The Wanderer

By Traylor Grant

Some times heroes come in unlikely packages. Can Michael save Kristy and others entrusted to his care? Will they survive the horrors unleashed upon an unsuspecting rural town? Can Kristy find love in a dangerous rebel? Is he a hero or a monster? Is he an angel or worse?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandraparkerbooks
• Release date: Mar 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370779826

Traylor Grant

Traylor Grant writes Christian horror novels and short stories.Drop me a line at [e-mail]

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The Wanderer

Traylor Grant

Copyright © Traylor Grant 2015

All rights reserved.

Distributed by Smashwords

The right of Traylor Grant to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 First published as an e-book 06-23-2015

Grant, Traylor (2015-06-22). The Wanderer: The Dream Weaver Into the Mystic Series Book 2. Traylor Grant. US

This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

The Wanderer: The Dream Weaver Into the Mystic Series Book 2 is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. It is a fantasy story involving the Archangel Michael. Although there are various religious aspects to the novel, it is in no way intended to replace, supplement, or otherwise affect religions, religious beliefs, teachings, or practices. Nor, it is intended to offend any religion.

The Wanderer: The Dream Weaver Into the Mystic Series Book 2 is in no way intended for anything other than a fictional story involving the Archangel Michael. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. If the content of this story offends anyone, the author is truly sorry, but reminds the reader it is a work of fiction and as such certain literary licenses may have been taken to tell the story.

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

Dedicated to:

The Wanderer is dedicated to Jen Reginato. Her editing, wisdom, humor, and encouragement saw me through many blocks of my own doing in completing chapters for this novel. She is truly an awe inspiring artistic person and I am lucky to have her as a friend.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Chapter One

He paused, wiping the sweat from his face. The red bandana was soaking wet, and he wrung it out before slipping it back on. He raised a hand to his eyes and glanced at the beet red sun. It was high in the sky and burned mercilessly upon the parched earth. He could see the canyons in the distance cutting through the desert. Red stone rose high above the plain creating a moon-like landscape. Deserted, vacant, and arid, yet full of life. Cacti and tumbleweeds dotted the land as far as the eye could see. Birds of prey circled overhead waiting for the right moment to swoop down and devour the carcass of a coyote, or a jackrabbit whose death would soon provide nourishment to the scavengers. Snakes curled on top of rocks as the heat penetrated their cold bodies.

The desert was splattered with reds, browns, beige, grays, blues, greens, and yellows, purples, whites and black as though God had thrown a paint palette upon the ground. Brilliant hues mingled with pastels to strike an awesome visage; a feast for the eyes. Every time he saw it, his breath was taken away, and he was reminded of the beauty of nature along with its capricious cruelty. Whether it was oceans, mountains, or deserts, nature amazed him and brought a deep calm and pleasure. He always enjoyed his trips; it was the people who brought him trouble.

He glanced back down at the two-lane blacktop road he was traveling. The horizon wavered, and the pavement looked like it had been splashed with water; a mirage. Even the cacti looked wilted. The road sign said Sundown was two miles ahead with a population of five hundred.

With a sigh, he hoisted his pack over his shoulder and kick started the motorcycle. The tires spun dust and pebbles behind him across the heat cracked asphalt. Here he was on the road again in another town, another crisis, another person needing help. He rode with purpose, yet his body spoke of weariness. It was a tiredness borne of too many days and nights on the road, too many towns, and a never ending mission. He felt the exhaustion in every bone in his body, and yet, he plodded onward, one jarring mile after the other determined to reach his goal.

• • •

Sundown was a two-bit town with one stop light, and a water tower. On the left of the road were the sheriff's department, jail, and law office. All three were made from the same sandstone colored materials, not quite adobe, and not quite brick. Large shaded windows adorned each building. On the right side were a mercantile, beauty salon, and a diner. Further down the street was a dilapidated movie theater that somehow managed to stay open. Most of the buildings looked weather beaten as though they had seen better, more prosperous days. At the end of the downtown section was a school, housing all grades from Kindergarten through Junior High. Children in grades nine through twelve were bussed to a nearby town for High School. Several churches dotted the roads and residential section, which ran about four streets on each side of the downtown strip.

The black Harley-Davidson could be heard blocks away as it roared into town. It was a monstrous machine with black trim, gleaming rims, and a low rider seat. The rider was decked out in skin-tight leather pants, black leather vest with matching cotton shirt, and a black belt with a silver buckle. He wore a red bandana and shades to keep the sun from his eyes. His hair streamed behind him blown by the wind. Everything about him oozed danger, sex, and mystery.

• • •

As he neared the diner, he could smell the tantalizing aromas of fresh bread and home cooking. He parked the bike and looked through the window. The little diner was packed with only one booth left open. As he pushed the door open, a bell overhead tinkled its silvery voice. Everyone turned to look at him as he entered the diner. He felt strung out from being on the road and the stares he garnered made him want to lash out at them. He could hear them whispering, Is that a woman, or a man? He greeted them with a tight smile and steely eyes.

Seat yourself. The waitress walked past him with a coffee pot. I'll be right with you.

He set his pack on the seat and made his way to the restroom. As he passed tables he felt the women giving him the once over as their pheromones rose to a sexual peak. Inside the restroom, he peered at his face in the mirror. He needed a shave, but that would have to wait even though the stubble itched. He turned the water on and splashed his face and arms in an attempt to wash away road grime. He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed his face, neck, arms, and hands and then rinsed the blackened soap down the drain. The paper towels blotted the water. He looked into the mirror again. That's much better.

Have you been on the road a long time? The man at the next sink asked.

Yes, a very long time. His voice was hoarse from desert sand blowing over the windshield of his cycle. The biker turned to look at the man. He was an older man with a belly hanging over his belt. He wore jeans, a cotton shirt, cowboy hat, and boots; all were well used. Rancher?

Yeah or maybe just playing at it, the man laughed. He stuck out his hand, Name's Jared.

I'm pleased to meet you, Jared. I'm Michael.

Welcome to Sundown. I should tell you, I'm also the Mayor. Jared winked at him. What brings you to Sundown?

Thank you, Mayor. Sundown looks like a friendly town, and a nice place to settle down, build a life, and have a family. Michael shook his hand.

I like to think so. If you're planning to build a life here, you'll be looking for work? We could use a good mechanic.

I saw you had a gas station. What happened to the mechanic?

He got tired of working in a small town and left. I normally don't offer jobs to strangers, but if your background checks out, the job is yours. We're a little desperate. The nearest gas station and garage is over in Onalaska about an hour down the road.

I will consider it. Thank you for the offer. Right now, I'm more interested in the delicious aroma of the food. He smiled and left the restroom.

When he got back to his booth he saw a menu, napkin, flatware, and a glass of ice water had been placed next to a basket of hot rolls and butter.

He casually scanned the menu while biting into the roll. He closed his eyes and smiled. A small groan escaped his lips as he savored the sweetness of the bread. Delicious, he moaned.

The girls at the table in front of him sighed and giggled as they ogled the gorgeous, dangerous looking bad boy sitting behind them. They had a perfect view of his sexy smile and large innocent eyes.

Have you had enough time to look the menu over? The waitress pulled a pad from her pocket.

Yes. I'd like some steamed green beans, carrots, and corn with butter, please. He spoke in a pleasingly baritone voice with a hint of gravel mixed in that added to his appeal.

You're a vegetarian, huh?

Yes, I am. I don't eat anything that had a life, for the most part. Products like milk and unfertilized eggs are the exception since those do not involve life. Some things can't be avoided if you love bread like I do. He smiled.

The waitress felt her pulse rising when he smiled at her. His sea-green eyes sparkled like gemstones and caused her breath to catch in her throat.

Got it. I'll tell the cook to leave off the bacon. Her voice sounded breathless.

Thank you. Michael peered at her. Are you okay?

Yes, she flushed crimson. Do you want anything to drink?

Just water is fine. He stared into her hazel eyes. Are you sure, you're okay?

Um, yes, She watched as he took a swig of water. A single drop hung from his lip and glistened like a pearl as it slowly trailed over his mouth. He raised his napkin and blotted his lips. The action caused a slight puckering of his lips much like a kiss might. He was so sexy she had to swallow hard to keep from moaning. She casually walked into the kitchen and leaned against the door, Oh, my God! He is so hot.

• • •

With his hunger and thirst slaked, he checked into the local motel. As motels went this one was a bit on the seedy side having seen better days. The interior was clean, but it was obvious it had not been remodeled in years. A slight musky odor permeated the room.

He dropped his pack on the table beside the window and pulled the drapes. He pulled the cover down on the bed and lay down. He tucked his hands under his head and stared up at the ceiling.

He closed his eyes as thoughts of his last conversation with Elohim drifted back to him.

Elohim, I am weary, he sighed and rolled his shoulders, stretching.

I know, son, Elohim had responded. But, I have a most urgent task for you, and then you can rest a bit. There is a girl who is in mortal danger. You must find her and keep her safe. You may have to get close to her.

How so? he had asked.

By getting emotionally and if necessary, physically involved with her.

But our laws forbid it.

I am granting you an exception to the law. You must do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

Michael opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The memories of that last conversation washed over him as he pondered the request.

With a great sigh, Michael sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. I will do my best. I just wish I knew how. At least I found her first, I think. he whispered and stretched his muscles. This time he would have to behave differently, and it unnerved him.

He picked his bible up off the nightstand and opened it to Psalm 28:7. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him; and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiced; and with my song I will praise him. He closed the book and placed his hand on it. Yes, I will be strong. I will persevere.

Chapter Two

Morning came early bringing with it a rejuvenating freshness. He sat on his cycle at the edge of the desert and watched as the sun slowly climbed into the sky. The sun splashed all the colors of the rainbow across the scorched land. Fluffy white clouds cast shadows on the canyons and across the earth. Giant cacti lifted their arms to the heavens as though pleading to God for much-needed rain.

He breathed deeply and exhaled. He loved the start of a new day. Reluctantly he put his shades on and rode back toward town. The grumbling in his stomach told him it was time for breakfast.

The diner was packed, and he had to wait for a booth. He could hear the chatter of the customers. Some talked about the price of grain and cattle feed; others fretted over the dress some actress wore on an award show. A teen behind him talked to a friend about how he planned to steal his food. Turning, Michael looked at the teen. Do you need money to pay for your meal?

Huh? What you want? the teen pulled his baseball cap down over his forehead. He wore baggy jeans that hung below his hips.

I heard you talking about getting a free meal. If you need money for it, I'd be happy to treat you and your friend.

Man, are you crazy? You don't know me.

I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. Matthew Chapter 25, verse 35. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ragged wallet.

Stealing is not the answer, my friend. It will only get you into trouble. He handed the boy a twenty dollar bill. And pull up your pants.

You're a Jesus freak. The boy snatched the money and stuffed it into his pocket. He stepped closer and leaned toward Michael, Thanks. he whispered.

Michael nodded.

Sir, the waitress said without looking at him. Table five is open. She pointed to a table on the right toward the middle of the room.

Thank you. He smiled at her.

Upon hearing his slightly husky voice she gasped. It was him again. His sea-green eyes sparkled like the fine points of an emerald. Her heart started to pound, and she felt an electric tingle race through her body. The rugged weather worn look only added to his sex appeal.

Dressed in a gray chambray shirt, jeans and boots he was every bit as sexy and dangerous looking as he was when dressed in leather. The shirt sleeves were rolled up to show bulging biceps. The jeans were ragged and fit snugly over his hips. The boots were dusty and faded. He was most certainly eye candy. From the easy way he moved it was apparent he was comfortable in his body and unaware of the devastating appeal he had with women.

She quickly placed a napkin, flatware, and a glass of water in front of him. She handed him a menu. His fingers gently grazed hers as he took the menu from her hand. The light caress sent a shiver down her spine.

I'll be back in a minute to take your order. She rushed into the kitchen.

So the hunk is back, huh? Cook chuckled. He expertly flipped burgers on the grill.

Not funny, she giggled, her face turning pink. I can't stop thinking about him.

Everyone can see that, Cook winked at her and stifled a laugh.

Cook! Kristy's already pink face turned a shade darker.

Oh well, back to work. Table six order up.

She picked up the tray and waltzed into the dining area and almost tripped as she passed the handsome stranger.

Easy, he reached out and grasped her arm to steady her. Don't want you to fall. His voice lingered as he gazed at her and winked.

She continued to the table with their order and then returned to him. Are you ready to place your order? She nervously tucked her hair back into the hairnet.

Yes, but first, do you see those two kids over there? he nodded at the teens.

Yes. They're always looking for handouts.

They're not bad kids, just hungry. Breakfast is on me. Now, I'd like a glass of orange juice, some biscuits, and grape jam. He handed the menu back to her and sat back in the booth.

He could almost taste the sweetness of the jam spread thickly over hot biscuits. Sometimes even vegetarians had to cheat a little to savor the flavors of food.

She came back with a glass of orange juice. You're new here.

I am. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped.

The lusciousness of the juice sent ripples throughout him. The tip of his tongue slipped out and touched his lip provocatively.

Oh, dear, lord. She stared at the tip of his tongue as it slowly traced his lips. Her heart thundered and she wondered if something had happened to the air conditioning as the diner got warmer.

Boy, this is good. Fresh squeezed?

Her eyes remained fixed on his lips. We do it ourselves every morning, Her voice came out husky. Are you planning to stay awhile or just passing through? She smiled and wiped her hands on her apron and then busied herself rearranging the salt and pepper shakers.

I hope to stay. He reached for his napkin and gently brushed his hand against hers. I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name. I'm Michael.

It was the briefest of touches, but it could have been a lifetime from the electricity shooting through her. Oh, yes, she could definitively hold his hand forever.

Kristy, her voice came out in a barely audible whisper. I'm Kristy, she spoke louder. Did you know we are having a Frontier Days Carnival this weekend?

I saw a flyer in the window.

We're going to have rides, great fair type food, and music and dancing. Funds go toward a town redevelopment.

I'll check it out. Will you be there?

I better be; I'm running one of the booths.

It's not the kissing booth, is it? Mischievously he winked at her and lifted an eyebrow.

I better go get your order turned in. She felt her face blush pink.

Do you know where the Mayor's office is located? He continued basking in her beauty.

It's the building next to the jail.

• • •

So, is he the guy you've been all in a tizzy about? Julia asked as she stuffed napkins into holders.

Hmm …? Kristy responded absently as she gazed out the window and watched Michael stroll past.

The guy, is he the one? Julia poked her, Kristy, are you in there? Julia poked her again, Kristy, Julia calling Kristy.

I'm sorry, the one what?

Wake up, Kristy. Is the new guy the one you were fawning about? Julia's black eyes twinkled in merriment.

Oh, him, I think he's a dream. She let out a loud sigh much to her dismay.

I guess I better get the shotgun out. You know you always pick the bad ones.

I know. I guess I just like the rebel look.

He fits the image, that's for sure, riding into town on the big Harley wearing black leather.

You noticed him too! Kristy laughed, feeling her cheeks turning pink.

Honey, you can't help but notice a guy like him. He was dangerous, a rebel, and sexy rolled into one man. Lord has mercy, spells badass if I ever saw one!

And he smells so wonderful like a mountain spring with a hint of mint.

Hmm, I thought he smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, myself. Great cologne. Bad boy scents.

He paid for some kids' breakfast so he can't be all bad. I kind of like him.

Honey, we all know.

• • •

He leaned against the front of the rusty Chevrolet and stared vacantly at the dirty engine. Although he sighed deeply, he did not stir from his position. What was he thinking when he accepted the mechanics position on Tuesday?

He knew nothing about cars and trucks. Here it was already Friday and the truck was still not fixed. He wondered what kind of magic it would take to get this rust bucket back on the road.

He brushed a stray lock of brown hair from his sea-green eyes before sticking a pencil in his mouth. Thoughtfully he chewed as he studied the uncooperative engine. Smothering another sigh, he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt and then shoved himself away from the hood.

He was well built and tall with large hands strong enough to kill a man if necessary. The well-defined muscles in his arms and legs were forever ready to spring into action if the need arose. The chin was firm, powerful and showed traces of a stubborn streak from the way his jaw was set.

His lips although thin were slightly upturned, and he had a long, slim nose. His gentle sea-green eyes sat perfectly above not quite high cheekbones with small laugh lines extending from their corners. In his expression, there was a shadow of the battles he has fought.

He looked out the