An Angel's Touch

by Susan D. Kalior

  A racket clamored from the alley at our side. A man stood there, shouting in French. He was a long-limbed, balding, cadaverous sort, wearing a tan service workers jumpsuit. Apparently, he’d flung an adolescent boy into some steel garbage cans, knocking them over. Cans rolled. Little scraps of paper somersaulted lightly down the alley on a bumpy breeze. The boy rose awkwardly with egg slime in his wavy black hair. His blue jeans and black tee shirt were liquid stained. Then, he slipped on a puddle of lard. His hip landed on a downed garbage can that rolled, and he smacked his head on pebbly dirt. Funny, really.

  “Oh!” Jen gasped.

  Funny to me anyway.

  The man stomped up to the boy, shaking his fist. “Tu es mal!”

  Entertainment.

  The boy slithered over the garbage can, landing on his posterior. He kicked the can out from underneath his legs. “Non, sil vous plait, non!”

  Jen grabbed my arm. “johnny, do something!”

  I gave her a condescending sidelong glance. “I’m no savior.”

  “johnny!”

  “I’m no savior,” I said more sternly. “It’s beneath me.”

  “You save me all the time!”

  “Aren’t you the lucky one.”

  The man yanked the boy up and shook him, screaming deliciously foul words.

  Jen huffed hard. “You aren’t going to help that poor boy?”

  “No.”

  “Fine.” She jutted her chin. “I’ll handle it myself!”

  “Why must you handle it, Jen? Practice detachment. Sit back and enjoy the show. A little blood never ended the world.”

  “How dare you want me to enjoy blood!”

  “How dare you ask that I not.”

  She stared at the discordant pair, wincing. “Oh johnny, please, just paralyze them for a moment.”

  “No Jen. I want to watch.”

  “Fine. But if I get hurt, it’s going to be your fault!”

  She dashed down the alley, then slowed with feet of fear, before speeding up once more, then slowing again, nearly stopping. I followed, matching her uneven gait, knowing full well Diego had arranged this little incident to develop Jen’s power. I’d allow it. It was time for her to explore her abilities, even if only to use them against my charming parents. I would endure her saving the boy, even though the saving of anyone, other than Jen or myself, vexed me. However, I would do nothing to enhance the flow of blood. As uncharacteristic as it was for me, I didn’t feel like playing a blood game—still recuperating I guess.

  Halfway there, Jen stopped. She looked over her shoulder to me. “If you loved me, you’d save him.”

  “If you loved me, you would ask no such thing.”

  “I don’t understand you!”

  “That’s clear.”

  The man clutched the boy’s shirt, engulfing his chin in black cotton. Then he backhanded the boy’s face. I heard blood vessels pop. Sanguine fluid ran from the boy’s nose.

  The boy shrieked, “Sil vous plait, Papa!”

  Jen burst into a sprint, yellow hair flying, black pumps smacking ground, looking most appealing in her little black dress. She stopped a few feet in front of the man. “Release him!”

  I faded into Pericludies so that Jen would have a true challenge. Yet, I stayed not too far behind her. The man’s head turned to her, his face masked with ugly rage. “C'est mon fils. Laissez-nous seuls.”

  Jen said, “I don’t care if he’s your son! Release him.”

  The man dropped one hand and stepped toward her, dragging the boy along. He made a fist at her and shook it. “Run away, or I’ll beat you too!”

  She stepped back and gasped. “Please sir, settle your argument with words. Violence never solved anything.”

  Personally, I couldn’t have disagreed more.

  She jumped when he stomped his foot toward her. “Depart!”

  “Leave her alone, Papa!” cried the boy.

  He slid his pulsing eyes to the boy, the beard stubble on his face adding to his daunting demeanor. “Soyez tranquille!”

  “No,” Jen raised a gentle hand, in a please listen to me way. “Don’t tell him to be silent. There is too much silence in this world. We must speak out. We must.”

  He jerked his palm to his opposite ear in a mock gesture that he would backhand her cheek.

  She shrunk back, sheltering her face with her forearm. She peeked over her arm to see the man’s back. He was pushing the boy away from her, barking threats at him that he needed a beating to teach him not to hang around troublemakers.

  “johnny, help me!” she cried, assuming I was behind her, visible that is.

  When I didn’t respond, she ran up behind the man with the smarts of an annoying fly. Flies get smacked, and so would she. She knew so little of combat, men, and pecking order.

  She touched the man’s arm. “You can’t teach him peace by using violence. You can’t—”

  “Shut up!” He whirled around with bulging eyes flinging ire like yo-yo’s. His forearm slashed the air, on route to backhand her face—for real.

  I paralyzed his arm in mid-air, inches from her cheek. Panting with fear, his eyes darted side to side.

  Jen stepped back wide eyed and gulped. “johnny?” she turned her head all around in the vacant air. “Where are you?”

  The man said, “You are a witch, no? johnny is your demon, yes?”

  She glanced at him. “Kind of.” She kept shifting her head looking for me. I’d never disappeared on her before. She didn’t understand the invisible state of Pericludies, even though she’d known me to be present at times she could not see me. Not that I needed to be present to protect her. My mind was most powerful.

  I spoke to her so that only she could hear. Seems my telepathic powers had returned. Focus your eyes on his. With your mind, travel into him and find his core being. Stream blue light into it.

  The man said. “Release me, witch!”

  I said telepathically, Your eyes, Jen.

  She faced the man and concentrated. Her body glowed, lending her black dress a bluish cast. Sky colors tinted her blonde hair.

  I unfroze the man.

  The full high tone of Jen’s vibratory state pulsated through me. My heart skipped a beat. A picture flashed in my mind: a snow-white face, eyes of liquid mercy.

  The man sank to his knees and said to her, “Forgive me, Mother Mary.”

  She knelt and touched his shoulder. “You will not take your troubles out on the boy, ever again.”

  He nodded in a stupor. She had mesmerized him.

  She rose and went to the trembling boy, taller than she. Blue light streamed from her heart to his. “What is your name?”

  “Libellule, or in English, Dragonfly.”

  “Dragonfly, I give you—” she touched his chest, “hope.” From her fingers, an ethereal blue pyramid soared into his heart. The pyramid was hope. She truly had given it to him. Shens can do that.

  Dragonfly smiled with teary eyes.

  She nodded lightly, signifying that she was finished with him.

  His father came and put his hand on Dragonfly’s shoulder, and they walked away.

  Jen turned and almost crashed into me. I had to step to the side. Even in Pericludies, my essence acts like a force field, and none can trespass.

  I became visible and stepped up next to her. “You did well.”

  “Where were you?”

  “I was here. You just couldn’t see me.”

  “Well, you were right,” she sighed, “I learn a lot when you make me handle situations, but I wish you wouldn’t be so cold about it.”

  “It works.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Suspicious of mother’s interventions, I inquired, “Who taught you about the pyramid?”

  “It came to me naturally.” She narrowed an eye. “You know more about Shens than one would think given . . . you know—” She wanted to say, you never let them live too long, but what came out was, “—got to know them well.”


  “You think they didn’t try all those things on me?”

  She gave me a dirty look.

  I said, “However, you do have power over ordinary people.”

  She crossed her arms in a huff of resignation.

  I said, “But you want power over me, right?”

  “Not really. I just want to know I can block you if necessary.”

  Then I gave her the dirty look.

  “Let’s not fight,” she said, almost monotone.

  She knew better than to anger me, and pleading was useless. And I knew better than to frighten her. Intimidation would not win her love. So, I took her hand warmly and turned her down a side street lined with flower carts and hungry-eyed vendors.

  The scented air of rose and violet filled our heads. I swung my body in front of her and embraced her romantically, moving us into the fifth realm with a few flaps of my intangible wings. We faded from human view, though we inhabited the same alley. Anyone watching probably shook their heads, wondering if they saw us in the first place. They may even think they’d glimpsed a ghost or two.

  Here, in the fifth realm, Jen appeared more fairy-like, features a bit more refined, and movements more fluid, like in Disney movies. I preferred her third realm look, but I imagine my more refined and softer fifth realm facade suited her better. The flowers seem larger than life and flower fairies moved about them like bees. Flowers in the fifth realm need pollinating too. Here, colors intensified. Textures deepened. I sent the beauty of the flowers into her spirit, a pleasure I’d never gifted another.

  She turned in circles, arms outstretched in a dance of elation. I hailed dew upon her face and commanded gentle breezes to brush against her skin. I summoned rainbows to crisscross the alley, and purple fairies to dance on the wind. Only in the fifth realm could I do such things.

  Jen whirled around faster, and then swooped towards me and grabbed my hands, pulling me into her joyful circles. “johnny, oh johnny, this is beautiful. I feel beautiful!”

  Around and around we went. I was getting off on the dizzying sensation.

  “Where are we?” she cried with joy.

  “The fifth realm.” I drew her close as we moved. I summoned music of the flower devas: flutes, bells, and high-pitched whistles. Our circles became slower, more fluid, more eloquent. And we danced.

  “This is a magical place,” she said, “a dream, it has to be.”

  “This is where people extract fairy tales, child-like fantasy, and lullabies into their third-realm world.”

  She stopped our dance. “There are no . . . demons here?”

  “Only me.”

  “How is it no other demons come here?”

  “No demon would want to come here. It’s not so beautiful to us. It’s aggravating.”

  “Are you aggravated?”

  “Not as long as I’m here with you. No. Not with you.”

  “And the sixth realm, what lives there?”

  “The sixth realm is occupied by creatures like me, the stuff of nightmares.”

  “And what of the seventh realm?”

  “The seventh? The seventh is your world Angel, a place I do not go.”

  “Can I?”

  “Someday,” I stroked her face, “when you are ready.”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “Hush,” I said, because I knew the seventh realm is where she could escape me, even though she could escape other Tazmarks too. Yes, I’m selfish.

  I created a carpet of gardenia petals. Shens adore gardenias. I made her feet bare that she might feel the softness that I never could. I thought off our attire, save the dragon talisman on her and the crucifix on me, and guided our bare bodies down to lie upon the flower carpet. I pressed my flesh over hers and began making love to her in the spirit of her teenage fantasies: Sir Lancelot and Guinevere, Robin Hood and Marion, Romeo and Juliet.

  I relinquished to her enchanting allure. We rolled slowly over petals, two as one, over and over and over. Our hair caved each other’s faces; yellow and black strands never quite touching. Diamond glitters etched our bodies as we stopped rolling, her on top of me. She licked my neck. She nipped my chin. Her breasts were firm against my bare chest.

  I felt the light pressure of it all, but not the sensation. I wanted all the contact wilder, harder; but this time was for her. My lust was centered in love, opening me to delicacies that could mean death to a Tazmark. Tazmark Rule #1: Never relinquish control, especially to creatures of light.

  She kissed my mouth with her quarter moon lips. Our tongues slid against each other with rain soft moisture. Her feathery fingers trailed down my side over the ball of my hip. The energy flowing through her hands made my skin tingle, and my muscles buzz—not possible for me in the third realm.

  What Tazmark ever indulged in such tenderness? It was not natural. Yet, I felt I had done this with her before, long ago, before my earth days as a Tazmark. I fell into her white-gold world that nearly made me dissolve.

  She guided my shaft into her feminine cavity. I felt millenniums in moments, the collective in the individual, universes in one body. She moved round and round, orbiting my maleness, the seductive moon enforcing her will upon those who would die to feel the quenching power of her touch. She fell on me in rhythmic waves. I gave her control.

  Our bodies erupted in simultaneous orgasm. I burned. My molecular composition began to scatter. I was about to die by Shen. I held my breath, striving not to lose myself in her, gathering myself back into the fire that was me.

  She fell upon me, the moisture on her body beading on my dry skin. “Oh johnny, I love you so.”

  “Do you, my Shen?”

  “I do, my Tazmark.”

  “Until death do us part,” she murmured.

  “Until death . . .” I echoed, “until death.”

  She was so near to granting me true unconditional love that the scent of it teased me, the taste of it taunted me, the sight of it made me want to lunge out and take it, but it could not be taken, only given—and still she had not given it. Not yet, nor would it be legitimate until she knew me completely, and gave it still.

  But there may not be time for that, time to make her understand, and help her accept what was to her—unacceptable, so that she could delve into the uncharted depths of love. Our days were numbered. Numbered, unless I could overcome Divine Light, my parents, and metaphysical law. And what were the odds of that?

  I wasn’t feeling well. Not well at all. “Oh, my Shen,” I murmured, but I was thinking, I fear we can get no closer than this.

  “johnny, your skin is ruby red!” Jen had drawn her head back to view me. “I’ve burned you again. You should have told me.”

  “It was a burn countered by pleasure.”

  “Shall I heal you?”

  “No need. I always wanted to know what sunburn felt like. Guess this is it.”

  She cocked her head sweetly. “I love to enfold you, johnny. Why must it hurt you so?”

  “It just does,” I said starting to feel deathly ill. “I need to get out of here.” I was losing myself to the fairy tale world. I had to get back to some molten yang.

  “All right,” she said gently, and rose.

  I sprang up, and that wasn’t fast enough. I made the apparel we had shed appear simultaneously on our bodies, almost not taking the time. I scooped her up in my arms so suddenly, she gasped with surprise. I flew us into the sixth realm skies, feeling the rough raw warmth of my demonic world. Better, much better. I felt myself returning, thicker, wilder—me. I needed to go deeper into my world. Just a little more relief—Jen wouldn’t like it—but . . . oh well.

  Chapter Seven

  We flew over lava flows and raging infernos, into the most diabolical recesses of the sixth realm. I’d never brought her here this deep before, beneath the meridians of time travel—this level where nightmares brew. Mythological-type creatures dotted the terrain below, walking and flying. My blood raced, bringing new life to my limbs and spark to my eyes. I stopped for a
moment to absorb the infamous power of this place.

  To my surprise, Jen’s eyes were open. Not looking at me really, as she hated seeing my sixth realm fangs, but she was scanning the scene around her with interest.

  She clung tighter to me. “Where are we?”

  “You know where we are.”

  “No, this place feels different—spicier than normal.”

  “It is the pulp of the sixth. We usually fly in the rind.”

  “Did ‘I’ have to come?”

  “I visited sweetness with you. Is it so awful to visit spice with me?”

  “I want to be fair, but,” she glanced down at the demons, “but—oh johnny.” She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck. “Can these creatures get out of the sixth realm?”

  “Only in an astral sense, and only if you invite them.”

  “Why would anyone invite them?”

  “Sometimes humans need things, or fear things, and open to this realm. When a human dreams or is in another altered state, they can sense and sometimes see the astral body of these creatures whom they have attracted.”

  “So, if a creature on some level came to me in the third realm, it would not appear solid?”

  “That is correct.”

  “So, that is what is happening when people get spooked by something they feel is in the room with them, or when they have a nightmare that feels so real?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  She shuddered, “johnny, I really don’t want to be here.”

  “We’ll only stay a moment.”

  She sighed and tightened her grip. “Just . . . don’t . . . drop me.”

  “Never,” I said.

  A whiny voice sounded before me, “Etsk.” That meant liar in Halkodamish. A Halkodama had flown up to us, facing her. His brown snakehead poked out of his bare chest. His naked body was human-like, thin and hairy. Worms crawled out of his red pointed bat ears. His green eyes whirled like mine sometimes do.

  Jen buried her face in my neck and shrieked, “Take me away from here!”

  I wasn’t concerned. No lesser demon had ever challenged me. I ruled.

  “Be gone,” I commanded.

  The Halkodama thrashed my arm from shoulder to elbow with his long scissor claws, exposing bone. My arm lost strength, and I lost hold of Jen.