Warrior Saints - Creator

by Carla Thorne

  “Give it a shot.”

  “I think it depends on your basis of theology—or maybe your lack of one. Or your thoughts on a different belief system or religion.”

  “Meaning?”

  I kicked the beam as I thought. “Meaning, to a Christian, the Creator would be the same as the omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient big-g God.”

  “So, to an atheist, there wouldn’t be a creator because there is no god?”

  “Not exactly accurate. If I’m not mistaken, atheism is not a denial of gods, just the lack of belief in them.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “No. And I have to confirm that.”

  “But… OK.” She paced a short line and came straight back as if she’d thought of something new. “What about Jewish people?”

  “You remember we’re at a football game, right? Sounds like we’re doing pretty good based on all the noise up there.”

  “Jewish people.”

  “Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are all monotheistic. They believe in one God, so I guess that’s their creator.” I grabbed my own drink from the bench and finished it.

  “What about other religions? There’s Buddhism and Hinduism…”

  “I’d have to check, but I don’t think Buddhists ascribe to the idea of a supreme being. Actually, Buddhism might be more of a philosophy than a religion.” I tossed my bottle in the recycle bin as I scrolled through the files in my head. “I have to check some facts.”

  Yes. More facts. The last thing I needed was more information tucked away in my brain cells.

  “Back to this creator,” Ivy said. “If there’s a creator, that means there’s a destroyer, right?”

  Now she was too close to my home. My heart. Didn’t I struggle with that every day? I was raised on good old loving God and evil Satan. One lifted up and one tore down. Battles raged, but God would ultimately win the war. If God was the great Creator, he made my world and my family. If Satan was the great destroyer, didn’t he take my family and explode my world? Where was the great Creator then?

  I steadied myself against the beam. “Hey, Ivy?”

  “Yes?”

  “That creator-destroyer logic is sound, but again, we’re at the game. I like football, and we haven’t won a homecoming game for six years. If I promise to spend all day tomorrow on this with you, can we please see what all the cheering’s about?”

  “Sure…” She agreed, but her mask of confusion didn’t budge.

  I took her empty bottle. “I don’t have any answers, Ivy, but I can tell you what’s happening to the four of us isn’t rational—but it is extraordinary. You have a gift.”

  “But where did it come from?”

  I shrugged. “You know, my grandma thinks people and religions who celebrate the earth and nature have the right idea. She’s in church every Sunday and sits on a bunch of committees, but she thinks Native Americans are on to something. The Great Spirit—Mother Earth, Father Sky. Get her going on that and she’ll bust out an essential oil from a tree or something that’ll cure everything.”

  “If only that were true.”

  “It might be. Her herb tea game is strong.”

  She almost smiled.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Maybe not this minute, but we will. Where is this coming from anyway?”

  “It’s my brain and the dreams and the visions and the voices. If I tell all this to my doctor, they’ll lock me up and medicate me into oblivion. And I don’t want to be drugged up.”

  “No one’s going to do any of that.”

  “How do you know? It all means something and I can’t explain it. So, when Trinity said trust the creator I thought may—”

  “Wait. Trinity said that?”

  “Crap. Yes, but don’t repeat it.”

  “I won’t, but… What does she mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Ivy wailed and caused some people to turn around. She lowered her voice. “That’s what I’m talking about. What is happening to me?”

  “And now we’re back to exactly what I’ve been talking about,” I said as if I’d somehow won the discussion. “This isn’t only happening to you. It’s happening to Mary and Deacon and even me somehow.” I glanced at the time on my phone. “We have to get out there with Mr. Berry and a bunch of first responders and other important people. Can you try to enjoy this moment?”

  We walked toward the track as the band left the stands to prepare for the halftime show.

  “Corey’s still in trouble,” she said. “I know it deep down inside.”

  I nodded. “What exactly did your feeling or vision or whatever tell you to do?”

  “I can’t explain it. I only know I need to watch out for her. And according to Trinity, I have to trust the Creator. And it’s not going to be easy because I didn’t do myself any favors with Paige.”

  “You have to go back in there.” I couldn’t believe the words came out so certain and clear. I knew she had to go back to the very place I swore I’d get her out of.

  “Where?”

  “To the Arrows. That’s where the problem is, that’s where you were sent, that’s where you have to go.”

  She looked at me as if I’d grown three heads. “You’re the one who wanted me away from the Arrows.”

  An awareness—more like a memory—crowded into my thoughts. It was always there, but it stayed away as long as I kept my mind on other things. Ivy’s quest triggered my own strong feelings about determination and completing a task. My father’s face, my mother’s hand… They were so sure we’d make it, so sure we’d passed the danger. My brother panicked in the back seat beside me and grabbed my clothes, my hair, the door of the car—whatever he could reach. But nothing could hold us there, not even each other. And it happened so fast and so hard and so strong. Raging, sandy, salty water swept us apart…

  They were all gone.

  I hadn’t done enough.

  “Hel-lo? Scout? Are you saying you want me with the Arrows?”

  “No, I don’t want you with the Arrows. I don’t want you in any group that tells you who you can speak to or sit with or that bullies other kids.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying out loud what you’re feeling inside. You’ve been given an assignment. Someone needs you.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. That’s exactly how I feel.”

  “Then trust me. Get back in the game and help Corey. If you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  Chapter 21

  Mary

  That night… After the game. It was the worst it had ever been.

  Hours after the commendation, gift cards, and pictures. Hours after Paige was crowned homecoming queen and we managed to lose the game. Hours after Deacon, Scout, Ivy, and I had an unusual interaction on the field…

  We’d shared a moment during a sudden and comical group hug as we moved to stand together for a picture. I swept my arm around Deacon on my left and we pulled each other in for a friendly sideways hug. At my right, Scout took a natural step our way and joined in. As if on impulse, Deacon reached for Ivy, before she could get away. I even remember him saying not so fast, girl, you have to get in on this…

  She took a reluctant, zombie-like step our way and closed the circle.

  That’s when it happened.

  Pressure from outside our circle seemed to press us together. The nudge forward brought us as close as we could be without bumping eyeballs.

  And every one of us seemed to think it was someone else’s fault.

  “Wow, Ivy,” Deacon said. “If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask.”

  “Zip it, fire paws, you pulled me into this group snuggle-fest, remember?”

  For a second there was calm. No. More than calm. There was peace.

  We all felt it, if only for a flicker in time.

  I was the first to mention the earthy scent. “What’s that smell?”

  Deacon sniffed. “I don’t smell
— Oh. There it is.”

  Tension from Ivy’s body rippled around the circle. “So help me, Deacon, if you’re launching air biscuits…”

  “Hey. I would have pulled a fart and dart if it’d been me. Besides, my butt’s pointed outside the circle.”

  I tried not to laugh. “Guys. We’re stuck in a group hug on the football field in front of a bunch of people.”

  “I smell it now too,” Scout said. “It smells like frankincense.”

  Ivy tried to look up at him but didn’t have room. “What-in-cense?”

  “It’s frankincense. My grandma has it in her oil stuff.”

  “I respect the amount of information in your brain,” I said. “But really. Frankincense? Baby Jesus isn’t waiting in a manger for gifts out here.”

  “I swear that’s what it is. Frankincense is actually the hardened resin from Boswellia trees. It’s been used for centuries. Some chewed it like gum for upset stomachs and took it internally to help asthma.”

  “Again, your brain is too big for this situation.”

  “Jus’ sayin’. One ancient culture believed dragons protected the Boswellia trees. It’s not solely a Christmas thing.”

  “Noted,” I said.

  “It’s musky, but clean,” Ivy said. “I like it. It’s like a wet forest floor but in a good way.”

  I think we were all surprised Ivy admitted she liked anything about something happening between the four of us. She always managed to slip away, right before we gained ground with her.

  For a few seconds more, we remained in that scented, tranquil place. No one even seemed to care we didn’t know where it all came from.

  Mr. Parrington’s voice broke the spell. “Picture time.” He slapped Deacon on the back. “I’m so proud of you guys.”

  “Thanks, Mr. P.”

  We smiled, we hugged proud parents, we went home.

  Later, trying to sleep in my bed, I was slammed to the ground.

  Not now… My sleep-weary body and soul was in no mood for whatever twisted dream attack Shanar had prepared for me.

  I collected all my strength and bolted into the spiritual realm through my haze of sleep.

  Breath left my lungs in a whoosh of warm air. I gulped to get it back, but it didn’t easily return to my body. Panic kicked up a notch when I realized something was different.

  Things were darker, cloudier, thicker than before. The weight on my chest was the heaviest it’d ever been. And the worst… I was lower than usual in the fight. Or was my enemy bigger?

  I kicked to gain height, but fell fast when I discovered my legs were chained together at my ankles.

  I drifted lower… It was impossible to thrust upward with my legs, and I only wasted energy when I tried. I thrashed my knees in all directions, but nothing helped. My biceps burned from flailing in the air to maintain my position. As a last resort, I tried to make my arms and legs work together, like I thought a mermaid might do to swim.

  Nope. Stupid mermaids.

  Blackness closed in as I rested, gasped for air, and floated...

  Wait. I floated?

  My changing enemy swelled and moved around me. Did he think he won? That I was so weary I’d quit? Not a chance. Not even if it meant I’d go down using only my arms to grab and hold that disgusting force and knead it into an ugly ball I could toss into space.

  I growled and reached out with both hands to seize its shifting, fleshy, whatever-it-was.

  “I’m not afraid of you!” I yelled out loud. Usually, I simply had a thought and it answered me the same way. Not that night. That night I’d had enough. “If you think you can kill me, I say come at me and try!”

  Do you really think if I wanted you dead I couldn’t have kept you when you were three? You were already gone. The work was done when you drowned.

  “Not your call, Shanar. I’m here and very much alive. I defeated you once. I can do it again.”

  Can you? Your feet are bound. You can’t breathe. You’re tired.

  “And yet, here I am.”

  Only because I allow you to be.

  “No, because I apparently need to be. The drowning when I was three. Isn’t that what this is all about? These nightmares? My counselor says this is my way of remembering the trauma and letting it go. My mind does this to me because I can’t forget it. I can’t stop the suffocation.”

  That’s an interesting theory, but you know it’s more than that.

  “There is no more than that. It’s even how you got your name. Shanar. Remember?”

  My name is of no consequence.

  “It is to me. I named you. That day is burned in my memory.”

  Exhaustion overtook me and I had to stop talking, even as my mind reeled to that day in the pool. It was the first time I’d fought the same enemy. My eyes bulged wide back then as I sucked in water and couldn’t save myself. The darkness was there and took me away.

  The babysitter, Shannon, had fallen asleep and let me wander away. The paramedic, Sean, hovered over me as I came back. I shivered and hurled water from my mouth, and somehow, as they asked me questions a weird combination of their names came out.

  Shanar…

  It stuck in my head as the name of my death.

  Anger fueled my body once again. I didn’t belong in the darkness when I was three, and I didn’t belong in the darkness that night.

  “Nooooo!” I lunged again and swiped the air. I prayed I’d rip something from its form. Something I could crush to kill it.

  Nothing came back in my hands where I’d hoped to find a bloody vital organ. Confusion swirled around me as I fell.

  “Is this when I die again?”

  The third voice, the one I didn’t know but that always came to help, answered.

  No, this is not when you die.

  A single, tiny curl of light cut a path through the ink-black presence. It hovered at my nose as I drifted to my bed.

  The scent was familiar. I’d smelled it before.

  Frankincense?

  Chapter 22

  Mary

  Gavin Bagliano took my breath away.

  I hated to admit it, but the sight of him coming up the front walk in that dark gray suit did swirly things to my stomach.

  My mom dropped the edge of the curtain where we’d both been spying. “Whoa. That’s not the Gavin I remember.”

  “Right?”

  She squeezed my face until my lips puckered. “He better be a gentleman.” She planted a kiss on my forehead.

  “Mom. Stop. Fresh makeup and lipstick happening here.”

  She let go and fluffed my short, tiered skirt. “Let’s let your dad answer the door. It’ll be fun.”

  “Stop. And if you want pictures, you better grab your camera and walk down to the Trimble’s house with us. Their pool has the best landscaping—according to Gavin’s mother. Everyone is meeting there.”

  I hid at the top of the stairs and waited for my dad to call me.

  That’s when I realized my feet didn’t quite work in the sparkly sandals I got to match the burgundy dress. I grabbed at the rail to keep from falling, and launched my hard-shell clutch into the air.

  First it sailed, then it made three horrid bounces down the polished, wooden steps.

  Which made it all the more awkward when Gavin met me halfway to help.

  He extended his hand to escort me the rest of the way, and I would have fainted on the spot from embarrassment if we hadn’t known each other since kindergarten.

  I tried to laugh it away. “You can put a soccer player in a dress, but you can’t make her graceful, I guess.”

  I should have never looked at my goofball dad with his ridiculous dad grin and his cheesy dad golf shorts. Because, when I did, I missed all the nice things Gavin was trying to say to me as he returned my dangerous, projectile purse and presented a corsage.

  I think I caught the words look and amazing, so I answered with thank and you.

  At least I think I did.

  By the time we got to th
e big group picture among the Trimble’s palms and assorted greenery, the fall Texas heatwave had gotten to us all. Even the delicate beads my mom called caviar beads seemed to droop on the embroidered front of my skinny-strapped dress.

  I felt a tug at my waist.

  Gavin stood behind me to line up for the photo. I stepped back willingly and let him keep his left hand on the satin band of my dress. He squeezed gently and my stomach did that cartwheel thing again.

  My mom captured the moment I leaned back and smiled up at him, my mouth open, and my face filled with joy. He returned his familiar and comfortable grin.

  It was always one of my favorite pictures.

  I just can’t bear to ever look at it again.

  Chapter 23

  Mary

  To be honest, the homecoming dance was kinda lame. The snacks were good and the gym looked nice, but the DJ was mediocre and people didn’t stay long.

  I already knew Deacon and Scout weren’t coming—they’d both lost their nerve to ask the only girls they cared about. And that dance was the absolute last place I figured Ivy wanted to be.

  I searched the crowd for them all anyway. I felt one step out of bounds without them.

  Since I’d come with mostly soccer friends, it was inevitable I’d have the expected congratulatory exchange with our captain, Paige—once I realized who she was. She’d once again changed her entire look. That meant she’d spent the whole day Friday in a salon for the game the night before, and had spent the whole day Saturday the same way for the dance.

  At my house, I’d managed an amateur mani-pedi on my own that took an hour. I couldn’t imagine the time and money she spent on her appearance.

  Upon closer inspection, it was clear the bold, chic look had been styled with extensions or something. By Monday at school, she’d look different yet again.

  I didn’t get it, but I actually remembered something my mother said to me. Just because you don’t get something, it doesn’t mean it isn’t very important to the people who do get it. Yours is not the only opinion. Be nice.