When Saint Goes Marching In

by Laveen, Tiana

  Mona screamed out, shattering the peace. Saint opened his eyes to see that Stanley had entered the room. He leaned against the wall, bracing himself, his eyes bloodshot and his mouth slick with spit. He held a kitchen knife in his hand. The black scarf hung loosely from his wrist and blood ran down from his busted bottom lip. With clumsy steps, he advanced on Saint. Saint’s trance had dulled his reflexes. The healing process had drained him; he could barely move.

  The sound of shattered glass diverted everyone’s attention to the window. Mona screamed, got up and ran to the corner of the room, her eyes wild with fear.

  In a matter of seconds, Ted had jumped into the room, grabbed Stanley and slammed him down onto the floor. Saint’s hands never left Kane’s body.

  Ted fell down upon Stanley and punched him hard in the face and chest. Stanley fell limp like a puppet doll under the force of Ted’s fist.

  Finally, Saint’s alertness slowly returned and he turned to look at Kane. The wound was almost completely healed. Kane rubbed his bloodied shirt in disbelief.

  “I remember you. You must be an angel.”

  Mona stood up, her eyes the size of saucers as she heard her husband speak. She ran to him and held him.

  Saint let him go as Mona embraced him.

  Ted had pummeled Stanley to near death, his fists unyielding like concrete. Looking exhausted, Ted stood up and turned his attention to Saint.

  “Ted, watch out!” Saint cried.

  Before Ted could move, Stanley reached up and stabbed him deep in the calf. Ted bucked under the pain but before Stanley could do more damage, Saint shot to Ted and moved his hulking body out of the murderer’s reach. In a smooth move, Saint snatched Stanley by the hair and viciously dragged him back up the hall.

  “Sorry for that intermission,” Saint rasped, catching his breath. “Let’s pick up where we left off.”

  His eyes narrowed as he felt them again turn hot and red. Saint’s entire body felt like a furnace spitting five hundred degrees of heat. As he walked past several paintings, the corners began to curl, as if they had been lit on fire. They made it back to the laundry room.

  “No! Please, not the bleach again,” Stanley begged.

  Saint looked down at him in disgust. He placed his hand over Stanley’s heart. “Fine, suit yourself. I guarantee you though the bleach was a better alternative.” Saint grabbed Stanley’s hand and forced it beneath his, thus making Stanley relive his final murder.

  “Why can’t you take it, Stanley? Why can’t you take what you dole out?”

  Stanley bit his tongue as he went into cardiac arrest. Saint stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, his feet spread wide apart – watching, waiting. Emotionless, he watched Stanley writhe around in pain, dying from the same emotions of fear and agony that he had inflicted upon so many. As Stanley breathed his last breath, Saint reached down and closed the man’s eyelids.

  “What I showed you is a cake walk compared to what you’re about to experience, Stanley. Your roommates are waiting for you.”

  He turned away and walked back to the bedroom, his eyes and body cooled down, and surveyed the room.

  Saint helped Ted up and walked him to the bedroom door.

  “Thank you!” Mona cried, her voice trembling as she hugged her husband.

  Saint nodded. “I’ll call for help. Don’t do anything; I’ll take care of it.”

  Saint moved towards the front door. The cool air hit them as Ted limped away, using Saint’s body as a crutch.

  Saint took out the cell phone and dialed.

  “I need to report a dead body,” Saint said as he sat Ted down in his car and gave the 911 operator a few details before hanging up. He tore open Ted’s jeans with his bare hands and immediately cupped his hands around Ted’s calf. Ted winced.

  “I followed your ass today. You’re slippin’, Saint,” Ted teased. “I told you…everyone needs help sometimes. He was going to stab you.”

  “I realize that now. I was wondering why I still felt your energy around me. Thank you. I barely heard him come back in the room. I was so out of it,” Saint said softly.

  “I know. You were zoned out. I watched everything from the window. I’m amazed at you man. What is this power you have? How do you do this shit?” Ted asked. His wound had started to close as he spoke.

  “If I could explain it then both of us would be in the know. I only know that I can; it’s just by instinct.” Saint patted Ted’s leg and stood up. “There you go, good as new. I’d still try to rest tonight though,” he advised.

  Ted stood up and closed Saint’s car passenger door. Ambulance and police car sirens could be heard in the distance.

  “It’s getting hot here, I need to leave,” Saint said curtly as he put his gun into his glove compartment.

  Ted nodded. “Now that’s one favor I repaid back. I’m not exactly sure I saved your life but I definitely helped you avoid injury and I still have two more to go,” he promised as he walked backwards toward his car.

  “No Ted, we’re good!” Saint insisted as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  “No we’re not, not by a long shot,” Saint managed to hear before he sped away down the winding street.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TEN

  “He made me not tell you!” George said in a panicked voice as he leaned over Saint’s desk. “I’m telling you now because you’re back in town and you took care of the business at hand. He didn’t want you to know at all. He said you’re going through too much right now without this being thrust at you as well.”

  Saint clenched and unclenched his hands. “So what am I supposed to do? Sit here and wait?”

  “Saint, I just called him and let him know you’re back. He can barely talk. He doesn’t want any visitors right now.”

  “I’m not a damn visitor.” Saint stood, grabbed his jacket and marched out, slamming the door behind him.

  * * *

  James was in a deep sleep. His wife, Valerie, held his hand. Dried tears streaked her smooth face. The sound of the running machines made a tormented song of suctioning air beats, continuous running liquids treble and computer monitor bleeps with flashes of green and red lights.

  Saint looked at them from the hospital door. Mrs. Kessler wrapped her slender, dark brown fingers around her husband’s palm, letting her fine, salt and pepper hair fall onto his chest as she bent over him.

  Saint swallowed hard as he approached her. He bowed his head in reverence to the Head Queen. Saint’s offered his hand as Valerie looked up at him helplessly with her beautiful, almond shaped, dark brown eyes.

  “Saint, no need for formalities,” she whispered.

  “What have the doctors said?” Saint asked softly. “Is he going to be OK?” Saint knew the answer, but he didn’t want to face the truth.

  Valerie shook her head and bit her bottom lip. Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes.

  James stirred. He coughed and slowly revealed two tired, light blue eyes. He grabbed Saint’s free hand, his grip strong though his body was weak. His breath clouded up the oxygen mask that was secured to his pale face.

  “Valerie, honey, can you…excuse…us…for a few moments?” James choked out as he closed his eyes again. The act of speaking seemed to be torture to him.

  Valerie bent down and kissed her King’s forehead. She released Saint’s hand, hugged him and walked out of the hospital room, closing the door behind her.

  “Sit down, son.” James pushed the side rail button on his bed to elevate his body in a seated position.

  Saint pulled up the nearby chair, and tried desperately to keep his emotions in check.

  “This is it, Cowboy,” James smiled. “I need you to listen to me closely. I know you took care of that situation we had. Job well done, Saint. Well done.” James patted Saint’s hand.

  Saint found himself unable to speak, his heart in his throat.

  “So, you’ve passed your training. That was the end of it, the last hurrah so to speak. George will wrap u
p some other things with you. Are you ready to change the world even more than you’ve already done? I feel good knowing I have left the organization in good hands.” James coughed.

  Saint bit the inside of his lip and remained silent.

  “How are you, Saint?” James asked, concern in his tone.

  Saint finally loosened his tongue. “I’m here for you. This is about you, right now, James. I’m fine. I’m OK.” He forced a grin.

  “No you’re not. Your Queen is missing and you are left alone,” James said sternly. “Your energy is down. You look drained and tired. The light is out of your eyes. She gave you energy, she recharged your battery. You’re not making love anymore and she isn’t speaking to you.” James sighed.

  Saint nodded in agreement. “She isn’t missing, though. When someone is missing, they’re lost and no one knows where they are. She’s in my heart but she doesn’t want to live there. I want to chase after her. I tried to push the feelings away, to store them away, but I can’t. It only lasts for a day or two and then my pain comes right back, my empty heart cries out that it isn’t filled – that she’s gone,” Saint confessed. “I feel like a shell.”

  “Well, hopefully that will be changing soon. Matter of fact, I guarantee you that it will.” James coughed again.

  Saint raised his eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t worry about it, it will all come together. What did you have planned for your wife, Saint? I know you. I know you didn’t give up. You pretended like you did so that you could survive and just get through day to day.”

  Saint smiled and gripped James’ hand tighter. “You’re right. I just needed to get through a few nights. I wrote her a poem, two actually. I wanted to somehow get her alone and read it to her. I was going to tell her how much I love her and make her remember how we felt when we first fell in love. I just need some time alone with her. She filed for divorce though so I’m not sure how I’m ever going to get that time at this point. She’s totally locked me out.”

  “No,” James responded. “She doesn’t really want a divorce, she’s just hurting and she’s confused. I’ve been on this earth too long to not know real love when I see it. Follow your instincts, Saint. Don’t waste any more time trying to make sense of this. Just get her back.”

  James closed his eyes. Minutes passed in the silence. Those minutes turned into an hour. James still gripped his hand. Saint slowly released him and walked to the door. He opened it, stuck his head out the door and looked out into the hallway, both ways. He slowly closed it back, locked it and made his way back to James’ sleeping form.

  He blew on his hands, trying to make the chill in his bones melt away. He picked up James’ hand, placed it over his own heart and leaned close to his mentor’s face.

  Saint slid his hand under James’ pale blue hospital gown, moved his fingers past the downy, gray chest hairs and found the right spot over James’ heart. He closed his eyes as he began to breathe slowly, his mind focused, working diligently.

  Suddenly, and with incredible reflex, James grabbed Saint’s wrist in a bruising grip. His eyes burned with anger.

  “Don’t…you…dare!” James chastised, his voice shaking.

  Saint stared at him in shock.

  “I knew it was only a matter of time before you tried this. I’m surprised you even resisted this long,” James said calmly. “Sit down, Saint.” He demanded.

  Saint sat back in the chair, kept his eyes glued on James as the feeling of defeat claimed him.

  “I know what you are, Saint. I’ve known since not long after I hired you.” James said matter-of-factly.

  Saint sat still but avoided James’ direct gaze.

  “I’ve been all around the world, many times. I know many things. I’ve seen numerous wonders that no one would ever believe. I spent six months with the Aborigines and three months with a tribe in East Africa that no one even knew existed. I’ve been to the top of mountains and inside caves that housed poisonous, white organisms because they’d never seen the light of day. I lived on an Indian reservation for eight months as a teenager due to my father’s ministry. I’ve seen people like you. I know what you are, goddamn it!”

  Saint never said a word, not sure how to respond just yet.

  “You would be interfering if you saved me. It’s in my story. I’m supposed to go this way. You’re not allowed to do what you just tried. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving. Maybe you didn’t know yet, I’m not sure, but I refuse to allow you to accept that karmic penalty. It would be hefty.”

  Saint looked around the room, trying to gather his thoughts. “How’d you know?” he finally asked in as even a tone as he could muster.

  “There’s a certain look you all have and also…a smell. It’s very pleasant, like light cologne, kind of refreshing, delicate – it’s hard to describe but very distinct. If Heaven had a smell, that would be it. You could be all different races, your features completely different, but there is this beauty, this thing that makes people gravitate towards you. The similarity is indescribable, yet you all are like brothers and sisters. All of you are related, regardless of nationality and creed. You’re related by your gift and you’re a family.”

  Saint swallowed a hard lump in his throat.

  “The most obvious trait though, Saint, one you are unable to see yourself, is that you glow. If the light hits you just right, your entire body seems to have a halo around it. It is subtle, but not so subtle that it can’t be seen and it’s not there constantly, but when it is…oh, what a sight! It’s like looking at an angel. Some people call you ‘Guardian Angel Children’ and I understand why. I do know that when I first met you, you were pretty much clueless about it. You’re a gold mine, Saint. All I wanted you for was your beautiful mind, for our cause. But you offered so much more because you have such treasures inside you.” James smiled.

  “Your spiritual gifts aside, when George and I first found you, we knew you were the right face for the organization. Even your grittiness, despite our initial reservations, added to your appeal. Saint, you are a very special person. You are in your infancy as far as your potential and influence are concerned. You will create an army of soldiers. You-are going to set the world-on fire.” James looked intensely at Saint. “I turn over the reins to you, son. Starting now, The White Knights of the Round Table is yours. I want you to start hiring people to implement the agendas you set up. You need all the manpower you can get. Then I want you to take care of that Queen conference, as soon as possible.”

  Saint nodded in understanding as he listened intently.

  “It is crucial. I know in my heart, that your name will live on in history,” James coughed. “And you are determined to one day make the world such a place that people like you, me and George aren’t even required anymore. Until that day comes, you will be a King amongst kings. Saint, you are now the man in charge and there will be no stopping you.”

  Saint was overwhelmed with the information. A part of him still wanted to convince James to let him heal him but the other part thought about his sons, Hassani and Dakarai, and how whatever karmic payment he may incur could affect them greatly.

  A nagging cough overwhelmed James. He winced and grabbed a hold of his chest.

  “Get…my Valerie in here please,” he gasped.

  Saint rushed outside and returned one minute later, Valerie in tow.

  He escorted her to James’ side. They kissed tenderly, as though still in the throes of young love.

  James’ monitor began to beep loudly. Nurses rushed in. Visibly shocked, Valerie gripped his hand with all of her might. The doctor and nurses tried to push her out of the way while the alarm for a code blue was announced over the hospital P.A. system.

  Saint felt his chest compressing and his heart pound as he watched James take his last breaths. He leaned back against the wall, trying to steady himself as he watched everything in slow motion. His body was dead weight, his legs gave way as he slumped to the ground. He looked
up through a fog of people dressed in white and frantic movements from all sides. Valerie’s painful screaming brought his heart to the brink of exploding. He let his grief free and cried without care of who saw or listened. Through the tears he tried to find Valerie while two male nurses attempted to lift him up from the floor. Her cries and screams rang in his head, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to erase them from his memory, ever.

  “I’ll see you again, James,” he said out loud before he allowed himself to huddle into a cocoon, to protect himself from further pain and harm.

  * * *

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Xenia played Saint’s voicemail back as she ran her bathwater. The light pink suds smelled of strawberry and even in the cramped quarters of her mother’s home, she had managed to make this small nightly indulgence memorable. Xenia held the phone to her ear as she walked to and fro naked. She grabbed her washcloth and checked to make sure the water was warm enough.

  “Xenia, it’s me. I’m sorry to do this but I shouldn’t get the boys this weekend.”

  Xenia’s temper rose. “This man ain’t shit,” she said aloud. “He knew I wanted to go out of town with Stacey and this is what he turns and does!”

  “James…James just passed away. I’m not dealing with it very well and I don’t want them to see me like this. Valerie is taking this very hard so I also want to make sure she has everything she needs to get through the night. She just sent me home but I’m worried about her and, well, it doesn’t matter. Just know that I’m sorry and I promise to get them next weekend.”

  “Oh my God, Poor Valerie!”

  Xenia sat on the side of the tub, feeling horrible. Saint was so close to James; she could only imagine how much he must be hurting.

  She quickly placed her robe on, walked into the spare bedroom and called him. It rang several times then went to voicemail. She sighed and went back to the bathroom, placing her robe on a wall hook before getting into the tub. Her heart heavy, she slipped into the bath and immersed herself in the warm, comforting water. She leaned back against the wall of the tub, enjoying the quiet of the house as her rambunctious sons slept the night away.