Who is z in forbidden doors

They are amazingly interesting my personal favorite out of the series is Invisible Terror by Bill Myers. Zondervan has updated and re-released Bill Myers' Forbidden Doors series in four, three-volume sets.

The Ancient Forces Collection is the fourth, and final, book in the set. Here's a summary of each story in the fourth volume. Ryan doesn't see what's so bad about the things these people believe, instantly making comparisons between the Native beliefs and Christianity.

But how far will Ryan explore this new faith? Becka's friends have an invitation to meet the star. But Becka instantly recognizes the sinister nature of the woman's beliefs. And when the woman casts a spell for revenge, Becka is the only one who knows how to set it right. Book 12 The Cards Philip is tired and stressed out. His father is always nagging him about college, but Philip wants to make his own life.

When he seeks answers from Tarot cards, his life starts spinning out of control. But that's exactly what the cards predicted, so it couldn't be their fault, right? Scott wants to help his friend, but before he can offer a warning, he needs to learn to love. I really enjoyed these books. They dealt with the supernatural and occult in a Biblical manner, exposing the truth behind twelve different types of occult, one in each story.

I highly recommend this series for all young readers, twelve and up. On the ground far below the plane, an Indian brave ran through the desert.

Above him, the huge canyon walls towered and rose toward the sky. Beside him, a river flowed, its power thundering and cutting into the rock and sandstone. Swift Arrow ran because he wanted to crest the hill at the far end of the canyon in time to see the sunset.

As he neared the top, he could see the bright yellow sun dipping behind the mountain ahead. I praise you for the beauty you have made. Far in the distance, a rumble caught his attention. He turned and looked behind him. Dark clouds were beginning to gather. A storm was brewing. Suddenly a great lightning bolt cut through the sky and then another and another. Jagged lines seemed to fill the sky, forming triangles and squares, all arranged in a swirling, concentric pattern.

Swift Arrow stared as the light from the bolts faded, his heart beginning to pound in fear. He lowered his head and began to pray. Free them from the snares of a thousand years. Help them to see beyond the old legends, the old fears, the ancient beliefs. Help them see your truth. Another burst of light startled him, and he raised his head just in time to see the remainder of its jagged tail slice through the sky. Of course, Scott and Ryan enjoyed every bone-jarring bounce and buck.

They were busy having a great time. Red rock formations rose all around, high into the bright blue sky. To the left of the vehicle, three colossal boulders, each about three stories high, balanced on top of each other. To their right, a fivehundred- foot butte jutted upward, its smooth, flat top a stark contrast to its jagged sides. In the distance rose a vast range of peaks.

No one can reach Starved Rock by car or truck. The driver laughed. Noon sound all right? Becka frowned. Ryan had spent most of the ride in silence, his attention focused on the scenery. When he had spoken, it was in a soft and reverent voice — almost as though he were inside a huge church. Granted, he seemed peaceful and relaxed. Maybe it was just jealousy.

Something else was bothering her. Something was wrong. There was an ominous clunk under the Boeing Rebecca Williams stiffened, then glanced nervously at her younger brother, Scott. He sat on her left next to the window. Becka nodded. She took a deep breath and tried to release her sweaty grip on the armrests. Not at all. Who did Z, the mysterious adviser on the Internet, think she was, anyway?

What was he doing sending her and her brother off to Louisiana to help some girl caught up in voodoo? First, there was the Ouija board incident at the Ascension Bookshop. Becka could never forget how Scott battled that group of satanists! They wanted revenge after Becka exposed Maxwell Hunter, the reincarnation guru. But voodoo in Louisiana? She barely knew anything about Louisiana.

Becka looked forward to seeing her great-aunt once more. Becka looked to her right, where her mother rested comfortably, her eyes closed. Maybe the trip would do her some good. This trip just might give her the rest she needed. It was the same sound, only louder. Becka looked to Scott, hoping for more reassurance. Suddenly the intercom came on. There seems to be a problem with the landing gear. Becka looked past Scott out the window. They were flying low over New Orleans and dropping fast.

Several large tankers sprayed foam on the runway. Fire trucks and ambulances were everywhere. Then bend over as far as you can in the seat, keeping your head down. Hold a pillow to your face with one hand, and wrap your other arm around your knees. Becka fought the fear down as she glanced at her mother. Mom had her eyes shut. Becka wondered if she was praying. Not a bad idea. Another attendant hurried through the aisle, passing out pillows. She tried to appear calm but failed miserably.

The plane banked back to the right. Becka laid her face down on the pillow in her lap and gave her seat belt another tug. Please hold on. Becka remained hunched over with her face on the pillow. She could feel the plane dropping, and still the landing gear was not coming down. They were going to land with no wheels! If she died, how would he handle the news? And what about her friends — Julie, Krissi, and Philip?

How would they handle it? She also thought of Dad — of perhaps seeing him soon. Too soon. It was this final thought that jolted her back to the present and caused her to pray. She just had a few more things to do first. The plane veered sharply upward.

The pilot spoke once more. We are out of danger. I repeat. We will land on a different runway in just a few moments. She sounded relieved as she sat up, then reached over and hugged both of her children. Becka breathed a sigh of relief as she joined the applause of the other passengers. They were safe. At least for now. Throngs of kids poured out of the old, weathered building. One fifteen-year-old girl slowed her pace as she headed for the bus.

No one talked to her. Her clothes were more ragged than most. They were too shabby to be fashionable and too conservative to be alternative. Sara Thomas had never fit in. She had never felt like she belonged, no matter where she was. As she approached the school bus and stepped inside, she steeled herself, waiting for the taunts. Carefully she took a seat, stealing a glance to the rear of the bus.

Ronnie Fitzgerald and John Noey were engrossed in a tattoo magazine. Before she could catch herself, Sara glanced down at the brown chocolate stain on her yellow sweater. Sara stared out the window as the taunts continued.

As always, she tried to block out the voices. And, as always, she failed. But not for long. Soon, she thought. She reached into her purse and clutched the tiny cloth-andstraw doll. Already she was thinking about her revenge. The furniture inside was made mostly of dark wood. After Becka dropped her bags off in the small attic room that she would be using, she headed down to the kitchen, grabbed an apple out of the fruit basket, and strolled out to the front porch. As the screen door slammed, she vaguely heard Aunt Myrna telling Mom something about a farmhand named John Garrett who was supposed to drop by.

It was hot and humid, which reminded her of her childhood days in South America. But the humidity and the smells of the rich vegetation here in Louisiana sent her mind drifting back to the Brazilian rain forests. Unlike California, everything in Louisiana was lush and wild. Plant life seemed to explode all around.

And the water. There was water everywhere — lakes, ponds, and marshes. Although most of the area around the bayou was swamp, even the dry land never really felt dry.

Still, it was beautiful. Even surrounded by beauty, Becka felt nervous. Very nervous. Z had given them so little information. Just that a young girl named Sara Thomas lived in the area and that she was in serious trouble — caught up in some kind of voodoo.

Z had also stressed that Becka and Scott were not to be afraid. His authority. Becka had certainly seen God work in the past. There was no denying that.

But even now as she looked around, she felt a strange sense of — what? During the other adventures, she had always been on her home turf. The late afternoon sun shimmered on the vast sea of sugarcane before her as she sat on the steps.

Wind quietly rippled through the cane, making the stalks appear like great scarecrows with arms beckoning her to come closer. Becka let out a gasp and turned to see a small goat eight inches from her face.

It gobbled the last of her apple. Becka turned, startled at hearing a voice come from the field of sugarcane. She tried to locate the source of the voice while keeping one eye on the goat in case he decided to go for a finger or two. A young African-American man suddenly walked out of the field. Becka guessed that he was about seventeen.

He was tall, lean, and handsome, in a rugged sort of way. He nodded to the goat. He likes that. The young man nodded. Cool goat. It rubbed its head against his arm.

It should be starting pretty soon. In seconds the two boys were hitting it off. Becka could only marvel. Her brother got along with everybody.

She figured that was partly why she felt so uncomfortable about this trip. But that was only part of the reason. There was something else: a feeling. It felt eerie. He glanced back at her and laughed. A lot of the people into voodoo speak it. But you really got to be careful who you talk to about voodoo around these parts. Becka felt a tiny shiver run across her back. Does stuff like that really happen? I heard about this woman who lived down the road from my father.

She made an old mambo mad, and the mambo put a curse on her. John shot him a knowing look. John shook his head. Not only that, I also heard about an old man who refused to pay the hungan for helping him get back his wife. The root was like a good-luck charm. But when he died and they took him to the morgue, his body started shaking all over the place. And when they cut him open, they found he was full of scorpions! But Becka was not scoffing.

In fact she felt more uneasy by the moment. John shook his head again. I know it sounds crazy, but some of this curse stuff might be true.

Scott shook his head, his face filled with skepticism. Sounds pretty fantastic to me. Like something out of a B movie. Been picking sugarcane all his life. People say his father was a disciple of Marie Leveau. She was a powerful mambo who used to live in the French Quarter of New Orleans. There was something about his look that caused a cold knot to form deep in her stomach.

The other boy started moving away from them toward the sound. Becka and Scott exchanged concerned glances. John was clearly very nervous. I gotta go. Hold on a minute! Scott turned to Becka. The horn continued to bellow.

Finally Becka cleared her throat. You sound like a Schwarzenegger movie. Becka began to protest, but her brother had already started out. And there was one thing about Scott — when he made up his mind to do something, there was no stopping him. With a heavy sigh, she followed. The stalks of cane towered over their heads. Becka knew that Scott was right about one thing.

And with all the uneasiness she had been feeling out there, especially now that they were alone. He kept jumping around and darting between the stalks of cane like some ghoul. She was going to bean him if he kept it up.

Becka knew it served him right. But since he was clearly in pain, now was not the time to bring it up. Instead, she reached out and carefully touched his ankle. It hurts too much.

Suddenly there was a low, distant growl. It sounded part animal and part. It was mixed with another sound — a silent, whooshing noise. Becka wished she had a good answer. The sound grew louder. Becka felt her pulse kick into high gear.

Whatever it was, it was moving. And by the sound of things, it was moving toward them. Once again, Scott tried to stand, but it was no use. As soon as he put any weight on his ankle, it gave out. He toppled back to the ground. Becka reached for him, fighting off the fear that swept over her.

She had no idea what was coming at them, but she knew lying down, unable to move, was no way for her brother to meet it. She tried pulling him forward, but he was too heavy. And still the thing bore down on them, ripping cane just a few yards in front of them and devouring it with giant, red jaws. The afternoon sun caught a sharp, shiny blade coming directly toward them, slicing through cane only a few feet away.

She finally looked up. The giant blade hovered over her and was coming down fast. She screamed and gave one last tug, moving her brother only a foot before tumbling backward. The blade came down. It was in big black letters. But over the years dirt and grime had covered some of the letters. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. The cloaked figure stood outside the house. Slowly, reluctantly, she started to climb the porch stairs. At the top she reached for the doorbell, then hesitated.

Suddenly she convulsed, doubling over as though someone had punched her in the gut. She leaned against the wall, gasping. Carefully, almost defiantly, she rose. She was a handsome woman, in her late fifties. Strands of salt-and-pepper hair poked out from under her hood. There was a distinct air of sophistication about her, though her face was filled with pain. Another convulsion hit.

Harder, more painful. She stretched her thin, trembling hand toward the doorbell and pressed it. There was no response. She tried again. Not surprising in this neighborhood.

Rebecca was the first to hear it. She stirred slightly in bed, thinking it was still part of a dream. She threw off her covers, then staggered out of bed and into the hallway. No surprise there. Her mother was off at a funeral of some third aunt twice removed.

Becka reached the stairs and started down, hanging on to the banister for support. The cast had only been off her leg a few days, and she was still a little shaky. Then there was Muttly, her pup. Becka reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed to the front door. She snapped on the porch light and looked through the peephole.

An older, frail woman stood there. Becka hesitated. The visitor certainly looked harmless enough. And there was something very sad and frightened in her eyes. Becka unbolted the door and opened it. It stuck slightly, and she had to give it an extra yank.

But even then she only opened it a crack. It is most urgent. The woman hardly looked like a robber or a mugger. If worse came to worst, Becka could always scream and bring Scotty running downstairs. It was against her better judgment, but —. Becka opened the door. The woman nodded a grateful thankyou and stepped into the entry hall. Becka looked down. Muttly had his hackles up and was doing his best imitation of being ferocious. The puppy growled again until Becka reached down and gave him a little thwack on the nose.

He looked up at her and whined feebly. Normally she would have invited the stranger to have a seat, but at in the morning the woman had a little more explaining to do. It fell past her shoulders, long and beautiful. She extended her hand. We have not met officially, but we have many friends in common.

I am the owner of the Ascension Bookshop. Becka sucked in her breath. The Ascension Lady! The woman who owned the New Age bookstore, who made the charms for her friends. Becka swallowed hard. The woman watched her carefully. Becka thought. Some pranks! The woman continued. They have been calling upon me, begging for my assistance, but I have neither the strength nor the power.

The woman spoke calmly and evenly. Becka closed her eyes a moment. It desperately wants to be free, to reach its resting place, but it cannot do so on its own. It needs your help. It is the spirit of a human, a victim of a tragic murder, that is trapped there by negative energy.

It desperately wants to be free. Becka shook her head. How am I supposed to be able to help? This Friday, April twenty-one, is when the spirit can make its escape.

Although he was only a ninth grader, his height and position above them gave him a commanding presence. He continued down the stairs toward the woman, and there was no missing his anger. Priscilla backed half a step toward the door. I am here to help. He walked directly, purposefully, toward her. He turned toward Becka. The woman pulled the door open and backed outside. I was expecting more Christian love, but I can certainly understand.

Becka stood in the silence, staring at her little brother. She was both shocked and a bit in awe. Then, for the first time, she noticed he was trembling. He turned to her. An hour later Scott lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. No way would he be able to get back to sleep. Not after tonight. He was too steamed. How dare the Ascension Lady show up at their door. How dare she ask for a favor. After all her people had done to them? No way!

Normally Scott was pretty much a happy-go-lucky guy. And if things ever got too tense, there were always his wisecracks. But there were no jokes tonight. And for good reason. He turned on his side, his thoughts still broiling. They had moved to this town three months ago, after Dad had died.

And for three months, he and Mom and Becka had been constantly hassled by the Society and all their hocus-pocus. Why did those creeps have to keep bothering them? Why were they always the ones put on the defensive? Still, there had to be some way to stop these guys from their constant harassment. Better yet, there had to be some way to get even. Scott ignored the voice. Enough was enough, and he and Becka had had enough. Again the thought of evening the score tugged at him.

He toyed with contacting Z, his mysterious friend in the computer chat room. Maybe Z would know of some weakness in the Society that Scotty could use against them.

Yeah, right. Well, prisoners or not, Scott was going to find a way to protect his sister. Becka turned from the front seat of the car to her friends. So here they were, driving up a steep hill and slowly approaching the Hawthorne mansion. Becka looked out her window. For a haunted house, it was a little disappointing. Granted, the place was two-and-a-half stories high and had pitched roofs sloping every which direction, but instead of looking like a home for the Addams Family, it looked more like it belonged to the Brady Bunch.

As if reading her thoughts, Julie explained. Philip answered. They get offers all the time, but they always fall through. Ryan, on the other hand, was silent and noncommittal. Ryan brought his white vintage Mustang to a stop directly across the street from the mansion. Everyone piled out except Krissi.

The others joined in until Krissi finally gave in. Myers was born on September 9, in Seattle, Washington. He has managed to write more than 80 books all from different genres such as horror, comedy, fiction, thriller and non-fiction. Despite the fact that he was born in a Christian home, Bill still eventually got bored with Christianity. While at the university of Washington, his worst subject was writing.

However, later on he still went on to become a successful Christian author with numerous books and films under his name. One of his successful book series, McGee and Me, is a book series about an average, mild mannered boy, Martin, who has an imaginary friend, named McGee. This book series talks about the boys adventure all ending with the boy getting a spiritual or moral lesson. Despite the fact that it is a Christian Teen book, this book is highly recommended for any person irrespective of the age.

This book is extremely important in addressing some of the key issues that teens experience. Due to the enlightenment and encouragement, which is present in this book series, almost anyone can benefit from reading this book. Scott and Becka Williams, together with their mother move to California, after spending so many years in the jungles of South America. The entire family is Christian. Thus when a Christian less and exceedingly dangerous activities start happening at the Accession bookshop, Scott becomes more than determined to step up and put an end to the activity.

Apart from using the encouragement from Z, he also uses his Christian faith. Z is an exceedingly mysterious friend that Z, that Scott had met online. The author gives a brief as the book begins by letting the reader know when the series was first brought to life and if there were bad guys online. Additionally, this installment is not only positive but also encourages the readers.

The storyline is exceedingly strong while the characters are very likeable. This book will keep you turning the pages as you try to figure out what will happen next. It is a well-written book, which targets the teens, with a word of caution about dabbling in an occult. In this book, Rebecca Williams together with her new friend Ryan decide to attend a seminar at the local library. The seminar is hosted by a person who talks about reincarnation and also claims to be Napoleon Bonaparte.

Is he going to convince them that they are wrong or are they going to simply refuse? With that said, Bill Myers continue to do what he has always done in his previous novels. Just like Society, this is an exceedingly fast-paced book, which revolves around spiritual warfare. Irrespective as to whether you are in agreement with the portrayal of Mr. Myers, you simply cannot help being riveted by the portrayal. Spiritual warfare is indeed a scary thing, thus it is not a surprise that this book has some exceedingly frightening moments.