An Angel's Touch

by Susan D. Kalior

  Fuck.

  I found my way into her goddess memory and stood before her. She cried out to me in her memory, “It is because of you! This happened because of you!”

  Fuck. Fuck. She was seeing me as I was then, as Ixion.

  Calm. Stay calm, I told myself. Breathe in. Breathe out.

  I left that memory, and though I yet stood before her, I moved my essence into hers from the back of her being, coming up from behind. I concentrated on my love for her. It welled like a giant wave of clear, pure love inside me, washing over her, engulfing her goddess past, that she could focus on the present.

  She collapsed. I caught her, easing us down to the compressed air floor. Holding her in my arms, she opened her eyes, shining love. And with parched lips, she said, “I am better now.”

  I nodded, relieved. I hated to think it, but love saved the day. Well, not yet actually.

  I helped her up.

  With a brave sigh, she looked over the edge into Cyrus. Tufts of earth below buckled.

  Jen held her head with face scrunched in pain. “The people, their pain—it’s killing me.”

  She fell to her knees.

  I squatted behind her, wrapping one hand around to her forehead, and the other around to her heart, pressing gently. “Fall into me,” I said. “Fall into me, into the cool cavern. You hear the sound of water dripping, dripping in a cavern pool. And you know this place is your sanctuary, and the dripping sound, your salvation.”

  I felt her calm down, feeling safe under my wing, insulating her reception of the pain.

  With a deep sigh, she said, “Thank you. I think I can try to do it now.”

  We rose once more and peeked into Cyrus. “Okay Jen, this is it. Hail a Divine Light Ice Storm into Cyrus. It will chase the Council out. It is critical that your mind is completely set on returning earth to the exact state that it was before the Council entered.”

  She looked at me and cocked her head. “Is that all? Can’t I do more this time?”

  “Trust me,” I said, “I did some things when you were unconscious that would make you proud. Humanity will make a comeback, if only it has time, and is not tampered with by Dragons.”

  Her eyes lit. “Chaos—in the name of Love?”

  I nodded lightly. “Yes Jen, Chaos—in the name of Love.”

  She grinned. “If you can do that, then I must do this.” Looking into Cyrus, she concentrated. Her tense, wrinkled forehead almost made my brain hurt. Her eyes had narrowed to hard slits, and her breathing was so shallow it almost was not there.

  I said, “You are trying too hard; it can’t happen that way.”

  She snapped her head up to me with frantic, big blue eyes. “But I don’t know how else to do it!”

  “Stay calm. Calm. I have never created any mass destruction without precision focus and deep inner calm.”

  She tried again, but she was not calm. The more she gazed at the destruction, the more I felt her energy constrict. “No Jen—that is not the way,” I said again. “I am not sure if it works for you like it does for me, but I summon what I need from the source of the Dragon Worlds. Maybe if you summon what you need from the source of the Goddess Worlds, it might work for you. Call for the source of the energy before it turns into anything.”

  She nodded with quivering breath. “All right. All right.”

  She gazed into Cyrus, exhaling slowly and deeply, then inhaling the same way. She breathed like this until her face took on the look of a trance. Something like a spotlight shined on her from, I don’t know where, although I could guess. I stepped sideways to distance myself from it. Her body was bathed in blue-green, then pink, then brilliant white. The spotlight widened over the opening to Cyrus and took on the texture of the tiniest ice crystals. The crystals glittered, charged with supernatural light. The word ‘acid’ came to mind.

  The ice crystals amassed the whole opening of Cyrus. Beautiful really, like sugar, like salt, like all the best of winter in fairyland. The crystalline mass broke up and gravitated down and outward, dropping mystically charged snow crystals into all time on earth.

  Jen silently mouthed over and over, ‘As it was before the Council entered.’

  I smiled faintly, looking at her profile, little lashes protecting her child-like eyes. She trusted me. Me. Finally. And that meant so much. She was here, empowered as a goddess, no longer behaving erratically as she so often did when frightened. She was maturing, and worthy of her powers.

  A Council Dragon burst through the opening over our heads, wings splayed, haunches stretched back. Its slick, grey belly and under wings looked acid burned.

  Jen curled her arm around mine nervously as we watched to see what would happen next.

  The Dragon floated down and landed beside me, glaring.

  I glared back.

  Jen said to the Dragon, “Sorry.”

  And she was, unable to hate an enemy. My heart melted a little.

  One by one the other five Dragons burst out of the opening, and landed like ducks in a row. Their hides bore tiny red welts. One of the Council flicked a sprinkling of ice crystals off his shoulder.

  Jen tightened her grip on my arm.

  In their collective telepathic voice, the Dragons spoke, and I could tell Jen heard too. “Very well, Ixion. Very well. You did what was necessary to diminish earth’s call for destruction, and the goddess preserved it. We have ordered the Dragon armies home. You destroyed Quen-tan from what we see, and apparently, you are also responsible for Diego’s demise. You are still as powerful as ever you were, and now the Worlds of your origin are in peril. Too much growth and not enough destruction. If you would have slain the restored goddess and ruled the Dracovar worlds, we could have come to balance. You saved earth, but it has affected the ecosystem of this galaxy. And as that falls further off course, so do surrounding galaxies, and the whole universe.”

  “What are you saying?” I said telepathically.

  “We are saying that we still need you. You tap the source of our origin like no other. We need you to lead the way to restore balance to our galaxy and all the universe.”

  Jen blurted, “johnny, no.” She looked up at me with the greatest disappointment.

  I gave her a sidelong glance, conveying merely that I loved her.

  The collective Council said telepathically, “We cannot make you do it Ixion, as you have well proven. You have further proven that you can control the goddess, removing her as a threat to us.”

  Jen huffed beneath her breath, but held her tongue.

  “We leave you with this appeal.” They vanished, leaving a seemingly more hollow space than before they had filled it. And a part of me yearned to follow the Wise Ones home.

  “johnny?” Jen said softly, sensing my desire.

  I looked down my shoulder at her face looking up at me, the picture of hope, weighted with dread, fearing the future without celebrating the now.

  “Jen?” I said, to get her full attention.

  “johnny?” she said, fearing the next moment.

  “We did it,” I smiled, “we showed the Dragons that earth had enough light, enough fight, and enough humanity to be spared.”

  She smiled faintly. “We did do that. We did.” The smile faded and she squeezed my arm tighter. “But I know you. Now you will want to be with the Dragons. And you will forget about me.”

  With her arm still curled around mine, I tried to turn so that I could face her. But she clung hard, as if I might fly away if she released it.

  “Then you don’t know me,” I said. “When have I ever forgotten about you?”

  Her cheek pressed hard against my shoulder, and her presence moved into my captive arm.

  “Jen?”

  “johnny?” her voice broke.

  “If I was going to leave, I could just vanish.”

  “Are you? Are you going to leave, I mean.”

  I turned to face her, forcing her arm to unravel from mine.

  “johnny?” she said nervously, staring hard
into my eyes.

  “Jen,” I said confidently, “I am not going to leave you, even if I do choose to help the Dragons.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You could come with me.”

  She gasped. “I couldn’t go out there, away from earth. I simply could not.”

  “Oh, I think you could.”

  “No,” she said. “Even if I could, the goddess life, Panacéa, I mean, that was the past and this is now. And for the first time in my life, I do want to make earth my home, even with these odd little babies we created.” Her hand went to her mouth with a feminine gasp. “Oh, I almost forgot, Randa and that Marla woman are in the seventh realm with the babies!”

  “Let us be off,” I said vigorously, scooping her up in my arms, one hand under her back, the other under her knees. I swung her side to side with a certain amount of abundant joy. Sand blew off the cuffs of her fuzzy blue socks, while the laces of her untied running shoes swung in the air.

  “joh—nny!” she said kind of playfully.

  “Je—en!” I said playfully, in kind.

  Her blue skirt had hiked up to her thighs and she artfully held it down.

  “Jen, I pulled our babies out of your—”

  “johnny,” she giggled. Oh so rare to hear that sound from her.

  I stopped swinging. I looked down at her face with great affection. “Jen, oh Jen.”

  “johnny, oh johnny,”

  “Let’s go get our babies.”

  She smiled. “Let’s.”

  And with that, I flew us away from Cyrus. She didn’t even hide her face from my vampirical sixth realm features. We flew through the Tunnel of Time and came to the sixth realm exit where we’d left Sabin.

  Sabin had gone. The others would have realized by now that we had succeeded in fending off the Dragons and saving earth. With Jen’s arms wrapped around my neck, off to Chile we flew.

  Arriving in the third realm, we appeared a few yards from the Shens with the beech forest at our backs. They were sitting on logs around a roaring bonfire. Behind them, the blood red sun appeared to be sinking into the dark ocean.

  André was sandwiched like a school boy in-between Charlotte and the High Lama Khandro. Next to the High Lama Khandro sat Randa in blue jeans and a red turtleneck sweater, holding a pink-blanketed infant against her chest. Next to her, sat Marla in blue jeans and a jean jacket, gently rocking a blue-blanketed infant.

  Jen rushed toward them.

  I ambled along behind her, not all that eager to join a group of Shens.

  Noticing that we were back, the lot of them stirred with anticipatory vigor. I stopped, and hung back, not a big fan of the ‘group hug.’

  Randa jumped up, yet holding the baby, her short black hair bouncing. She exclaimed, “Jenséa!” and practically ran to Jen.

  Face to face, Randa threw one arm around Jen’s neck, squashing the baby in the middle.

  And most surprisingly, Randa began sobbing. Randa had always held her mask in place. That it was removed, I could tell, meant so much to Jen.

  With one hand on Randa’s back, and the other on the baby’s head, Jen embraced Randa with motherly love, usually Randa’s gesture. “It’s okay Randa, it is all okay—okay?” Sweet tears dripped from Jen’s closed eyes. “I love you Randa, I love you. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for coming here. Thank you for allowing yourself to believe in devils and angels and aliens. I have needed you to believe, to believe in that and me . . . for so long.”

  Randa sniffled, “I am so sorry I ever made fun of you about anything, Jenséa,” she sobbed, “anything.”

  Jen said, “But you always loved me anyway, no matter how crazy or weak I may have appeared to you.”

  “Well, apparently you are not so weak. I hear you and johnny saved the freaking world!” She pulled back to see Jen’s face. “And now that you are here, I know I am not crazy for letting Charlotte,” she rolled her eyes, “fly me through space and time to be in the freaking seventh realm to baby-sit your children. And I know you are not crazy either.”

  “Oh, we are all crazy,” Jen shook her head. “The whole world is crazy, and really, the whole world saved itself.”

  “Oh, Jenséa,” Randa said, stepping back, “Did I ever have you pegged wrong all these years!”

  The others had gathered around with celebratory cheer. André hugged Jen from behind. The High Lama Khandro landed a warm hand on her shoulder. Charlotte sidled up to her other side and lovingly hugged her arm.

  Randa stepped back to make room for the others. She stood beside Marla, who rocked the boy infant in her arms.

  With a tear-streaked face, circled by her friends, Jen said, “I love you all so much.”

  “And we you,” said Charlotte.

  My stomach twisted. Yeah, yeah, yeah, syrupy sweet ingratiation—enough already.

  Then they all stepped back a bit, giving Jen room to breathe. That was my cue to move forward. When I arrived at Jen’s side, she was reaching for our daughter.

  Randa withdrew the pink-blanketed infant from her shoulder and handed her to Jen. With one hand on the baby’s bottom, and the other cradling the baby’s head, Jen held the little body high against her chest, cheek to cheek. The baby cooed. And the mother cooed. The baby and mother cooed. A scene from the book of tender moments.

  With closed eyes, Jen inhaled our baby’s newborn scent. A tear dripped across the side of her nose, over her upper lip, onto the baby’s cheek. They were one with each other, right then and there, mother and child. This parental thing was strong with most humans. I wondered what it felt like. That it was even mild in me was a feat in itself. It looked nice, but I could not relate. It all pretty much fell in the dead zone for me.

  Jen lowered the baby to a cradled position in her arms, smiling with motherly affection at the innocent, dark-skinned face. “She is lovely. So lovely.” Jen gasped a little, and I picked up that her breasts were leaking again.

  I magically changed her clothes to blue jeans, a maternity bra, and a grey, long sleeved nursing top with two nursing openings under the pull up front.

  Randa jumped back. “Wow.”

  Jen turned to me lovingly. “Thank you.”

  Marla said, “Now that’s magic!” She was a tall, young woman with curly, black shoulder-length hair and green eyes, rocking my wide-awake son in her jean jacket-sheathed arms.

  Randa said to both me and Jen, “This is Marla. She really helped; she kept me calm, and helped me feed the babies formula.” Randa looked at her in a bit of a lovelorn way. And Marla looked back the same.

  I caught Jen’s thought: If Randa is going to have a lover, it is better that it is a magical one.

  And I replied with a thought of my own, so she’d know I’d intercepted. They are well-suited.

  Jen said, “Well, excuse me everyone, I am going to feed my daughter.” She walked a few feet over to the bonfire, and sat on a log. Turning slightly away from the crowd, she maneuvered the baby’s mouth to her nipple, and nursed her. The crackling fire threw up yellow flames, warming Jen’s resplendent face. This mother-child thing—hmmm . . . . Suddenly, I felt within me a mighty roar to protect them, even to my death. I loved them, just not the way they loved each other.

  I inhaled the deep scent of burning wood, when I felt a poke in my belly. It was Randa, “And you! You—” she was speechless, “you.” And then her voice turned syrupy, most uncharacteristic for her, “you.” She smiled faintly as if saying, Thank you for loving my Jenséa. Thank for setting her free from her small small world. And then she said, “You have really helped Jenséa grow. You have given her wings.”

  I half laughed. “You have no idea.”

  She cocked her head. “Maybe, just maybe, I do.”

  Then Marla handed me my boy. I cradled him in my arms. His orange eyes whirled into mine. I wondered if I had learned that young—how to . . . mesmerize. My little son. Okay. I wasn’t wired for this . . . but what rule had I not broken?

  Jen slipped u
p beside me holding our daughter, smiling at me while holding our son. It meant so much to her that I accepted him. So much.

  I noticed our daughter had fallen asleep at the wheel. I’d never seen Jen so happy.

  Charlotte stroked her wizened finger along the sleeping baby’s cheek and said, “Petit chéri.”

  The High Lama Khandro said to Charlotte, “Now you are a great great grandmother.”

  Charlotte declared, “My only child, Louise, died giving birth to Jenséa’s father who has also departed earth, so this means a great deal to me.”

  Jen slid her eyes to Charlotte. “I love you, Charlotte.”

  “And I you, my American great granddaughter.” Charlotte’s face beamed.

  André bounded in, “Me too, I got the love too.”

  I groaned. Put a bunch of Shens together . . . ahh, my heart felt sticky.

  Randa said, “So johnny, Jen, will you live in New York City?”

  Jen looked at me with a hint of sadness. “I will need help with the babies.” She cast her eyes to Randa as if asking her specifically.

  Randa sensed something, this unresolved future before Jen and I, and she said unsteadily, “Of course, I can help.” And then she said with assurance, “I can.”

  I clarified, “Our lives have changed, Randa. We might be living in a bigger playing field . . . world travel maybe.”

  I eyed Jen.

  She eyed me back.

  I nudged her shoulder with mine. “That means you too, sometimes in the neighborhood,” meaning earth, “or abroad.” I looked up.

  Jen scowled and shook her head.

  Randa volunteered, “You will all live with me. I’ll get a bigger condo.” She looked at Jen. “We will get a bigger condo. You definitely can afford to go in on it with me. I can look after the babies when you are off with johnny.”

  Jen said realistically, “Randa, you the jet setter?”

  Randa said, “We can hire help.”

  “No, we can’t," Jen retorted, knowing the babies weren’t normal.

  Charlotte cleared her throat.

  Jen looked to her.

  Charlotte smiled. “Me. I can watch the babies. I will understand them.” And then she said confidently, “I can do this thing.”