A Time of Demons and Angels Read online

  A Time

  of Demons

  and Angels

  (An end-of-days saga)

  ~

  by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

  Dedicated to my brother Jim Meyer, the best musician/singer/songwriter

  I’ve ever met. He’s singing with the angels now and I will always miss him so. Hear his music here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEypYatBBgrWxOzQGsLOs3IItVVUywSsV

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Reviews for A Time of Demons and Angels | "A classic horror tale, creates a horrific world through imagery.”

  Other books by Kathryn Meyer Griffith:

  *All Kathryn Meyer Griffith’s books can be found here:

  *All her Audible.com audio books here:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  This book received the 2010 Nightmare Award | from She Never Slept.com

  All Kathryn Meyer Griffith’s novels can also be found now in paperbacks and audio books.

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  Reviews for A Time of Demons and Angels

  ~ ~ ~

  "A classic horror tale, creates a horrific world through imagery.”

  4 ½ stars CK2 Kwips & Kritiques

  "Loved it" Tales of Horror

  "Not "just another demon book" a unique story " 5 stars Book Boost

  "Remarkable cast of characters, each one exquisitely painted, easier to suspend belief whilst you foray into her nightmarish world of marrow-munching demonic entities" Morpheus Tales

  "Has horror, characters to care about &d hope in the midst of despair. A!" Emeraldfire

  "Hard to put down." 4 stars Maniac Readers

  "Shivery good. Thought-provoking." 4 stars A Splash of Scarlet

  “A Time of Demons is a different look at the end of the world, very thought provoking. I knew where things were going, but how it got there? Now that’s another story; a demonic, tornadic, apocalyptic ride.” 4 stars Sherry Fundlin

  “I could go on and on but I hate long reviews. Don't miss this book. I would recommend it to young and old alike. Ms. Griffith, You have written one of the best books I have ever read and it will be with me for a long time. Kudos to you on a job well done. Any book that can keep me awake all night to read (almost made my dogs miss their dinner) is a good book to read. Thank you for being good at your craft.” 5 stars Barbara Mckinley

  “What an incredible imagination it took to write this book! I am just floored by it (in a good way). I really enjoyed this paranormal / sci fi read. It is a very long book, so people are really getting their money's worth and then some! The work this Author, Kathryn Meyer Griffith has put into this book is just incredible! The author doesn't disappoint us. This book was so good, I found myself listening to it way past my bed time! Just incredible!” 5 stars Terri B.

  “The author does a very good job of covering the Rapture. I think this is actually the first time I've seen any author successfully tackle it. I found myself really liking the vampire/demon character. Oh, and I wanted to add, this book made me cry a few times. The book really pulled me in.” 4 stars CLOregon

  “Shivery good. Good descriptions, in which the reader gets well-acquainted with the characters before bringing them into the action. The scene where Aunt Ellis explains religion to blood demon Rayner is an interesting and well thought-out one as it bring a hint of conflict into the demon's life, making him begin to question his own motives. 4 stars TpVissage

  * Recipient of the: She Never Slept 2010 Horror Award

  Other books by Kathryn Meyer Griffith:

  Evil Stalks the Night

  The Heart of the Rose

  Blood Forged

  Vampire Blood

  The Last Vampire (2012 Epic EBook Awards Finalist)

  Witches

  Witches II: Apocalypse

  Witches plus bonus Witches II: Apocalypse

  The Calling

  Scraps of Paper-The First Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  All Things Slip Away-The Second Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  Ghosts Beneath Us-The Third Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  Witches Among Us-The Fourth Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  Egyptian Heart

  Winter’s Journey

  The Ice Bridge

  Don’t Look Back, Agnes

  A Time of Demons and Angels

  The Woman in Crimson

  Four Spooky Short Stories

  Human No Longer

  Night Carnival

  Forever and Always Novella

  The Nameless One erotic horror short story

  Dinosaur Lake (2014 Epic EBook Awards Finalist)

  Dinosaur Lake II: Dinosaurs Arising

  Dinosaur Lake III: Infestation

  Dinosaur Lake IV: Dinosaur Wars

  Memories of My Childhood short stories

  Christmas Magic 1959 short story

  *All Kathryn Meyer Griffith’s books can be found here:

  http://tinyurl.com/ld4jlow

  *All her Audible.com audio books here:

  http://tinyurl.com/oz7c4or

  Chapter 1

  Cassandra & Johnny

  “WHY ARE YOU LOOKING at me that way?” The man asked, smiling.

  Cassandra Graystone’s gaze took in the maroon shirt, the shaggy golden hair, and sleepy eyes as the man stood a few feet away from her. He had a charming way about him, too, and would have been the type of man she’d have been attracted to under normal circumstances. But those were the key words: Under normal circumstances.

  She looked away, yet as hard as she tried, her face must have shown her feelings of dread. It must have given away a hint of the truth she’d already glimpsed somewhere deep behind her eyes.

  The man was going to die very soon.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean anything by it. I thought you were someone I knew, that’s all.” She used that line a lot. It usually worked. She shrugged and flashed the man an apologetic smile in the dimness of the lounge.

  “I am, kind of. I’ve been here the last three Fridays. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoy listening to you and your brother sing.” There was still a smile on his lips. “You two have such lovely harmonies. And your brother’s original songs are really good. Man, can he play that guitar.”

  She felt flattered and sad for the man all at once. “Thank you. I’ll tell him what you said. Johnny loves compliments.” Her eyes scanned the room. No Johnny. “He’s around here somewhere. Probably talking to someone or in the restroom. But I’ll tell him you liked his songs.”

  “You guys rock.”

  Forcing out a smile, she replied, “Thank you. Appreciate you saying so. We can use all the fans we can get.” She closed her brother’s guitar case, snapped the locks, then wrapped the cord around his microphone and placed it in the box with the other equipment.

  She wished the man would go away, leave her alone. He’d brushed up against her and she knew he was a walking dead person. And,
as always, there was nothing she could do to help him.

  Oh, yeah, she’d learned to keep her mouth shut. People didn’t want to know they were going to die–when or how–though she never saw every last tiny detail. People freaked out or thought she was some crazy woman. Having been on the receiving end of that sour tune once too often, she had learned her lesson. She’d been called everything from a bitch to a witch. Once, someone had even slugged her.

  Don’t ever tell them what you see. Don’t ever tell them anything. Oh, she’d learned.

  “How long have you two been playing together?”

  “Since we were kids.” They’d caterwauled on the swing set in the back yard from the time she was ten or so, later in high school talent shows, and out in public for money as soon as they were old enough to drive. Started with folk music, contemporary pop and rock; tossed in a little of the new country and bluegrass for spice. At eighteen, Johnny began to write songs and he taught her how to play guitar, something he’d picked up from his friends in the school band. He could listen to a song on the radio and in minutes would be able to play it. She had a natural ear for harmony. And their singing careers were born.

  Lately, for some reason neither of them could explain, they’d taken to throwing in their own arrangements of old-time gospel melodies and Johnny had begun to write songs that were definitely spiritual. Which wasn’t so unusual, since they were both Christians.

  “Well, I just wanted to tell you how much I like you two. Your voices sound like they belong together. Like angels.”

  Cassandra looked directly at the man for the first time.

  “I even like your brother’s lame jokes.” The man chuckled.

  “At least someone does.” On stage, Johnny told what she considered to be tasteless little anecdotes and she was always making fun of him for it. But the crowd ate up their ribbing each other. So they’d kept both in the act.

  “He can sure make the crowd laugh and your ballads make them cry.”

  She felt her face turning red. Unlike her brother, she had a hard time accepting praise of any sort. “Thank you.” Ooh, she wished he would go away. She didn’t want to know him. She’d only feel worse later.

  “Someday, I bet, you two are going to be rich and famous. I know it.”

  She shrugged. “From your mouth to fate’s ears. But it really doesn’t matter to us. We’re happy the way things are. We get to do what we love and we get paid for it.”

  Oh, sure, when they’d been kids they’d dreamed of record deals, of being filthy rich and thought that was the road to happiness – but that was before the fire. Things changed after that. Now merely being together, being with their aunt and uncle, and singing for their supper, rent, and utilities were all they wanted.

  “Ah, but everyone needs money.” He shoved a twenty-dollar bill at her. “Here, before I go I wanted to give you your tip in person. Ten for both of you.”

  “No, you don’t need to do that.” Cassandra tried to give the twenty back, but the man refused it with a shake of his head.

  “Nah, it’s for you. I was really down tonight. Too much bad stuff happening in my life these days. Your music’s really cheered me up. Please, take it.”

  She hesitated a second. He seemed adamant and wasn’t going to be talked out of it. “All right. Again, thank you. Johnny says thank you, too.” Of course Johnny would. He forever needed money. Because, maybe, their pay wasn’t quite enough to cover all their living expenses, but tips helped and they lived simply. Or she did, anyway. She rented the upstairs flat of her aunt and uncle’s duplex that faced Forest Park, ridiculously cheap.

  But living cheaply wasn’t her brother’s thing. Johnny was good at living high on the hog, even when he didn’t have the hog and couldn’t stay on a budget if he were glued to it. He insisted on keeping his own apartment on the other side of town instead of living with the rest of the family. Said he wanted to go home to his own space at the end of the day. Five months ago he’d gotten this bug up his butt about being independent and being his own man. Ha, a man in debt is what he was. His cupboards were bare and he mooched most of his meals off his friends and family. She often had to lend him money.

  Sometimes, Cassandra thought he lived by himself because Aunt Ellie was sick and he didn’t want to be in the middle of it. Didn’t want to be bothered. Then, she’d feel guilty for thinking that. Johnny had a big heart. He liked his solitude or so she kept telling herself. She had a roomy apartment, but he’d had to live on the first floor with the old ones, so she didn’t blame him. Ellie could be...difficult lately.

  “Well, it’s been nice chatting with you,” the man said. “I can see you’re busy so I’ll be going. Say hi to your brother for me.”

  “I will.”

  “See you next Friday?”

  “We’ll be here.”

  The man with the invisible target on his face walked away into the thinning crowd. She took one last glance and saw his bright shirt disappear through the door into the night.

  With a sigh, she packed her guitar in its case, breathed in the deep polished scent of wood, and looked around for her brother. Time to go home. He was probably outside stealing a smoke, knowing she’d give him hell if she saw him with one in his hand.

  The lights were dim. It helped hide the shabbiness. The Red Carpet Lounge wasn’t special in any way except for Morey, a generous man who treated everyone like a friend, who ran the place–and that she and her brother had been singing there three nights a week for the last five months. The money was better than some places. They’d done a lot worse over their careers. If a person could call lounge singing a career.

  She’d never planned on singing in bars as a living, but life was strange. A person did what a person had to do to survive. It was as if she’d been waiting for her real life to begin and it just never had. Not so far, anyway. College hadn’t appealed to her (tests made her sick to her stomach) and she’d found nothing else that captured her passion like music. Then again, she and Johnny weren’t office types. They’d have trouble punching in anywhere at eight A.M., being locked up in tight cubicles, or taking orders. Free spirits that they were.

  Her eyes searched for her brother, anxious to get home and make sure Aunt Ellie and Uncle George were all right. Just a funny feeling she had.

  They’d raised her and Johnny since she’d been nine and Johnny seven, since the fire that had killed the rest of their family twenty years ago.

  Once, she’d had three sisters and three brothers, and a mother and a father she’d adored. After the fire ravaged their home and took most of them, all she had left was Johnny and burn scars on her face and leg to remind her of that night. As if she could ever forget.

  After the fire, her childless aunt and uncle, her father’s much older brother, had taken them in, loved, and raised them without a look back. Now it was her and Johnny’s turn to take care of them. They were getting old and, though George had his own medical problems, Ellie was becoming more befuddled every day. It affected all of them.

  George and Ellie were more like grandparents with the needs of aging grandparents. They were forgetful, had a basket of pills to take each day, and their fragile bodies were home to mysterious aches and pains. They didn’t like their routine changed. George’s eyes gave him trouble, so he wasn’t driving any more, and Ellie was too out of it most of the time to trust behind a wheel. Doctor visits, shopping, and errands had fallen to Johnny and her. Mostly her.

  She didn’t mind taking care of them.

  All in all it was a good life–except for the sad memories of her dead family and her little curse of seeing things she didn’t want to see and knowing things she didn’t want to know. She hated it when she looked at a face and another visage leaked through skin and bones and, just for a heartbeat, showed her something hideous. That talent had only begun the last few weeks and it had her more upset than she’d admit. It made her doubt her sanity. Made her wonder if she was delusional.

  Yesterday, she’d asked
her uncle if insanity ran in the family and he’d laughed. “Not that I know of. But, hey, I never did meet any of your mother’s side.”

  Great.

  Her brother was coming towards her. Smelling like cigarette smoke and looking tired. “Cassie, you ready to call it a night?”

  “All packed up and heading for the door. Just waited to say bye. You smell like smoke, Johnny.”

  She noticed he ignored her critical observation and the unintentional double meaning. They both knew there was more than one kind of smoke.

  “Glad you waited, Sis, because I need to hitch a ride home with you. The junk heap won’t start again. I think it’s the battery. Probably needs a new one.”

  “You need to get yourself a new car, Brother. One that doesn’t break down every other day.” Cassandra grabbed her purse and her guitar, a six string acoustic Guild. It’d been her father’s, had miraculously escaped the flames of her childhood home, and was precious to her. She remembered, as a little girl, her father picking around on it. He’d never been real good, but he’d be proud of them now. She didn’t leave her instrument at the bar overnight. It was worth too much to her to chance it being stolen.

  “Tell me about it. But you know I don’t have the cash for a new ride. Tomorrow I’ll see what it’d take to patch it up again. Hopefully I can get a few more months out of it.”

  “You’ve been jury-rigging that old Sky Hawk for years. It’s sixteen years old, for heaven’s sake, Johnny.”

  “Yeah, but you know me. I can’t bear to let go of things.”

  Might have something to do with the fire and losing everything he ever had when he was young. “Sometimes there’s nothing else to do but let go. That car is beyond fixing. It’s ready for the junk yard.”