An Angel's Touch Read online

  She pushed against my arms, trying to create distance.

  I secured her. “There are humans everywhere, Jen. You don’t need me to be human. A human could give you nothing of what you need, and only the same of what you already have.”

  Her body stiffened. The babies kicked against my arm, siding with their mama. She cried, “I don’t need to be the mother of Tazmark babies!”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, sickened by my tone. Apologizing was gravely beneath me. I loosened my grasp. “Perhaps Randa can furnish the comfort you seek. My nurturing skills are weak.”

  Her body relaxed. She slid her eyes sideways to mine. “No, they’re not. For all your evil, I know there is virtue in you too, or you would have killed me long ago.”

  “I’m not virtuous, Jen. I just seem to need you.”

  “I seem to need you too, johnny. We are cursed.”

  “Curses can be broken. We can be broken. The babies can be broken. Do you want that? Do you want your babies aborted?”

  She glared at me. “Of course not! I’m afraid, that’s all. I fear our future. I fear our children’s future. I don’t know how to raise Tazmarks. Do I feed them bottles of blood? Do I tell them that killing is acceptable? I mean, I can’t exactly instill an ethical sense of values. What if they don’t listen to me? If I tell them to quit breathing fire on the furniture, will they breathe it on me? If they want a midnight snack, will they eat our overnight guests? Will they choke some dumb kid to death for teasing them about their finned hands? I can see it now: their greatest entertainment will be making kids stone each other. I can see them prowling at night and killing the neighbors. I see them summoning the family pet into their crib for a drink of blood. And what if they kill each other?” Her palm flew to her forehead. “Oh dear Savior!”

  That name again. My arms fell away from her, and I wanted to kick her out of my lap even though it was I who had drawn her into it. I was concerned that she might revert slowly to her stifling old ways, despite all my hard work to dissolve them. I glared at her.

  She climbed off my lap and rose to her orange-socked feet clumsily, looking down at me. “You really must get over this complex about,” she gulped, “you know who.”

  I glared harder. I did have a complex. True, the one who made the crucifix famous was a revered Shen. And true, it was I who manipulated those stories about him to incite battles between religions, further adding to his fame, (so, much easier to torture those boxed into a strict belief system) —but the destructive role I played was every bit as crucial as the heroic acclaim of any Shen.

  “Oh hell, johnny, hell!” she said, “Is that better?”

  It was. I rose and stood in front of her, so that I could be the one looking down. “Tazmarks don’t develop the killer instinct until they hit puberty. Further, these babies will not be full-blooded Tazmark. Their impulses will be less potent than mine. And . . . it’s possible you may have attracted Shen spirits into their bodies.”

  “A Shen in a Tazmark body?” She shook her head and pressed her hands protectively on her abdomen. “Oh my poor babies”

  I took her hands in mine. “Let’s visit Randa. You can deliver the babies in New York.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Have them in a New York City hospital where everyone can gawk at the fins on my infants’ hands?” She stopped short. Her face softened, as if to assess the possibility that she’d hurt my feelings.

  She didn’t.

  She lowered her head, but not her eyes. “I mean, Randa won’t want deformed babies around her.”

  “Randa would think finned hands were cool. You know that Jen. She is drawn to the unusual.”

  “Well, I’m not.” She stepped back, her hands falling from mine. She shook her head. “I want to die. I do! I’m not daring and mighty like you. Whatever I am, I’m not suited for this. Not this.”

  I sighed. “I’ve worked hard to change your longings, to detour you from a fate you won’t relinquish. Just a little more time, Jen, then you’ll feel strong. I can show you things that will make you smile and make you feel that life is all right again. But the call—you scream it loud. And though you don’t scream it as often, you give away our position when you do. If you don’t relax and trust me to guide you into your full potential, you will be snatched by another, and there might be nothing I can do.”

  She stared at me with a crumpled face, standing at the crossroads of her potential destinies. I stood in front of the crossroad and I wanted her to choose. These roads were in the ethereal of course; all roads are, until we choose them. Then they manifest. I stepped up to her, placing my hands warmly on her shoulders, using a little magic. “Fall into me Jen, into that blue-black cavernous sanctuary,” she fell forward against me, “the sound of dripping water echoes in your ears, soothing you. Your pain drains away.”

  She sighed hard, and looked up at me. “You always make me feel better.” She furrowed her brows, and stepped back. “That is, after you’ve made feel bad.”

  I sighed. She needed a bone, so I would teach her something I hadn’t wanted to teach her, just yet anyway, if for no other reason than to spite my father. But also, I feared she’d ignorantly misuse this power, or use it to escape me. But she needed cheering, so . . .

  I said, “You can fly.”

  She glared at me incredulously.

  “Your power comes from the seventh realm. Therefore, you will not travel on the same wavelength as I. Unfortunately that means we can’t go together unless one takes the other.”

  “You’re serious!”

  “Yes.”

  “I . . . can fly? I . . . could fly you?”

  “If I let you.” Yes, I misled her. The seventh realm would fry me. I would never let her fly me, but if she knew she could escape me by going to the seventh realm—well, that wouldn’t be good.

  “How, if this is true, how is it done?”

  I sighed again. Teaching her how to fly would make her harder to hold forevermore. And she so often went on tangents; I wasn’t sure she had the maturity to handle this ability. But something had to give. I guess this was it.

  “Summon your light and send it in a narrow beam. See the beam ending where you want to go.”

  “What if I choose to leave earth?”

  “You can’t. Not yet, not that way. Just as I couldn’t. Well, until last night.”

  “You . . . left . . . earth . . . last night?”

  She was about to go into shock again, so I changed the subject.

  “About your wings—”

  “My wings?”

  “When you call the light to an intense narrow beam, you will hear a sound rising to heights. This sound will activate your wings.”

  Her eyes burst wide. “I had that experience in Montana!”

  “Good. Then you’ll know what to expect.”

  “I felt like I had wings back then, but I couldn’t see them, or feel them with my hands, so I concluded they weren’t there.”

  “They were. Your wings, like mine, are undetectable to the naked eye, for they are not of the third realm. They become visible in the form of energy beyond the third realm, because our molecular makeup changes there.”

  “johnny, I can’t fly.”

  I raised my brows. “If ‘I’ can. Why can’t you?”

  “I just can’t okay. I am more human than you.”

  “You can,” I said, “let’s get you ready.” I magically changed her clothes from the burnt orange robe to a black long-sleeved maternity shirt and pants, with boots to match.

  “Thanks,” she said, “but I don’t think I am going anywhere if it depends on me flying.”

  “Just try.”

  “What about my bag?”

  “I provide for you. You don’t really need it.”

  “But when you provide, it’s you know, the S word.”

  The S word was stealing. I said, “Nothing can be stolen that isn’t cloaked in a call of some kind.”

  She said stubbornly, “I want it anyway.
”

  “I will bring it along. You concentrate on flying.”

  She closed her eyes, concentrating, calling Divine Light. I saw the narrow beam she emitted shooting straight out of the cottage.

  “Intensify your concentration,” I said.

  The light beam grew so bright, it hurt my eyes.

  “More,” I said.

  The beam turned piercing white. I could barely keep viewing it.

  “Oh johnny,” she whimpered, “something is happening!”

  “Follow the beam.”

  Her body began to fade. “Oh johnny . . . ” She disappeared. Her voice trailed off, “I’m flying! I’m going to—”.

  I needed no words to know where she was heading. I could smell her. I magically manifested her belongings into her floral cloth travel bag and made it appear in my New York City apartment, a good place to stash it until our plans jelled a little more. I went into the sixth realm, following her scent to our intended destination, toward Randa’s condominium on the Upper East Side.

  New York City, gateway for hopes that I can turn to greed, and dreams that I can turn to nightmares. If only Jen could embrace her full power and brighten the dark corners of the world for me to destroy, we could keep earth in balance. If only. Then I could climb back on my throne and once again reign as the Prince of Darkness. I could feel the royal seat getting warm already.

  Jen landed in Randa’s condo. I followed and landed in Pericludies with a wily grin. The rat was back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I remained in Pericludies in Randa’s family room by the wet bar. Randa was sitting on her white leather sofa, staring at a painting on her wall when Jen had landed in front of her, coffee table between them.

  Randa shrieked, jumping to her feet. Her smooth Cleopatra hairstyle was so firm that her black hair didn’t even bounce. Her hand was plastered over her mouth, bright red nails flawlessly matching her crimson business suit. Then recognizing Jen, she looked down at the drink of scotch in her hand. “Shit, I’ve only had two glasses.”

  “I did it,” Jen said in awe, reaching to her back. Her hands went through the wings that could not be felt. “I really did it.”

  I neglected to tell her to land discreetly.

  “Did what?” asked Randa, her face wan, even with all her perfect makeup.

  “I . . . I . . . ”

  She’d gotten herself into it. She’d soon learn that it caused nothing but trouble to reveal your power to anyone. Unless of course, you planned to kill them afterward.

  Randa glanced again at her glass of scotch. “Did you appear in front of me out of thin air, or am I drinking too much?”

  “Ah,” Jen’s mouth hung open, “well it could be that you are drinking too much.”

  Randa set down her scotch on the brass-lined, glass end table and snapped her hand back as if her drink were the plague. “What are you doing here? And what are you doing—pregnant? Jenséa, you’re pregnant! Where is johnny? It is his, isn’t it?”

  “I’m having twins, Randa.”

  “Twins!”

  Randa threw her arms around Jen, and she didn’t let go for a while. When she drew back, she clutched Jen’s forearms. “What are you doing here? I guess, I mean what are you doing in here? Actually, how the hell did you get here? I mean in here, in my condo? My door is always locked; you know that.”

  “It . . . wasn’t locked. I came in, and you were in deep thought—drinking. And you didn’t notice me.”

  Randa narrowed one brown eye. “What’s going on, Jenséa?”

  “Randa, I need to talk to you, but I’m afraid you’ll think I’m crazy.”

  Ordinarily, I’d not allow Jen to speak freely to another about what I knew she was going to say. But I’d remedy the situation later. She needed some woman talk, and Randa had forever been like a mother to her, even though they were the same age.

  Randa led her by the hand in between the brass-lined, glass coffee table and the front of the white leather couch. Jen didn’t sit. Randa raised both hands and pushed her fingers playfully against Jen’s shoulders making her plop down on the ultra soft leather cushion. Jen rolled her eyes up. “You will think I’m crazy, Randa.”

  Randa sat next to her. “You are crazy, but so I am I. Spill.”

  Jen hugged her knees, but her belly was in the way, so she dipped them to the side. Dainty. Her hands rested softly on her thighs. Reserved. With slightly bowed head, her eyes looked up softly at Randa. Shy. Boy, was Randa in for a surprise. Jen said demurely, “Promise you won’t have me committed.”

  “Jenséa, I’ve seen you more bonkers than this, and I haven’t sold you out yet.”

  “Promise you won’t laugh at me.”

  “You know that’s my way of handling trauma. I make fun of it.”

  “I need you not to do that this time.”

  Randa exhaled briskly. “I’ll try.”

  Jen took a deep breath, preparing to speak, but paused. Her eyes scanned the room. She sensed my presence. She said telepathically, I must talk to her, johnny. I need a woman right now.

  I answered telepathically, I understand.

  She sighed with a smile, and a pearly tear streaked down her cheek.

  Randa crossed her arms over her chest impatiently. “What’s going on?”

  Jen asked me telepathically, Please let me talk to her privately, please.

  I have business to tend anyway, I answered in a mind pulse, I will return shortly. I summoned the black light around me, so that she’d think me gone.

  She sighed with relief.

  I’d fooled her.

  “Randa, remember in Montana, when I told you to stay away from johnny—forever?”

  Damn she was going to reveal the whole saga. Shens are like that though, unable to stifle anything for long. It hurts them too much.

  “Yes,” Randa said, “I thought you wanted me to stay clear of him because you were out of your mind. I mean you were on your death bed.”

  “I told you to stay away from him because he’s different.”

  “I knew that,” she said, “that’s why I wanted you two together.”

  “No, I mean really different.”

  “Like how?”

  “You’ve heard of werewolves and vampires, right?”

  Randa’s eyes filled with skepticism. “It’s hard to fool a New Yorker.”

  “I’m dead serious.”

  Randa rolled her eyes. “What? johnny’s a vampire?”

  “No. He’s a . . . Tazmark. He’s part Dragon.”

  “Who isn’t?” Randa smiled, “except you of course.”

  Jen’s face tightened. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

  “I said, I’d try.”

  “Try harder.”

  “Cut me some slack, Jenséa. This is not two plus two equals four that you are asking me to believe.”

  “johnny can do inhuman things.”

  Randa snickered. “Oh, you mean like breathe fire and fly in the sky.”

  Jen blurted, “Yes! He does those things! And he eats people too.”

  Randa planted her hand on Jen’s shoulder. “Honey, this pregnancy is making you whacko.”

  Jen’s face fell. “I can’t believe you doubt me. You are my best friend, Randa.”

  Randa reached for a pack of cigarettes on the glass coffee table. She was a little like me, somewhat insensitive to such things like exposing Jen and the babies to second hand smoke. “Oh come on, Jenséa, a dragon? Dragons aren’t real.” She drew out a cigarette, and lit the end with a solid gold lighter. “How can he be part something that doesn’t exist?”

  “Dragons exist. I’ve seen them. But they can only be viewed in the sixth realm.”

  “The sixth realm? Who sees into the sixth realm? You?” Randa crossed her legs, inhaled, and discharged smoke out the side of her mouth.

  Jen said, “johnny is only part Dragon.”

  “Part dragon? The sixth realm? Breathes fire? Hmm. Flies?” Randa tried to suppress the whi
msy in her eye. She looked down at her cigarette, then raised a brow, making a stab at serious. “If you can only see full-fledged dragons in the sixth realm, then how is it you have seen them?”

  “I’m not normal . . . either.”

  Randa stared for seconds, one, two, three. “That, I’ve known.” A sardonic smile emerged. “Have you become a were-dragon too?”

  Jen glared. “No, I’m a Shen.”

  “A Shen? Jen the Shen?” Randa started laughing. “You’re joking . . . aren’t you? Oh, I get it . . . a belated Halloween gag? You and johnny are pulling a fast one.”

  “Randa!”

  “Just tell me one thing. Have you been watching science fiction lately?”

  Jen sprung up. “That’s it, Randa! I thought you were my friend. Clearly, you’re not. You are always making fun of me and I can’t take it anymore! I really needed you, but you are not capable of being here for me.” She pushed her chest out, popping pride, chin up. “I’ll be leaving now.”

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on flying, but nothing happened. A Shen can’t fly when upset for it thickens the energy field too much. She still had much to learn.

  She threw her hands over her face and cried.

  Randa went to her, and grabbed her shoulders, cigarette still burning between her fingers. “I’m sorry, Jenséa, but you’ve gone a wee too far out, even for me.”

  Jen jerked her shoulders to shake off Randa.

  Randa stepped back. “What’s wrong with you? You know I love you. You know I care. These things you ask me to believe are ridiculous though. You’re . . . you’re overwrought I think.”

  Jen’s hands fell away from her face, no longer soft, nor pleading. Her expression was stone: stern, chin down, eyes forward, concentrating fathoms of truth into Randa’s pupils—a sinister look, really. I liked it. She said emphatically, slowly, trance like, “You would be overwrought too if you were in love with a creature who tears people from limb to limb and then eats them.”

  Randa looked almost mesmerized. “I believe you believe that Jenséa. Sit down. I’ll listen. I may not believe, but I’ll listen.” She sat down, patting the sofa for Jen to join her.