“I don’t think I want to.”
“Miss Crowson. You must learn to protect yourself. I cannot clean up every time your recklessness tests the limits of the spirit world.”
I rub my forehead and let my hair fall forward in an attempt to hide my humiliation. Chris gives me the needed moment of introspection.
The tiny bundle of fur in my hand could be an explosive. It’s charged and ready for something unknown. “This is special,” I start to say. “It is heavy, and light, and dense, but wants to float away at the same time. I feel like there’s something alive inside. It reminds me of Grandma’s medicine bag in a way, but it’s definitely different, too.”
“Now you know the difference between an object of power and one that has none.”
I hand it back to him. “Did you make it?”
“Yes.” He takes it back and places it with a bunch of similar looking bundles.
“What’s inside?” I ask with a full body shudder. The little bundle of fur contains magic like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Besides Grandma’s medicine bag, the only other thing that comes close is Travis’s dagger, and touching it had been one of the worst mistakes of my life.
“I will not say at this time.”
I frown. He wants me to learn but doesn’t answer my question.
“Knowledge will come when you need it. Today you learn about objects that hold power, and protection from spirits.”
“I suppose I have to start somewhere.”
“That’s right.”
Chris grabs a leather bag and his spear and heads toward the back of the house. I follow since I’m not sure what else to do.
He walks straight over to the middle of my backyard and stops.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You will do much,” he says as he inspects the contents of his pouch. “But first I need to call the Sky Beings. If we are in their favor they may come tonight.”
“Like thunder?” I ask.
“Yes, Ant.”
Sighing at his use of the name, Ant, I recall when he told me on our very first excursion together involving spirits that ant teaches us about patience. “But you haven’t told me how I caused the demons to come into the house.”
“Juliana, I was not here to witness it. You need to tell me. What did you do?”
I sink into myself, deflated. “I don’t know, Chris. I was reading the book and then, urghhh…” I pause and close my eyes trying to remember how it all happened. My life has been a supernatural freak show lately. It’s impossible to pick the exact moment I buried myself in this mess. I open my eyes and silently plead to Chris to understand I’m struggling to find the part of this situation that implicates me as the main suspect. “I wrote down some notes? Would that have done it?”
“Only you know the answer,” he says and stops rummaging in his medicine bundle.
I stop glaring at Chris and stare at the sky above the treetops. Pure cobalt-blue streaked with high cirrus clouds hang over my head. He’s not going to get me over this hump. My necklace was moved. There was something about the book. The memory of the feeling hits me harder than what I actually did to call the demons into the house, but then I remember. I did this to myself. Before my date with Nathaniel. Reading the lines in the book aloud. Knowing the exact moment of guilt is a crashing wave of relief, but the humble pie is an awful acidic thing to swallow.
Chris seems to feel the shift in my consciousness. He glances over at me just long enough to give me a knowing nod, and looks away. “You may watch, but no more interruptions.”
With this, Chris closes his eyes and spreads his arms wide, holding the little fur-wrapped bag in one hand and the spear in the other. He makes a formal address to each of the directions. He finishes facing west. Then he calls to the sky so loud my grandmother and mom step out onto the deck from the kitchen. I sidestep closer to them as Chris shakes his spear and yells in his native language. His aura is massive now, a deep blackish purple and reaches out in all directions especially skyward. One beam of his energy arcs straight out of him and becomes part of the atmosphere.
When he stops yelling, he lowers his arms and places the fur wrapped object back inside his bag. As if the wind were already answering him, a breeze picks up. Chris holds up his hand and opens his closed fist letting go of some light yellow powder. A faint prayer escapes his lips and is carried away with the wind and the golden dust.
Was that the coolest or most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen? I shake it off as being just Chris Abeyta, shaman extraordinaire. His aura gathers back into itself as he walks around the side of the house. I have the feeling there may be a lot more weird, cool, spectacular, and freaky displays of his power coming later.
“Come in and have something to eat,” Mom says from above me on the deck.
“I think we’re in for a very long night,” Grandma says.
“Why is that, Charlotte?” Mom asks.
“Chris called the Sky, Diane. It takes time to move the heavens.”
I follow them inside the house. Another long night? Just what I didn’t need.
Chapter Fifteen: Weapons of Choice
Nathaniel
“Is Vivian Costa exiting the physical world?”
“I don’t share the private details of my clients’ lives.”
Liam doesn’t look fazed by my unwillingness to answer him.
“Hmmph,” he snorts. “Marcus must be yer mentor,” he says.
I set my jaw and wait to see what Liam wants.
“I am pleased to know she’s still alive. That’s if ye’re not a lying heap of pig shite.”
“And how many lying angels have you ever met?” Personally, I know none. Marcus was clear about the importance of honesty and trust in my line of work. Without either, an Angel of Death would fail at the job.
“Plenty,” Liam says.
“I’m not here to lie to you. And, if you care about Vivi you would let me go so I can check on her.”
He appraises me with a steel gaze. The silent seconds seem to last forever before he speaks. “What did ye see in the fairy’s cave?”
“Why do you keep asking me?”
His cool expression reveals nothing.
“How did you do it, Liam? How did you fall and come back to life,” I ask.
If he wants to keep me prisoner, I may as well ask what I came here to find out.
His eyes and mouth harden. “I know nothing about it, fairy.”
“So, you’re one of the lying kind,” I snap back.
He turns and walks off.
How much longer can he hold me here? What are Juliana and Vivi doing right now? Is Vivi’s health diminishing? I reach up and rake my fingers over my scalp feeling frustration like I’ve never known.
I hear footsteps and look up to see Liam standing in front of the cave entrance. His gaze holds steady on the pile of fairy gifts I thought the little boy brought me.
“My nephew thinks ye’re here for his entertainment,” he says.
“I’m sorry I missed him. He is at least partially sympathetic to my problem.”
“Ye tell me word for word the reason why ye’ve come traipsing all over my land.”
I will myself to hold steady and not go ballistic. “Why won’t you let me go? You know my client needs my assistance?”
“I cannot trust ye, and neither ye, me.”
I stare at him and refuse to respond. I will not compromise Juliana’s safety by giving him any information about her.
“One last time, I ask ye, what did ye see inside the fairy lock?”
I shake my head at him and harden my gaze.
Liam steps back.
Afraid he’ll leave again, I say, “Neither of us is willing to give up our secrets. I can see that. But, Vivi helped me find you. She said you and your wife were friends of hers. For her, I make an offer.”
Liam watches me, his weathered eyes pinching at the corners as I speak.
“I challenge you, Liam O’Flannagain. I
f I win, you will answer my questions and I will leave unharmed and never return. If you win, I will stay forever locked inside this ludicrous cave.”
He snorts. Somewhere in his assessing glare I think I see the hint of a crack in his shield.
“A challenge from an arsewipe such as yerself seems hardly sport a‘tall.”
“I’ve done nothing to you, old man. Is this really how you would treat someone who only seeks the same escape you yourself have taken?”
“Ye know naught of my past.”
His tone is harsh and unyielding. I’ve hit a nerve, but he’s talking and not walking away.
“You’re absolutely right. I came for help. A conversation, but now I see the error I’ve made by thinking I could talk to you like a civilized being.”
I hear a rumble rise from his chest, a growl of sorts. “Ye wouldna’ stand two seconds against me in any honorable duel.”
“Pick your weapon and we’ll see.”
Liam sets his slightly rounded shoulders back, standing taller, and elevates his chin.
“A jackass such as yerself deserves eternity inside stone walls so I will accept. There will be proper conduct. If ye forego the rules, ye’ll regret it.”
“Regret is something I’m familiar with already, but the same rules apply to you,” I say as I hold back my rage.
Liam walks out of my limited line of sight. My chest rises and falls heavy and hard. The bastard has no right. He is even distrustful of my honor. I let go of my physical body and let my spirit fume. I must conserve my energy for when Liam returns. God only knows what challenge the fallen angel will come up with.
∞
I hear his footsteps moving through the forest before I see him. His return comes with the sun on the following morning. In the ashen light, I see his shadow falling across the cave entrance. He slips a large pack off his shoulder and removes a brown cloth package. He unfolds it and removes a pile of green leaves. He places them in a line on the cave entrance floor. “With thy eyes I see all fairies should be free like me. With thy ears, I hear the fairies’ song. With my heart I swear I will never do them any wrong.”
“Cross now.”
I take my cue and leave my prison cell behind, walking out unhindered into the leafy wild Irish woods.
“If Vivian has trust in ye, I must assume ye’re a person of yer word.”
Walking past him I say, “I’m not going anywhere until we’re finished with this absurdity.”
“This way then, arseweed.”
Through the brush and around the trees I follow Liam ever uphill and away from his cottage. The light of the day grows with every passing minute until the sky blazes a deep magenta in the east. We leave the cover of the forest and climb a trail over green slope after green slope. After passing through two gates in the ancient stone walls and past a flock of sheep spotted with pink and blue paint I see the trail heading into a patch of squat evergreen trees.
“You planning to hike us up to the top of that cliff so you can push me into the ocean?”
“If I could,” he says as he keeps up his steady pace. “I would.”
We emerge at the summit of the highest hill with an ocean view the likes of which I’ve never seen. Ancient stone ruins crest the peak of the small mountain looking out over the sea. There’s not much left to the ruins other than foundation stones and a few crumbling walls, but its majesty and history speak clearly to me in the early morning hours.
Liam passes the stone ruins and doesn’t stop until he is at the front door of a tiny cottage built into a knoll. Its earthen roof is shaggy and green and reminds me of a wool cap. The weathered door gives a groan as it swings inward and Liam steps inside.
“I will not enter any place behind you without your word I will not be trapped again.”
“So the American angel is able to learn after all?”
“Guess you can quit insulting my intelligence now.” I widen my stance and cross my arms over my chest as Liam disappears inside the dark cottage.
“Not hardly, arsewipe.”
“What’s the challenge, old man?”
“Ye can enter. Yer safety is guaranteed for now. We pick the weapons together for I want a worthy opponent.”
I move to the doorway. Liam could be from any time in history with his old-fashioned long shirt and rough-hewn trousers. The pack over his shoulder looks like something from a different era, handmade and rustic, much like the bungalow he just entered. Only his boots seem to belong to the modern times. He looks hard as nails and tougher than any old bastard I’ve ever known.
“Why do you live in hiding?” I inspect the threshold before crossing over, looking for unknown powder or leaves but see nothing suspicious.
Liam places his backpack on a table and pulls out a canteen. He takes a long swill as I glance around. It’s a single room and little more than a storehouse. There’s a window to my right and dust motes float in the faint light filtering in through the glass. A small camp stove crouches in one corner and a cot is pushed up against the stone wall. A large black case lies on top of the cot.
Liam sets his canteen down and lights a lantern. He clears his throat, but it comes out more of a grunt. A soft glow brightens the back of the cottage and Liam motions toward the table and the wall behind it. A collection of various weapons is displayed. My eyebrows rise involuntarily. Two pistols, two crossbows, a set of hunting knives, three hand-axes, and some boxing gloves. Hanging on the wall above is a bow with its arrows and a bodhran.
“Forget your broadswords?”
“Of course not. Ye’d lose a leg in half a second.”
He’s right of course. When I lived, my skills with weapons were limited. I was more likely to be found under the hood of a car or repairing a broken fence than actually fencing. I also spent hours upon hours chopping wood so my family could stay warm in the winter. That and my father liked to send me outside to take care of the woodpile as punishment for misbehaving. What Liam has no way of knowing is I taught myself to throw an axe with deadly accuracy. Staying outside chopping logs as a young man was ten times better than being cooped inside the house with my angry, drunk father. By the time I was ten, I could throw an axe and sink it into the hardest wood with my eyes closed. Liam also doesn’t know my control-freak, cop father believed it was vital for his son to know how to handle a firearm.
“I will not shoot an old man.”
“Ye’ll let me shoot ye then,” he says.
“It hardly seems fair to be shot when I won’t feel it, and it will kill you.”
“How do ye know it will kill me? Yer kind know the future now, do ye?”
“No. Are you saying you can’t die after you fall?”
“I say no such thing.”
I knead the back of my neck to ease the pressure building there. It isn’t in me to shoot someone. My father made me practice, but I refused to kill anything. As a boy, it felt wrong. After becoming an Angel of Death and watching souls pass away and leave the body, I still can’t imagine taking a life from someone. I also can’t lose this “duel” as Liam likes to call it. Then again, eternity inside a small cave isn’t an option either.
“What is your intention with the axes?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager to get my hands on one. “Hand to hand or target?”
“Well, ye just stated the obvious. Ye cannot die and I’ve not preserved myself for this long to be bloodied to bits by a gobshite such as yerself. So, targets. I choose the crossbow. Ye choose the axes.”
“Fine,” I say. “And the tiebreaker, should we need it?”
“A coin toss is in order for the third weapon.”
Liam pulls a silver coin from his pocket and flips it expertly into the air. It lands on the black case on top of the cot. “Call it.”
“Tails,” I say.
Liam leans toward the cot, eyeing the coin. “Heads. Third round will be the gloves.”
Chapter Sixteen: The Strike
Juliana
Chris waves an eagle f
eather above the burning smudge pot. A fragrant cloud of cleansing smoke wafts around my body. He smudges Grandma and Mom next. We move as a group through the house. It’s not entirely unlike my first attempt at purifying the house with the herbal spray, except Chris and Grandma are more adept than I am. Chris speaks in his native language as we move from room to room. Grandma, with her bird-song voice, uses prayer to ask for protection and help at expelling unwanted spirits. As they circle each room they burn a mix of sage and sweetgrass and sprinkle holy water mixed with essential oils of Frankincense, myrrh, and sandalwood. Mom and I follow behind them, staying close by as per Chris’s instructions.
My bedroom is the worst in terms of too much harmful and funky energy. No big shocker there. Grandma and Mom can’t see the swirling darkness in the ceiling above my closet, but Chris and I can. Dread and fear threaten to overwhelm me as I start imagining demons returning through the otherworldly hole in the ceiling. Why did it appear after all the excitement? I have no answers. All I know is I opened the portal in my room by studying the book. I unknowingly asked ungodly creatures to come right inside. Do I have ignoramus stamped on my forehead? If it’s not there, it should be. Will I ever figure out how to deal with the paranormal? And, what happened with Harmony and Marcus’s attempt to fix this mess?
Chris asks me to pay close attention as he moves around my room, but I don’t really understand everything he does as he circles the room echoing his haunting chants. When we leave, the gaping void above my closet is left wide open and I lose some confidence in Chris’s abilities.
To my surprise, Jared and his bedroom are last and take the longest. As Chris works, he’s careful to step around Marcus. My grandmother and mother sit next to Jared on the bed and they place their hands on him in a way that reminds me of when Nathaniel transfers energy from the universe to people for healing. An epiphany strikes me as I realize Grandma and Mom are doing the same exact thing. They are natural healers. They have always done this. I’ve witnessed it so many times it’s just normal to me. The warmth in their hands feels slightly different than Nathaniel’s, but that makes sense, too. Everyone’s energy and auras are unique.
Haunting Me (An Angel Falls Book 3) Page 17
