Mark's church, picking up anything left behind by the congregation. So far, they had picked up three tissues, a baby rattle and a quarter. When they were done, Davy put the quarter in the poor box, while Peter threw away the tissues and put the rattle in the lost and found box in the church foyer.
"Let's get the brooms now, Davy, and sweep up." Peter said, returning to the pews.
Davy didn't answer. He was staring at a stained-glass window of Jesus giving the Sermon on the Mount. Peter quietly walked over to him.
"You've been staring at that window since we came here, Davy." Peter said gently. "You stared at that window last time too." Peter put a hand on Davy's shoulder. "You want to do something like that, don't you? You want to serve others."
Davy didn't answer, but just looked at his friend. Peter continued.
"The religious books you're reading now. You don't date as much as you used to." Peter said, "Even at the clubs you don't flirt with the girls as much."
Davy sighed and sat down in one of the pews. Peter sat down next to him, waiting patiently for Davy to speak.
"The Lord has given you a discerning heart, Peter." Davy said, his voice almost a whisper. "Our lives changed the day we met Elizabeth. We found the Lord. I've been praying to him, asking him how I can be a better servant. How I can be more than just a singer."
"But you love to sing, Davy." Peter replied. "To perform in front of a crowd."
"Yes, and I always will, but now…I feel like I want to use my talents, my ability to talk about the Lord."
This time, it was Peter who was silently looking at his friend. Davy turned to Peter and took a deep breath.
"I've been thinking about becoming a minister, Peter." He said, looking Peter right in the eye. "To tell the whole world about our Lord, how great are his works, and how much he loves each and every one of us."
Peter gave Davy a huge hug. Davy was shocked for a moment, then returned the hug.
"That's wonderful, Davy." Peter cried.
"You're not mad?" Davy asked.
"Why would I be?" Peter replied, "I'm so happy for you!"
"But, if I do this, it could break up the band." Davy said, "Mike brought us all together, we work so well on stage..."
"Mike will understand." Peter interrupted, "When you tell him..."
"No, don't say a word to Mike and Micky yet, Peter." Davy said quickly.
"Why not?" Peter asked, puzzled.
"Like I said, I'm just thinking about it, that's all." Davy replied. "I have to do more praying and talking to Fr. Jerry before I make such a commitment."
Peter nodded in understanding. "Yes, this is something that can't be taken lightly. No man who keeps his hand to the plow and looks behind him is fit for the Kingdom of God." He puts his hands to his mouth. "I'm sorry, Davy. I didn't mean that you weren't fit for the Kingdom."
Davy laughed out loud. "I know Peter. I know what you meant." He looked at his watch. "We better get those brooms and clean up, Peter. It's almost time to pick up Darlene."
"Alright, and don't worry, I won't tell anyone what you told me." Peter replied.
"Thanks mate." Davy said as the two Monkees got up to finish their cleaning.
++++
After finishing the water, Margaret looked at her rescuers with a mixture of fear and gratitude.
"Who or what are you people?" She asked, her voice trembling a bit, "You're not one of them, are you?"
"My name is Elizabeth Boniface." The angel replied, "This is Micky Dolenz and Mike Nesmith. And if by `one of them' you mean witches, the answer is no. I am an angel of the Lord, sent to help those in need."
"And Micky and I are as human as you can get." Mike added, indicating himself and Micky.
Margaret smiled a little at that. "It's so good to be human again." She said. "To walk on two legs and be able to speak."
"Who turned you into a kitten?" Elizabeth asked, "Was it Synthea Longaberger?"
"Yes, it was." Margaret said, her voice low, "I went to her publishing office for a review of my manuscript. She trashed my story under the guise of `constructive criticism', and when I complained, she turned me into a kitten." Margaret eyes teared up and she began to cry again. Elizabeth put an arm around her.
"Constructive criticism?" Micky asked, "That sounds like a contradiction of terms."
"Yeah, but we're talking about a witch, Micky." Mike replied with no little sarcasm, "Who knows how she thinks?"
"Makes me glad I'm not a witch." Micky replied.
"I had to live in her house and look at all those awful things, and see such terrible creatures." Margaret was saying.
"Can you tell us what you saw in Synthea's house, Margaret?" Elizabeth asked gently. "We were in her house looking for a spell book that was stolen from a priest several days ago."
"She was very interested in getting a spell book, and I remember those demons telling her it was located somewhere on Beachwood Road." Margaret replied, "A few days ago, those terrible demons brought her something that she was excited about. That might've been it."
"Do you know where the book is now?" Elizabeth asked.
"No, I spent most of my time trying to keep out of the way." Margaret said, "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Elizabeth said. "Would you like something to eat?"
"Yes, I wasn't fed very much while I was there." Margaret said.
The angel led Margaret to the kitchen table and waved her hands. A turkey dinner with all the trimmings appeared.
"Go ahead and eat, my friends and I need to talk."
Margaret didn't need to be told twice. She quickly sat down and dug into the food.
++++
The sky was going to dusk as Darlene finished putting away the last of her books on the cart. She was often amazed at the variety of books people were reading, some good, some not so good. Darlene's boss, Mrs. Wells walked over to her.
"You've done a fine job today, Darlene. Go ahead, leave a few minutes early." She said.
"Thank you, Mrs. Wells." Darlene smiled.
Darlene walked into the employees' lounge, grabbed her coat and headed out to the main library area. Through the doors, she could see across the street and over to the Winterfest that was still going on. Darlene looked at her watch again.
`I still have a few minutes before Peter and Davy come for me.' She thought to herself, `I'll go check out the Winterfest.'
Making sure her bottle of holy water was in her coat pocket; Darlene stepped outside and walked across the street to the fest. She joined the crowd admiring the jewelry, painting and other objects for sale. At the far edge of the booths, Darlene smelled a wonderful fragrance. Following the scent, she came across a booth. This booth had several glass balls tied with ribbon hanging around the sides. There were lit incense sticks stuck inside sand-filled pots at the front of the booth. Looking closer at the balls, Darlene could see the swirls of color mixed in. They also had colored glass strips inside them.
"May I help you?"
Darlene jumped back and looked over at the source of the voice. It was an old lady with a kind face and wearing a tattered shawl who had spoken. She smiled back at Darlene.
"I'm sorry I startled you, young lady." The old woman said.
"That's ok." Darlene said, "I was looking at your pretty glass balls."
"Oh those are called Witches' Balls, my dear." The old lady smiled.
Darlene took a step back. "Witches' Balls?"
"Don't be afraid of the name, dearie." The old lady chuckled, "Those balls are for trapping witches and keeping them away from your house."
"Keeping them out?" Darlene asked, interested.
"Oh yes indeed." The old lady said, "If a witch or any evil spirit tried to enter your house, it would be sucked into the ball and trapped inside by those glass strips you see."
"How would the ball do that?" Darlene asked again.
"My son, who's not here right now, would be able to tell you more, but when the balls are being created, a special powder is mixed in with the molten glass. Witches hate that powder," The old lady chuckled, "And if they try to enter a home where that ball is present, they are sucked into the ball where they shrivel up and die."
"That sounds fantastic." Darlene marveled. "Maybe..."
"Maybe what, my dear?" The old lady asked, "Have you ever had a problem with witches?"
"Yes. I fact, my boyfriend was attacked by demons last week." Darlene said quietly.
"Oh my." The old lady said, putting her gnarled hands to her face. "Then you must take one of these and put it in your boyfriend's house." She said, reaching up and pulling a ball from its place and holding it out to Darlene. The ball was clear with red swirls and had red strips inside it.
"I really don't know..." Darlene said as the incense smell seemed to increase around her.
"It couldn't hurt to try, my dear." The old lady said, "If it doesn't work, it could be used as a sun catcher."
"How much?" Darlene asked.
"You can have it for free, honey." The old lady smiled.
"No, I have to pay you something." Darlene said, pulling out her wallet, "A laborer is worth his wages."
"Just give me fifty cents, then." The old lady said.
Darlene gave the lady two quarters. The old lady wrapped up the ball in tissue and put it inside a small cardboard box. As she gave the box to Darlene, she gave some final advice:
"Be sure to put that ball in a sunny window so that the light will hit it and warn the witches to stay away." She said.
"I will, and thank you very much." Darlene replied, then looked at her watch, "I have to go meet my boyfriend now. God bless you."
"Be safe, dear." The old lady smiled.
Darlene hurried away. When Darlene was gone, the old lady passed through a curtain to the back of her booth. There, her features changed into that of Synthea. With a contemptuous smirk at the body of the real owner of the booth lying on the ground, Synthea disappeared.
Chapter 13
Chapter 15
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