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[Fiction] Grandpa

Owen Wilcox

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The letter slips from Owen's numb hands to flutter to the floor. It lands face-up, though, and he can still read his mother's full, curving handwriting.


My darling son, I'm sorry that you have to find out by letter, but the Church wouldn't give me a more direct contact for you. Words written on paper are a poor way to communicate this bad news.

Grandfather Wilcox is dead. He had disappeared when the FBI came looking for him and I thought that the Church had secreted him away. But his body was found in the desert yesterday. The police believe that he was killed the day that he went missing.

I know that this is terrible news and a great blow. My brother, Uncle Jacob, has been quite upset and won't hardly talk. He is convinced that the demons killed Grandpa Wilcox in retaliation for the attack on that demon Carver. Grandma Wilcox suffered a heartattack the day after she found out, but she is doing well.

I know that this letter will take several days to work through the Church's courier system, but we will delay the funeral as long as we can in the hopes that you'll be able to come home for it.

Please, please, come home. I need you here for a while, Son, to remind me of God's grace and mercy. He took your father, but gave me you. He has allowed your Grandfather to return home, but his reward for our continuing faith will be great.

In Christ's love,


Owen began to pack his bags. The letter was over a week old, but Owen held out a slim chance that he would be able to join his family in burying his grandfather.

And then he would return to Chicago, and find out who had done this. And somehow, he would make the demons responsible pay. Even if the one responsible was Jael.

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