An Angel's Touch

by Susan D. Kalior

  “Why me? Why is it I who must draw her together?”

  “It was you who caused her to fall apart. Once she is fully restored, and she gives herself willingly to you, you can destroy her. When that is done, you will complete the mission you set out to do so long ago. Then you will have proven your readiness to rule.”

  I was fraught with doubt, recalling the times I’d tried to kill her, but couldn’t.

  “Rebel all you want, Ixion. However, my power currently exceeds yours. I can punish you. I can reward you.”

  I rose to leave. I’d heard enough.

  “If you do not restore her, know that her offspring will die if you do not succeed in fully restoring the second piece—her reproductive power. Hence, her long term illness in India. In fact, she may well die giving birth and you’ll have to wait longer for her to be reborn and come of age. You might even have to find her all over again.”

  I hated to grant Quen-tan the satisfaction, but I asked, “How do I restore her reproductive power? Shouldn’t coitus be enough?”

  “No. Arrange for her to save a baby creature with maternal love and Divine Light. Because her parents and grandmother died when she was young, she has avoided caring for even one single pet in her entire life, in order to avoid losing it. If she can even nurture one baby creature back to health, she will be restored.”

  Quen-tan’s eyes turned bright orange, infrared, ultra violet, then shocking white. A brick like sensation clamped my chest. And there it was again—a cold wall of apathy erected proudly within me. A proper Tazmark once more.

  What was he doing to me? He could make me not ‘feel’ for Jen. Maybe he was curing me of love’s disease. However, I didn’t trust him. I needed to return to earth before he entirely deadened my hard-earned feelings, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted them anymore. But it must be my decision—not his. I willed myself gone, but I couldn’t move, paralyzed by the King of Beasts. Such transgressions enraged my rebel soul.

  Quen-tan’s voice blew orgasmic visions of destruction through me, tearing holes in my rage. “Earth calls for destruction. You know of what I speak. You have sucked the wells of human spirit almost dry, turning many humans into robots who play your elaborate games of greed and self-deprecation. Most of them are zombies now, too far gone for saving. They are a weak race. You are bored with them. We are more bored. Earth will be destroyed. We have held off thus far, because you and the partially restored Panacéa were in it.”

  Quen-tan was luring me with power-lust. I would not be lured. It must be my decision. My decision. Mine. “And if I don’t restore her?”

  Quen-tan’s eyes gleamed ultra violet, then shiny metal grey. Energy closed in on me, a familiar horrid feeling. Ah, the Diego Special. A Black Box.

  He said, “If you refuse to restore her, we will destroy your Tazmark existence and lock your essence in the Black Box on Dracovar Prime—forever.”

  Suddenly the energy dispersed; the coffin sensation was gone. I wondered if ‘I’ could conjure a Black Box.

  Although I did not summon it, evil bubbled in my limbs.

  Quen-tan continued, “But if you do as we ask, these worlds can be yours.”

  A reckless craving to rule these Dragon Worlds burned my other wants to cinders, smoking vague memories of my earth life, which was fast becoming a dream.

  Then everything went blank; I lost consciousness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I came to consciousness with leaded eyes. I could not open them at first. I sensed I was on the floor of my New York City apartment in my human Tazmark form, and I think I was naked. My body felt firmer, more defined somehow against the black carpet that cushioned my back. Footsteps padded near, human I presumed. An insufferable hunger escalated in me, gnawing, twisting, chewing, and overriding all the sweet sadness I’d come to know about that thing called love. I yearned to devour—everything, and love would be the first to go.

  “johnny!” A woman’s voice sounded distant, but I knew she was close, for her heartbeat drummed in my ears. “Oh johnny, are you alive?”

  I tried to speak, but my lips wouldn’t move. Now, it was the Tazmark body that felt clumsy to me. However, I managed to twitch my face.

  The woman’s body plunged upon me in a clutch, her fat belly smashing my ribcage. “You came back!” The woman? Her cheek slid next to mine. Her hair blanketed my face. Dramatic female. Jen—was it? Jen, the woman that was becoming Panacéa? Jen, the woman I once cared for? Jen seemed too personal a name for her now. I no longer wished to call her that. Why did I ever?

  I struggled to open my eyes as if they were no longer mine, but belonging to something I once held, and once was. I’d outgrown this Tazmark body. I’d become deeper, smarter, expanded, exalted beyond earth law, but relegated to a Tazmarkian existence. Quen-tan had altered me. Soon, Jen would be altered too.

  My eyes finally opened. Yellow was all I saw. The hair smelled spicy. I could not feel the corn silk texture, nor did I any longer harbor that wish. “I am well, Jenséa.”

  She lifted her head, “I am so glad you are well!” She pecked my cheek with chicken kisses.

  I did not respond.

  She lifted her head again and stared at me inquisitively, “Are you truly well?”

  “Silence,” I whispered. My mouth was dry, and her hysteria was stupid. I tested my newfound apathy by trying to gather the feelings I once had for her, but I couldn’t find them. All I found was a vague fondness bumping against my heart. I still cared, I guess, but not much. Still—it was something compared to the nothing I felt for other earthlings. Smoking cinders of my Shen still held fragrance. Would the cinders turn to cold ash?

  She hugged me again, smashing her cheek against mine. In my ear she said, “I am so relieved you came back. I feared you were gone for good.” She was pouring intense emotion into me, and it was most irritating.

  I just lay there unresponsive.

  She spoke softly in my ear, “johnny, please talk to me.”

  I tried to sit up, all too smothered by her melodrama, and still all too disconnected from my Tazmark body.

  Sensing that I was trying to sit up, she moved back. But when I failed, she plastered herself on me again, cheek to cheek. “You say you are well. You don’t seem well.”

  I no longer cherished my greatest treasure—her. Boredom replaced admiration. What I thought valuable had lost its appeal. Quen-tan stole my affection, and replaced it with the ultimate power lust. Would this be enough to kill my attraction to this Goddess of Rain and Snow?

  I tried again to sit up. I tried so hard that I rose rather abruptly and perhaps too forcefully. Jen arced backwards into the air, falling flat on her back. Her black silk gown bunched up around her legs, spherical abdomen poking in the air. She rolled to one side, and pushed herself up to a sitting position, grief stricken.

  I rose slowly on my awkward Tazmarkian legs, and magically clothed myself in my standard black jeans, tee shirt, and fingerless gloves. With bare feet, I went to the fallen woman, staring down at the pathetic heap of flesh and bone. I stretched my hand to hers, offering a lift.

  She shrunk back. “You could have hurt our babies.”

  “Forgive me,” I said stoically.

  She wiped away a budding tear before it dripped. “What’s wrong, johnny? Don’t you love me anymore?”

  I wanted to say, I don’t know, but as I was toying highly with adhering to Quen-tan’s wishes, which required feigning love, I lied, and said half-heartedly. “Of course, I do.” I’d have to place a permanent shield around my thoughts from now on, now that her sixth piece of psychic ability was half-restored.

  I bent over and grabbed her arms, helping her stand, and she relied almost completely on me to get there. Her belly was a little more than she could handle.

  “johnny? Have things changed between us?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then why are you acting strange? What happened to you?”

  She seemed more devoted to me than I’d rememb
ered. How could that no longer stir me?

  “johnny, please tell me why you appeared before me in this state.”

  I cleared my throat. “I went up a power level.”

  She gulped. “What does this mean?”

  “It means I can better battle Diego,” I said, avoiding the truth, mostly because I didn’t know what it was anymore. Ruling the Dracovar Worlds fired me more than anything regarding Jen. Mind shield. I must mind shield. I thought of when I wanted to attain Jen’s unconditional love, and then I realized I no longer cared. Attaining it to conquer her was one thing, but wishing for it just because, was quite another.

  She gasped. “Why are you staring at me that way?”

  “I was attacked again,” I replied. Well, I was. I think I lost. But I felt like I’d won.

  Jen’s face softened. Empathy—a Shen’s worst enemy. They will forgive anyone in its name. She embraced me, pressing her cheek over my chest. I hoped she wouldn’t notice how hard it had become. I sent an illusion of softness to her mind.

  She squeezed me tightly. “Don’t betray me.”

  “I won’t,” I said, trying to return her embrace with equal vigor. I didn’t desire to betray her. I really didn’t. I didn’t hate her or want to obliterate her at all. Though I didn’t want her too near me, I also didn’t want to let her go. In fact, I wouldn’t mind ruling the Dracovar Worlds and her. Why must I choose? I suppose it’s as they say, ‘Oil and water don’t mix.’ Well, whether I sided with Jen and the Tazmarks against the Dragons, or with the Dragons against Jen and the Tazmarks—I would experience the thrill of my long earth life. Even so, I needed some time alone to sort out my feelings, or lack of, I should say.

  “I’ll move you to Randa’s for a while,” I said. “She can care for you until your babies come.”

  She stepped back. “My babies? Our babies, johnny.”

  “Our babies,” I echoed.

  I pulled her close again, pretending I wanted to claim them. Although I didn’t, her round belly aroused me. Between my hips, I felt the kicks and punches of my creations inside her. I’d never had my creations come into existence. I was curious to meet them before they were destroyed with the earth. Had I made a decision? Had I?

  I gave her a false squeeze. “Let us depart.”

  She drew back. “I don’t feel comfortable going to Randa’s, I mean with her friend and all.”

  I saw the flash in her mind of her French great grandmother, Charlotte Vervin.

  Before she could speak, I said, “All right. I’ll take you to her.”

  “My great grandmother? You will? Even after the André incident?”

  I wanted to smile. But I didn’t. Jealousy had left me. That emotion was gone. “He no longer concerns me.”

  She furrowed her brows. “Why johnny? Why does he no longer concern you?”

  “Because now,” I lied, “I am secure with your love.”

  She scrutinized me for a moment and then nodded passively. She hadn’t pushed the issue; for, as usual, she didn’t want to know the truth.

  “Shouldn’t we call my great grandmother first?”

  “No need.”

  “What if we are an imposition?”

  “We won’t be.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to see me, I mean with that family scandal, and all.”

  “She does, even with the family scandal.”

  I manifested fingerless gloves on my hands and boots on my feet. Screw the socks.

  Then, I manifested black clothes on her body: sexy underwear, black boots, maternity jeans, and a form fitting cashmere maternity sweater that showed a bit of cleavage from her swollen pregnancy breasts. She’d hate that.

  “No,” I am not wearing this sweater to my great grandmothers!”

  I gave an evil half smile, scanning her body with my eyes. “You look lovely.”

  “I mean it.”

  Remembering that I had to replicate my old behavior with her, I changed the cashmere sweater to one with a turtleneck.

  “Thanks,” she nodded, pleased. “This is better.” Then she cocked her head, “Why do you always dress me in black?”

  “You look striking in black.” The truth? It was my mark on her. I stroked her unsuspecting face, not with love, but a wondering of why I had fought so hard to protect her. I enjoyed her purity and fed off her sweetness, but how could I have put myself through so much for something that meant so little?

  I glanced about the room remembering her first day with me. I had lured her to me with the promise of an astrological reading. She had not counted on me reading her soul and undoing the shackles of religion that kept her hidden from life’s adventure.

  My eyes drifted to the portrait she had done of me sitting on the easel, just as she had left it almost a year and a half ago.

  “Hmm,” I said.

  “Hmm, what?” she asked.

  I sauntered over to the easel where my portrait rested. Near the easel was an end table with the chalk drawing of her that I’d teleported from France. The High Lama Khandro’s ring rested on her pink chalk lips.

  Jen started to come over.

  I slipped the ring in my jeans pocket so that neither Shen nor Tazmark could snatch it in my absence and use it against me. Events would soon be too heated to leave any loose ends.

  I picked up the chalk drawing of her, folded it in six, and then stuffed it in my jeans with the ring. I could use the drawing to reach into her beyond anyone’s protection, if need be. And the ring mustn’t fall into the wrong hands, namely hers, via some other robed Shen I knew.

  I picked up my portrait. “We will bring this.”

  She came up behind me. “I don’t think we should. It frightens me.”

  I turned around. “The painting frightens you, but I do not?”

  “I think I painted your evil.”

  “I have no other side.”

  “I think you do.”

  I clenched my teeth, feeling her usual resistance to the dark side. If only she could accept me as I am, I might lean my decision her way. But I had done much on her behalf, and she hadn’t accepted me yet. It seemed unlikely she ever would.

  She touched my arm. “Let’s leave it.”

  “It will no longer frighten you, Jenséa. You know me too well to be frightened by it.”

  Her fingers gripped my arm. “Please johnny, I really don’t want to bring it with us.”

  I viewed her as a stranger behaving with desperate aggression. This I did not tolerate. I forced myself to remember she wasn’t exactly a stranger. I withheld my urge to fling her across the room. “The portrait will guard you when I am away. It will scare off unwelcome visitors.”

  Of course, the reason I wanted to bring the painting was not on Jen’s behalf. I had other plans. The tides were turning. And I didn’t know how to stop them. However, that bore no importance, because I really didn’t want to.

  I shoved the painting in her hands. “Retain it while we travel.”

  Her pouting face . . . I wanted to smash it. Temper, temper.

  I tried to soften my expression. Faking feelings had become hard, faking them with her, that is. “I know you can fly now. But our passageways are not the same. I want us to be together, so I will take you.”

  “You are different, johnny. You look different, kind of sixth realmish.”

  Did I, did I look different?

  “You’re talking differently.”

  Was I, was I talking differently?

  “And you’re acting differently.”

  Yes, I was acting differently, but I’d smooth that over with a little time.

  She looked at my neck. “And my crucifix is missing from your neck.”

  “Oh, I guess I lost it.” It occurred to me then that when I took Dragon form, it probably burst off my neck. Kind of funny to think of it out there on Dracovar Prime.

  She sat there staring at me, jaw hanging.

  “It will be all right Jenséa; let us go to Charlotte’s.”

&nb
sp; “And that’s another thing, you are calling me Jenséa instead of Jen. Something has changed and I don’t like it.”

  I lifted her in my arms—romance style. “Jenséa is a beautiful name. I do not know why I have been calling you Jen.”

  She wiggled around to get down. “I don’t want to go with you like this. Something is wrong. I can feel it.”

  “This pregnancy has you imagining things. You are an over dramatic, little baby.”

  “johnny, what’s wrong with you!” Her little fists held frustration. Her beat-red face, the same. Ah, felt good, much better than her tears. I held her in place easily, my little finch.

  “Wait, my bag!”

  “You do not need it. Besides, you’ve outgrown those things. I told you I can provide for you. I always do.”

  “I want it anyway. It’s the only thing that doesn’t change on me, and it brings me comfort.”

  I grumbled. The damn thing was a nuisance to fly around the world with us when she didn’t really need it. “When we get there, I will manifest it.”

  “Fine!” she pouted.

  I flew us to Les Hermits, France and landed outside the door of great Granny Vervin’s white wood cottage. I sat Jen on her feet under the eave of the pale blue, wood front door. Steam rose from her breath blending with the cold country air. Her livid glare pinched me. I repelled the energy back onto her. She gasped, nearly losing her balance. She almost dropped my portrait, so I took it from her and tucked it under my arm.

  “johnny, please,” Jen said, “please don’t be this way now, not when we are getting ready to meet my great grandmother.”

  I mustered a softer look, hard to do. So hard. I wanted badly to unleash the real me. “I’m edgy, that’s all.”

  I manifested Jen’s floral travel bag into my hand. I held the leather handle, with the portrait tucked under my arm.

  Jen eyed the bag. “Oh, thank you,” she said softly.

  Granny had been pondering her great granddaughter. I planted the curiosity in her brain on the flight over. I reached to ring the bell.

  Jen touched my arm with Shen energy, which I respected. It was only her sugary jam eyes I now despised. “Wait,” she said.