Angel of Light: Clash of the Kingdom Realms

By Patricia Carroll

A Boise, Idaho, teacher is awakened by a call from a trusted friend. Her twenty-two-year-old son has disappeared while working for a new-age organization led by a self-absorbed guru. With help from a Berkeley, California, police detective, the trail leads through a maze of supernatural encounters. A young man, new to his faith, is put to the test and counts it all joy for the price of reformation that is catalyzed by his suffering. The teacher and the detective become an unstoppable team who fearlessly face down the gates of the demonic realm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781636304625

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Angel of Light

Clash of the Kingdom Realms

Patricia Carroll

ISBN 978-1-63630-461-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63630-462-5 (Digital)

Copyright © 2020 Patricia Carroll

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

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

Second Corinthians 11:14–15

Acknowledgement

Iwant to thank those people who were instrumental on my author’s journey. Jim Wilson for being a great teacher, Kathy Mincer for her constant support and editing expertise, Connie Wolfe for her attention to detail and my wonderful husband Dave for his unconditional love.

Chapter 1

June 1998

Adream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep. That’s what Cinderella said. She wasn’t talking about my dreams, especially the one I had just before my world changed.

I was staring into a void until a whisper of mist began forming into a cloud. The cloud descended and hovered in front me. I was fascinated. I felt the presence of a being before I was actually able to see that the cloud was the outline of a man in a long white robe. The bearing of the man was regal. As his face came into focus, I was attracted by the perfectly balanced features. The eyes were intense and communicated a message of wisdom and superiority. The man reached out his hand as if to bestow a gift. I looked at the open hand and saw a key. It was ornate and beautiful. I reached out to grasp the key and my hand closed around it. It seared my palm and the pain was indescribable, but I couldn’t let go. In my panic, I looked up to plead with the man for help. No longer was I looking into the beautiful face of the white robed man. The face that now appeared before me was contorted into a mask of malevolence. I began to scream. The sound of my voice hung in the air like an alarm.

The alarm echoed until it bounced back and then changed into a familiar ring. As the source of that noise dawned on me, I also became aware of the fact that my hand was wedged under my pillow with persistent pins and needles. As soon as my hand was free, the sound from my bed side table demanded my attention. I grabbed the phone with my good hand and managed to get out a not too irritated, Yes?

Joy! The voice on the other end of the line was familiar but strained.

Claire. What’s wrong? Claire Cohen was a friend. Not just an ordinary friend. We had history. We lived in our own separate states now, but we kept in close contact and managed to get together at least twice a year. She was the kind of friend that when you see them, it’s like no time has elapsed since the last time you were in each other’s company.

I, I can’t. I just can’t do this alone. Claire’s voice was halting and racked with pain.

Claire, what is it? Tell me what’s happening. I fought to stay calm even though fear was rising in me.

It’s Jacob. He’s missing. The tears were flowing through the phone. No one has seen him or heard from him in two weeks. He always calls me at least once a week.

Maybe he just went on a trip or fell in love. I tried to keep my words positive.

No, his roommate found his suitcases in his closet and his phone was under his bed smashed to pieces. A detective called me this morning asking questions and said that they have put out an APB on his car. I have been so busy with the Sausalito Art Show planning that time got away from me, and I just feel so guilty for not checking on him sooner.

He’s a big boy and has his own life now. Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure we will get to the bottom of this. I’m on my way, Claire. Please hold on. I can be there by tonight, and I will be praying all the way.

After reassuring Claire the best I could, I hung up and launched into action. Fortunately, the summer break was just three days away. The fifth graders at Valley View School were going to have to say goodbye to their last elementary year without me. I called all the numbers and secured a sub and a flight. As I packed my bags, I began to see the historical patterns of our lives emerge from the past to the traumatic present.

Claire and I shared a history that reflected the turmoil of our generation. There was a cultural shift that occurred in the 1960s and ’70s that broke boundaries and opened doors. Not all those doors led to good places. There was a succession of doors, a chain of events that lead to a destination much farther than intended.

I distinctly remember the first door I opened. It was a warm spring evening in Pasadena, California. It was my sophomore year of college. A welcomed breeze was moving through the eucalyptus trees, an especially clear night for the foothills of the San Gabriels. The LA smog had blown out of the valley and I could even smell freshness in the air. But the breeze could not blow away the tension and frustration I was feeling. I was becoming aware of so many possibilities, and yet I had always been sheltered from them. I was standing behind a plate glass window. I couldn’t reach out to touch and taste for myself. I looked up to the clock tower on the campus chapel. I remember saying, God, I have tried it your way and I just don’t see any direction. I want what I have never had, the forbidden fruits. They look so juicy from here. That was it. A point in time, a simple thought, a decision made, and WHAM! The door flew open.

With God tucked into my back pocket, I stepped through the candy store door. The first thing I sampled was a marriage to a young agnostic. He was the first link in the chain that began to form. And it was through my husband that I met Claire. His best friend was married to my soon-to-be best friend. Ah, Claire. She was everything I wanted to be: artistic, outspoken, uninhibited, and a world traveler. She did not suffer from any of the guilt hang-ups of religion. Claire was beautiful and confident. She had an exotic mix of ethnic influences; Italian from her mother and Jewish from her father. Her thick, dark hair and creamy beige complexion made her attractive to all who met her. She became a perfect companion as we began a four-year crash course on how to liberate ourselves. Those were exciting times. The four of us spent a lot of time together. We partied, played, and explored the ever opening world of alternatives. Some of our tools were drugs and alcohol. This was the early seventies. A lot of research had already been done by our generation, and we were going to cash in on all that new ground that others had broken.

All passengers, please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. We are making our descent into San Francisco. The pilot’s voice brought me back to the present.

Claire had agreed to meet me at the airport even though I assured her I could get a cab to her home in Corte Madera. She was anxious to see me and didn’t want to wait. She needed to do something. Our greeting was bittersweet. She clung to me and fought her tears. As we let go and our eyes met, I felt all her fear and confusion. I determined to give her as much comfort as I could.

I am so glad you’re here. Claire broke the silence and got us moving toward the baggage claim. I was at a loss for words. I didn’t want to cheapen the moment with small talk.

We made it out of the terminal and into her car. As we headed out to Highway 101 north and on to the Golden Gate Bridge, even the beauty of the bay could not change the atmosphere in the car. I had a million questions but wanted to wait for Claire to open the conversation that I knew would evolve as we settled into the familiar surroundings of her home. Claire lived in a village in Marin County, just north of Sausalito. She had inherited the home and with support from her ex-husband and proceeds from her artistic endeavors; she lived comfortably in one of the most beautiful areas in California. The bayside shops and restaurants were a blur as we made our way north. We pulled into her driveway and silently went about the business of unloading my luggage and settling into the evening. After a light dinner, we made tea and camped out on the comfy, overstuffed couch in her cozy living room.

Tell me the whole story, I finally said. I tried to create a safe space for her to let go of her worries as I could see that she was fighting to maintain her emotional balance.

I was awoken early this morning by a door bell, she began. A Marin County police officer was at the door and asked if he could come in and speak to me. He said he needed to ask me some questions about Jacob. A missing person’s report had been filed by his roommate, Alex. Tears started to flow as she then looked at me with wild eyes. "Why didn’t Alex call me?"

Claire dried her eyes and blew her nose on the handful of tissues I gave her. I can’t believe it! He was doing so well in his new job. The last we talked, he said he had something important to tell me and would be coming home soon to visit. Her eyes met mine, and I was broken by the pain I saw. "I have to go to Berkley tomorrow to talk to a detective. You have to come with me! I can’t face all of this alone. And I am sure Tom will be there. You know how he is in times of crisis. He will be looking to lay blame everywhere but on himself. I mean, I don’t blame him. She said. I just don’t know what is happening." Claire broke down again and I decided that I would not probe any more tonight. She needed rest, and I hoped the chamomile tea would sooth her enough to allow for some sleep.

I walked with her to her room and sat on her bed as she got ready for the night. I lay in bed with her for a time. Just the comfort of another person near was enough to bring on the sleep she needed. I quietly left the room and headed to the guest room. So many questions were swirling in my head; I knew it would be a fitful night. As I lay awake, I thought about the influences of our early years together and how they may have laid the foundation for Claire’s troubles.

Claire and Tom introduced Bruce and me to the wonders of marijuana. We went on a hike into the San Gabriel Mountains. We had day packs and enough food and water for the day. Tom had also brought along some very strong pot. We hiked for a while and did not see anyone so we stopped and sat on some rocks and proceeded to learn how to smoke weed.

Hold it in, Tom said. You have to get the full effect.

And did we! The disorienting feelings of that first trip were disturbing. I really couldn’t enjoy it. I became excruciatingly aware of the centrifugal forces of a revolving planet. I suppose it would have been pretty comical to see me clinging on to rocks and trees to keep from being flung into outer space. That sensation was overtaken by a dramatic realization that I might never return to my normal state of awareness. Since it was my first time, I had no way of knowing that it would indeed wear off. Claire kept reassuring me that I would be just fine. She was my devoted companion through this initiation rite. I don’t know why I ever tried it again after this unnerving first experience, but it became an integral part of our social life. How else would I ever expand my consciousness without some means of being propelled over that threshold of normal reality?

We collected a group of friends from all over the LA area and spent many evenings and weekends exploring these alternatives. One of our early trips was to Death Valley. We were a family of fellow travelers drawn together by a fabric of our times. We were dedicated to a common cause, to answer the age-old questions: who are we? And what are we doing here? We did arrive at one definite conclusion on this particular camping trip. We were collectively experiencing the timeless nature of the California desert. We felt the inescapable unity of all things. The golden sun poured over us as we basked like lizards on the giant boulders near our camp. Everything seemed so simple. Life was a hilarious joke. It was on that momentous camping trip we all came to the astounding revelation that: IT DOESN’T MATTER, AND IT DOESN’T MATTER THAT IT DOESN’T MATTER. As I thought about that statement now, it seems very silly. But back then, it was of immense importance. It was a license to deviate from trodden paths, to break the rules.

I finally dozed off and dreamt: I was standing on the banks of a river. I thought it was peaceful until I started to see people in the current. They were desperately trying to swim to shore. I waded out as far as I dared and reached out to grab a woman as she rushed by me. I couldn’t connect. Then I heard a voice behind me say, Here, let me help. I looked back and saw a man coming into the river. I could not really see him well as the sun was shining behind him. As he got closer, I saw his eyes. They were dark brown and held an intensity that both gave me reassurance and concern. Together we began to reach out and pull the people out of the river.

When I awoke, I was shivering. Not from the cold river, but from the fact that I had kicked my covers off and the cool morning breeze was blowing in from the open window.

Claire and I went about our morning routines and then met in the kitchen for coffee and toast. We knew we would face challenges on this day and reassured each other that we could handle them.

It was a short trip from Marin to Berkley, back over the Golden Gate, and then on to the Bay Bridge. We both wished it had been longer as we dreaded what lie ahead.

I had offered to drive, but Claire needed to be busy, and she knew the roads and the features of her new Lexus RX. We had an appointment with David Kramer, a detective in the Berkeley Police Department. We arrived early and were shown into a waiting room that looked like a holdover from the ’70s, nothing fancy. After a few minutes, Detective Kramer entered the room.

Claire Cohen? He looked at us and waited for Claire to respond. Claire stood and extended her hand and he nodded and shook her hand. And you are? He looked at me, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. I felt something shift in the atmosphere. Something about his eyes was so familiar. After an awkward pause, Claire said, She’s my best friend, Joy Morgan from Boise, Idaho.

I couldn’t move. I felt like a heavy weight was pressing me into the chair.

Finally the detective just smiled at me and asked us to please step into his office. Something broke and I was able to stand and follow them down a dim hallway and into a small office.

Your son, Jacob Cohen, was reported missing yesterday morning, although it seems that his roommate last saw him two weeks ago. Do you have regular contact with your son?

Claire looked down to the hands in her lap, and I felt a stab of pain as I saw her struggling with her guilt. Yes, although he did miss our regular weekly calls the last couple of weeks. He just started a new job, and I thought he was so busy he just forgot to call.

His roommate, Alex Turner, said that he thought he was with you. He had talked about a visit. Detective Kramer looked at us both with an intensity that made me feel like I had done something wrong.

Claire responded with a quiver in her voice. Yes, we talked about a visit, but I have been very busy with a new art exhibit and with his new job, time just flew by.

I see. I would like you to go to his apartment and see if you can find anything that might lead us to his whereabouts. Do you have access to his room?

Yes, Claire replied. He gave me a key to his apartment and his room, for emergencies. We have a very trusting relationship. I love my son so very much. Claire almost lost her composure as she tried to explain the depths of her feelings for her son.

LIKE HELL YOU WILL! a booming voice exploded from the hallway. The detective jumped to his feet and moved quickly to the door. We turned and saw Tom Cohen coming around the corner. Detective Kramer met Tom with equal force and said, What is this about!

I want to know what happened to my son and what you are doing about it. Tom’s face was flushed, his dark hair disheveled, and his tie crooked.

I tried to stop him, sir. I’m sorry. A female sergeant in uniform said as she followed Tom into the office.

That’s okay, Delano. I can take it from here. Detective Kramer assumed command of the situation, and Tom started to settle down. Tom finally noticed Claire and me sitting at the desk and looked surprised to see us.

Why wasn’t I invited to this party? Tom said as he realized we had taken the only two chairs in front of the desk.

Mr. Cohen, I assume? We tried to reach you this morning but were only able to leave a voice mail.

I got it, Tom answered with impatience. He awkwardly stood by the door and radiated his dominance and self-assurance.

Now that we are all here. Detective Kramer assumed his position of authority. Let’s see if we can recreate Jacob’s last few weeks. Tell me about your last communication with your son.

Claire looked at Tom to see who would start. Just to fill the void, Claire began to relay her last conversation with Jacob. He sounded really upbeat. He had a new job and was excited about the opportunities ahead. He said that he had made some big changes in his life and couldn’t wait to tell me about it. I tried to get details, but he said he wanted to talk to me in person. That was the last I heard, and I assumed that he got busy with his new job and would be calling me back to set up a visit home any day. The time just slipped by. The weight of guilt was apparent in her face.

We all looked at Tom, and he hesitated. Well, I think I talked to him last month some time. He was applying for a new job and wanted to know if I knew anything about the company.

Is that all? No other contact? Detective Kramer said, turning his piercing gaze on Tom.

Tom just shrugged and said, I didn’t really know anything about the company and I asked around but everyone in my office came up blank. Tom was a lawyer in a San Francisco firm that employed at least one hundred associates.

Okay, not much to go on. I have been doing some checking and found that Jacob had just started working for Global Awareness. It’s a nonprofit organization that does research on large corporations and their impact on local economies and vulnerable populations. He was a research analyst. He worked for the organization for only two weeks before he just stopped coming in. They tried to reach him with no results. Detective Kramer looked at all of us to see if any of this was ringing any bells.

Why didn’t that Global group call us to see if we knew where he was? We could have had a two-week head start on this fiasco. Tom’s face was heating up again. His temper could boil over at any minute.

I asked that question myself and they said that he only listed his roommate as a contact, and they couldn’t get him on his phone either.

We let that sink in, and Claire asked, Have you talked to Alex, Jacob’s roommate?

Yes, the detective answered. But he had been out of the country on a mission trip and only found out about Jacob’s absence when he returned yesterday. He called us as soon as he realized that Jacob had been missing for most of the time he was gone.

This is so crazy! What are you doing to find my son? Tom’s impatience was creating a hostile atmosphere in the small office.

I assure you, Mr. Cohen, that we are following all the leads we have. Unfortunately, there is not that much to go on.

Tom looked at his watch for the fourth time and said that he had to go but wanted to be kept up to date on all developments.

None of us were sad to see him leave the doorway. I took a deep breath and asked for peace to return to my mind and heart.

There is one more piece of information that I would like to share with you. Detective Kramer hesitated and then said, I have met Jacob Cohen. Just recently he began to attend my church.

Claire and I looked at each other with surprise and disbelief. Jacob had never been interested in formal religion and made a point to play down his Jewish ancestry. I am a member of a Messianic Christian congregation. About a month ago, Jacob was invited by a friend to one of our evangelistic meetings and—the detective paused to be sure he communicated his next statement carefully—Jacob gave his life and his heart to Jesus. One week later, he was baptized.

It took some time for this to sink in. Claire was conflicted. She was not raised in a religious family, and though she tolerated my Christian beliefs, we tiptoed around the subjects of salvation and eternal destinations. I, on the other hand, was exploding with excitement and praise inside. I wanted to jump up and dance, shout, and wave my hands in gratitude to God. This was a miracle!

Claire was too shocked to respond. I looked at David Kramer and our eyes communicated everything we could not say at that moment. Eternity interrupted time and we felt the connection that our shared beliefs could only create. Claire’s sobs brought us back to the moment and I moved to comfort her.

Why didn’t he tell me? I feel like an outsider to my own son’s life. This is too much to take in. Claire’s foundations were shaken. She had built her life on shifting sands, and there was nothing to hang onto in times like these. I was reminded of some of the paths we had followed that always seemed to come to a dead end.

In the early days of our friendship, we had experimented with more than marijuana. We explored the world of spiritual alternatives. One of them was self-hypnosis. I wasn’t sure what to expect as Claire, Tom, and Bruce and I crowded into their VW bug. We wove in and out of LA traffic and followed the freeway across town to an obscure office building in an industrial part of the city. The teacher looked more like a real estate salesman than a guide to cosmic truth. But we had paid our money and were on the bus. He started out by giving us a good dose of positive thinking straight form Norman Vincent Peal. But we didn’t know that at the time and it all was so new to us that we soaked it up like thirsty sponges. Our teacher lured us with promises of wealth and possessions we would gain through the exercise of his techniques. On subsequent visits, we learned the practices of relaxation, guided imagery, and then plunged into the unknown depths of our subconscious minds. To me, it was pretty scary territory. I couldn’t help but feel that a person could get lost in there. It may have been this fear or perhaps the protection from above, but there was a barrier beyond which I was not able to go. I found this foray into the supernatural to be frustrating and unsuccessful. I guess that I would never get my Cadillac because I just couldn’t master the art of self-hypnosis.

Detective Kramer expressed his concern and then began to lay out some practical steps we could take to aid the investigation. He said that a forensic team had gone through Jacob’s room but that he would like Claire