Chris moves like a mountain goat toward the water and I climb after him, feeling unsure about what comes next. He kneels down and opens the long skinny bag he brought with him from the truck. He removes a piece of polished wood. It looks like a flute at first but there are no holes in it. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the lumpy rock he had been working on in his backyard and fits it to the end of the wood. He holds it up for inspection. It’s a ceremonial pipe. The lumpy rock is the pipe bowl. I can see it is actually more of an ‘L’ shape.
“Did you make that?” I ask in a low voice.
“Yes. It is not finished, but it is close enough to use for today.”
“Use it how?” I ask.
“You ask a lot of questions, Ant.” He turns the leather bag upside down and a smaller leather pouch falls out onto his palm.
“Why did you call me an ant?”
“Because Ant teaches us about patience.”
I can take a hint. I shut it and watch in silence. He lays the pipe down on top of the leather bag and then opens the smaller one. He pinches out some of its contents and puts it into the pipe bowl. He packs it in with a fingertip.
“Sacred mixture,” he explains.
I refrain from asking my next twenty questions. Chris stands up and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. I give him a pointed look. My eyebrows are raised and I clamp my lips together. I don’t want to prove him right by asking what I’m supposed to be doing now. His face softens from his normal serious mask to a look a bemusement as he notices my expression.
“I will smoke the pipe to help me find the right frame of mind. I will honor the four directions and our ancestors with a pipe ceremony. I will also give a gift of tobacco to our Great Mother earth. Then we will place our offerings in the water and pray for Ashley’s release from this world and acceptance into the next.”
I nod in agreement and look again at the mountain clearing and the pool of hot water with its strange bottomless crevice on one end.
“Will you smoke with me or do you have another way to help you find focus?”
I look into his nearly black eyes and wonder if I can really do this. Doubt, uncertainty, fear, dread, they’re all hanging around me like stalking midges. I mentally swat them away. “I don’t smoke but I think I know something I can do instead. I should be centered and meditative, right?”
“Yes.”
Finding a seat on a nearby boulder, I stare at the calm surface of the water. I start to bring my attention inward, letting go of everything in the periphery, both visually and mentally. I let my breathing become deep and regular and let all thoughts slip away. I become aware of myself, inside and out, in a detached way. I also keep Chris in my awareness but only in the vaguest sense. I hear the flick of the lighter and I smell the pungent odors of tobacco and herbs burning. I hear him murmur words in another language. All of this is happening and yet it seems as if he’s on another planet instead of a few feet away. I breathe in slowly and exhale even slower, trying to release any fear out of me. Then, after silence and calm envelop me, I let one thought come back. For Ashley.
I stand up and move to the water’s edge. Chris is next to me and we squat down together. I unfold the papers from my pocket and reach out as far as I can over the water and lay them over the surface without touching it. Chris places his photo on top of mine and sprinkles some of the tobacco over the bundle. Wait, I think. The medicine bag around my neck is doing its alive thing again, as if it has its own pulse. With one hand I pull it out from under my shirt and I open the tiny flap. With my thumb and first finger I pinch out the first thing I feel and without looking at it I drop it onto the pictures. I let go of our memorabilia and the current takes our gift and guides it to its new home. I’m calm and quiet as I watch. I had dropped something reddish from the bag, a piece of stone maybe. I hope Grandma won’t miss it. Chris steps back and begins to sing. The song is a somber and repetitive chant I will always remember. I hold an image of Ashley in my mind when she was happy, when she first started dating Jared.
The papers hang on the edge of the drop-off and then they tip over and disappear.
I hold my breath. This is the moment. If it’s going to work then it’ll be now.
She rises almost invisible against the western sunlight. She’s there, though, and like the veils of mist coming off the side of the mountain above, she sparkles in a million tiny facets of light, floating upward to the sun, and then she’s gone.
We leave in silence and in peace. I know my nightmares will stop now. I contemplate what I just witnessed and notice the surrounding forest seems to mimic our quiet attitude. No bird sounds or rush of wind can be heard, only the peaceful, still forest. The angle of the early evening light through the trees and across the ground gives everything a soft yellow glow which makes it feel warmer and a little fuzzy. It’s a good feeling.
I look over at Chris. He walks as light as a waltzing doe with soundless graceful steps. How does he manage to change from one creature to another so quickly? As if he morphs to fit his surroundings, like the mountain goat on the rocks earlier. He reminded me of a raven when he was doing the ceremony and now he moves like a deer in the woods. His energy field is different now too. His regular earthy browns, oranges, and greens had drastically changed to an intense blackish purple when we were by the water and now he is changing back. This aura stuff is going to take some getting used to.
Chris does it to me again, making me wonder if he’s a mind reader.
“It is a matter of practice. First you learn about each animal’s talents and then you learn to borrow these gifts. Walking in silence, climbing rock faces, flying close to the sun or the moon, or moving between worlds. It helps if you are born with natural talent. It is a form of shape shifting. You could learn to do it, if you wanted. Today you proved again that your instincts are strong. Did you know that the red earth you placed in the spring would help her? Are you still seeing auras?” he asks.
The hair rises on my arms but I ignore it. “How do you keep answering my thoughts?”
“You think out loud. If you do not like it, then you should learn to think to yourself.”
He smiles, but he may as well be laughing at me. I can see it all over him.
“That is good. Now you are hearing my thoughts. I was thinking that you are funny,” he says.
I frown. I don’t want someone knowing what I’m thinking and I don’t want to know what other people are thinking either. “I’m not trying to entertain you. And how in the world does someone learn to think to themselves?”
“There are ways,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate.
“So, you’re not going to tell me.”
“No, Ant. Maybe another time.”
“Because you like reading my mind,” I accuse.
“No. Because it can be a complicated topic and I have already spoken too much today.”
“Do you have a limit on the number of words you’re allowed in a day?” I ask sarcastically.
“Yes. I get sick of hearing myself, Ant.”
“You get sick of hearing yourself? I don’t think girls ever have that problem.”
“No. I have never met one that could shut up for more than a few seconds,” he agrees.
“I’m extremely insulted by that, but at the same time, I kind of understand.”
Chris’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh.
“Okay then, now that I know you know I can’t be quiet, I’ll answer your questions. Yes, I’m still seeing auras. People look really different. And no, I didn’t know what I pulled out of my grandmother’s medicine bag, but I’m glad it helped. And call me Ant all you want, but before you run out of words for the day I have one more reason for coming to see you.”
“You should ask your grandmother to help refine your abilities.”
“It’s not about my unfocused skills,” I say, trying not to get perturbed. As far as I’m concerned my “abilities” have brought nothing but confusion.
“Do
not be so callous about your gifts. There is always purpose behind Great Spirit’s actions. Now, I will answer what it is that you want so badly to know. He is Creator’s Black Shadow. He comes to end our life here.”
“What? What’re you talking about?” Chris must be mistaken this time about what I’m thinking.
“Were you going to ask me about the visitor? The Shadow in the form of a man. I was foolish to think that I could protect you from him. Stopping death is beyond even what I can do.”
“No. I wanted to ask you about my friend. The tall guy with the brownish hair. Why were you so upset when you saw him at my house?”
“I just told you.”
Chris stops walking and looks at me. A crease of concern draws his thin brows together.
“You think he’s what? I’m not following you.”
“Your friend, you call him. There is much in this world that I will never understand and that is one of them. He is the Black Shadow of Creator. He comes to take back the lives that were given. When I saw him staring at you I knew that he was here for you and I reacted. I don’t understand why he has gifted you more time but as I just said, there are many mysteries in this life that I will never know.”
“W-well…,” I stutter. “That’s ridiculous. He’s just a guy.” I defend, while trying to sort it all out in my head.
“You asked. Why would I make that up? Do you think I am lying?”
I start walking again, like a robot, mechanical and without feeling. I don’t want to face the truth I see on Chris’s face. He may believe what he’s saying but I can’t imagine it. Or can I?
“I don’t believe it,” I throw out.
Chris is following close behind me. “Because you do not believe it, makes it untrue?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
Everything that happened to me when Nathan was near flashes like mini movies through my thoughts. Nathan appearing at Forge Creek, his sudden rescue at Castle Hill, his silent movement, carrying me with no visible effort, the odd way he responded to me, and the sudden disappearances.
“Juliana?”
I shake my head instead of replying. My brain is completely full of images. Everything with Nathaniel, and the old lady at work, and the place memories, and the evil bastard of a ghost inside Castle Hill. I stare at the passing ground and try to figure out if any of it was real.
“He is what you might know as an Angel of Death. They are very real. But you are here and everything is all right. Is he still coming around? I have not seen him today.”
“Does everyone see them?” I whisper.
“No. It is because you see spirits, I think, as I do. Some people are aware of them right before they die. That is more common.”
How can it be possible? I can’t wrap my mind around it. Do angels really exist? Why do I see them but most people don’t? If he is an Angel of Death shouldn’t I have been afraid of him? Chris was freaked out by him, and I liked him. No, I correct, I still like him. My mind swirls with images and conversations that happened with someone who isn’t real. No, he’s real, but not in a way my brain can accept. I have gone over and over everything, any possibility I could imagine and never came up with this. Chris says it as if it’s completely normal. Angels of death come around all the time? The part of me that relies on existing in reality, 99.9% of me, refuses to believe it.
“Juliana?”
I hear my name again from the end of a long tunnel and I start to shake my head some more, this time in disbelief. I watch the pine trees swim back and forth in a blur. “No.”
“Stop for one minute.”
I do, but the forest continues to circle around me. A solid warm weight squeezes my upper arm and it helps me keep my hold on the world.
“I apologize. I forget that not everyone sees things the way I do. I forget that the paranormal is not normal for most people. Take in some air and let it go. You are going to be fine.”
The strength in his voice and in his hand helps. And air, breathing, helps more. I make my chest rise and fall. The ground becomes solid again and focusing returns to normal.
“Not fine, I’m not fine. I’m never going to be fine again.”
“Do not fear what you don’t understand. There is great purpose in everything if you are willing to see it. You are breathing, you are well. This experience is rare. Chances of it happening again are not likely.” He squeezes my arm once more and then lets his hand fall away.
It won’t happen again? Now that made me shift a little, creating a hairline crack in my shell, allowing in a sliver of light, but it occurred to me there were other problems too. “What about all the ghosts? You saw the evil creepy spirit in Castle Hill. Will I still see things like that?”
“I am guessing so. You are still seeing auras. Your switch has been flipped on. There is no off. I meant specifically that an encounter with an angelic being, if that is the name you prefer, is quite rare.”
“Lucky me,” I say in disgust. Then another thought surfaces. “How come I can’t always tell if I’m seeing a living person or a dead one? You seem to know the difference. What’s the matter with me?”
“You will be able to tell with more experience.”
“No thank you! I’m going to avoid all of it. I don’t want to know about, or see anything that isn’t solid, and real, and alive.”
“It is not that simple, Jules.”
I can feel his concern for my plight like the heaviness of fog in the air. I didn’t ask for these stupid gifts. I like a guy who isn’t alive, and I didn’t know it! There’s something seriously wrong with that. The weight in the air isn’t only coming from Chris; it’s my own straitjacket of insecurity and doubt.
“You see auras. Ghosts do not have an aura because it is a part of the physical body. No body, no aura. Look for that. It will help you figure it out. You are very strong. You have already handled yourself well. And I can help you if you get overwhelmed again.”
“Thanks.” I guess. I finally meet his eyes. His expression is much softer than normal. He looks away from me this time, starting to walk again. His back looks stiff as he leaves me standing in the middle of the forest.
“My offer will always be good.”
I trudge behind him letting everything process. TMI — too much information — I decide, total overload. I make an attempt to give my brain cells a break by staring at Chris. His aura has changed again. The eggplant purple is almost entirely gone and his normal hues have returned, but around his middle and low back is a dense swirl of his earth colors. I can sense strong emotion in that area. Will I ever get used to my new vision? I don’t dwell on the change I see in Chris. My thoughts keep returning to Nathaniel. An Angel of Death, Creator’s black shadow. How can that be?
Chapter Twenty-nine: Upside Down
When I return home my mom and Jared are both there. Music blares through the walls from the direction of Jared’s room, and Mom is rattling around in the kitchen. I mean to head straight for my room, but Mom has other ideas.
“Jules, is that you?”
“Yes.”
“Come in here for a second,” she calls as I place my foot on the first stair.
I put on as blank a face as I can and enter the kitchen.
“Hi sweetie,” she says as she stirs an enormous bowl full of food.
“Hi,” I say as I send out a silent prayer she’ll keep this short.
“Work okay?”
“Yes.” If I don’t give her details, will she get the hint? Probably not.
“Did you do something after work?” She glances over at the clock indicating she knows Native Naturals closed a couple of hours ago.
“I went for a walk.”
“You feeling well? You look a little upset.”
“Just so-so. I really feel like vegging out in my room for a while.” Maybe a direct approach will speed this along.
“Oh.” Her face turns from her normal soft kindness to a look of deep concern. “Do you need anything, some tea? Dinner
will be done soon. Are you hungry?”
Hearing her spill out three sentences in quick succession gives me some insight to where I get my annoying habit from. I blink away the revelation. “Nothing right now, thanks. I’m tired, that’s all. I’ll eat when the food is ready. It smells good,” I add, trying for a more cheerful version of me.
She spoons out the mixture she’s been stirring into a glass casserole dish and puts a lid on it. She opens the oven door and places it inside. She sets the timer on the stove and says, “The funeral was so sad today.”
She gives me a weak smile and I notice the puffiness around her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. I’ve seen so many loved ones lost, you know, at work, but this one is worse. Her poor parents. The pain must be unimaginable.”
I didn’t know how to respond. How do you comfort your own mother? She must have felt my growing unease because she finally gets down to what I suspect she really wants to talk about.
Deep lines form creases around her green eyes and she screws up her mouth for a second before continuing. “I’m worried about your brother, Jules. Do you know what’s going on with him? I think it’s more than just his hand bothering him.”
I stare out of the screen door rather than face her. The shadows are long across the yard and across my heart. “I’m not sure. He’s hardly speaking to me.”
“I know. He’s not himself lately. Maybe you can try to talk to him?”
“Yeah, I will,” I say and go back to my room as another invisible weight lowers onto my shoulders.
I crawl onto my bed and sit, legs tucked under me. Leaning over to the trunk next to my bed, I pick out a CD and put it in. I let myself be absorbed by it. I need some time without any interference. No Jared, no Mom, no ghosts, no trapped spirits, no drug problems, no work, and definitely no angels. Somewhere near the end of the disc I reach for my notebook and open it to a clean page. I begin writing the first things I hear.
He came for me
As sure as I can see.
Death Lies Between Us (An Angel Falls Book 1) Page 29
