Heaven Sent

by E. Van Lowe

  “More than likely? That’s not exactly a vote of confidence.”

  He lifted my chin with his free hand so that we were eye-to-eye. “I wish I could be more reassuring.” He was so close, I could smell the subtle sweetness of cinnamon wafting off of him. I could feel myself beginning to flush. “The good news is, no matter how things turn out, you will always have me by your side.”

  “Thanks,” I croaked, my throat suddenly dry like aged leather. I swallowed hard, trying not to read too much into what he had just said, but I couldn’t help myself. The angel I loved had just told me he’d never leave me. When you hear the words you’ve been longing to hear, it’s hard to ignore them.

  “The judges are coming.” A lady standing at a nearby table called, rescuing me from the embarrassment of mumbling some incomprehensible mumbo-jumbo.

  Two men and a woman had entered the tent and were making their way to the first table. They each wore the judge’s badges with official looking blue ribbons hanging from them. The woman carried a clipboard. She was about the same age as Aunt Jaz. She wore a white church-lady dress with big blue polka dots.

  “We’d better get back. Aunt Jaz will never speak to me again if I’m not clapping and screaming my head off when she wins the blue ribbon.”

  “You mean if she wins the blue ribbon.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Guy’s eyes. I shot him the stink eye and he laughed. “Just kidding. I’m sure she’ll win.”

  The trio of judges stopped by the first table. Each cleared his or her palate with sips of water before picking up the sample plate. They chewed the baked delight thoughtfully, then stepped away and huddled for a few moments. The woman wrote something on the clipboard, and then they moved to the next contestant.

  The tent was slowly filling up, as everyone in the fairgrounds tried to squeeze in to see the results of the bake-off. By the time we got back to Aunt Jaz, the temperature in the tent had risen dramatically. It was beginning to feel like we were inside an easy-bake oven.

  Monsieur Perez was slumped in Aunt Jaz’s chair. He was sweating heavily, tiny rivulets running down the side of his face. He was a slender man with a tidy paunch around the middle. He mopped the sweat-stained handkerchief along his face.

  “Are you all right?” I asked. Maudrina and Aunt Jaz had been busy tidying up the area and hadn’t noticed the change in him until then.

  “It’s a wee bit too hot in here for me,” he responded. “But it’s okay. Just need to stay hydrated,” he added, hoisting his water bottle into the air, shaking it to let me know he had things under control. He took a sip of water and smiled.

  The judges moved from table to table, chatting politely with the man or woman standing behind the table as they tasted each entry.

  “The woman with the clipboard is Darla Prince. She’s been judging this contest since two thousand five when Mylie Jones passed on,” said Aunt Jaz. “The skinny man in the hat is Michael Simmons. He works for Pillsbury. They used to sponsor the event before the economy went bad.” Her tone changed. “I have no idea what Judge Chowdry is doin’ here. He’s new.” She didn’t seem pleased to see him.

  “Is something wrong, Jasmine, dear?” asked Monsieur Perez. He was sweating more than when I last looked at him. Perspiration stains had worked their way into the armpits of his jacket. He had loosened his collar and the jacket hung open revealing his saturated shirt.

  “That balding fat man in the white shirt and suspenders,” said Aunt Jaz. “He’s Archibald Chowdry, circuit court judge of the fifth district. I also happen to know he smokes a pack a day. He’ll never be able to detect the delicate flavors in my pineapple upside-down cake. Might as well be serving him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for all it matters. Smokers should not be allowed to judge baking contests.”

  The judges were working their way, or should I say, eating their way toward us. The closer they got, the more I could feel the mounting tension surrounding our little group. I glanced across the floor to Effie Pringle’s booth. She was standing alone behind the table; a beautiful chocolate-chocolate cake sat on a crystal cake plate in front of her. Her eyes were semi-closed, and she was clutching the black stones that hung low around her neck. Her lips were moving rapidly, as if she were mouthing a prayer… or a spell.

  Her eyes shot open. They were fixed on Monsieur Perez as she continued to mumble silently.

  “She’s making him sick,” I whispered, nudging Guy. “Do something.”

  Guy looked over and saw what I saw. “I can’t.”

  “You’re an angel. Of course you can.”

  He shook his head. “I was originally sent here to protect you. You’re not in danger. I cannot interfere.”

  “She’s weakening Monsieur Perez so he won’t be able to counteract the spell she’s going to place on the judges.”

  “That may be true, Megan, but it’s a trivial thing—a witch wanting to win a baking contest. It isn’t life or death. There are no demons present here to steal anyone’s soul. I cannot interfere,” he repeated.

  The anger I’d felt earlier, the uncontrollable rage, suddenly rose inside me like the arrival of a summer shower. Partly, I was angry at Guy for not doing anything to stop Effie Pringle. However, most of my anger was directed at Effie.

  I caught her eye, shook my head, and narrowed my gaze. I hoped she’d get the message that I knew what she was up to and that she should stop.

  She smiled at me.

  And then she winked, as if to say So what if I’m casting a spell? Nothing you can do about it.

  “I’m feeling a bit light-headed,” said Monsieur Perez.

  It was only then that Aunt Jaz took her mind off the contest long enough to see the trouble he was in.

  Monsieur Perez was slumped sideways in the chair, his eyes glazing over.

  “Maudrina, get Monsieur Perez to the first aid trailer. Pronto!” said Aunt Jaz.

  “I’m all right,” was his slurry reply.

  “No, you’re not all right.” Aunt Jaz moved to Monsieur Perez. She stooped and lifted his limp hand, running it gently along her cheek. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Hector, but you need to get some electrolytes in you.”

  “But Effie Pringle—” he started to protest.

  “It’s just a baking contest, Hector. It ain’t worth losing you over. Now go on. Git!”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Maudrina called, helping Monsieur Perez from the chair. She began escorting him across the room. He cast a withering glance at Aunt Jaz just as the judges arrived at Effie’s table.

  “Ah, chocolate-chocolate cake,” said Darla Prince. It sounded as though this was the cake she’d been waiting to try.

  “Same as last year,” barked Aunt Jaz.

  “I wasn’t here last year,” said Judge Chowdry, shooting a cautioning eye in our direction. “And I do love a good chocolate cake.”

  “You shouldn’t be here this year, either,” Aunt Jaz chirped, but this time her voice was low enough that only we could hear.

  Effie cut three big slices, handing each judge a sample plate spilling over with moist, chocolaty cake.

  Despite the smile on my face, I could feel the rage continuing to churn within me. While on the surface it seemed as though I was fine, the rage was like a shark lurking, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

  The judges finished their samples, smiled and stepped away to confer.

  A morsel of dark chocolate was on judge Chowdry’s lower lip. His tongue darted out and snagged the chunk of frosting. At least I thought it was frosting, until I saw it move. A maggot.

  There was a maggot on Judge Chowdry’s tongue and another peeking out from the side of his mouth.

  Darla Prince parted her lips to tell judge Chowdry about the bug on his. Several maggots wriggled out of her mouth.

  “Bugs!” someone screamed. “That damn chocolate cake is full of bugs.”

  Gray-green maggots were now oozing from the hole in the cake created by the three slices. Effie Pringle
was hammering down on the bugs trying to squash them, but it was a losing battle. An ocean of squirming maggots, way more than could ever fit inside the cake, were cascading out of the cake. For every maggot Effie killed, a hundred more wiggled out.

  The three judges stood in the middle of the floor, raking their finger nails across their tongues, trying to rid their mouths of maggoty cake, as all hell broke loose around them.

  Darla Prince flung her maggot-covered cake plate across the room. It landed atop Mrs. Green’s apple-cherry popovers. The chocolate covered maggots slithered onto the popovers.

  That’s about the time the screaming started.

  Children were crying as mothers tried hurrying them from the tent. The young couple who’d tasted Effie’s cake earlier were now bent over in a corner trying not to puke.

  Aunt Jaz took it all in with a scowl. “That’s some powerful magic,” she said softly. She began looking around for the culprit who had caused the magical melee. I was standing right next to her.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She turned to me, eyes wide like a rag doll. “You?” she uttered in disbelief.

  “I think so. I mean, I was so mad at Effie Pringle, first for cheating you out of the blue ribbon last year, and then for making Monsieur Perez sick.”

  “She did that?”

  We looked over to Effie Pringle’s table. The table was a blanket of maggots squirming in smushed-up chocolate cake. Effie Pringle was gone. Aunt Jaz turned back to me.

  “You sure it was her?”

  I nodded. “I saw her clutching her necklace and secretly chanting something.”

  Aunt Jaz thoughtfully took in what I had told her. “Okay. The contest is over,” she said after a while. “Help me pack up. We need to collect Monsieur Perez and go.”

  Guy’s eyes were on me as we moved behind the table and began helping Aunt Jaz pack up her things. I couldn’t read his expression, but I could tell he was surprised by what I had done.

  I was surprised as well. I knew I should have been revolted by my actions, and yet a secret part of me was very, very pleased.

  Chapter Thirteen

  An hour later, we were all seated in Aunt Jaz’s living room.

  The room was as retro as her kitchen. Its floor was covered in faded shag carpeting that must have been olive green at one time but was now the color of week-old spinach. An orange-colored, banana-shaped sectional sofa, straight out of the sixties, dominated the room. Monsieur Perez was seated on one corner of the sofa, a tall glass of iced tea before him on the kidney-shaped coffee table. He was looking much better.

  “I’m really sorry for messing things up,” I said. I was seated at the other end of the curved sofa next to Guy. The ancient air conditioner in the living room window hummed rather loudly. Like everything else in Aunt Jaz’s apartment, it was a relic of a bygone era.

  “Stop apologizing,” said Aunt Jaz, raising her voice over the din of the AC. She was seated next to Maudrina at the curve in the sofa. “Don’t you dare take the blame for what happened at the bake-off today. That mess is all Effie Pringle’s fault. If that witch weren’t trying to cheat her way to a blue ribbon, none of it would have happened.”

  “That blue ribbon should be sitting on your mantelpiece right now,” said Monsieur Perez with a hint of regret.

  Aunt Jaz smiled at him sweetly. “That’s all right, deary. From the gossip I overheard as we were leaving, Effie Pringle is about to be banned from every cooking and baking contest in the state forever.” She let loose with a loud boisterous laugh. “Serves her right,” she added, her sides shaking with laughter. “Cheaters never prosper.”

  “It was kind of funny watching her smash up her cake, trying to kill the maggots,” said Guy with a mischievous smile. I was surprised to hear him delighting in Effie Pringle’s misery. It seemed he was going back to his bad-boy ways.

  Monsieur Perez turned his gaze on me. “That’s a powerful gift you’ve got there.” He was staring at me in that way again, like he wanted to rip open my head and have a look inside. It gave me a creepy feeling all over.

  “I know,” I replied, hanging my head. Guy squeezed my hand.

  “We just need to get it under control,” Guy said, lifting his voice. “I just started working with her. I didn’t realize she also possessed the ability to mind-control.” His voice was filled with pride.

  “It’s comforting to know that abilities like yours are in the hands of someone so kind,” said Aunt Jaz.

  I didn’t respond. I was thinking of my uncontrollable rage. “What do you mean by mind control?”

  Guy smiled at me. “I thought Satan had left you only with telekinetic and psychic energy abilities. I didn’t realize there were more.”

  “More!” I squawked. My abilities were beginning to overwhelm me.

  “There weren’t any maggots in Effie Pringle’s chocolate-chocolate cake,” said Aunt Jaz. “You just made us all think there were by hypnotizing us,” she added. “Mass hypnosis—clever.”

  “It was way cool,” said Maudrina. I know she was trying to make me feel better about myself, but it wasn’t working.

  “I’m not clever!” I protested, getting to my feet. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t even know I could do it. I’m some kind of monster.”

  Guy gave my hand another gentle squeeze. “No, you’re not. You’re wonderful. And we’ll get it under control.” He tugged on my hand, easing me back down.

  Normally Guy calling me wonderful would have me going all gushy, but not this time. The Carefree Bake-off had gone off without a hitch for twenty-five years, and on the twenty-sixth year, I showed up and ruined everything. The ability was now manifesting itself in a different way. I recalled the lightning bolt shooting from my hand in hell, the giant waves in the wave pool at Splashtopia, and now this.

  In school, I had always enjoyed being smart. Being a mathlete made me feel special. Now I could hypnotize large groups of people, and yet the ability didn’t make me feel special at all. I felt like the giant gorilla, King Kong. I had all these wonderful abilities, and yet I was a monster.

  “How do I get rid of them?” I asked.

  “Get rid of what, deary?” asked Aunt Jaz.

  “The abilities, of course. How do I get rid of them?”

  Everyone stared at me as if I’d grown a second head.

  “Why would you want to do that?” asked Monsieur Perez. He had been holding his ice tea glass up to his face, cooling his cheek. He set it down on the coffee table and leaned forward. “Once you’ve harnessed your abilities, you will be the darling of the occult community. Imagine all the good you could do.”

  “You mean like all the good I did today? I don’t want to be anyone’s darling.” My words wiped the smile off his face. Monsieur Perez reminded me of eight weeks ago when Harrison had wanted The Book of Calls. Monsieur Perez’s motives seemed similar to Harrison’s back then.

  “Isn’t that being a bit selfish?” he asked with a hint of annoyance.

  “Now wait a minute!” Maudrina said, raising her voice.

  “I don’t mean to be insulting,” Monsieur Perez assured, holding his hands in front of himself, palms out. “But think about it. Suppose when Einstein had discovered the theory of relativity, he decided to keep it to himself? Do you know how many medical advantages have come from splitting the atom?”

  “No!” I blurted. “But I know the atom bomb killed millions of people.”

  “There are always casualties in the advancement of mankind.”

  “I’m not a lab rat, Monsieur Perez.” I turned to Guy. “I only want to learn to harness my abilities because I don’t want to accidentally hurt anyone. And it would be wonderful if these abilities could help me get Erin away from the Satanists.” I turned back to Monsieur Perez. “But that’s it. That’s all they’re good for, as far as I’m concerned. So if you’re looking for a darling to parade around the occult community, you’re barking up the wrong tree, sir.”

  My voice w
as ringing with irritation as I once again found myself in the possession of something everyone wanted but me. Monsieur Perez lowered his gaze and sipped his ice tea.

  “You’re a formidable young lady. You’ve defeated Beelzebub and even Satan himself. And you made child’s play out of that witch today,” Monsieur Perez said softly, his eyes on his glass.

  “What’s your point?” I asked in a low, seething tone.

  “Both Satanists and demons would think twice about ruining the lives of the good people in our community if you were around. Even Einstein agreed to the atom bomb. He knew that to have peace you sometimes have to show force. Get the bad guys to fear you.”

  I knew about Einstein’s letter to President Roosevelt. Even though he was a pacifist, Einstein urged President Roosevelt to build the bomb in the name of peace.

  We found ourselves engulfed in an uncomfortable silence. We sat there not looking at one another, listening to the steady drone of the ancient air conditioner.

  “We’ve all had a trying day,” Aunt Jaz finally said. “I have two delicious desserts in the kitchen. Maudrina, why don’t you help me dish them up. There’s nothing better than a hunk of my pineapple upside-down cake and a glass of ice tea for taking the sting out of the air.”

  Leave it to Aunt Jaz to use food to diffuse the tension in the room. I caught Maudrina’s eye, and we both grinned. I’m not sure why, but just the thought of dessert had diffused us already.

  *

  I was exhausted when Guy dropped me off in the afternoon. And no wonder, the day had been a total disaster. First, I single handedly turned the Carefree Bake-off into a nightmarish bug fest, coming to an end before Aunt Jaz could claim her first place blue ribbon. Then, I had insulted Aunt Jaz’s boyfriend, Monsieur Perez, when I told him I wasn’t interested in helping out the occult community with my new abilities. I was certain my days of Aunt Jazz cooking or baking me something good to eat were more than likely over. But what really made me feel horrible was that I not only didn’t get a chance to spend some quality time with Guy, but also I knew something had gone wrong between Curtis and Maudrina, and I hadn’t been there for her with a shoulder to lean on.