Brendon Alexander was a normal high school kid until his dead grandfather jumped out of the flames of a campfire and told him of the gift he inherited from his father to be a demon fighter.
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Brendon Alexander was a normal high school kid until his dead grandfather appeared in the flames of a fire and told him of the gift he inherited: He has the power to force a demon from an inflicted body and send the creature back to Hell.
Lisa Stratton, the new girl at school, has a secret of her own--her father is possessed by a demon. She recognizes the scar on Brendon's chest that brands him as a protected one, but she must discover if he has the ability to cleanse the evil from her father's body.
The closer Brendon gets to Lisa, the more he uncovers buried secrets from the past. not hers, but his--his father's death and the creature that killed him, and the legacy handed down to him from beyond the grave. Burning curiosity and frightening nightmares thrust Brendon deeper into his past while Lisa urges him forward into danger--and into his destiny.
“At least tell me how my father died. What killed him?”
Her head continued to shake.
“You were there, Mom. You saw him die. How? Was he shot? Stabbed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why is it so hard to get a straight answer from you?” I yelled. My mind searched for a precise question that would receive a direct response. “What does his death certificate say?
She closed her eyes. “I never got one.”
“Then I’ll get one. I’ll write to the health department and find out for myself.”
“Good luck with that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mom’s nothings meant there was something. I tried to second-guess her. In my mind, I went back to the time of my father’s death. Stevie remembered lightening. I remembered…fire. Sirens. Men in uniforms, firemen, police. Times and events blurred together in my brain. We left for California the day after the funeral—except I didn’t attend. I grasped her shoulders and made her look at me. “Why wasn’t I allowed at Dad’s funeral?”
There it was—that flinch. She tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t let her.
“You were too young.”
“Try again, Mom. Stevie went to Grandpa Nelson’s funeral three years ago when he was only six.”
“Alright, I’ll tell you.” She shrugged out of my grip. “There was no funeral.”
She looked at me, her head cocked to one side, as if waiting for me to put the pieces together. I tried. No funeral, no death certificate, and no cause of death. The completed picture made me stagger back a step. “Dad isn’t dead?”
“Oh, no, Brendon, sweetie.” She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me to her. “Your father’s dead. They just never found his body.”