Daughters of Men: Episode Four

Sons of God: Season Two

Jul 14, 2025

You're reading Daughters of Men, the second season of the Sons of God series. This is Episode Four.
Last time, Wade interrupted a visit with Delia to bring Mae her first assignment. She went to another mystery address, where she received a reading from a shady psychic that turned into a demonic manifestation and another assault on Mae’s life, from which she miraculously escaped.
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Season two picks up with Mae fleeing to the Windy City after making a deal with the mysterious and otherworldly entity she not so affectionately calls Ziggy, with Special Agent Chance Davies in hot pursuit. With only the ghost of her late husband to guide her — you know, the one she killed in self-defense before dumping his body and getting out of Dodge — she wastes no time making new enemies, and a precious few friends, as she works to untangle the web she’s gotten herself into and discovers just what, exactly, Ziggy wants her for.

“What do you want to do after this?”

Chance watched his daughter bounce back and forth on her toes as the waiting room for the Marvel Cave tour filled around them. “You’re the birthday girl. What do you want to do?”

Madison stopped bouncing while she thought it over. “Ice cream. And then Fire in the Hole.”

“Ice cream? We just ate a gigantic funnel cake.”

She shrugged. “We’ll work it off in the cave.”

“I guess you have a point there. Okay, we can get ice cream next.” A glance at the clock confirmed they still had a few minutes before the tour would begin. Chance slid his phone out of his pocket and turned it on.

“Dad! What are you doing?”

“I just need to check my messages real quick before we head underground.”

“But you promised! No phone except for pictures, and they said no pictures in the cave!”

“What if your mom left a message? Do you want me to leave her hanging?”

Madison deflated a little, her shoulders drooping. “Okay, I guess not.”

Smiling, he ruffled her hair as he pulled up his text messages. His smile fell away at the sight of an alert from the field office: “We’ve located Bishop.”

Glancing guiltily at Madison, Chance stepped out of the line. “Sorry, honey, I have to make a quick call.”

Her brow furrowed with worry. “Is it mom? Is she okay?”

“It’s work,” he admitted. Her furrow deepened from worry to anger. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t call if I didn’t have to.”

She turned away from him with a huff. With a sigh, he dialed his fellow agent’s direct number.

“About time you called,” said Agent Young after two rings.

“It’s my daughter’s birthday. This had better be good.”

“Bishop was ID’d yesterday in Chicago, leaving the scene of a homicide.”

Chance pressed his lips together to keep from swearing. “Who’s there?”

“I am, along with an agent from the Chicago field office. She was on the scene with the police. They had a joint investigation going. The victim was mixed up in a child trafficking ring.”

First her probable abuser, then a serial killer, now a child trafficker. His fugitive definitely had a pattern going. “Has Bishop been apprehended?” He felt a tug on his shirt and covered the phone’s mic. “Hold on, sweetie.”

“Dad, it’s time! The line is moving!”

“Just a sec’.”

“Negative,” Young was saying. “We’ve put out a BOLO and her face has been plastered all over the news. If she’s lying low, someone will ferret her out. I hope they do. What she did to the victim…”

“Allegedly,” Chance reminded him. “I can read the details in the report when I get there.” He glanced at Madison, who stood there looking defeated as the line moved past them.

“How soon can you get here?” Young asked.

Everything in Chance wanted to jump on a plane and be in Chicago by evening. Everything except the part that refused to break his daughter’s heart. He reached out and squeezed Madison’s shoulder. “I’ll be there by Monday morning. Write me up a report. I want pictures, I want to talk to witnesses, detectives, everyone you’ve got.”

“Monday? The trail might be cold by then.”

“Well, keep it warm. It’s my daughter’s birthday. I’ll see you Monday.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back in its pocket. “Come on,” he said as a smile crept over his little girl’s face, melting away any hardness that might have crept into his heart over his decision. “Let’s see if we can catch up to the tour.”

Mae’s sleep was fitful, plagued with bad dreams. She woke up feeling more tired than when she had gone to bed, which was saying a lot. She’d gone to bed angry. Angry at Ziggy, at this whole situation, and at Wade for not being there when she got home. It irked her that he could come and go as he pleased but she had no way to contact him or call upon him when she actually wanted him there, if only so she could ask him questions that he probably wouldn’t answer.

Groggily, she went to the bathroom, scrubbed her face with a wet washcloth, and then trudged into the living room to flip on the TV before going to make coffee. The morning news anchors droned while she scooped grounds and poured water into the coffee maker. It was shaping up to be a chilly and overcast day in the Chicago metro, according to the chirpy young gal delivering the forecast. A winter storm was on the horizon, and the weekend would bring snow. A lot, by the sound of it.

Her mug filled, she carried it back into the living room, glancing at the TV as she took her first tentative sip, just in time to see her face on the screen. She choked on the coffee. Coughing and gagging, she set it on the coffee table and grabbed the remote, cranking up the volume so she could hear over her choking fit. With her already bruised windpipe constricted, she ran to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and forced herself to draw in air slowly through her nose between coughs as she returned to the living room. Lowering herself to her knees before the television, she sipped water to calm her throat as she strained to hear the news.

Jenna Zebrowski had been found murdered in her apartment in what police were calling a ritualistic-style slaying. Zebrowski had been under surveillance by the local police and the FBI as part of an investigation into a child trafficking ring. An old mugshot shared on the screen showed the face of the woman who had read Mae’s cards before trying to strangle her to death. The mugshot was transposed with Mae’s own smiling driver’s license photo, which matched the description by an eye witness of a woman who had been seen leaving the building shortly before the murder. The words “Wanted Fugitive” were emblazoned beneath her picture.

Her coughing under control, Mae’s breathing grew heavy as her hand went to her shorn, peroxided fuzz. She hadn’t bothered to wear a wig to the appointment, which had probably been a dumb decision. But still, how did she get matched so quickly to the plump redheaded figure from her old photo? And what eye witness? She hadn’t seen anyone other than the goon in the leather jacket, either coming or going. The building and the entire surrounding neighborhood had felt like a ghost town.

It seemed obvious to Mae that the leather-clad goon had killed Jenna. Why didn’t any witnesses mention him? He’d been going into the building just as Mae left. And what about the kids? The news said Jenna had been part of a child trafficking ring, but there was no mention of finding kids in the apartment, or of the call that Mae had placed to 911.

“You’ve gone and done it now.”

Wade’s voice startled Mae, making her jump. She spun around to see him standing behind her. In her anger, she flung her water bottle at his head. It sailed right through and smacked into the wall behind him, splashing water all over the couch.

“What do you mean, I’ve gone and done it? All I did was go to the address you sent me to and managed to not get murdered! Again!”

“You were supposed to kill the girl and save the kids. She was a demon, Mae!”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that part out when she turned all Linda Blair and jumped on me. How was I supposed to know? All you told me to do was go there. You didn’t say anything about why or what I was supposed to do once I got there.”

“That’s all I was told. But I kinda thought it was obvious.”

“Not to me!” She pointed at the TV. “And what about that protection Ziggy promised? I’m all over the news! Now I’m gonna have to lie low. Or maybe just get the hell out of town.”

Wade held up placating hands, which infuriated her even more.

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” she said when he opened his mouth.

He shut it, and lowered his hands. He took a deep breath -- or at least went through the motions -- and tried again. “Don’t worry about that. I’m sure Ziggy will fix this.”

“Yeah, well, I want to talk to him. It. Ziggy, Azaroth, whatever. I want to know just exactly what’s expected of me. And also, some actual instructions would be nice, so I can prepare. Why the hell are these assignments always so vague?”

Wade shook his head. “Darlin’, you can’t just demand an audience with this thing.”

“That’s funny, because I’m pretty sure I just did. If Ziggy wants me to stick around, they’d better talk to me.”

He laughed. “You really have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you? You made a deal, Mae. You walk away from that, you’ll pay with your life. With your soul.”

Mae stared at him as his words sunk in. But before she could really start to process it, a bang and a crash behind her made her jump and flinch. She turned to see her apartment door standing open with gun-toting, leather-clad thugs spilling through it, their pistols pointed at her. She raised her hands as the goon who’d most likely killed Jenna came in last. He came up to her, grabbed her by the arms and forced her over to the sofa. He shoved her down onto it and then pulled his own gun, bending over to press it against her temple.

“Are you a cop?”

Shaken and confused, Mae stammered. “Wh-what? No!”

“Are you a Fed?”

“No! I’m not anything!”

“I don’t believe you.” His breath smelled as thick as his accent. He straightened up and put his gun away before nodding to one of his fellow goons, who went to shut the door. The head goon reached into his jacket and pulled out a rolled up case of some kind.

“You’re going to tell me the truth,” he said as he unfurled it and spread it out on the coffee table so that Mae could see the array of instruments, all of which looked like they were designed specifically to cause pain and damage to a body.

Mae looked at Wade, who appeared as shocked as she was by this development. His look of bewilderment turned to determination as he met her gaze, and then he vanished.

Figures, thought Mae. Aloud, she said, “Please. I’m telling you the truth. Haven’t you seen the news? They think I killed that girl. I’m as wanted as you probably are.”

The goon nodded. “True. You are probably not law enforcement. But you are something. And I’m going to find out what that is.”

Mae let out a breathy laugh as he reached toward the case. “You know, you don’t need all of that. You could just give me a couple glasses of wine and I’ll tell you my whole life story. You won’t be able to shut me up.”

He seemed to consider this, but then shrugged. “That would be less efficient. And not as much fun.”

Just then, all hell broke loose. Objects started flying, seemingly of their own accord. Visibly frightened, the other men started shouting in their own language, their tone and inflection making it clear that they were swearing. They waved their guns around, not knowing what to target. One of them crossed themselves.

The kitchen cabinets opened one by one, glasses and dishes shooting out and flying at the men. As they ducked and dodged, the apartment door flew open. With the goons distracted, Mae wasted no time making a dash for it. She fled down the hall and down the stairs and out of the building, and kept running, barefoot and still wearing her PJs, heedless of the cold, until she reached sanctuary.