An Angel's Touch Page 3

  “So,” I said, “you were there.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I almost joined your side, so pathetic you were, endangering yourself for a Shen. If you’d never known her, you could have taken the Dark One alone and with less adversity. Still, your joint exhibition thrilled me. Watching a Shen kill . . . now that was a sight!”

  “You should have joined the fight mother dear, but against me.”

  “Then, with you destroyed, I would have been cheated of the spectacular battle I’ve planned—a battle far more breath-taking than the Montana scuffle.”

  Montana scuffle? I wondered if she was bluffing, because that battle was pretty terrific.

  She crumpled her face. “Oh come! Laser light, forest fires, exploding mountains. I thought such ploys had gone out with the Dark Ages.”

  “Oh,” I raised my brows, “your techniques are progressive, hip, in with the times?” I said sarcastically, “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

  “I am old like fine wine.” She closed her eyes dreamily. “But I am as young as a baby’s heart ever deepening a thousand year old plot with fresh twists, Juan. Patience waits on my webbed wings where it would fall off yours. Patience breeds genius.”

  She was full of secrets. I wanted them before I killed her. “You let the Shen see you at the volcanoes.”

  “Yes. I’d like her to partake in the battle.”

  “A moment ago you wanted me to drop her.”

  “I would have caught her. I would accomplish much more with her than you. I would bring her to full power and then use her in the play.”

  I couldn’t let my Shen be drawn into this, but I had to be cunning to keep her out. Continuing with our telepathy, I said, “She alone, could destroy you now.” I secretly doubted she would, because Shens would rather die than kill. I thickened my Black Light Shield. “She learned much in the last battle. As a team, we would defeat you and all Tazmarks with ease. But that would be no fun for me. Fun, would be to defeat you all without her.”

  “Nonsense. You underestimate me.”

  “You underestimate her.”

  Mother postured her hands arrogantly on her hips. “On the contrary, you’ve taught her little of the much she can do. I’ve been waiting long for an excellent fight. I am bored with this earth and this immortal life that offers me nothing new. Teach her more, Juan.” She gave a twisted smile. “Perhaps ‘I’ should. I think I will. Then the day I’ve dreamed about shall be even more thrilling than I dared imagine.”

  “It would be a grave mistake to teach her more. She will be your doom.”

  “No, Juan, if I teach her more, she will be your doom.”

  “Never,” I said. But inwardly I wondered if she was right. Full powered Shens, like the one who helped free India with pacifistic means, and the one who made the crucifix famous, while beneficial to the world, could unintentionally hurl agonies untold upon malefic creatures. A Shen’s spiritual love was demonic to us. And a Shen—the demon. To die by Shen meant an afterlife of heaven that defies our nature, and straight jackets us from the destruction that is our joy.

  With her eyes buried in my neck, Jen asked, “What’s taking so long?”

  I couldn’t tell her that I was delaying our return to ward off mother before we landed, so I answered with another lie, “I’m searching for the right parallel to emerge in the third realm.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly.

  Aruka laughed. “She thinks she knows you, but she doesn’t—not really.”

  I gazed upon Jen, so trusting in my arms. Her body glowed in this realm, and her intangible wings, while invisible on the third realm, looked like sparkling energy feathers here. She was not even aware of them for her world was yet so small—even with me in it. I felt her wings thick essence mixed into my sixth realm arm. Wings of the stars. Jen . . . my Shen, wanting to pacify everything and everyone.

  Aruka’s telepathic words wormed into my brain. “She will condemn you ceaselessly, Juan.”

  I glared at mother, for her words rang true.

  Aruka said, “She will never understand a Tazmark’s explosive compulsion to create war, or the ecstasy that comes from challenging one’s self so completely that disasters of nature and the massacre of millions are often the result.”

  My glare on mother hardened, for that too, was true. Jen would never understand a Tazmark’s lack of concern regarding destruction, for in our view, nothing can be destroyed. The life force can never be killed, only altered.

  Aruka said, “Let me have her. If you prefer I teach her nothing, I’ll abide.”

  “A moment ago you wanted to teach her everything.”

  “Well, if you won’t allow her to fight, she becomes a liability. She might unknowingly cook you to death, and then the battle of Tazmarks would be uninteresting.” Her eyes deepened. “I’ll consume her for you, because you cannot. I’ll save you from her, because you will not. She will be my victim, because you’ll never make her yours.”

  I stared blankly at Aruka, but I wanted to break her neck. She had the typical Tazmarkian talent to prevaricate, trick, and steal—amorally perfect, executing anything and everything to get her way. This time, she wouldn’t. I would though. I always did, except with Jen. However, the exception was always Jen.

  I envisioned a fireball exploding in Aruka’s head. Her hands flew to her temples and she almost fell. But she steadied herself, her orange eyes emitting hypnotic energy that made them seem to whirl (another Tazmark thing). “Relinquish her to me, Juan. She weakens you.”

  I envisioned two daggers jabbing Aruka's eyes.

  Her palms smashed against her eyelids.

  Jen moaned, holding her stomach.

  Aruka was retaliating by hurting my Shen. Did that mean she feared attacking me without Tazmark backup? Perhaps I was stronger, or maybe she was sparing me for a role in her dream battle. No matter. I would not tolerate her harming my Shen.

  I imagined Aruka’s incorporeal black-webbed wings ripping off her.

  Aruka lowered her hands, and arched her back, groaning. She intensified the Black Light Shield around her, giving her extra protection from my attacking thoughts.

  My mind flashed with a vision of me devouring Jen. Mother’s doing. Electrical excitement coursed through me. Saliva grew thick in my mouth. No Tazmark had ever been able to control me like this. Damn.

  Aruka said, “Let us not commence the battle yet or we will waste a chance to make it all it can be. It is clear you’d prefer any event over the death of your Shen. You will protect her from us all. But Juan, can you protect her from yourself? You’d best empower her to ensure you don’t eat her.”

  “A moment ago you thought she’d be my doom if I empowered her.”

  “A moment ago, a moment ago, oh live in the present, Juan!”

  She was trying to mind tangle me, me—the tangle master. Although she wasn’t succeeding, I couldn’t tell if she wanted my Shen empowered or killed. One thing was for sure, she wasn’t planning to leave my Shen alone. Tazmarks lie. Our deceptive abilities are bar none. I’d have to out deceive mother dear with her three thousand years of experience. Yeah, yeah, that’s all I’d have to do. Fuck.

  Our telepathic conversation continued.

  I said, “She carries my children. That exempts her from battle.”

  “She carries half-breeds, weak opponents not worth the wait. With child, or not, if she doesn’t cook you, or you her, you both will fight us when the time is fit—when the time is perfectly . . . fit.”

  She was right. I didn’t want to defeat Aruka now and settle for a lesser fight, even if it did endanger Jen. If I was clever, I could enjoy the Tazmarkian war and protect my Shen.

  Aruka glanced at Jen. “She wears your talisman, the talisman of Quen-tan. The talisman was not meant to be shared. You are a humiliation to the Black Dragon Kings.”

  I wasn’t used to a Tazmark emoting as she. This was not characteristic of our kind. Dramatics were feigned, not real. I could always tell the dif
ference, and Aruka’s true emotions were crashing everywhere. Maybe she was nearing her fertile sixth year, and she was PMS—ing. Hell, I didn’t know. At any rate, I was growing weary of her jabber.

  “You are the chattiest Tazmark I’ve ever encountered.” I smiled thinly. “Perhaps it’s because you are a woman.”

  Aruka sneered at me. “And I am not a woman to be reckoned with, especially by one whose powers are debilitated because he shields another.”

  “You should be grateful I’m allowing you to babble so.”

  She huffed, “It is you who behave in a trifling manner. If not for your in-depth, sinister reputation, I wouldn’t bother challenging you.” She narrowed her eyes and jutted her chin. “I have seen you possess men who conquered nations with excessive violence. In the wake of such destruction, you usurped millions of spirits. You went up a whole power level in one year! I have seen you use religion to lead multitudes to the slaughter. I have seen you instigate famines that tore countries apart, and plagues that almost destroyed the human race. I have even bragged to other Tazmarks, before I killed them, that you were my son. But your feats are lessening in greatness, Juan. You’ve been stalking vagrants and drug addicts in New York City, and the sick and dying in hospitals—one by one, taking just enough to sustain you. The woman has made you less than you are.”

  “I do not exist to please you,” I said.

  She smiled. “You will,” and vanished.

  I grumbled and headed for the village, slowly, just to make sure Aruka’s exhibition was over for now.

  Jen said, “Something’s wrong, johnny. What is it?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Is it about that woman I saw?”

  “No,” I said, “I’m just tired.”

  “You mean because you can’t find the meridian that leads to the village?”

  “Yes,” I said, “but I know where it is now.”

  “How could you lose it, johnny? Does this sort of thing happen often?”

  “No,” I said irritably. “Quiet now.”

  “But—”

  “Say no more.”

  I knew I’d hurt her feelings. Better that than arouse her suspicions. Jen had never suspected the extent of my malevolence. To her, my nightly hunts, or the massacre of a few dozen people, was the extreme of wicked. She knew Tazmarks could cause earthquakes, explode mountains, and start fires when they fought one another or became angry. However, she’d retract her love for me in discovering that I was what people might call . . . Satan, who in all his suspected malefic capacities was responsible for more catastrophes and mass suffering than one could mention in a day. I, of course, was not Satan, for Satan was a fiction that was beneath me. I was chaos embodied. I was—Tazmark. And there was no Tazmark as diabolical as I.

  My deeds had eclipsed all others. As far as I knew, I was the Prince of Darkness, related to Quen-tan, who ruled the Dracovar Worlds in the Draco Constellation. Tazmarks can’t get there unless we physically die, or move through the maze of levels that will take us there cross dimensionally. Such knowledge is acquired only through discovering wisdoms and skills that are not earthborn. Accomplishing this would indicate advancement to power level ten. Power level ten is the ticket to becoming a full-fledged Dragon.

  “johnny,” Jen said, “I thought you figured out where you were going? What is taking so long?”

  “Relax.”

  “But—”

  “One moment more.”

  “O—kay,” she sighed impatiently, “but when we get back I want to talk about that woman I saw at the volcanoes.”

  She was as incessant as mother. Perhaps mother was nearing level ten. Maybe that’s why she welcomed earth’s destruction. If so, she was more powerful than I. I was a level eight Tazmark. Maybe at level nine she could bluff me, but still, level ten wisdoms are hard to come by. They fall into one’s awareness like drifting feathers. If you catch one, you find where it fits into the picture that keeps changing every time you fill in a piece. If you let that piece fall away from you, it may not come along again for centuries. Jen is a piece, but I cannot place her in this great puzzle. I don’t know where to put her. She’s really nothing but trouble. But if I release her, she may drop away forever. So I keep her prisoner, pacifying her with love.

  I flew to the camp, descending into the third realm inside the spacious tent. The first rays of morning had not quite reached the village. All was quiet and still.

  Jen began to shiver. I manifested a pocket of warmth around her as I carried her to the guanaco blanket and lay her down. I magically closed the flap door, having left it open the last time I entered. I cast soft yellow light so she could see me kneeling beside her. I kissed her pale forehead reverently. “We will leave Chile today.”

  She sat up, facing me. “Why johnny? We only arrived yesterday. I wish to see more of your childhood home and get acquainted with your people. I wish to heal the sick ones. I—” Her face froze. “It’s about that woman I saw, isn’t it?” She closed her mouth and stiffened. “That’s why you want to leave.” Her words did not really invite a true answer. She lay back on the blanket, curling into a ball on her side, hair falling over her face.

  I brushed her hair back from her eyes that stared blankly into nothing.

  She whispered on one long breath, “She’s a Tazmark, isn’t she?”

  I didn’t respond. She knew the answer.

  She took a finger to her eye and wiped away a tear. “Will we forever be fighting Tazmarks, johnny?”

  “No, Jen.” Another lie.

  I could make it the truth if I killed all adult Tazmarks in the battle Aruka foretells. Adulthood begins at age one hundred. It’s not a moral issue to shield the young. It’s a selfish one. Tazmarks have a fierce passion to fight. And since we are the most powerful creatures on earth, save a full powered Shen, a Tazmark is our most worthy opponent. But for my Jen, I might sacrifice my own pleasure and kill them all, old and young, never to enjoy such fighting again. I might. It’s a thought. But how to do so without involving her would be the greatest challenge.

  I ran my fingertip tenderly across her bottom lip, wanting in vain to feel the softness. “France is exciting this time of year.”

  “France?” she said lightly, propping herself up on her elbow, looking at me.

  I knew that would get her attention. She was half French. I rose, and dug my hand into my jeans pocket. I pulled out a baggy of LSD. “You have roots in France, not only from past incarnations, but France was your father’s home. Since you barely knew him, I thought you might care to see where he spent his boyhood days.” I could care less about showing her France, but I had to distract her.

  She sat up with puppy dog eyes. She curled her legs to one side. “I’d like that. But I cannot believe you are willing to miss a fight.”

  I didn’t want to tell her that I wasn’t—at least not yet. I only wanted her out of Chile, so I could return and confront my rivals with pleasure. I had to devise a plan to battle them without destroying earth, and without harming her. And the prospect of all this excited me greatly.

  “Get dressed,” I said.

  She nodded and reached for her blue jeans, half buried under a spare blanket.

  I sat cross-legged on a tan hide blanket and envisioned a jar I had seen outside the tent of a village woman. It appeared in my hand. I poured the LSD into the jar. Then I visualized a knife I viewed on the belt of an Alacalufe. It appeared. I slashed the back of my hand and milked my blood into the jar until it soaked up the LSD.

  Jen eyed me silently as she stood and slipped on her blue jeans under the white nightgown. She knew that this mixture was one to ward off enemies. I’d once taught her how to make it work.

  I gazed into my potion, chanting, “Exuro quod intereo,” as I stirred the paste with my finger. The words were Latin for burn and die. There was more power in Latin words than English. There were levels of power in everything, but most humans were too ignorant to understand that. I envisioned my mothe
r in flames every time she came near the wearer of my concoction.

  My eyes turned to Jen. She was on her knees, her back to me, lifting the gown over her head, bra in place. That meant she’d mastered that little act under the shelter of her gown. She was modest to a fault.

  She dropped the gown and lifted the spare blanket where her jeans had been, hoping to locate her white turtleneck sweater. It wasn’t there, so she shifted her body, side to side, glimpsing the area sheepishly. Eyeing the sweater behind her, she twisted her shoulders toward me, reaching for it.

  Her face flushed as she caught my gaze upon her. I had seen her naked many times, but her modesty still prevailed. My eyes glinted want. But first things first.

  “Wait,” I said. I stood up and went to her with the jar of paste.

  She pulled the sweater to her chest, looking up at me.

  “Stand up,” I said.

  She rose reluctantly, sweater still clutched to her chest.

  I guided her hands downward until the sweater was at her side.

  “joh—nny,” she said blushing again.

  My black dragon talisman hung near her heart, over her white lacy bra. If she only fathomed what I’d sacrificed for her to wear this talisman—she’d never doubt my love for her.

  I took the sweater from her hand and tossed it on the guanaco blanket.

  “What are you doing?”

  I angled my head slowly to her neck. My hair fell across her shoulder. I planted soft kisses across her throat, while sensuously smearing my LSD blood paste around her ribcage. A work of art—the human body. I so loved destroying it. To destroy it, was to take it and put in the gallery of my darkness.

  Her breath grew heavy. “johnny, you're trying to distract me from the truth.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  She sighed, a quivering sort of sigh, the kind humans give when they know something awful is in the works, but fear talking about it.