Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father

by Laveen, Tiana

  Saint nodded in understanding.

  “And that can wear on a person, zap you. This ceremony he wants to do for you will help form a hedge of protection regarding that, help keep negative energies in check while you wrestle with them. When you fight Evil, Saint, some of that crap rubs off on you, so you have to take precautions.”

  “Like an exorcism,” Jagger offered.

  “Precisely. No priest conducts an exorcism without a cleansing right afterward, or that shit will follow him home. You have to close the portals. If you don’t, you will have problems. Every time you have a situation where you have to settle a score—if you don’t close that spiritual door, it will get to you time and again in another form.”

  A cold chill ran through Saint’s body and he felt unable to speak. He felt he had medieval armor on, unable to move one inch in either direction.

  Shit! I’ve dealt with that damn supremacy group, Stanley, Payton, my cousin, the fuckin’ mole, my cousin’s sons and his wife…so much…Oh my God. I never closed any damn doors; I just went on about my way…Fuck!

  Saint covered his eyes with his hands, as if the sudden blackness offer protection. But he knew he was a day late, a dollar short.

  “I’m sorry, Saint,” Lawrence offered. “I’m usually on top of this stuff. I should’ve known this is why you’ve been having so many problems, so much drama. It is attracted to you because of who you are, but it has been multiplying. Krishna’s visit is right on time before things get even worse. Neither Jagger nor I can cleanse you. Someone like him has to do it, to close the doors for you.”

  “Lawrence, this is fucked up. Do you understand what I’ve been doing?” Panic riddled Saint’s tone and he didn’t care. He was falling apart in front of them; a shit storm had been ignited, he was standing right in the line of fire.

  “Of course I know what you’ve been doing, Saint and you will still have negativity gravitate toward you, because negativity desires to be—”

  “Its polar opposite…” he replied listlessly, understanding his own words written in several of his books.

  “Yes.” Lawrence nodded sympathetically. “Just like you’ve been teaching, negativity remains negative due to necessity and when that necessity changes, it is drawn to what can cure it, even if that means its own death.”

  “That is our way,” Jagger interjected. “We will always attract it, Saint, because we are the ones to settle the score but you’ve been getting slammed and,” he shrugged and removed his feet from Saint’s desk, “it’s not normal. You haven’t even been able to come up for air, because it is piling on top of itself.”

  “So, once Krishna blesses and cleanses me, it’ll be all over, right? It will be settled?”

  “Well.” Lawrence winced. “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, not exactly, Lawrence?” Saint’s elevated voice echoed in the room. “I thought you just said that—”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Saint. Like karma, once those debts are racked up, they still have to be settled.”

  Saint shook his head in disbelief. “What about you two mothafuckas, huh?” He pointed at each man accusingly. “What about all the mothafuckas you’ve killed, Jagger?! I know that was to protect others, but did you have to close a door?”

  “In a way, but not in the same way as you, man. You invite higher drama, your debt is higher, your cleansing is higher. Think of it this way.” Jagger pointed to Lawrence. “Lawrence and I are like sergeants, and you are like a chief. If we all do some shit, our punishments wouldn’t be as stiff as yours. The head mothafucka in charge always gets the longer sentences. Lawrence and I can close our own doors. We do it with a special prayer and a sacrifice; you can’t do that. You have to be blessed; you have to be cleansed by someone else.”

  “This is so damn unfair…”

  But life didn’t give a shit about fairness. You got dealt with and called out however it saw fit and there was no need to cry, just man up and accept the circumstances, no matter how fucked up they may be.

  “Just out of curiosity, what is this prayer and sacrifice you and Lawrence do? I’ve never witnessed it.”

  Lawrence cleared his throat. “It’s a simple Angel Child prayer asking for forgiveness and also peace for the people involved, whether deceased or living. The sacrifice could be anything of our choosing, but it has to be done no later than three days after the incident.”

  “So, we are helping people, and that isn’t good enough? We then have to turn around and ask for forgiveness for havin’ to kill a mothafucka that was bombing people, killing children, raping women, slaughtering innocent men and their families or whatever the case may be, and then give up something we love, on top of all of that?! Well isn’t that a damn smack in the face! Who came up with this shit?!”

  Lawrence burst out laughing and ran his hand over his face, ruffling his dark eyebrows. “I know, I know, Saint…but these are the rules, okay? I believe it is another way to keep us humble. We have to remain humble or we end up like—”

  “Nizsm.” Saint finished the sentence and turned away from the men, looking out the vast window. His emotions did seesaws and jumped high and low on invisible trampolines that were tied to the blood vessels of his heart. The strained wings of his angelic parents flipped about as they took flight.

  “Whatever negativity is attracted to you right at this moment must play out, but after the blessing, all future possible attractions should slow down. It won’t go away, I mean, look at us…” Lawrence shot Jagger a glance. “As you know, we still have to deal with something probably on a weekly basis, but your battles have been fierce, time-consuming and shattering to everything you hold dear. Because of your level of power, your charisma, your work with this organization, and because of your past, you will always conjure up demons, so to speak, Saint.”

  “But at least, after this, they will be less drawn to you,” Jagger added. “Because you will have more protection and won’t be seen as quite so tempting. Demons are afraid of you, Saint, but if one can take you down, it is worth them confronting their fear. They will use human beings to do their evil; therefore, you have men and women trying to destroy you. Believe it or not, Lawrence and I in your life helped slow it down a bit; they knew you had help, but it still isn’t enough. You’ve been candy to them. Any negativity that can take Saint down gets a big payday in Hell, man. You are a king Angel Child, man. Other human beings are programmed to try and dethrone you. Once you came into your awareness, so did they. You woke up the evil, living dead. You aren’t fully protected, they know you aren’t, and you are still a bit naïve as to what you can and can’t do.”

  “That’s what I need to meet with you about,” Lawrence said coolly.

  “You are a sitting duck, man. I’m sorry, but that’s the honest truth.”

  “Call him…call him, now!” Saint grabbed his cell phone and threw it toward Lawrence who caught it in midflight and immediately punched in numbers as if his own life depended upon it.

  “Hello, yes, I’d like to speak to Krishna, please? Yes, this is an emergency…he is expecting my call…” Lawrence nodded sympathetically in Saint’s direction.

  “Yes, I’ll hold…”

  ~***~

  “So this is what you do when you’re stressed out? Get fucked up?” Jagger teased as the three made their way down the busy streets of Hollywood. Lawrence shook his head in disbelief as Saint’s eyes glowed. The warmth of the alcohol had helped. Krishna wasn’t available and hadn’t returned the call as of yet, and to make matters worse, Xenia had to go out of town for the night on business. An opportunity to interview Drake and Rihanna had surfaced, and she had to go. She still had the radio show and this would make her resume look all the brighter. He kept his selfish thoughts to himself, his desire to keep her captive for his own pleasure and to help fill the hole in his heart, but he was lost after he hung up from her. What would he do? He didn’t want to go to an empty house. She didn’t trust him overnight with the children anymore, not a
fter the last incident, which consisted of him pulling a ‘Bill Cosby’. They had huge slices of chocolate cake for breakfast and even Isis was allowed to indulge. He almost got away with it until Dakarai let the cat out the bag, and evidence of an additional slice was discovered hidden under his bed for safekeeping. The boy presented it to his mother, trying to understand why it had become hard as a brick…

  To make matters worse, he allowed their sons to climb the side of the house one dreary evening, but this was no ordinary climb. Saint psychically lifted them up into the air during an impromptu rock climbing game, having their tiny fingers grasp at nothing. He’d checked to make sure the coast was clear, and baby Isis was brought in on the act, her gurgling and giggles blending right in with her brothers’ as Daddy gave them a ride of a lifetime. That dirty little secret was also uncovered, due to Hassani’s school report entitled, “I can climb with no hands.” A call from the teacher regarding their eldest son’s vivid imagination caused ruckus in the Aknaten household. Xenia told him that was the final straw and the last time she’d entrust him alone overnight with their children, adding that her husband needed a babysitter, versus the kids. Regardless, Saint needed his family tonight—but his two comrades would simply have to do. He wanted some peace, some pussy and some pinot noir, not necessarily in that order.

  “Maaaan, fuck this shit.” Saint hiccupped as his heart swelled.

  Red lights glowed and blurred as cars drove past and the sky was aglow with stars and buildings with twinkling glass windows, enticing the city crowd with promises of glitter and nights to remember.

  “Look at that!” Jagger pointed to a tattoo parlor, painted bright red and filled with muscle bound men and ladies with vibrantly colored hair. Pierced and enchanting, they moved about, their bodies full of flamboyant, elaborate ink designs. “Shit man.” Jagger looked down at his arm. “I wanted to get another one right here.” His index finger punched into his shoulder. “One that represents me.”

  “So you’re getting a tattoo of what? A big asshole?” Saint snorted, the liquor loosening his tongue.

  “Fuck you, Saint.” Jagger grinned as he opened the front door of the establishment. “Come on, guys. Lawrence is the only one that’s an ink virgin.” Saint and Jagger shot him a daring glare, one meant to seduce and shame him into falling into the inky dark side.

  “You bastards can forget it!” Lawrence laughed. “Donna would kill me… Besides, I’m not into that, but you two, go right ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

  The three entered and moved through the crowd. Saint took a seat and immediately pulled his V-neck dark blue shirt over his head as if he were in a doctor’s office. He was amped and ready to get the needle show started.

  “Oh, you’re getting some shit, too?” Jagger asked proudly as he removed his own shirt as well, exposing an unbelievable tapestry of beautiful Asian women with fans, heavily detailed smoking skulls, a realistic machine gun blasting bullets and dark tribal type lines.

  Saint nodded. “Been thinking about it for a while…wanna get Xenia and the kids on me.”

  Jagger looked over Saint’s shoulder as he sat next to him, slumped forward. He took a discriminatory gaze at the large angel tattoo on his back. “That’s dope, man. Whoever did that has serious skills.” Jagger swallowed and he knew what that was about…he saw the bullet hole in the angel’s wing.

  “Damn bro, you are a soldier your damn self.”

  Saint gave him daps and leaned back, waiting until a man with a bald head and one long jet black braid walked up to them. A silver bar ran through the man’s nose, and a large black ink illustration of a woman praying spanned the right side of his thick neck.

  “So, what can I do for you two gentlemen?” The man shot a look at Lawrence who stood there with his arms folded, unwilling to make eye contact.

  “I’m thinking of gettin’ my dog tags up here on my shoulder.” Jagger pointed to the clear area of skin. “And I want the letter ‘T’ done real pretty, like calligraphy, in between ’em.”

  Saint grinned so wide his face practically cracked in half. Brain swimming with the sweet nectar of spirits, he burst fourth like an open barn door, allowing all the runaway words to come tumbling out. “Whipped! Nose wide open! Pussy punched! Beautiful, man! Lady T gets a spot on your body. Charmin’ as fuck!”

  “Oh shut up, man!” Jagger grimaced, underestimating Saint’s inability to be mature about the situation.

  “Oh shit! I still can’t believe it.” Saint cackled, ribbing the unfortunate man to bits. “Gettin’ the broad’s name, at least the first letter, on you. She must be servin’ that up right! I’ve got good taste. I knew you two would hit it off.”

  “Are you finished patting yourself on the back?” Jagger hissed.

  “No, not really.” Saint’s tone was serious, right before he exploded into an oral firework storm of guffawing once again. “Gettin’ inked for your woman, huh? Ha! Jagger is a grown mothafuckin’ man. So proud of you!” He put the man in a friendly half nelson. Jagger squirmed out of his grip. “The love of a good woman will make you do some thangs, huh?!” Saint’s laughter grew louder as he rocked in his seat like a silly teenager, his fist balled up over his mouth while he heehawed back and forth. He was proud of him, but he couldn’t resist an opportunity to tease the poor son of a bitch. Jagger rolled his eyes and turned back to the tattoo artist.

  “So, what do ya think?”

  The man dropped low and looked at Jagger’s skin from various angles. “Yeah, bro. We can do that. Sounds good. Give me ten minutes to sketch somethin’ out.”

  Jagger nodded.

  “What about you?” The man stared at Saint.

  Saint hesitated then drew serious. “I want my family over my heart…my wife’s name and my children’s initials. I have three kids—two sons and a little girl.”

  “Okay, yeah, we can do something really nice.” The man watched as Saint circled his bare flesh with his index finger, tapping the spot where he wanted the art etched.

  “For my boys, I want angel wings, but just one wing for each one, ’til it comes together like a complete angel, so—”

  “Wait, so you want an angel there, but a child’s name per wing, right?” the artist clarified.

  “No body, just the wings joined, so, the wings will represent my sons and my daughter, a halo for her. I want her in the middle, like she is protected by her brothers. Then, above the halo, I want my wife’s name since she is the matriarch.”

  “I like that. It’s original. Cool, got it. I’ll sketch you something up as well.” The man nodded as he pulled out a pad of tracing paper and an ink pen.

  Lawrence and Jagger shot him a look. Actually, they’d been staring at him the entire time he went through his vivid description of the whole spiel. He’d been planning this all right. He’d thought it out long and hard, and what was supposed to be a surprise for Xenia around Christmas time was going to be done right here, right now. He felt compelled. If his family wasn’t with him tonight, he’d make them be with him, one way or another.

  Two hours later, Jagger and Saint’s eyes were reduced to slits as slight smears of crimson blood lined various portions of their skin. Blood soaked cloths padded their flesh and dark ink sunk into it. Lawrence gripped his cell phone, no doubt trying to explain to his wife why he was still out and about for such an extended period of time.

  “Yes, honey…” Lawrence sighed in annoyance. “We are at the tattoo parlor. Yes…well, I’m not certain. Okay. It is called True Tattoo, over here on Cahuenga. Yes, in Hollywood. Of course not!”

  It had come to Saint’s attention that Donna didn’t care for him much. Actually, he read her during a family dinner and it was more than evident from her sneers and rolling of eyes, he was not her favorite person. Saint wasn’t sure what that was about. After all, he did give her husband a new job, one where they could finally have financial independence, so much so, that she didn’t even have to work if she didn’t want to and they could finally start on that
family they so desperately wanted. He even toyed with the idea of confronting her, but didn’t want to cause a scene or make Lawrence uncomfortable. He had nothing against Donna. She was a bit domineering, but overall a decent person. She was strong, like Xenia, but she kept a fortress around her. Saint knew that, regardless, she’d sometimes mistaken her husband’s quiet disposition for weakness, and nothing could be further from the truth. Lawrence was the wrong person to piss off. Unlike Saint, Lawrence kept calm and cool and you just wouldn’t know what hit you if he unleashed his anger on you. He did his shit covertly, and if some injustice transpired, before you knew it, your ass was his. He never discussed these deeds; they simply happened and he accepted them as part of his life. The man had killed many times in the name of helping another and never lost a wink of sleep over it. Regardless, he was one of the most gentle and kind-hearted spirits Saint had ever known.

  Saint reached lazily toward Lawrence, motioned to him to hand him the phone. Lawrence shook his head vehemently. Saint grinned and looked away, understanding that the poor man didn’t want him to fan the fires with tipsy talk. More than likely something disrespectful would roll off his tongue, and then the shit would be officially stirred.

  After a while, Lawrence hung up. Standing there, he put his hands on his waist and glanced down at his watch.

  “Saint, you aren’t even half done. I think I’m going to have to go home.”

  “But you can’t!” Jagger protested. “You’re our designated driver tonight! Saint and I drank too much.”

  “Well, can’t you catch a taxi?” Lawrence asked weakly, his eyes sad with worry.

  “Oh come on, Lawrence! You’re a grown man! Do you really need permission to stay out?” Jagger added.

  “You’re going to get him in trouble, Jagger,” Saint warned, though he felt the same way.

  “Traci doesn’t do this to me. I go where I please.” Jagger rolled his eyes smugly. The pain of the needle going in and out of his tanned skin seemed to do nothing to the man.