Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  “Yeeees, girl!” One of them women cackled while grabbing a loaf of white bread and turning it a million different directions, possibly looking for the expiration date. “I had to set her straight for her own good. I couldn’t let my girl go out like that. There is nothing that guy could have done for her. They all see us the same.”

  “Exactly! He work in sales, so you know he was full of crap. Calling us monkeys and all sorts of mess probably behind her back. Some of these women are falling all over these white men like they really want our asses. They don’t. The idiots just think the grass is greener on the other side, but those women act like these white men are Gods ’cause they show a little interest but it’s all an act.”

  A lump formed in Xenia’s throat. She gently rubbed the back of her neck, feeling suddenly out of sorts, disturbed by it all.

  “So what did she do?” the other women asked.

  “April? She told his ass, ‘No.’ She turned him down, thank God. That would have been a damn mess. I don’t know who he thought he was asking her out on a date this weekend, like she was going to fall for that crap and have his mother turn around and tell him not to bring that colored girl home.” She laughed. “You know some of them still like to call us colored. It ain’t just reserved for southerners.

  “I know, girl.”

  “The real tripped out part is where April lives… like he’d be going to Bed-Stuy to pick her ass up. Yeah right!” She laughed as she tossed a package of pre-made biscuits into her cart. “So anyway, what are you doing this weekend?”

  “Nothing.” The lady shrugged. “I didn’t make any plans.”

  “Okay, I’ll invite April over then. She doesn’t have anything going on either.”

  But she could have… She could have if you hadn’t interfered with your defeatist thoughts.

  She took a good hard look at the women. Though nice in appearance, their eyes were dull. They’d run a long race, only to find themselves still at the starting line. Xenia knew that feeling; she knew the condition they suffered from. And to add insult to injury, they’d continue to be ill, and the sickness would get worse with each passing year.

  Xenia found the bread she was looking for, angrily ripped it off the shelf, almost indenting its perfect form, and tossed it in the cart. Yanking the damn thing forward, she barrelled past the two women, almost knocking them over.

  “You need to watch we’re you’re going, lady!” one of them called out.

  “She looks familiar… I’ve seen her somewhere before,” the other one said.

  Xenia felt their heated stares on her as she continued on her way, wanting to get as far away from them as possible.

  “Oh,” one of them burst out. “She must’ve overheard us! Did you see that little girl? I think her is daughter mixed!” Their voices grew fainter as she drew closer to exiting the aisle.

  “So what!” the other replied.

  Xenia rounded the corner, surging with anger.

  “It’s true!” The woman raised her voice, trying with all of her might to be heard, to be acknowledged, to be recognized by someone, anyone, once and for all. “I don’t care if she heard us! She knows it’s true!”

  And then Xenia could hear them no more. She paused, took a couple deep breaths, and regained her composure.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Isis asked, her big golden eyes canopied by lush, dark eyelashes, thanks to her father.

  “Nothing at all, baby.” Xenia smiled down at her, then gently kissed her earlobe, causing the girl to giggle and squirm in her seat.

  “You’re so ticklish, girl!” Xenia grinned. “Now, let’s get Hassani and Dakarai some snacks. What do you think they’d like?” She turned down the aisle filled with pudding cups, fruit snacks and flavored gelatin.

  “Maybe some fruit roll-ups? Or some raisins?”

  “No, Mommy. Candy!” Isis exclaimed, holding her arms up high as if she were going down a roller coaster.

  Xenia smiled down at her. “I think we’ve all had enough candy, and besides, you’re sweet enough!”

  Isis wasn’t buying it. She searched far and wide for anything that resembled a bag of gummy bears or gumballs. Xenia picked up a box of white grape raisins and placed them gingerly in her cart. She stood there for a short spell, noting her hand was actually trembling. How could it be? She’d developed quite a thick skin over the years. It wasn’t an option or a choice, but a necessity… but at that same moment, she realized why she was so riled up.

  I’ve got things to do, a message to give, something to say, and women like that need to hear it. I need to push my anger aside, and deal with the real issue at hand. They’re scared… I might not be able to help them, but at least I can say I tried…

  Digging in her purse, she grabbed an ink pen and scribbled down her name and the address where the conference would be held.

  “Hold on, baby!” Laughing, she pushed as fast as she could, causing Isis to giggle and sway as she searched for the two women who’d made her temperature rise. There they stood, next to the milk, still running their mouths. Xenia pushed the cart in front of her, so she could keep an eye on Isis as she approached them.

  “Oh shit,” she heard one mumble. “I told you she’d heard us…”

  “Good afternoon, ladies. I am so sorry to interrupt your shopping. I’m sure you’re in a hurry, but you two look like you may be interested in some great, empowering information for women of color… Black women, in particular. My name is Xenia Donnellson Aknaten.” She smirked, enjoying how the face of the one with the biggest mouth and sourest attitude slipped, dropped and hit the damn ground.

  “Xenia Donnellson? I knew you looked familiar!” the other one piped in. “I loved you on the ‘Morning Tea’!”

  “Thank you so much, sweetheart. What is your name?” Xenia extended her hand and the woman shook it eagerly.

  “Phaedra.”

  “Nice to meet you, Phaedra. Well, let me get right to it. I know this is not professionally written, but the flyers aren’t finished yet. Anyway, I’m going to be hosting a new radio show here in New York that begins in one week. I wish for you two to call the station and request two—no, make it three—free tickets to a wonderful conference I will be speaking at. Now, normally tickets range from fifty to seventy-five dollars a piece, but I want to give you complimentary ones.” She handed one of the women her name and the number at the radio station. “Just say I invited you to the ‘Queendom Conference’ and you are to receive the three free tickets.”

  “Oh…okay.” The big mouth one looked at her suspiciously and tucked it into her purse. “Well, thank you.”

  “What’s it about?” the other one questioned as she placed two chocolate milk jugs in the cart, her interest genuinely piqued.

  “It’s about us, being the black Queens that we are, loving ourselves and never putting periods or pauses on our experiences in this life…that’s what it’s about.” Xenia wielded a big smile, the kind she was known for, the smile that made her man drop to his knees before her feet and the smile she’d perfected from her long years in journalism… And then she paused. “Oh, and please invite your friend, April. The third ticket is for her.”

  “Oh, I see…” the big-mouthed one replied, looking a bit nervous.

  “This particular weekend, I think it would be fabulous if she had plans. One more thing, not to meddle, but watch the chocolate milk. Those of us with African ancestry oftentimes are lactose intolerant. Now, I’m not saying give it up completely. Chocolate is delicious.” Her eyes narrowed. “But almond and coconut milk are also worth a try. Expand your horizons; you just may like what you taste.” She turned away, glancing over her shoulder one last time as she spun Isis in the opposite direction. “You two ladies have a beautiful day. I know I sure will. It’s supposed to rain, but that only means we might get to see a Rainbeau…”

  And that…was that.

  *

  Chapter Seventeen

  Krishna looked like an ornament flown direct
from Santa’s Christmas land of exceptionally iridescent trinkets. He glowed obscenely, like a bursting star, but not of his own doing. It was simply his nature to be that way. He sat at Saint’s dining room table, admiring the artwork and décor as he ran his thick, wrinkled hands along the stark white tablecloth.

  “Your wife has impeccable taste.”

  Saint nodded, a smirk on his face. No sense in trying to fool Krishna. Most of the layout was in fact Xenia’s doing though he believed his abilities to put things together were nothing to scoff at. She would not allow the black lacquer vaginal statue to make a debut, however, much to his chagrin. Regardless, this wasn’t about egos and embellishing, this was much more serious. Xenia had stepped out with the children on the bright, sunny Saturday afternoon, leaving him and Krishna alone to finish the discussion that had first been cut short due to a certain little boy running away from class. Regardless, Saint was trying to move past that, to give his son some space to stretch, but there was now a clear understanding that should he wish to do such a thing again, the consequences would be more than the little boy could imagine. He’d stick to his guns, too, no matter how many tears flowed. Xenia remained none the wiser, just as Saint promised his son, but she did know all about Krishna, and she took an immediate liking to the man…

  The fellow had met her, and as soon as their fingers touched in a handshake, he looked as if he were going to pass out. The older gentleman laughed lightly and nodded in Saint’s direction.

  “Yes…she’s perfect for you. Simply perfect.”

  In less than five minutes, he’d also seen his children and pointed to each of them, giving special prophecy.

  “That one is like you…” he said of Hassani, not mentioning one word of the incident a few days prior.

  Saint and Xenia looked at one another and nodded in agreement.

  “That one…is like his mother. And he’s slick. Cunning. He’d do well with undercover operations. His mind is constantly moving. A beautiful and rare Deaf Mute. How lovely he is…” Dakarai seemed oblivious that he was being spoken of as he pilfered through his baggy jean pockets, looking for the two quarters he’d found in the corner of his closet earlier that morning.

  “And that one…she is a beauty.” Isis smiled, as if she knew she was the prettiest, sparkling thing in the room. “Her heart is beautiful, too. Very kind soul. She will help people. She is a different type of healer. No, she can’t put her hands on anyone and do what we do, but she can use her special gifts to show others the best course of action. She is a storyteller. She tells the stories of peoples’ lives via mirrors and beautiful, sparkling things.”

  Reflectors.

  Saint recalled the demonstration she’d once given and knew that yes, Isis would be a modern day gypsy woman of sorts, only she needed no cards or tools. No, a broken mirror, puddle of water, large diamond or juice glass would suffice.

  “…Do you know why she is such a voracious eater?” The man grinned as Xenia placed a light pink jacket on the girl.

  “I thought she was just greedy like her old man!” Saint teased, causing everyone to laugh.

  “Well yes, she does enjoy a meal or two… But no, it is because that is how that gift is fed, through protein and sweets. She craves fruits and candies, not only because she has a sweet tooth, but because her mind and gifts require it. This is a common occurrence for the Princess of Life, especially if she has psychic abilities, and most of them throughout the centuries did go through this. Once she reaches the age of twenty-one, the gift will be fully developed. Once she reaches the age of thirty-five, she will be using it practically daily. It will be fine-tuned after years of practice. Her accuracy level will be above ninety-percent. She is one of the best fortune tellers I’ve ever seen.” The man shook his head in awe. “Make sure she takes care of the loose ends in Egypt, Saint.”

  Saint nodded. “I will.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Krishna.” Xenia extended her hand once more to the man.

  “Likewise.”

  “We will leave you two alone. Saint,” she said. “If you need me come back or pick up something, just give me a call.” She kissed her husband on the cheek and disappeared out the back door…

  “Saint…”

  Krishna called out his name, bringing him back into the here and now.

  “Oh yes. I’m sorry, Krishna. My mind has been a bit scattered as of late.”

  “I understand. I will once again begin to speak to you telepathically so that I may be more easily understood. My accent will be removed, just like before. You may respond verbally. I will understand you either way.” Saint nodded in understanding.

  “Now, back to what I was saying. I want to discuss with you why this is happening.”

  “Uh…can I get you something to drink?” Saint knew he looked weary, and didn’t understand his current compulsions but something inside of him wanted to delay the inevitable. Once he knew the truth, he’d have to act on it—and that concerned him the most.

  “I would like a glass of your wife’s lemonade that you were previously bragging about, but not right now.” Krishna once again had his number, but didn’t call him on it directly. His tone let Saint know that he would not tolerate even one more interruption. Saint steepled his hands and tapped the fingertips together, staring down at them as if he’d never seen the damn things before.

  “Now, let’s discuss this and move on. Saint, your half Egyptian ancestry has a direct link to our Mecca as Angel Children. We all know Egypt is our origin, our birthplace. Just as Africa is the cradle of all civilization, Egypt is ours. None of this, not even your ancestry, is by coincidence. You were required to have an Egyptian parent, didn’t matter if it was your mother or father, but one of them had to be and I will explain more of that in just a moment.” The man paused, seemingly deliberating over his next words, and then continued. “There has been a shift in the parliament due to centuries of corruption. The Angel Child kingdom has decided over one hundred years ago that, when the time came, they would move portions of the kingdom to wherever the chosen Kings dwelled. The Kings would not be told they were Kings, however, until each of you was settled in.”

  At this point, Saint swallowed. Hard.

  “A hidden, golden, timed clock was set three months ago, Saint. It was turned on and whenever it stopped, that is where the new Kingdom would be established for you in particular. It had to land on a hub, however. There are certain parts of the world that are considered Angel Children hubs—the places where we are most needed and attracted to. As you may be aware of now, New York is one of them.”

  Now Saint was fidgeting. He rocked about in his chair the way his second son did when he was being scolded.

  “You were in New York for exactly seven hours, seven minutes and three seconds when the clock stopped. You were chosen as King the day you were born, and it was confirmed after you passed your entry test. This is a test given from the Angels in heaven to every potential Angel Child ruler. After you defeated Nzism, it was confirmed. I’ve known for a rather long time. It was not my responsibility to tell you, though.” The man gently touched his chest, offering sincerity in the midst of the heavy news.

  “How long is long?” Saint asked.

  “When Lawrence brought you to me, as soon as I touched you, I knew who you were and what your destiny was.”

  “But Krishna.” He wanted to plead his case, and maybe even plead the fifth. “I don’t want to rule over anyone. That’s not me.” He touched his chest earnestly as well, hoping for a chance he could convince the powers-that-be to pick someone else.

  “You have no choice in this, Saint.”

  “But beforehand, you said we do have a choice! Just three days ago, you said we can choose to acknowledge our powers, or not to. What if I just give all this up, huh?” Saint threw up his hands. “What if I just say, ‘The hell with this!’, and walk away…focus on the Rainbeau Knights, my organization and my sex therapy?”

  “You can, you will. You will do a
ll of those things.”

  “I can’t be King of all these damn Angel Kids and do that too! I can’t give my family the attention they need and deserve and run this, too!” Saint shouted. “That makes no sense.”

  Krishna grinned. “You’ve already been doing it, child.”

  Saint grew silent once again, wishing he could swallow himself whole right then and there and simply disappear. The same words he’d said to Xenia in a moment of encouragement were coming back to haunt him.

  “Let me explain this a bit better to you.” Krishna sighed and leaned forward. “You are rare, but there are others like you. The hubs have never had Kings before. This is a fairly new development. It was decided that this should take place, so the likelihood of abuse of power would no longer continue.”

  “And who decided this, Krishna? Egypt? They are their own parliament now, and I have no doubts Isis will make the official word of such once she understands it to be so. I’ve already told people I don’t want to do this sort of thing! Who is making these choices regarding our lives?!”

  “…The Creator. He tells the Angels, your parents, and they pass the message along.”

  Saint slumped down in his seat like an old sack of potatoes, rolled his eyes and wearily ran his palm across his lips. He collapsed even further into his seat.

  “L.A. also has a hub, Saint, and that appointed King will look over all of California, just as you would New York, but that is not where you were destined to rule from. Thus, you got the notion to move, to escape, to run away. That did not happen by mere coincidence. You wanted to come home because home wanted you to come. It is your destiny. You were simply being trained in L.A, and now, it is time for you to take the reins. L.A. has a King, and he will be alerted soon. Phoenix and Chicago have an Angel Child King; he is being told about this at just about the same time that you are…”

  “Countries all over the world are being set up for this shift. Tokyo and Delhi and Shanghai, for instance, are hubs, too. Egypt will always be Mecca, but the distribution of power is being changed to better help mankind. Our forefathers have learned a valuable lesson. Never give a human too much power. We are all human, and the Angels that created us thought initially we could handle it, but we cannot. This way, you all form a council of sorts, and work together. Saint, you are the Angel Child King of New York. Some call it the King Angel Child—whichever you prefer is fine.” He smiled kindly. “Koki knows this, and he understands what is about to transpire. He can either play by the rules, or be destroyed. The only problem is, Koki is not accustomed to answering to others. He is used to giving the orders. He is a very unique individual, not your average Demon Child, so this may cause a struggle for you.” Krishna’s eyes narrowed. “Once you make a decision regarding him, however, do not hesitate. The slightest delay could cost you your life!”