The Light Who Shines

by Lilo Abernathy

  Jack says in a husky voice, “You have a birth mark.”

  “I’ve read it’s a symbol of the sun and the sacred circle of the Goddess of Light.“

  Jack rubs his thumb over it again, making my insides feel like molten lava. He whispers with a catch in his voice now, “It’s also the symbol of fertility, rebirth, and the soul.” Jack reaches around me, his arm burning me like a brand as he gently takes the keys from my hand that I now realize has dropped uselessly at my side. He opens the door.

  As the door swings inward, Jack sniffs and quickly pulls me behind him. He enters, approaching Varg who is sitting in the middle of the living room. From where I stand, all I see are two glowing yellow eyes.

  “Someone has entered,” Jack announces as he turns on the light. He nods toward Varg and a small pool of blood on the floor in front of him. Next to him, my coffee table lies on its side and the jar of scented oil I used earlier today is reduced to a pile of shards covered in a wet, oily mess. The scent of lavender and mint overpowers the room.

  Varg looks relaxed and satisfied, so I guess the threat has gone, but still I feel somewhat shaken and very angry. Someone was in my apartment! This is my home, my first haven from the world. No one has a right to enter without my approval. I feel like my rights have been extremely violated.

  My eyesight dims as I send my sixth sense out, looking for the presence of another soul just to be sure the intruder has gone. From Jack’s direction I sense the intense glow of his soul. I’ve never opened up my sixth sense around him like this before. I’m stunned by the depth and power of his soul’s light. I can feel the border of black taint from Lilith’s mark hovering around the edges of his essence, trapping it. It infuriates me. But beneath that, from the core of his soul, I feel a strong sense of compassion and mercy. Oddly enough, I sense in equal measure their oft adversary, justice. I could discern more with time, but I’m keenly aware that I’m infringing on his privacy.

  I force my sixth sense away from Jack, and encountering no other souls in the apartment, I focus my attention to the lingering emotions. Stepping toward Varg, the feeling of rage and frustration hits me like a blow. Beneath that, I feel in small portions both fear and pain. How interesting that the intruder’s rage and frustration so superseded the pain of his injury from Varg. It smacks of an unbalanced mind when frustration wins over self-preservation. I circle the area, feeling the outer edges, but I encounter no sign that the trespasser moved beyond the center of the room.

  I take a few steps toward the sliding glass doors and smack into a feeling of such intense lust and passion, I feel a burning at my core, radiating out though my entire body, making every nerve tingle yet again. Holy Plane of Fire! Immediately I snap off my sixth sense, letting the reality of the room soothe my senses. I know who was standing in this spot earlier today. A warmth starts to creep up my neck and into my cheeks, which I quickly try to control as I watch Jack do his work.

  He’s become a blur of motion, checking the perimeter of the apartment, scenting and searching.

  I call Varg to me to make sure he isn’t bleeding. As he stands, I see a piece of torn cloth that had been hidden under his paw. Varg submits to my inspection with dignity and seems perfectly hale and hearty. I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s not harmed.

  When Jack finds nothing, he returns to us. I get my work pack and lift the torn cloth gingerly from the floor with my gloved hands, looking at it closely from all angles. It’s a fine, woven black fabric with a seamed edge. “I think it’s a piece of trouser,” I say.

  Jack sniffs it and growls in frustration. “I can’t smell anything under the scent of the oil that splashed on it!”

  Sighing, I place it in an evidence bag anyway, and we look about the room for other clues.

  Jack moves more slowly, scenting around the perimeter of the room, trying to find the point of entry. He takes his time before turning to me. “Whoever it was did not break in. They portaled in. There’s no scent on the boundaries of the room.”

  “I know. I have the entire exterior of the place warded.”

  Jack starts methodically searching the rest of the apartment. I call out to stop him. “Jack, there’s no one here. I would feel them.”

  “I know. I’m checking to see if he went anywhere, but it looks like he portaled into the middle of Varg’s lap and left immediately.”

  His brow is furrowed when he returns to me with a grim expression. He announces, “I think I should stay here tonight.” Then he adds firmly, “On the couch.” He looks coolly at me, and it feels like a slap in the face.

  A flash of anger goes through me. I might have wanted him to stay ten minutes ago, but only if he wanted to be with me. Not because he feels like he has to protect me! He really needs to learn to take me seriously. Plus, perhaps irrationally, I feel I’ve just been rejected.

  “Absolutely not!” I say as I throw my handbag down. “I already told you no! I have weapons. I have a wolf that has already scared whoever it was away. Plus, I can sense souls, so no one can surprise me.” I march toward the door and open it for him. My invitation for him to leave is glaringly clear.

  Jack nods and silently leaves. I slam the door after him. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!” I mutter.

  Chapter 24

  Silent Vigil

  Jack Tanner: May 28, 2022, Red Ages

  I chuckle as Blue slams the door behind me while muttering some very unladylike things. She definitely has spirit. With a sense of relief, I pull in a deep draft of fresh air. Her sent is so strong inside that it practically drives me wild. To smell it all around me all night and know she was just a few feet away would have been slow torture.

  My blood turns cold again as I think of an intruder entering her apartment. The threat is significant. Obviously there is no question about whether or not I’m watching out for her tonight despite her protests. The only real question there ever was was where I’d be watching from.

  I drive my car a few blocks down and run back toward the building. I see Blue and Varg emerge from the doorway, taking their nighttime walk. I follow them from a few blocks behind, keeping to the shadows. Varg is aware of my presence and glances back occasionally, but he’s unconcerned. I’m reminded again to be grateful that she found the beast.

  When they finally return to the apartment, I scale the building. I pause on the wall outside Blue’s kitchen, and the feel of her nearness calls to me. I splay my right hand over the brick and lean my forehead against the wall as a deep longing to touch her washes over me. Instead, and with great willpower, I continue to the roof and case the perimeter of the building.

  Everything seems quiet on the street below. The sound of Blue pouring water and sprinkling something hard into a bowl filters through the roof. She is feeding Varg, no doubt. She patters to the bathroom, and a short time later the soft rustling of her bedding tells me she has just slipped under the covers.

  I lie down on the roof over Blue’s bedroom and focus my senses on the sounds from below. She tosses and turns awhile, moving restlessly in bed. A small thrill courses through me at the idea that she might be thinking of me as I think of her. The memories of the evening drift through my mind. Her desire tonight was clear. I recall how her heart raced when she first saw me and again when I asked her to turn around in her dress. I remember how her skirt lifted as she spun and how it softly floated down around her beautiful legs, legs that I would love to see parted and wrapped around me.

  The sensation of her peaked nipples brushing against my chest while we danced is burned into my mind. The smell of her arousal filled my senses and played havoc with my sanity. I remember how her womanly scent filled me again at the door as I traced her birthmark. Then her knees gave way and she leaned limply back against my chest in the heat of her desire. The intoxicating scent of her blood as her head fell against my shoulder rushed through my senses, and my desire for her was so great, it took all my considerable control to resist her. There is nothing I wanted
more than to lean over her and taste her beautiful neck.

  Her lack of experience is obvious, though. She is so unsure and apparently oblivious to how beautiful and alluring she is. I should be thankful because if she used her considerable power over me, I’m not sure I’d be able to turn her away. I smile at how the champagne affected her so easily, yet she was still quiet and shy on our garden walk. Scowling, I recall how the mass of people made her heart rate speed up and her skin turn pale. I shouldn’t have brought her there. My scowl deepens at the memory of Sabrina’s games.

  Listening through the roof, I hear Blue’s breathing slowing down now. Finally, I can tell that she’s completely drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

  Sometime during the night as the cold air blows in from the north, pushing the last of the warm air up the mountains, a light rainfall comes. The cold pellets hit my face and soak through my clothes. Still I lie on the roof, welcoming the light shower, hoping it will distract me. Water pools in spots on the roof and runs in rivulets in others, racing down the scant slope out to the gutter system. I watch the water run in tiny streams over the pebbled tar near where my head lies. Still I think of Blue.

  I can’t help the thoughts that enter my head, wondering how it would be to lie next to her, feeling her silky skin throughout the night. I try to push those thoughts away, as that should never be, yet they insinuate themselves with a stubborn refusal to leave. It will have to be enough that I can keep her safe.

  The night wears on, and when the rain finally breaks and the sun peaks over the horizon, it reveals that I am still positioned prone on the roof over Blue’s bedroom. Still I remain, alert but as silent as the moss that grows in the shadows of the roof’s ledge. When I finally hear Blue rise and begin to move about, I stand and climb down the side of the building, reluctant to leave her behind.

  Chapter 25

  The Yellow Sea

  Bluebell Kildare: May 29, 2022, Red Ages

  It’s a comfortable seventy-four degrees with a mild breeze blowing and the sun shining as I head to the office. Before I pull away from the curb, I take a moment to appreciate the mist lazily hanging on the green mountain peaks despite the vivid blue sky.

  As I head down the main thoroughfare in Rowan Park toward Windsor Avenue, the traffic slows to a snail’s pace. I’m stuck behind a large, obnoxiously turquoise truck. I unroll my window and crane my neck, but I can’t see beyond the wide bumper in front of me. Traffic coming from the other direction is sparse, but it’s whizzing past at a normal pace. I hear a slight din in the distance, but the source remains obscured.

  When I spot a right turn coming up, my foot starts anticipating the opportunity to use a little gas. Maybe I can go down a street or two to avoid the hang-up. Finally I reach the corner and take a quick right. I sail free down the entire block then take an easy left. Sure enough, I’m able to zip past the last few blocks to Windsor Avenue. When I get to the stop sign at the corner, I look to the left and see cars packed tight as sardines past Windsor Avenue, so I decide to stay on the road less traveled and continue to skirt the traffic. What in the world is going on?

  A block to the right of the main thoroughfare, I continue on about half a mile, thinking to cut over at National Street. But suddenly I see the source of the traffic jam. Right in front of Mr. and Mrs. Glenwood’s mansion, there’s a slew of Dilectus Deo in all their yellow-robed glory, shouting threats while simultaneously quoting the Bible. Criminy! They’re everywhere! How many breedists are in this city?

  It looks like the main protest is in front of the Glenwood Mansion, and people are congregating on the sidewalk and all through the street, completely blocking traffic. They must be a thousand strong! The throng is so large that people have milled down to the east side of the block, hanging in clusters.

  As I approach the end of the block and am about to make another right to further avoid the crowd, I hear some shouting that seems to be coming from behind a couple of hawthorn bushes close to the corner. I think nothing of it until I hear a thud followed by a very distinct moan. Holy smokes! Someone’s getting beaten up over there!

  I stop my car and flip open my chimerator. I perform a quick chant to contact Jack, and when his face shows up on the pearly surface, I say, “I’m in front of the Glenwood’s. Someone’s getting beaten up behind a bush at the Dilectus Deo protest. I’m going in, so please send back-up and an ambulance.” I see his brows scrunch up, then I flip the ring closed before he can deter me.

  As soon as I jump out of the car, Varg jumps in the front seat and hurls himself through the open window after me. I still hear the sickening thuds, the obvious sounds of flesh impacting flesh, as I race across the lawn. When I round the corner, I see three men surrounding a figure on the ground, one crouched over with his fist raised.

  I pull out my Glock and yell in my loudest and most authoritative voice, “Hands in the air! I’m with the Supernatural Investigation Bureau and you are under arrest!”

  All three heads spin and gawk at me simultaneously. One man freezes and the other two run. Varg takes off, chasing one of the men, and after about thirty feet I see him fly through the air and jump right on the man’s back, forcing him down with the strength of the impact. The man wriggles and struggles, yelling and crying in fear until Varg clamps his jaw loosely around the man’s neck with his forepaws on the man’s shoulder blades. The man mercifully shuts up and stills. A wise choice, I’m sure.

  We’ve gathered the attention of a few protestors on the outer edges of the street, and from them I sense a bewildered curiosity. The din is so loud and the crowd is so thick and agitated that the main part of the protest goes on unaffected.

  What I feel from them is a massive wall, huge and dense, full of anger, hate, and fear. I remember that Jack told me the time and location of the Gala was confidential. Now I know why. Clearly the Dilectus Deo would take issue with a large-scale transfer of magical items. While I’m taking this in, I busily cuff the first guy and drag him toward the metal railing on the mansion’s front stoop.

  Once I have him secured, I run toward the victim. He’s a young man, about my age or slightly younger, wearing jeans and a jersey t-shirt. His face is bloody, and he’s curled up on the ground in fetal position, breathing noisily. As I lean over him I see that both his eyebrows are bright pink. Assuming that he is Gifted and not just in an attention-seeking stage, I feel for his magic. It’s just under the surface, and I can tell that it is a gift relating to communication, but I can’t say exactly what.

  I try to engage him by saying, “An ambulance is on the way. Where are you hurt?”

  He starts to talk, but it turns into a cough and I see blood speckles form on his lips. Cripes!

  I lean over and say, “No, don’t talk. You’re injured too badly. Just stay still, and we’ll get some help.”

  I rush to my car and grab Varg’s blanket in the back seat. I gently lay it over the man, and at that moment Jeffrey, the Glenwoods’ butler, joins my side.

  Jeffrey says, “Oh my God. Is he going to be okay?”

  I snap at Jeffrey. “Don’t look to God to see if he’ll be okay. It’s so-called men of God who put him here.” I take a deep breath and finish in a more reasonable tone. “I’m sorry, Jeffrey. I called Jack, and an ambulance is on the way.”

  Jeffrey looks sheepish and says, “I called the police and an ambulance as soon as it started, so there may be two coming.”

  “Jeffrey, do you have any rope?” I ask as I gesture to where Varg is holding on to the second perpetrator.

  Jeffrey stammers, “Oh, right! Of course!” He rushes in the side entrance. As I watch him go, I see two pairs of eyes staring out from behind the blinds next to the front door. Mr. and Mrs. Glenwood, I assume.

  A few minutes later Jeffrey appears with a length of rope. I use it to tie the hands and feet of the second perpetrator and anchor him to a tall ash tree in the yard. As soon as Varg lets go of the man’s neck, the man starts spitting out a string of cuss words that would ma
ke Maud roll over in the grave plot she hasn’t purchased yet. I ignore how much the man of God hates me and how the Beloved of God wants to see me cut into tiny pieces with a dull, rusty serrated knife because as I truss him up the first ambulance arrives.

  I run over to the ambulance where Jeffrey is already giving the medics the scoop. It seems Jeffrey was able to get a view of the whole thing from the office window.

  Varg is staring avidly at the mass of people shouting in the street with a low growl rumbling from his chest. I can see he feels cheated because one man got away. I feel cheated as well. The crowd is a sea of identical yellow robes, and there is no way I could find the third perpetrator on my own. I look at Varg, and Varg looks at me.

  I prompt, “Varg, where’s the third guy?”

  Varg takes off in a flash and runs into the crowd, breaking up the masses, leaving me a narrow wedge of space through which to follow him. We move quickly through the crowd until one man grabs on to my arm and yells, “Get out of here, Aberration!”

  Before I have a chance to think, my gun is in my hand, but it’s not necessary. Varg spins around and lunges savagely at the man. The man lets go as he backs away from Varg, and we immediately take up the chase again.

  Our sprint through the crush is causing even more of a ruckus as people start yelling obscenities, threats, and epithets at our trail. Our perpetrator must know we’re after him, because I see a wave of yellow gowns moving out of the way of one gown in particular as he runs ahead of us. I catch a glimpse of his head, but all I see is a mass of thick, dark hair. We have pushed and shoved our way through about two-thirds of the crowd by now and are nearing the far end of the block when Varg gets an opening and darts between some legs to grab on to the man’s ankle.