“I will, when I’m stronger.”
“Why isn’t he attacking us?”
“He’s trying.”
“Surely, johnny, if he did this to us, he could finish the job with ease.”
“We did much of this to us—you attacking me, and me remaining open to you. Besides, I managed to weaken him even in my damaged condition. Notice the dark red skin, the missing hand. Mostly, I drained his energy from the psychic realm, as he was doing to you. He too needs time to regenerate.” He closed his eyes a moment, breathing pain. “We must beat him to that end.”
I feared believing him. Believing led to loving, and loving led to betrayal. “You’re weaving a pretty story for me because you know I run from truth. The truth is, you did betray me our last night together. You broke your vow to protect me when I still wore the medallion.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe you. I don’t believe you. I believe Chord.”
“You believe what Chord wants you to believe because he has such a hold on you. If you listen to him anymore, you’ll be his. Then he’ll have me, because I will not abandon you.” He cradled me in his burned arms a little tighter, trembling, gasping a little for air. “Oh Jen. For both our sakes, do not believe him.”
I inhaled the sublime aroma of Tazmarkian pheromones through his black tee shirt. “Oh johnny, I want to believe you.”
“I have never lied to you.”
“You vowed never to hurt me. That night before you left, you did.”
“And in New York, you broke your vow to never leave me. You did.”
“But johnny, how can that compare with what you did to me?”
“I came to you in the dragon state,” his eyes softened, “a mistake I’ve twice made. I won’t again. Besides, I didn’t totally break my promise. You’re still here . . . aren’t you?” He shook his head. “If you were anyone else . . . .”
I glared. “If I were anyone else, you’d have kil—”
“—since that night,” his face tightened, “I have taken blows I could have avoided by sealing my aura and forgetting you. I could have saved myself.” He paused. His eyes became glossy. He swallowed. “I preferred to save you.”
I’d never seen his eyes glossy before. I suppose, ultimately, he had upheld his promise to put my needs above his own. His sincerity was getting to me. I wanted to taste the tear forming in his eye. I wanted to taste him again—love him again, even if I was being deceived. Oh, forgiveness—why did I have to be so good at that? I forgave too easily. I always did, usually to my regret. I hoped for once, I’d be rewarded.
I wrapped my bony arms around his charred black neck, hope renewed.
He held me securely, even when my embrace weakened. I didn’t have the strength to hold on. But he did. And I had to find it too. I threw the last of myself into him, the way he was throwing himself into me.
Our embrace tightened with what was scant left of us, the meager remnants that had not been taken. Oh, what remnants were these that had survived the siphoning of our life force and the battering of our bodies?
We quivered in each other’s arms, touching with anemic flesh and faint heartbeats sounding unhealthy blood. We touched with muscles shriveled, and stomach’s weak, and brains that were tired of thinking. We touched with fairy tale affection, resurrecting tattered hopes that had been crucified and left for dead.
We’d been vandalized, oh not our homes, not our things, but that private space within us that held heart and soul. We’d been robbed of the stamina that had brought us together and cheated of a chance to reconcile when we were both healthy and strong.
We were empty of the everyday things that everyday people think and feel—plans and ideas, joy and fun, jealousy and rage. We had no qualms, no apologies, no dreams of the future, nor regrets of the past. We had only now, binding us with grossly damaged shreds of heart that just . . . would . . . not . . . die.
Tears would have fallen, but we were both so dry. We released each other with a lingering gaze.
“I feel stronger already,” johnny said.
“Me too,” I added.
And then, as if guided by magic, I turned my head and saw the dragon medallion by johnny’s boot.
I sat straighter and removed my crucifix. Then, I tossed it into the brush.
“Jen,” he said softly. He lifted his palm up to my face. He held the crucifix.
I looked at him, confused. “Did I do wrong to throw it away?”
“No, for you cannot fly with it weighing you down.”
I nodded, realizing then that I wasn’t throwing away my underlying belief in divinity. I was merely throwing away an interpretation of God’s law that we must endlessly suffer while in flesh, and endlessly repent because of our flesh. “Then, why have you brought it back?”
“I need it.” He put it around his neck. The gold of it glinted in the sun in the hollow of his throat.
I shook my head to awaken from the dream I thought I was having.
He said, “Suffering for you has given me new life. This symbol is not right for you. But it is right for me.”
“Oh johnny.” I shook my head in awe, overwhelmed with love.
“I’m still me. This does not change my nature. It just enables love.”
“I understand.” I pointed to the medallion almost lost in pine needles, lying in a clump by his hip. “Give that to me.”
He lifted the metal dragon with a quivering hand and put it around my neck, over my soiled gown, between my breasts.
I cupped my palm over the otherworldly metal, pressing it nearer my heart. “Did you go back to my house to get this, or did you manifest it?”
“Chord had an energy field around your room. In my weakened state I couldn’t break it with my mind, so I broke it with my body such as it is. I fear your room is quite the mess. Your weapons all came at me.”
“Oh!” I winced.
“I had to destroy them.” He smiled faintly. “I’m sure you’re heartbroken.”
“Oh yes,” I smiled back, “heartbroken. But I don’t need them anymore,” I teased, “I have you.”
“You do. You always did, Jen.”
I sighed, a little ashamed. “So, all of this happened because I removed the medallion?”
“Your lack of trust in me Jen, it is a problem.” He glanced at Chord. “It enabled Chord to trick us. He had waited for the right moment . . . the precise moment to implement his plan. However, our full strength can be restored, if you choose.”
“How?”
“You must heal yourself and then me.”
“Whenever I try to heal, the light floats away.”
“That was Chord. He was robbing you. He possesses much of you. That is why you are weak, and why he fools you easily. Now that we are connected again, some of my power has returned. I will shield you while you heal. I’ve not much more strength than that. You must act now, while I have it.”
He was right. I could feel death’s arctic chill claiming me again, and fatigue’s tentacles creeping around my bones. This newfound strength with johnny was but a little current of warmth in an ocean cold.
He helped me lay down. The skies were sunny. The ground, however, felt like spiked ice on my malnourished back and head. I feared that if I fell asleep, I’d not awaken.
johnny’s voice became low and hypnotic. “You have the ability to replenish your starving cells and strengthen the organs in your body. You can gain weight and rejuvenate your blood. See yourself fed and hydrated. You must believe that you can heal completely, or you won’t. It might take a long while, but keep your faith. Don’t give up.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I believed I could perform such a miracle.
I peeked through the slats of my eyelids. johnny had turned his back to me, sitting Indian style, facing Chord. In the not too far background, I saw Chord sitting the same, head flopped forward.
johnny looked over his shoulder. “Remember, don’t touch me with it.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve had enough.”
> I reached out and touched his back. “I’m sorry.”
“You retaliated, that’s the important thing.”
I nodded faintly.
He faced forward and resumed his concentration, blocking Chord.
I placed my hands on my stomach and closed my eyes. I soared deep into my inner universe and went to the wall. It opened as it had before, unleashing a flood of Divine Light that washed me back to my surface self. The light poured through my hands into me. It rushed through me like a mountain stream, soothing and calming. A vision came to my mind. There were three incorporeal Angel beings, each emanating a different color of the sunrise: pink, orange, and yellow. They did not have an aura of spiritual surrender like the Angels I painted. These Angels seemed more fairy-like, light-hearted, and whimsical. But they seemed to be here for me. Maybe they heard me call for them weeks ago back home. A voice did tell me then that all calls were answered. Maybe they were answering now.
I opened my heart to them. Help me, help myself. And I don’t know if it was them, but I felt little fingers poking and probing me inside out. And at times, it felt as if an Angel wing brushed over my skin.
I envisioned my cells regenerating, and my muscles and organs strengthening. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, over and over, drinking in the purity that was mine. It felt wonderful.
Feminine voices, sounding like a thousand, sang in choral all around me. The tone moved inside me, through and through. “Ahhhh ahhhhhhhh AHHHHHHHH ahhhhh.” Were the Angels singing for me?
Chord’s voice broke into my ears. “He deceives you, Shen! He makes you strong to fight against me. Then he will take you, just as he’s taken you for the last six months!”
johnny’s voice was smooth, “Don’t listen, Jen. Concentrate on healing.”
I did, feeling too good to stop. The process continued. I could feel warm heat generating growth inside me as if I were Alice in Wonderland when she grew ten feet tall. I hoped I wasn’t doing such a thing as that to myself! How would I know when to quit? I visualized myself as I used to be. The Angel’s choir intensified. “Ahhh AHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHH.” I could hear nothing else. It was beautiful and familiar. I wanted to move into it and become it forever!
The sun seemed to cycle round maybe twice. Had two days actually passed? I finally felt a surge of energy compelling me to move. I guess I was finished. I opened my eyes, sat up, and gazed at my hands, fleshier than they had been, and my arms too. I still needed to fatten up, but I no longer looked skeletal. I couldn’t quit staring at the pink tone of my skin, pinker that it had ever been before. I felt energetic. I was alive! I mean—alive, the way I’d yearned to be all my life. I touched my face. It felt soft as if every cell were plump with moisture. I drew my tongue over my lips, no longer cracked and dry. Saliva coated my mouth and throat, and I could swallow again.
I felt—great. I was happy even, hopeful even, hungry even. I had performed a miracle! Oh, how could a weak no-nothing-I, heal myself this much? The Angels must have done most of it. Even so, I was convinced more than ever that I was an Angel of some kind, even if a low level one—not a religious servant of God per se, but rather a kind of extraordinary creature in my own right. I did have more to offer the world than my paintings. I wondered what else I could do that johnny had not yet taught me.
There he sat, still guarding me, patiently awaiting me to signal him that I was finished. He seemed weaker, hunched over, hanging on to the last shreds of life—for me. Two days of protecting me with not much to go on probably took its toll.
I crawled up behind him and draped my arms over his shoulders, down his chest. He clasped my wrists gently. He was weak. His grip was like nothing.
I whispered in his ear, “It’s your turn. Tell me how I can heal you without causing further injury?”
“With personal love,” he said as if struggling to speak, “not divine.”
“How can it be that my personal love could heal you?”
“You, as a Shen have a greater capacity for personal love than others, just as I, a Tazmark can supersede the human strength of ordinary men.” He sucked in a jagged breath of air, “Once we tread beyond the norm, all else is magic.”
I buried my nose in his long black matted hair. “Then let me try.”
“All right.” He turned around in my arms slowly, clumsily frail. We faced each other on our knees. He looked me up and down. “You are beautiful. I feared I’d never see you this way again. But even when you were sick, I found you beautiful.”
I blinked back tears wishing that I could see johnny as beautiful, but I couldn’t. With his shriveled red and black burned face, he looked like a monster. I guess I wasn’t as nobly romantic as he. I blushed, certain he could read my mind.
“It’s all right, Jen,” he said, “soon I’ll look different.”
I hoped I could do for johnny what I’d done for myself. I hoped Chord didn’t make a move until I finished. I glanced at Chord and did a double take. He was covered with a clear red cocoon.
johnny said, “You took yourself back from him. Now he’s weakened severely, and it will take him some time to recover. He’s trying to mind control from level three.”
“Level three?”
“I’ll explain later,” he said. “I can continue to block him while you heal me. But I can’t block you . . . so be careful that you send your heart light and not your soul light.”
“I’ll be careful.”
I helped him lay down.
I drew my hands over his chest and bowed my head. I filled my heart with the personal love I had for johnny until it ached with a clear bluish light, so different from the Divine Light I was used to shining. My want for him intensified. The color deepened to royal blue. I sent the light into his heart, filling the fathoms of his ancient loneliness. I sent the light into his head, quelling the restless sighs that echoed in the memory of his long, long life. I wondered for a moment if the Angels could help him as they had me. But an answer came back into my head that they could not, for their love was never personal.
I sent the light into his body, visualizing him healthy, and his face handsome as once it had been. In my mind, his whole body glowed blue, fluorescent, and beautiful.
Sometimes my brain ached like it was splitting in two, and explicable fear set in. I realized that it was Chord trying to break the lock on my psyche. Time was growing short. Focus on johnny, I reminded myself.
johnny remained aware of Chord’s presence, for whenever I felt broken into, a red light wave rolled out to Chord. The sun circled round one more day. Being Tazmark, it seemed he was healing quicker than I did. It was actually a lot of work to heal another in such grave condition, but I did not stop. I was so meditative with it that I jumped a little when he wrapped his fingers around my wrists and brought my hands up against his face. I opened my eyes. He was beautiful again—my man of cinnamon skin.
A red ladybug crawled along on his shoulder over a clump of dried blood on his tee shirt; this gentle, little life seemed to welcome the healing of my Prince. I smiled faintly. A tear trailed down to the crevice of my mouth. “This healing can’t be real. I surely don’t possess such power. How could I? I am weak. I run. I hide. I deny. I pretend. Is this the same me that ran from the red-haired man and wanted to marry Ricky?”
johnny released my hands. With one finger, he traced over my brow and down my cheekbone. “Such are the feelings of an Angel trapped in flesh, hiding in religious doctrine because it’s the closest thing she can find to emulate the faded memories of her forgotten Angel World.” His touch gently tickled, soothing the hysterical underpinning of my nature. His finger glided down my throat over my soiled gown. “Such are the feelings of one who empathically feels the negative emotions of all—the savageness that she cannot accept, and the sorrow that she’s tired of accepting.” His hand landed over my heart. “Such are the feelings of an Angel, Jen, an Angel . . . not a weak human.”
He slipped his hands over mine and held them firmly. “It has taken awhile,
but you have begun to find yourself.” His words healed parts of me that I could not, parts of me that had long been misunderstood. My heart brimmed with self-worth.
The ladybug crawled down johnny’s arm, stopping on the Tazmarkian ridge of his hand that held mine. A light breeze lifted its little wings.
I smiled. “I think we’ve been blessed.”
The ladybug flew away.
“You always were—blessed that is,” johnny said, “and I don’t mean religiously. Your predicament is that you are an unearthly light bearer in discord with the human body.”
“Not yours,” I said shyly, and then added, “not that your body is wholly human, but I like it anyway.”
He slanted his head a little, staring at me with curious eyes, as if he could not believe that I, a Shen, valued his flesh.
“What now, johnny?” I asked. “Can we go home? You are powerful again, stronger than Chord—and we are reunited, so he is no longer a threat, right?”
He helped me to my feet. My knees ached from sitting so long, and my stomach growled a little too loud.
He manifested a king-size blueberry muffin. “Eat,” he said.
“What about you?”
“Jen, you know what I eat.”
I rolled my eyes up at him, wordlessly wishing he’d not verbalize that reality.
He pushed the muffin to my mouth.
I took a bite. Saliva washed over the sweet succulent berries and moist cake. Food never tasted so delicious, even if it had been swiped from a bakery. I didn’t care. I swallowed, feeling the nourishing substance slide down my throat.
johnny manifested a bottle of mineral water, opened the lid, and pushed the container to my lips.
The cool water slipped down my throat, so refreshing that I took the bottle from johnny and drank half of what was in it. I wanted to pursue my question about Chord, but thirst dictated I drink the water remaining. I then devoured the rest of the muffin, so happy to be eating again, after having been sick for so long.
“You must continue to regain strength,” johnny said, “you will need it for the battle ahead.”
Battle? Did he say, battle? My heart lurched. I started peeling the label from the plastic water bottle. And I really got into it.
The Mark of Chaos Page 27