“And nothing about you,” she said angrily.
“Nothing about Toms River,” he continued. “You won’t remember even being here.”
“Out of the question,” she argued. “Don’t you do this, Michael Messenger! Don’t you dare!”
“Megan,” he said softly, “you don’t really want to remember everything they did to you, do you?”
“I want to remember you,” she blurted out, her voice about to break into weeping.
He rested his hand on her arm, squeezing gently. “It’s just not a good idea, darlin’. I don’t want to do this, but keeping you safe is more important.”
“Michael,” she responded, “my life has been turned upside down and ripped through and through. But the one good thing that’s come of it is you. You’ve given me hope. You’ve shown me that there’s light and purity in this fucked up world. Because of you, I have purpose to make the most of my life, and to be a better person. To live my life being a part of that light that helps others in need. I may not ever become a Keeper, but I don’t need white magic to do good for others. And I don’t want to forget the importance of that. I don’t want to go back to just being a good Catholic by going to church and attending Bible Study. I want to actively help people the way that I can, and if I forget everything, I don’t think I’ll have reason for doing that.”
He gave her a stern look. Somehow, she sensed that he knew he couldn’t persuade her. “There’s no way I’m going to allow you to do this to me, Michael,” she concluded. “I swear I’ll leave before you try. Tonight, if I have to.”
Michael sighed again, lifting his palms to the sky. “Okay,” he finally said after several seconds of silence between them. “You win. I still have to wipe most of it though. You can’t remember anything that they can use. “I’ll make sure you’ll remember our time together, but you won’t remember where. You can’t know that we fled to Toms River, only that we took shelter somewhere. You also can’t remember anything about the Alpha Magic, the Order of White, or the Agents of Shadow. All you’ll remember is that I saved you from something bad. I also can’t allow you to remember any of them. Any of the agents you encountered. Nothing specific about your life in Lancaster. Even your friends Ben and Ryleigh will be like a distant memory, but you’ll have to forget what happened to them. And you’ll have to forget the ritual you endured.”
“Sounds like you’re still going to take everything,” she pouted.
“Almost everything,” he corrected. “That’s the best I can do for you. I promise I’ll leave every part of your memory that won’t be a risk to remember.”
She looked out toward the dark sea, still seemingly unhappy with these terms. “You swear?” she made him promise. “You understand I’m trusting that you’re not just saying this and will wind up taking everything anyway.”
Michael looked her dead in the eyes. “Megan Panco, I give you my word as a Keeper of White, and a Keeper’s word is never broken.”
When he said those words, all her doubts left her. She knew him to be an honorable man. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “Thank you for understanding why this is so important to me.”
He smiled as he squeezed her arm again. “It’s getting late,” he said. “I guess we should head back.”
“Can we just stay a little bit longer?” she nearly pleaded. “I’m not ready to end our date.
“Yeah, me neither,” he admitted. “Not too long though. I have to get up early. Still a lot of meditation to prepare.”
“It’s a shame,” Megan replied as he pulled her close to him, allowing her head to fall upon his shoulder as they took to admiring the ocean again. “I would’ve liked to watch one sunset with you before I leave.”
“That would be nice,” he agreed.
Within several minutes, they found themselves again enjoying more vanilla fudge while speaking of the simple things in life.
****
After their now regularly scheduled swim, meditation, and run the following morning, Emily and Alex expressed their discontent with their stepfather and their new friend Miss Megan. They hadn’t realized that their “date” would keep them out past the children’s bedtime, and having gotten used to reciting the Prayer of the Guardian Angel with her every night, they were not pleased with the disruption in the routine, and did not want to pray without her there with them.
Megan laid out to them, as gently as she could, that she and her dad would be going home in a few days, and that they would have to say the prayer on their own once she did anyway. The children voiced more verbal comments of disappointment upon receiving this news, and Michael and Megan spent a good deal of time with them, explaining as best they could in a way that children would better understand. By the time they had finished lunch, all was forgiven, especially since Megan had given them the rest of her vanilla fudge. When Emily inquired about the stuffed giraffe she had found in Megan’s room, the young woman replied, “Your daddy won it for me at the boardwalk. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep it so I’ll have something to remember you all by.”
“It’s okay,” Emily said amicably. “I have a bunch of stuffed animals already. And I like horses better than giraffes anyway.”
For the much of the remainder of the day, as well as the following day, Michael spent many hours alone in his room, engaged in deep meditation. The others occupied their time together, swimming in the pool, playing card games, and watching some of the children’s favorite movies on Moonie’s DVD player. When Sunday arrived, Michael announced that he was finally ready to proceed.
Jim offered almost as much protest as Megan had, but was soon convinced that it was better to lose his memory of the recent past, concerning the mysterious occurrences that had transpired. Particularly when Michael told him that it was for the sake of his daughter that it must be done. After the two men completed the two-hour ordeal, Megan went second.
Michael’s room was darkened save for the one lit, white candle placed on a silver plate on the floor between them as they sat facing each other with their legs crossed. Michael began by holding her hands and speaking to her in a voice that seemed to inflict a peaceful drowsiness on her. Deeper and deeper she went into a subconscious level, focusing only on his voice as the spell took place.
When he brought her back at the end, Megan opened her eyes. “I don’t feel like I’ve forgotten anything,” she remarked.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “The spell won’t take effect until you reach your new home in Florida,” he explained. “If I manipulated your mind to forget right away, you might be confused as to where you are, or what you’re doing here.”
She nodded that she understood. “So that’s it then. Tonight we pack, tomorrow we head off…”
“And then,” he continued for her, “you begin your new life. Don’t worry. Once you get there, you’ll feel as if everything is as normal as could be.”
“And what’s next for you, Mr. Messenger? Back to your own life, hunting these agents?”
He blew out the candle and rose to his feet, moving to the wall to flick on the light switch. “Not right away,” he answered. “I assume they’re laying low, trying to reorganize and determine how they should proceed with their own agenda. I wouldn’t know where to look for them until they’ve resurfaced anyway. So we’ll actually utilize this time to clean up their messes. Doing what Keepers of White normally do.”
“What do you mean, normally?” she asked as she stood up to stretch.
“You have to remember, I’ve been acting out of the Code by playing such a violent and aggressive role. Now I get to put that aside for a while, and spend the time helping people who have been caught in the wake of their destruction.”
“But you helped me,” she debated.
“Yes, but I mean I’ll be helping others the way Keepers are supposed to. For instance, I have an old friend who works as a defense attorney. He’s informed me of a young man who’s recently turned himself in to the police for the brutal murder of hi
s fiancée, and he’ll eventually stand trial.”
“And you’re going to help this man?” she said as if she didn’t follow him.
“His fiancée was the sacrifice before you, Megan,” he clarified. They must have used their power and influence to plant false evidence against him.”
Megan looked down as if saddened by this information. “She was April,” she said aloud.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Her name was Jamie. We couldn’t save her, but at least we can save him. My friend tells me that his chances of being acquitted are bleak at best, especially since he’s admitted to killing her.”
“Why would he do that?”
He gave her a look that suggested she should know the answer to her question.
“They made him believe he did it?” she said with realization.
He nodded. “More than likely. We’re going to get involved, behind the scenes of course, and see what we can do to help.”
Megan walked to him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll pray for him. And for you.”
He smiled at her. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him down. But that’s for after you leave. Tonight, I’m making homemade meatballs and pasta sauce from scratch. A special recipe for a last dinner before you go.”
“Sounds delicious!”
****
Dinner had been delicious. The aroma, as it spread throughout the house from the kitchen while Michael had prepared the sauce had everyone practically salivating. Emily and Alex had demonstrated more excitement than the others, having recognized the scent. Emily had informed Megan and Jim that it was their mother’s favorite meal, and that it must be a special occasion because their daddy hadn’t cooked it since before she’d gone to Heaven. And Megan couldn’t help but laugh when Michael had to yell at them more than once as they had succeeded in sneaking meatballs from the rack on which they had been cooling. “They’re for flavoring the sauce, dammit!” he had projected with artificial frustration at them. But when he had turned his face away from them, Megan had sensed he was hiding a playful smile. She had loved every minute of this time, as the entire house again had the ambiance of family.
Once the children were tucked in for the night, having had the pleasure of saying the Prayer of the Guardian Angel one last time with Miss Megan, the four adults enjoyed drinks while playing cards and joking around the table, as if they planned on this being a regular Sunday night ritual, with no one speaking of tomorrow. It wasn’t until the festivities dwindled, and Megan and Jim began packing their things, when it hit her that she would miss Michael, Moonie, and the kids dearly. And she was glad that, as much as it would cause her heart to ache, she had convinced Michael to let her keep these bittersweet memories.
At four a.m., Megan awoke to Michael gently rubbing her shoulder. “Time to leave?” she said woozily.
“No,” he whispered, kissing her head softly. “We’ve got several hours yet.”
“Oh,” she said, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms above her head. “One last swim then,” she assumed.
“Not that either,” he replied with a smile. “You said you hoped to watch another sunset with me, but I’ve planned for something better. Especially since we’re on the east coast. Meet me out front in fifteen?”
Within over an hour, the two found themselves leaning their backs against the same sandy hill they had discovered on the beach near Point Pleasant, awaiting the sunrise. Holding each other closely, they said nothing as the blackened waters soon purpled by the first hints of dawn. The ocean waves offered a calm sensation that suggested a foretelling of the days to come, that in spite of whatever storms may arrive to disrupt their lives, everything would be alright in the end.
The magic of the transfer from dark to light over the sparkling waters reflected in their anticipating eyes. Megan pressed her head against Michael’s chest and opened her mouth to speak once the pink and orange orb before them peeked over the horizon.
The thread of their connection, which they were now sure would always remain, maybe even grow, vibrated between them, and Michael, sensing her emotions, spoke first. “I’m not ready… to say it,” he admitted sadly.
“It’s alright, Michael,” she assured him. “I am.” She drew in a breath. “I love you.”
With his arm wrapped around her back, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I know,” he answered in a confident tone.
She pulled back from him for a moment and took her eyes off the glory of the rising sun to look at him oddly, shocked that he would reply with such arrogance. He turned to her with a disfigured smirk. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s kind of a joke. But you’d have to be from Planet Dork to get it.”
****
After lunch, the party of six lingered out front of Robert “Moonie” Cirillo’s ranch house, exchanging long embraces. Jim picked Emily and Alex up into his arms, one at a time, and gave them long-winded goodbyes with firm instructions to look after their fruitcake father, and they promised they would. Megan hugged them both with glossy eyes, making them promise they would think of her when they prayed to their guardian angel at night.
Jim shook Michael’s hand, then gave him a fatherly hug. “My offer stands, son. You fellas, and the kids. Welcome anytime.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Jim,” he corrected. Then he looked the young man dead in the eyes. “You keep ‘em safe, y’hear? I’ll come back and kick the shit outta you if you don’t.” Then he went to where Moonie sat in his wheelchair to have some parting words with him.
Megan and Michael held each other as long as they could, which they both felt could never be long enough. It was then that she could no longer hold back the tears. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for saving my life. Now go save the world.”
“I hope I can,” he answered as he tightened his hold on her one last time. “When it’s all over… maybe I can come find you?”
“I’d like that,” she replied.
After Jim gave Moonie a firm handshake, thanking him again for everything, Megan bent over and planted a firm smooch on his lips. “Yowzaa!” he exclaimed. “If Dopey here takes too long finding you, I just might beat him to it!”
Too soon did Michael watch longingly at the Chevy Suburban as it pulled away, with the occupants heading around the bend, off to their awaiting lives in the Sunshine State. Emily and Alex watched with him, with their arms around him and his around them. When they finally decided they had had enough of goodbyes, the children ran from his side to the backyard, pretending to be treasure hunters looking for lost gold.
Michael remained out front, still watching the area where the SUV had disappeared from his view, but his face changed from a loving, heartfelt expression to a hardened one, as if during this whole time, Megan had cast her own spell over him. And now, at the moment that she had left, it had worn off, turning him back to the determined, serious man he had become as of late.
Moonie slowly wheeled himself beside his friend. “You didn’t tell her, did you. That you live in St. Pete.”
“Better she doesn’t know,” Michael replied. “Can’t have her trying to look me up.”
“Ever think this’ll really be over one day?” he asked.
“Hope so,” Michael answered, though little hope was in his voice. “Hard to say though. There are always monsters. Always things that go ‘bump’ in the night.”
“Piece of advice?”
“Sure,” Michael accepted.
“Over or not, go find her when you can. Make sure there’s no ‘maybe’ about it.”
“Yeah,” he said just above a whisper. “Maybe.”
Moonie sighed. “You’re an idiot, y’know?”
“So you keep reminding me.”
“So,” Moonie said simply, not being one for the mushy crap. “Pops’ Cuban cigars. How ‘bout it?”
Michael glanced down at him, then back to the spot on the dirt road before him. “Good ol’ Pops,” he remarked, speaking of a mutual friend from the past, once dear t
o them both. “I don’t know. Still seems premature, don’t you think?”
“I think it’ll always seem premature, Mick.”
Michael shrugged. “Pops said special occasion only. And that I’d know when that is.” He turned to him with a smile. “Don’t worry, pal. We’ll know when we know.”
Moonie grunted a facetious laugh. “You think so, do ya.”
“I do,” Michael nodded. “Until then, Roger, we’ve got a shit-ton of work to do. Come on. You’re on the mound. I’m up to bat.”
Moonie reached into a small canvas bag that hung from the side of his wheelchair and pulled out a baseball and two mitts. “Alright, Mickey,” he said, tossing one of the gloves to his best friend. “Let’s talk baseball.”
Epilogue
The congregation at St. Elizabeth’s sat in silence after the Sunday gospel reading, awaiting Father Chris’s homily. For a moment, the priest stood before them in silence. He had prepared as best he could, but in truth, had been unsure as to what he wanted to address to the people.
It was the fourth weekend since Father Paul, their pastor, had gone missing. Disturbing reports had flooded the news for over a week, concerning multiple murders, as well as the disappearance of several well-known members of the community. The discovery of several unidentifiable bodies caught in an act of arson had been the shocking climax of it all, and it had been tied to a man on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. Much speculation was suggested that the terrorist known as Michael Messenger abducted, then murdered several high-standing persons of influence in order to instill fear and chaos throughout town. It was suspected that Father Paul, Chief Biddle of the State Police Department, and Diana Palmer, a highly active member of the church, were among the fallen. Both Mass attendance, and the sale of firearms, skyrocketed in such a short time, as everyone within the vicinity had been on edge.
The people were lost, Father Chris knew, but then, he felt that they had been lost for a long time. Now they looked to him for guidance, a phenomenon that he had not yet been accustomed to. The diocese had informed him that they would assign a new pastor as soon as possible, but all responsibilities would fall on him until that time, including the need to act as the main celebrant for all scheduled Masses. He exerted his best efforts, managing enough to at least keep the ship afloat, but he found himself more deprived of sleep than ever before. The little free time that he scrounged for in between his duties were spent in prayer.
The Paladin's Redemption Page 28
