Rachael nodded slowly, her eyes wide and somber. "You have someone up there in the Holy cosmos looking after you. When I heard about the spiders, I started to do some research. I decided to go the occult route since the doctors didn't know what type had bitten you. After doing a bit of work, I found a very interesting and obscure grimoire." Rachael paused to scoot the chair a bit closer to Annaleah's bed, glancing at the door as if to make sure they were alone.
"I read many things, from an Asian creature who travels in Dream Time, to a legend about the origins of spiders themselves. I thought you would like to hear the one about their origin, as owls come into it as well."
"Owls?' Annaleah asked, a bit confused. "What do owls and spiders have to do with each other?"
"Quite a bit actually," Rachael answered, her face blossoming into a smile. She rubbed her hands together, apparently anxious to share what she had learned. "You see, it is said that long ago, Satan was an angel named Satanael. After he fell he was called Satan, which has come to mean adversary or enemy. Anyway, supposedly the Goddess let him make the first living creatures on Earth, and he made terrible monsters. The Goddess destroyed them and it really pissed Satanael off. When the Goddess killed Satanael's creatures and replaced them with mankind, this led to war, and a third of the angels of Heaven fell with Satanael.”
Annaleah looked at her friend curiously. Marchasias had just shared this information with her, and now Rachael was telling her the same thing. An uneasy feeling, uncomfortably close to fear, arose in her belly.
“Now, here is the interesting part,” Rachael went on, unaware of Annaleah’s discomfort. “Satanael was so angry about his creations being killed off that he made an entire species of a creature to snub the Goddess and satisfy his hurt ego. Guess what that was?"
Annaleah shuddered as she recalled the huge spiders dripping off the trees like a nightmare rain in her meeting with the Jorogumo. "Spiders?" she asked.
Rachael nodded. "Yes, spiders. And not just on Earth either. Satanael made special hybrids of them, half human and half spider creatures called--"
"The Jorogumo." Annaleah interrupted. The fear in her belly clawed its way into her chest, making her heart thunder. She tried to swallow but her mouth had gone dry.
Rachael blinked at her in surprise. "Yes. You know about the Jorogumo?"
"I’ll tell you how at a later time, but yes, I do unfortunately. Please go on."
Rachael continued. "So anyway, there were all manner of spiders created. Insects to cover the earth and bring torment and even death to mankind, God's precious creation. Demons were made by crossing human's DNA with a spider's, and both were sent into Heaven to do warfare, and to destroy the Goddess's mankind on earth as well. Many angels became poisoned, and some were lost to the oblivion only angels endure. The Holy Angels went to the Goddess in despair, begging for help. She gave them permission to create one creature of their own. Any guess as to what this creature was?"
A gentle glow of peace overcame her fear as an image of Bubo and her mother came into Annaleah’s mind. "Owls?" she guessed.
Rachael smiled and nodded once more. "Yeah, that's right. They created owls.” Rachael paused looked at Annaleah, a smirk on her face, as if she had known Annaleah would guess correctly and was pleased she had done so. “Demons hate owls. This knowledge has been purposely repressed by the demons, who have tried to make owls look ominous and foreboding.”
Annaleah shook her head, confused, and held her hand up for Rachael to stop for a moment. After gathering her thoughts, she asked, “Where did you find that? I teach the Occult and I’ve never heard that before.”
Racahel tilted her head, a curious look on her face. She studied Annaleah for a few seconds, and seemed to be surprised that Annaleah had never heard of this before.
“Well, I looked it up in the school library’s rare books section. It was in a leather bound grimoire that looked a million years old.” Rachael continued to pierce her with a strange look in her eyes, as if she still couldn’t believe Annaleah. didn’t know this. “The title was in another language, and the script inside looked penned by hand. It was a spooky but beautiful book.”
There was an uncomfortable pause before Rachael cleared her throat and continued.
“Anyhow, the demons made up stories to give owls a bad reputation so people would associate them with superstitions of death and bad luck. It couldn't be further from the truth. Not only did Athena the Goddess of art, wisdom and war tactics have an owl familiar, but the arch angel Gabriel is associated with them as well, being the angel of the night and of the moon. And so Annaleah, here is my question to you...."
Rachael looked at her friend with a merry twinkle in her eyes. "What dealings do you have with the angels? I mean, it makes sense now. Why else would an owl injure itself to come to you, and how on Earth would there be a spider in this part of the world, as of yet undiscovered, which came to you and almost killed you with its poison?”
Annaleah’s mind went into overdrive, it was all coming together now. As she looked down at her hands to think about what Rachael had said, she could feel Rachael’s dark brown eyes on her, as if Rachael were trying to pry apart her mind to see what she was thinking.
“Are you an angel?” Rachael asked. The energy between them grew heavier, as if the air had gone out from the room. Annaleah could hear her heart beat in the silence.
What if she was an angel? Satanael, Marchosias and her mother had all said that she was special. Not just special, but one of a kind. The notion was electrifying, exciting and terrifying all at once. Yet, what if those meetings were nothing more than very vivid dreams? She laughed nervously, not knowing what to say that would sound sane.
"I'm sorry, Rachael, I don't mean to be rude by laughing. I just can't imagine myself as an angel. I do love your story though; it makes a lot of sense." Annaleah was about to go on and tell her about her dreams, but all thoughts of doing so quickly vanished as Uncle John walked into the room, roses in hand. When he saw that Annaleah was awake, his face blossomed into an expression of pure happiness.
"Annaleah! Oh thank God you're awake!" Uncle John was at Annaleah's side at once, throwing his arms around her, roses and all. She returned his embrace, hugging him tightly.
"We thought we might lose you there, kiddo," Uncle John said as he let her go so he could set the roses on the side table.
"Rachael informed me of that," Annaleah said, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. "I'm still getting used to that news."
"Don't you ever do that to me again, young lady!" Uncle John scolded. At first, Annaleah thought he meant almost dying on him, but his face was too serious for it to be a joke. He meant hiding the fact that she had been bitten from him. Annaleah hung her head, not knowing what to say.
Rachael, sensing the tension in the room, cleared her throat. "Um, I have an essay due tomorrow, I should get going.” She said as she rose from her chair. “I’m so glad you're feeling better, Annaleah. See you in class, okay?” She leaned over and hugged Annaleah gently. “I’m sure you will be out of here soon. See y'all. Nice to see you again too, Uncle John."
After the girls hugged and Rachael left, Uncle John looked once more at his niece. "I know I wasn't feeling well, but I would have insisted on you going to the hospital. I wouldn’t have had to bring you myself, Seth could have brought you."
Not wanting to fight with her uncle, Annaleah said simply, "I'm sorry." She had been looking down at her hands at first, feeling ashamed for not doing just as he said, though she still felt that, in his state that night, alerting him would have been the wrong thing. When he didn't answer right away, she looked up into his eyes, which were just as green as hers. "Really Uncle John, I mean it. I'm sorry."
Uncle John nodded, looking intensely at her, and let out a long sigh. He grabbed her hand and gently kissed it.
"Don't ever leave me kiddo; you're all the family I have left." He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the level of emotion. Changing the s
ubject, he pointed at a cluster of multicolored columbines in a light lilac colored vase. The bunch was tied together with an indigo ribbon.
"Guess who gave those to you?" he asked, a smile on his lips. Annaleah knew that look, he was about to tease her. She felt her face go hot again, but she smiled. She hadn’t known the Professor had brought her flowers.
"He must really like you. He even remembered what kind of flower you were wearing in your hair the first day of class. He gets a couple brownie points in my book for that. And you made him out to sound so sinister."
Annaleah didn't respond, liking the life that teasing her had brought into her uncle’s kind face. She was rather enjoying the emotions washing over her now. Knowing the Professor had been paying that much attention to her warmed her deeply.
"Do you like him, Annaleah?" Uncle John asked. She looked up at him, still smiling. She wanted to tell him that yes, indeed, she liked him quite a bit, but found she couldn't come outright and say the words. Instead, she nodded, still smiling contentedly.
"Good," he said, patting her hand. "You two would make pretty babies."
That surprised her. Annaleah had never heard him talk that way before. Her mouth opened in shock, her eyes wide. "Uncle John!"
He looked back at her, and seemed to mimic the shocked expression she was giving him, apparently to show her how silly she looked. They both laughed until tears came. After they had settled down a bit, Annaleah spoke softly, "Uncle John, I have a great favor to ask you."
"Anything, kiddo. What is it?"
"I want to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it. Not only to answer it, but to do so with sincere honesty.”
She looked at her uncle, who stiffened up. His eyes looked both sad and frightened, as if he were being cornered.
“Annaleah, no, don't do this," he said quietly. She caught his eyes before he looked down at his feet. They held an old, glazed hurt in them. The corners of his mouth had drawn out and twitched at the corners, as if he were trying not to cry.
Annaleah's stomach sank. Why was this so hard for him? She hated to see him hurting, but she had to know. It was important.
"Please, Uncle John." She said no more, but watched with a deepening ache in her heart as her uncle fought tears. She took his hands in her own and held them, both to strengthen her own resolve and to give comfort to him.
"Tell me about my father."
Uncle John nodded, a tear escaping from each eye. He squeezed her hands in return.
He looked at her, but Annaleah looked away, not able to bear the look of sorrow in her beloved uncle's eyes.
"I have been trying for your whole life to shelter you from this, Annaleah, but You're a grown woman now and you deserve to know. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Suddenly, she found herself wondering if asking had been such a good idea. Sometimes not knowing was better, for once you knew, there was no going back.
Too late now...
Chapter Twenty-Six
Uncle John’s Difficult Confession
"I want you to know without the slightest modicum of doubt that I loved your mother," Uncle John began. His eyes had taken on the luminous, pale green glow that they both had when either of them cried, or were close to tears. Annaleah made herself look her uncle in the eye, out of respect and gratitude for his willingness to finally open up to her about something he had kept secret for so many years.
"Of course I know you loved her. Why would I doubt that?" Annaleah asked him sincerely.
Uncle John nodded. "Please remember that Annaleah, during this conversation." He bowed his head, eyes closed. She could see he was going inward for strength and the right words to say.
"Your mother was a very special woman. She loved life like no one else I have ever met. She was so happy. The smallest things would make her glow with joy. The first columbine of the spring, dancing barefoot in the rain, singing to the moon. She was always kind, always helping others, even at her own expense at times. But she did have her faults, Annaleah. Despite being one of the most innocent people I ever met, she was also.... one of the most ungrounded. The doctors said it was schizophrenia."
Annaleah felt as if she had had the wind knocked out of her, as if someone had kicked her hard in the chest. What had he just said? How could this be right?
"What? Are you serious?” She exclaimed incredulously, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?"
Uncle John opened his eyes and looked at his niece, the green of his orbs now almost aflame as tears spilled freely down his cheeks.
"I am so, so sorry. It didn't seem fair to tell you about her disorder and take away the beautiful picture you had of your mother. She was a wonderful person, but she was, at times, very unstable."
Annaleah was silent, her head spinning. She listened to Uncle John through a veil of shock, trying not to let the distress at what she’d learned over take her senses. When a tear fell and landed on her hand, she looked at it curiously, unaware she had been crying.
"One morning, I found her outside, barefoot and in her nightgown. It wouldn't have mattered that much if it were spring or summer or winter even, had it been like most winters here in the south. But this particular year, it was a harsh winter. It had snowed the night before, at least a couple of inches. It took me a while to find her. I had to follow her footprints in the snow. They led from the house to the woods, to some clearing I had never seen before, nor since. I still can't figure that part out. When I found her, she lay crumpled in a pile, shuddering, half frozen in the snow. Though shivering and barely conscious, she was smiling. I threw my coat over her and carried her inside. Fearing hypothermia, I called 911. After they evaluated her at the hospital, they wanted to admit her to Castlebrook."
Annaleah covered her face with her hands, and tried unsuccessfully to hold her sobs back. Her heart broke bit by bit as she listened to what Uncle John’s deep voice. It broke for herself, having been robbed of the beautiful picture she had always had of her mother. It broke for Uncle John, who’d had to keep this from her for so long in an effort to protect her. She thought about how hard it must have been for him to carry this painful secret, knowing how badly she had wanted to know the truth, and another wave of deep, aching sadness washed over her.
Of course it had broken for her mother too, for having to suffer a form of psychosis that must have confused her senses and expectations of reality. Annaleah knew too well what it was like to be different, to be misunderstood, to be feared for being different.
Annaleah thought of Castlebrook. It was the town's psychiatric ward. Everyone from the mildly troubled to the wildly disturbed were sent there; from wards of the state to the rich and pampered. Though it was a well-respected place, it wasn't somewhere anyone would want to find themselves.
"I didn't want to do it at first. I thought I could take care of her myself. After she was released from the emergency room, I brought her back home and tried to take care of her the best I could. She was sick with the flu, but bless her, she was still so happy. She said she had been talking to angels that night in the woods, and she believed it with all her heart and soul. Part of me believed her too. She had natural abilities as a healer, among other things.
“Then she disappeared a few weeks later, during another snow flurry. I found her wandering lost in the woods, barefoot again, and muttering to herself. Her feet were scratched and bleeding and she had cuts all over her, even a few deep gashes. When I tried to help her, she acted as if she didn't even see me. I allowed the hospital to transfer her to Castlebrook that night."
Annaleah listened to Uncle John, her breaths slow and steady, and her eyes wide as she tried not to let her sadness and disbelief overtake her. She trembled slightly as she stared at the floor. Unblinking, tears fell in large droplets down her cheeks.
id this mean she was mad, too? It made sense. She was at the age when the symptoms of Schizophrenia began to manifest. Were her dreams and visions a sign that she was losing touch with reality and slowly spiraling
into a world of psychosis?
Annaleah squeezed her eyes shut and slowly shook her head from side to side, trying to deny the thought that she might be mentally ill. There were too many coincidences. Uncle John had mentioned the clearing in the woods. Did mental illness share the exact same facets of delusions? She didn’t think so, so as she listened to Uncle John continue, she held this precious kernel of hope to her heart.
"A few days after she was admitted," Uncle John went on, "I got a call from her case worker at Castlebrook, asking me to meet with him. When I got to the meeting, they had her sedated. I couldn't even see her. They told me something that at the time I couldn't understand.” Uncle John took a deep breath, his eyes wide. “Annaleah, they told me she was pregnant." He let out his deep breath, and a single tear made its way down his flushed cheek. He took his glasses off and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief before repositioning his glasses on his nose. Annaleah would have accused him of stalling for time had she not been so out of sorts herself.
"Though she had a good standing with most people nearby," Uncle John explained, "she didn't have any real friends. You know how it is to be different. To be judged, feared, even hated for what you are should you dare to deviate from the norm. You can understand my surprise when I found out she was with child.” His eyes had taken on a deeper shade of green as they looked intently at her, his expression somber and serious. “The caseworker asked me if I knew who the father was, and I said I didn't. I asked him if Elise had told them who had gotten her pregnant, and they told me that she had insisted the father was an angel that she had met that night in the woods when I found her crumpled in the clearing.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “They wanted to find the father because they feared she had been assaulted.” He returned his gaze to her, his eyes softened, sad. “They even put her through a polygraph test, which she passed. Your mother believed with all the conviction in her heart that your father was an angel."
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