An Angel's Touch

by Susan D. Kalior

  I nodded. It was a fine idea.

  Jen said, “Yes Charlotte, you can do this thing. Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte said, “I am sure.”

  Marla chimed in, “I’d be glad to help in handling the babies too. I would be fascinated to help them with their magics.”

  “Thank you,” Jen said, “we will need all the help we can get.”

  Randa smiled. “Well then, it’s a plan!”

  Aruka appeared next to me, her profile highlighting the ocean sunset.

  Randa and Marla jumped, sensing her malevolence.

  Jen said, “It’s all right. She probably won’t hurt us.”

  Aruka said, “Well, not now anyway.” She raised her arms and arced them outward to the darkening sky. “We just saved earth!”

  Cecelia appeared next to Aruka, her sparkly cocktail dress glimmering from the bonfire. She cupped the sides of her curly black hair, pushing against the curls as if to maneuver them into place. “Yes, we did.”

  Zahna and Omar appeared next to them. Then Dian, Marco, Sabin, and lastly Tupuro. Tupuro’s skullcap was gone and his hair was fluffed out like a dandelion. Flying with jets, you know. He had an opened bottle of Vodka in his hand.

  They all stood in a group, eyeing the do-gooders. I could tell they were wondering if there were new rules.

  I said telepathically, That depends. Where are we at with damage control?

  Tupuro said aloud, “The scene never got past Chile. I’ve been working on the big erase.” Then he took a swig of Vodka.

  Randa said uneasily, “What is the big erase?”

  Tupuro stepped up to Randa and said seductively, “It is when we magically erase events from human minds and fill their memories with what we want them to believe.”

  Randa stepped back cautiously as if to keep Tupuro away from her mind, then linked her arm around Marla’s.

  Aruka said, “Yes, we all have been working on that.”

  Marla and Randa had edged themselves slightly behind Charlotte and the High Lama Khandro.

  “What about the dead?” I asked the group of Tazmarks.

  Cecilia said, “Incinerated, and fictions planted to explain the loss.”

  “Well done,” I sighed.

  Dian, scraping her fingers through dried blood in her white blonde hair, said almost to herself, “Chile has a lot of . . . possibilities.”

  I gave her a crooked smile, sensing the fun and games she had planned for the future.

  Her eyes slanted to me, returning the crooked smile.

  Zahna said, “I bestowed the Alacalufes with a permanent invisibility shield so that they can carry on their traditions in peace. This makes them ripe for me to use them in the future.”

  “And I,” said Omar, “have developed some thrilling ideas regarding illusions.”

  I said, “I am glad to see the Tazmarkian spirit is still intact.”

  Tupuro turned to me and said, “So what are you now. King of the Dragons?”

  I looked at Jen wondering if she could accept that.

  Tupuro shrugged. “King of us?”

  “Let’s just say,” I replied “business as usual. Answer the calls for chaos. But there is an exception. The Shens are off limits. In fact, I enlist you to be their bodyguards should they call for you.”

  Tupuro said, “Guarding Shens! That is blasphemy.” He guzzled down more vodka, while eying me angrily.

  Marco stroked his mustache with his index finger and thumb. “You ask too much.”

  Sabin, still dusty from the Gobi Giant incident said, “I concur.”

  I retorted, “Should the Dragons attempt another attack on earth, we will need the Shens.”

  Jen cocked her head, confused. After all, she’d just heard the Dragons profess that I was their new leader.

  I said to her telepathically, Don’t you know by now Jen, if Tazmarks lie, imagine what Dragons can do?

  She shook her head with new awareness, hoping, that maybe, just maybe I would not become King of the Dragons.

  She replied telepathically, So what we talked about . . . that may not be the case?

  I answered, I don’t know. I will have to explore that some.

  She sighed, realizing that either way, I’d have to be off for a while. And then I felt her resign to the idea. She was learning to move along with the moment instead of resisting the future.

  Rocking our pink-blanketed, sleeping daughter in a motherly fashion, she asked the High Lama Khandro, “What is the Tibetan translation for Wise One?”

  He answered, “Yeshe.”

  Jen looked upon our daughter’s face, with adoring eyes. “I want to name her . . . Yeshe.”

  Then she gazed a moment upon our son in my arms, before narrowing her eyes at the High Lama Khandro. “Is there a Tibetan translation for—”

  “—Thunderbolt,” I finished, even though I knew the answer.

  The High Lama Khandro said, “Dorjee.”

  I said to Jen, “I want to name him Dorjee.”

  Jen nodded in approval, happy that I cared.

  Randa sighed hard through apple cheeks. “Well, I would love to get home. I need a scotch.”

  “Me too,” said Marla. “I know the world of magic . . . but this? This is way over the top, even for me.”

  Charlotte said, “I will take you both home if you can each take a good hold on me. We have many new plans to make.”

  Dian’s eyes sparkled as she stared at Charlotte while twirling a tress of blonde hair with her fingers. “Must you go—so soon?”

  I glared at Dian. Keeping the Tazmarks from playing with the Shens would not be easy.

  Charlotte eyed her. “Yes . . . we must.”

  Randa said, “Yes, if you could give us a ride, Charlotte, that would be great. I think we need about a five or six bedroom place.” Then she looked at Jen and said, “I am glad you are rich, Jenséa.”

  Jen said playfully, “You are the art dealer.”

  Randa said, “Yes, but you are the art—eest.” Randa looked at me. “Will you both join us?”

  I said, “Not yet. We will be along later.” I really needed time with Jen.

  Randa said, “Shall we take the babies?”

  Jen and I shook our heads, no.

  André said, “I want to get out of Chile so bad.” Then he gave me a slight glare, remembering how I’d introduced him to the place.

  I cracked him a diabolical smile.

  The High Lama Khandro announced, “I must return also.”

  André said, “Oh, could you give me a ride? I still haven’t figured out how to fly.”

  The High Lama Khandro nodded with a kindly smile. “Yes, and I suppose I must teach you more about Shens. Why don’t you stay with me a while?”

  André’s face lit. “Yes, it would be an honor.”

  Jen said warmly, “Goodbye, dear André.”

  He whisked over to her and gave her a gentle hug, and it didn’t bother me at all. I guess I was learning how to integrate emotions.

  Jen walked to Charlotte and hugged her, baby in-between them. “Thank you for being such a wonderful great grandmother.”

  Charlotte said, parting with tears. “Finally, I have a family.”

  Jen replied, “Yes Charlotte, you do.”

  The High Lama Khandro came over and bowed. “You have done well, my child. You even hailed a Divine Light Ice Storm.”

  Jen smiled, proud of her victory. “I did at that, not a feat I felt possible.”

  He started to reply, “An impasse is merely—”

  And Jen finished the sentence, “—a clouded perception.”

  They both chuckled. Then he removed the amber ring from his hand. And though she was holding the baby, he slid it on her index finger. “Remember how to use it.”

  Jen nodded affectionately, teary-eyed. “I will.”

  Then she scanned the group slowly, even the Tazmarks, and said, “Thank you. Thank you, all.”

  The Tazmarks grumbled and rolled their
eyes, not accustomed to friendliness.

  The snap, crackle, and pop of the dwindling fire, in the dimming light, on the shiny ocean, set the scene for this rejoicing good-bye. And I couldn’t wait for them all to leave.

  Charlotte said to Marla and Randa, “Shall we go?”

  Marla and Randa sandwiched Charlotte, one with arms around her waist and the other with arms around her shoulders, as if they knew the ropes. Good thing the seventh realm had little gravity, making weight a minor issue. “Hold on tight, my dears. This old lady is not so strong.” They giggled a bit and disappeared.

  “Bye,” said André, his arms hugging the High Lama Khandro a bit too tightly for his ride out of Chile.

  With bulging face, the High Lama Khandro said, “Namasté.” And they disappeared.

  Then Jen looked at Aruka. “Aruka, as long as you don’t eat the babies, you can visit.”

  She raised a sinister brow.

  Jen said, “Or maybe not.”

  Omar flashed a dark smile. “We can baby-sit.”

  Zahna said, “Yes, we can.”

  Jen said, “That’s okay,” and slid her eyes up at me.

  I barely moved my head signaling to her that the Tazmarks would obey me. It just wasn’t their nature to overtly concede.

  She nodded lightly, feeling relieved.

  Cecelia said, “I think I shall be off to create another of my own offspring.” Then she gave me a wanton look.

  I shook my head no, meaning I didn’t think it would be a good idea to mate with her. The females would want to mate with me now, given I’d proven my power. But Jen, after all I’d been through with her—she would forever come first.

  I declared, “All right Tazmark brethren, go forth and create chaos!”

  Jen scowled a bit.

  I gave her a knowing eye.

  “I know. I know,” she said.

  They left almost simultaneously, and Jen and I were left alone at last. We stood there for a time, staring at each other and the babies we held. A family. So odd. And yet, so right. I manifested her cloth floral bag from Charlotte’s house in France where I’d so callously left it when on my mission to destroy her.

  She saw it at her feet and laughed. “You do love me.”

  “I do,” I said warmly.

  We turned to face the waves washing the shore, our shoulders touching as we cradled Yeshe and Dorjee. We watched the last of the great crimson sunset splash rays upon the darkened sea, disappearing so the stars could shine.

  “Fire and water,” I said.

  “Me and you,” she added.

  We looked at our babies, and said simultaneously, “Them.”

  Then gazing into each other’s eyes we said, “Us.”

  I nudged her shoulder. “Forever.”

  “Forever,” she echoed tentatively, as if trying to believe it.

  Tazmark Rule #6. Beware the Shen. But I had fallen in love with one. I had broken the great rule.

  But my reputation preceded me as the breaker of rules. And so yes, I had fallen in love with a Shen, a Goddess, and finally, finally, she loved me back. It’s as they say, ‘Love knows no bounds.’ I looked up to the sky at the Draco constellation. I hope.

  Note From the Author

  Thank you for reading, and please remember to leave a review! For updates on sales and new releases, and to be notified when book three, The Golden Disc, releases, please sign up for my mailing list by following the link below:

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  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my long deceased grandmother, Charlotte Vervin, born and raised in France, who gave meaning to the character Charlotte in the manuscript. Thanks to my departed mother, Carole Kalior (in whatever world she resides), my father Robert Kalior who always lends an ear and wise words, my sister Cindy Kalior who is my greatest fan, and my brother Mark Kalior who ever cheers me on. I am also grateful for Sara Roethle’s inspiring poetry, and for proofreading the manuscript. Thanks to Laura Keyser for proofreading. My appreciation also goes to Stephen R. Roethle for serving as a weapons adviser, and for giving unyielding support in my endeavors. Thank you Matt Keyser for helping me title the book, sketching my monster characters, giving me a great idea, and for serving as an advisor. Thanks also to Jason Lewis for educating me about astrophysical things, and for giving me the visual of ‘bug on a windshield.’ Thank you to the talented healer and wonderful friend, Dr. Cyndi Meyers for curing my lifelong back ailment and my troublesome tendonitis, enabling me to continue writing. Thanks to her also for serving as a reference for parts of the book that involve anatomy and blood scenes that are hard for me to research and write. And I am grateful for my dear friend, Karlyn, whose enthusiasm for fairylands and mysticism fuels my excitement to write about such things. I will always think of her when I see a blue dragonfly. Thanks to Helen Levison for her enthusiasm with my work. She inspires me greatly. Thanks to the many others who support and believe in me: Jennifer Kalior, Linda Post, Gail Barton, Mary Thompson, Karol Roethle, Sarah Nevin, Anita Savi, and my dear departed friend Anita Mitchell.

  About the Author

  Susan was born in Seattle, WA, raised in Phoenix, AZ, and currently resides in Oregon. Her first profession was a psychotherapist (individual, marriage, and family counseling) treating those suffering from depression, anxiety, post traumatic stress, substance abuse, sexual abuse, family violence, and severe mental illness. She employed therapies such as communication skill building, relaxation training, systematic desensitization, bioenergetics, and psychodrama. She has facilitated stress management, parenting, and self-discovery workshops that have aided in the psycho-spiritual healing of many. She has lectured on metaphysical and psychological topics, and been involved in various social activist pursuits.

  Her education includes an M.A. in Ed. in Counseling/Human Relations and Behavior (NAU), a B.S. in Sociology (ASU), and ten months of psychological and metaphysical training in a Tibetan community.

  Susan writes entertaining books steeped in psychology, sociology, and metaphysics in genres such as visionary fiction, dark fantasy, horror, and romance. All her books are designed to facilitate personal growth and transformation.

  In her words: I love to sing, meditate, and play in nature. I love fairy tales, going outside the box, and reading between the lines. I strive to see what is often missed, and to not miss what can't be seen. There is such a life out there, and in there—beyond all perception! So I close my eyes, feel my inner rhythm, and jump off the cliff of convention. And when I land, though I might be quaking in my boots, I gather my courage and go exploring.

  Through travel, study, and work, I've gained a rich awareness of cultural differences among people and their psychosocial struggles. I have discovered that oppression often results from the unexamined adoption of outside perceptions. The healing always has been in the individual's stamina to expel outside perceptions of self and constructively exert one's unique core being into the world. I am driven to facilitate expanded awareness that people may separate who they are from who they are told to be. Embracing personal power by loving our unique selves in our strengths and weaknesses . . . forever—is a key to joyous living.

  My motto is: Trust your story. Live the Mystery.