Three Dogma Night (The Elven Prophecy Book 3) by Theophilus Monroe & Michael Anderle

Author:Theophilus Monroe & Michael Anderle [Monroe, Theophilus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2021-06-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Conquering fire had been surprisingly easy. It was surprising because I had expected it would be harder to beat than water. Fire just seemed scarier. Weird, because drowning is just as frightening as the prospect of burning to death, but flames are more frightening if only because fire spreads. One drop of water spilled on the carpet won’t do much of anything. A single spark can catch and engulf a house or worse.

It was going to be another short night. Aerin had said these trials had to take place at night, but come on. It gets dark well before eleven.

I wasn’t tired. A twelve-hour midday nap tends to do that for you, even though I had wielded multiple forms of magic. For some reason, it didn’t take the toll on me that absorbing all that water had the night before. If anything, I felt invigorated.

Church used to mean an early Sunday morning, but since we’d started going to the gym so early, Sunday mornings felt like sleeping in.

“Up for a game of Twister before bed?” I asked.

“Twister” was code for something else.

Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

Layla knew what I meant.

Sure, I probably should have worked on my morning sermon, but I’d picked one from Pentecost five years ago. I figured the whole tongues of fire thing would be ironic. I was the only one who’d get the joke. The rest of the church would probably wonder why I was preaching Pentecost out of season.

Our denomination had a prescribed set of readings for every Sunday, a lectionary. The idea was that with everyone hearing the same Scriptures, it was like all Christians would be hearing the same Word. Well, those who were part of our church. A way of affirming our unity—the mystic reality of the church that transcends time and space.

Yeah, cool thought. No one attending on Sunday cared, so I wasn’t going to feel bad about selecting an out-of-season homily for the day. It was just too fitting.

On Pentecost, tongues of fire had descended upon the twelve; they had already replaced Judas at that point. Then, three thousand folks who heard them proclaiming the gospel got baptized in one day.

That was fire and water, just like me. The correlation was too good to pass up.

Layla and I had our fun. For once, both of us won, which wasn’t a guarantee. Sometimes I won, and she was left insisting on an instant rematch. Not that I was ever opposed to that, but you know, Twister can be exhausting. I’d need a good fifteen minutes or so to prepare. I mean, I’d only played Twister with two women in my entire life.

Well, excluding those I couldn’t remember from my drinking days. Those three or twenty women didn’t count. What happened in the stupor stayed in the stupor.

Besides, I’d asked for forgiveness for all I did or might have done.

Before Layla and after my divorce, I was a born-again virgin. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

A Twister virgin, that is. Obviously.

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