Chapter 12

Angel whispers, and a devil sighs as Abel heads farther into the night.

“Don’t be afraid, child,” a sweet voice said almost like a whisper behind Evangeline; she turned around to see nothing in the backseat and thought she was losing her mind for a moment as she spun back around to stare out the front window. She glanced over to see Abel looking at her before he moved his eyes away from the rear-view mirror. He tightened his hands around the steering wheel; they were still caked in blood and looked as if they were hurting. The large knife he used was sitting between Evangeline and him as she kept driving down the road.

                “Just making sure no one is following us,” Evangeline said. Abel nodded, not saying a word, and yet, it almost seemed like he heard the voice as well. She thought about pushing the matter and then sat back in the chair, putting her hands between her legs to warm them up. They had felt the chill worse than before after John had given her a warm cup of tea. Now that they were back in the cold world, the chill attacked them hard.

                “Do you think John is okay?” Evangeline asked, and Abel shrugged. “Look, mister, if I’m stuck with you in this car for a while, you’ll have to talk to me.”

                Abel smirked a little, cutting his eyes over at Evangeline. She was almost scared of his gaze, but it softened under the weight of his hat.

                “That’s something my wife would’ve said,” he said. “She can be as hard as iron when she wants to.”

                “You’re married?”

                “Yes, ma’am,” he said, sighing. “I was on my way home when I learned about you getting taken by the Duke Boys. I thought I might step in and do some good.”

                “Who told you?”

                “Oh, a little voice from the Heavens,” Abel said. “I was filling up when I heard it, followed it all the way to that cabin, and you, now.”

                “You did all this because a voice told you?”

                “Please, not to go against the Lord’s messengers,” Abel said. “Best to do as told.”

                “Sure, right,” Evangeline said, almost wishing she hadn’t gotten Abel to start talking to her. He was very clearly a madman and very clearly out of his mind, which she was sure meant she was going to die soon, but then again, he had been a hero to her this whole time.

                “Do you have any children?” Evangeline asked.

                “Two boys,” Abel said, almost letting himself smile but stopping it. “Elijah is my youngest, he’s eight, and Jothan is my oldest; he’s fifteen.”

                “Lovely names,” she said.

                “Lovely boys,” Abel said, “and Hope is showing them that they must be soft and tough when needed.”

                “Hope is your wife’s name?”

                “Yes, ma’am.”

                “Pretty name,” Evangeline said.

                Abel glanced at the stars and said, “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in this world. I would look up at the stars in the trenches, almost laughing at the fact that they couldn’t win me over like Hope does when she looks at me.”

                He dropped his eyes, and Evangeline stared right at him. She hadn’t seen true love before. She read about it in all the old Bards poems and the dime novels she picked up from the drugstore. She loved those trashy novels filled with love and sex. She found what she could seem to find in the world: love. The real truth of the word, but staring at this killer, she saw it in his eyes.

                A love she had never seen before.

                It was real. It was pure. And by all those dance angels in the sky, it was rare.

                “You were in the war?” Evangeline asked Abel to go back to the road, and the look in his eyes about his wife was in the back of his mind.

                “I was, ma’am.”

                “Is that where you learn how to kill so well?” Evangeline asked.

                “No, ma’am, my old man taught me the art of taking a life.”

                “Oh,” she said, “what happened to him?”

                Abel turned his hard gaze towards her and rolled his jaw, not saying a word.

                “Best not to ask,” she said, nodding and looking away from him. “I get it, you know, how cruel fathers can be.”

                “Willy is an a*****e for sure,” Abel said. “Never made my way down there to Mississippi to put an end to his wicked ways.”

                “I wish you would’ve,” Evangelin said, balling up her fists. “You’ve saved many people from an early grave.”

                “Sorry about your mother,” Abel said, making her drop her head as tears started to fall on her lap. She didn’t mean to cry. She didn’t want to cry in front of this man even if she started to feel very safe with him. She felt safer with him than anyone else for a long time; not even her mother made her feel like nothing could touch her.

                Abel placed his massive hand on her shoulder and said with all the ease of a father, “Truly, I’m sorry for your loss, but she’s in a better place now.”

                “Thank you, sir,” Evangeline said back, lifting her head to smile, but the evil of the world reached out to touch them as a bullet went crashing through the back window and out the front. She didn’t cry out; she merely gasped and then ducked down as Abel turned to look back down the road. A car full of her father’s men were hot on their heels, trying to run them down. A man with a gun was hanging out the side of the window, letting the bullets fly, and the driver was sticking his hand out with a pistol to join in.

                Abel fed the beast of a car more fuel, letting it take off down the road.