Abomination (The Path to Redempton Book 1)

by Kimbra Swain

  I closed my eyes to force back tears. He was right again. I was digging around in his life. The money was something I would normally know just because I was in charge of all those accounts. That was not the explanation he wanted or needed to hear right now. I just assumed he knew how much money that he had and chose not to use it. “I may know the things connected to you like your background, your shifting gift, your money, but for all of that I didn’t know you. Who you are and what makes you tick. That’s why I started this whole thing. I wanted to know you without you knowing me. Without who I am getting in the way. I have said and will repeat that I was wrong. It was stupid of me to do all of this when in the end the one thing that would ultimately determine our partnership, would be trust. And I violated that from the beginning. I know that it will take time. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me, but I keep hoping there is a chance.” I slowly walked toward him. I didn’t want him to run any further. I held back the tears, because I knew men who complain that a woman crying is the ultimate weapon she could use in an argument. I didn’t want to use any weapons against him. I tried to steady myself and look him in the eye. His jaw tensed, and he gritted his teeth.

  “I don’t think it’s going to work, Abby,” he said, “You are right. I’d need to trust you, and I just don’t. I don’t know that I ever could.”

  I couldn’t stop them anymore. Once the first tear fell, I turned my back to him and walked back to the opening of the corridor. The sun started to set and the sky turned a deep orange. I leaned on the wall and didn’t turn back to face him. I could feel his presence still there. I could hear him breathing. He took several deep breaths. At least he wasn’t walking away. We stood there for what seemed about an hour, but actually was only a minute. I wiped tears with the back of my hands which were dusty from the ride. I probably smudged dirt all over my face. I grabbed the edge of my t-shirt and brought it up to my cheek to wipe it away. I could hear him walking slowly toward me. He stopped just short of me. I could feel him looking at me. Maybe he was just watching the sun sink in the sky. Dipping closer to the rooftop of the winery. Shadows shifted and the world around us grew darker.

  He finally spoke, “I know that you put a lot into this. And the work you want to do is very important for all of us, for the whole world. I know I don’t fully understand the job you are offering me, but I do know that we would be in situations where my life would be in your hands, and yours in mine. And if there is no trust between us, we both die. You should probably start recruiting someone else as soon as possible.”

  “There is no one else.”

  “There are several good instructors in the Agency and plenty of other agents out there running this whole operation. I’m not sure why you picked me in the first place. There are better options,” he said.

  “No, there aren’t. You are right. I did my homework. I found no one like you. No one I would trust with my life completely, but you.”

  “Why me? It doesn’t make sense, Abby.”

  “Lincoln said it had to be you,” he had moved to stand next to me still facing the sunset, but turned to look at me astonished when I said it, “He knew you. He told me once, that if something ever happened to him, that you would be the best and only replacement.”

  “I didn’t know Lincoln, Abby. You are mistaken.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said softly. I looked at him, and he was completely confused. I knew Lincoln. He was everything to me. It was almost like he knew that in the future we wouldn't be together. He told me of Tadeas. He told me he was a good man, and that our talents and skills would make for the successful partnership. I dismissed it for the time. Lincoln was immune to injury. He was given skin like flint rock from his father. He was the Navajo Monster Hunter. He would live forever, but he didn’t. And it took me 25 years to realize that he was right. I needed another partner. I needed Tadeas Duarte.

  He stepped closer to me and said, “No more secrets. Tell me.”

  “Lincoln was the man that brought you to the Agency the night Isabel died.” The air grew stale. Tension like electricity flowed between us. Suddenly I felt like I was in immediate danger.

  Hearing Abigail utter her name made me rage inside. I was angry already, but not she or anyone who knew about Isabel had any right to even speak her name. Especially me. I stepped back from her astonished. Anger, sadness, and despair started to overwhelm me. I felt the beast inside of me growling, clawing to get out. I tried to suppress it. I had already forced it down once in the corridor, taking deep breaths. I continued to step back away from her. Her heart rate picked up. No matter my anger at her, I didn’t want to hurt her. Not like this. I felt my eyes shifting back and forth. I turned my back on her. A wall of sound rushed over me. I tried to shut out all the noise. But there was no noise except in my head. The night was quiet, even the horses seemed to stop moving, the instinctive sensing of a nearby predator. The smells of the evening swelled up around me. I could smell the grapes, the horses, and the blood pumping through her body. Abigail had stopped breathing. I felt fear coming off of her. I could smell it. Good. She needed to be afraid of me. Then she would understand that I was dangerous. If I shifted right now on her, I would kill her, and they would hunt me down. They would kill me. It would serve me right for all I had done to Isabel. I was a murderer. I was about to have a repeat performance. Then I heard her softly chanting behind me in Latin. I slowly turned letting the anger flow through me. I did not hold back.

  “Angele Dei, qui custos es mei, Me tibi commissum pietate superna; Hodie, Hac nocte illumina, custodi, rege, et guberna.”

  I froze in place. A child’s prayer calling for a guardian angel. A bright light erupted between us, and I turned from it. I blocked my face with my hands. When I looked at her, she stood there just like she did before, but her green eyes illuminated with a golden light around them. She held her right hand out with the palm up, and four orbs hovered and rotated just above it. The three spheres I saw in her office, plus one that looked like a miniature sun. I watched her, and I felt myself begin to back down. I didn’t know if she did it to me, but looking at her using her magic in full form eased my anger. I slowly backed away from her. There was no fear in her eyes. Only compassion. And power. She thrummed with power. Her heartbeat had settled. It was steady and strong. The animal inside me didn’t know whether to strike or run. She slowly walked toward me and spoke in a gentle voice, “Tadeas Nahuel Duarte, guardian jaguar, you have nothing to fear from me. You have nothing to fear from yourself. What happened all those years ago to Isabel was not your fault. The church failed you. The wielders of the world failed you. The angels failed you.” She continued to walk toward me, closed her palm and the orbs vanished. I felt the wall at my back. I was cornered and afraid that I might still strike at her, but she stood toe to toe with me. She started to raise her arm, to do what I’m not sure, but I latched onto her forearm and dug my claws into her skin. Blood welled up around the wounds and started to drip to the ground. She didn’t draw back.

  “I can’t hold it back. Please Abby.”

  “You can. Hear my voice, Eximo.” she breathed the word lightly and my claws retracted. I released my grip on her arm, “You have no desire to hurt me, do you?”

  “No.” I choked out.

  She looked down to her arm and said, “Consano. Ignis.”

  The wound closed, healing itself and the droplets of blood on her arm, my hand and the ground sparked with a quick white fire and burned away. There was no heat or pain to it. She continued to raise her hand to my face, and she spoke one last word, “Quies.”

  My heart rate slowed. The animal inside of me stood still. I closed my eyes and felt at peace. “What did you just do?”

  She swallowed and closed her eyes. She released all the power that she had gathered to herself. I felt it fly past me like a swift, strong breeze. Then she slumped a little. I reached up to steady her, because she went pale. Her eyes darkened, and her face was ashen.

  “Are you okay?”
>
  “Yes,” she whispered, “Just a lot of power there.”

  I knew that magic wielders of the light variety drew power from within themselves, and the earth around them. But they only used the power from the earth when it would not harm any living plant or animal. I also knew that once the magic was spent, the wielder became weakened. I had felt power before with the wielders at the Agency. I even met a wizard out in Boulder one day by chance. Abigail’s power felt different somehow. She stepped away from me out of my reach. She was still pale, and it looked like she might faint. But she straightened herself and said, “Let’s go inside, please. I need to sit down.” She turned toward the patio with the big fountain, and I noticed for the first time that George stood there staring at both of us. I followed behind her. When she reached him, she put her hand on his shoulder and whispered something. He nodded his head and turned to go back in the house. Once I caught up to her she continued into the large sitting room. I realized I was shaky, too. There was a fire in the fireplace, and the room felt warm and safe. She sat down on one of the couches. George returned to her carrying a glass of water.

  “Do you need anything else?” he asked. His face twisted with concern.

  “No. Please get Tadeas something.”

  “I, I don’t need anything,” I stammered.

  “Are you sure, sir? It was a good ride and back. Surely something cold to drink. Maybe water or lemonade?” I was sure he had seen the whole thing. He was a Watcher. She had called for an angel with her prayer.

  “Water is fine,” I said realizing I wanted him to leave the room. I walked over to where she sat on the couch. The color returned to her face, and I knelt before her. “What was that? Please tell me.” I had never felt such peace before in my life. I didn’t think it was possible to control the shift once it reached that point. She had spoken Isabel’s name again, and instead of angering me it only drove me to seek answers. I could tell she still tried to gather herself. I stood and took a few steps back to a chair that turned toward the couch at an angle. I sat on the edge of the seat. I watched her closely and waited for her to recover. She took small sips of the water, and with each sip, she looked more like herself. George returned and handed me my water.

  “What else, ma’am?”

  “Nothing, George, thank you. Give us a few moments, and I think Mr. Duarte will be leaving.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He turned and walked out of the room.

  She looked at me finally. Her eyes were bright green again. “I am okay. It just takes a minute sometimes to recover from drawing in that much power. I wasn’t sure how much I would need to help you, and I pulled far more than I needed. Are you okay? Any after effects of the spells?” she asked worried about me. I had clawed her. I made her bleed, and she was concerned about me.

  “I only feel at peace.”

  “Yes, the last one was peace. It should calm you and the animal. But I shouldn’t speak of it separate from you. It is you. Without it, you do not live. Without you, it does not live. Such as it is for all shifters werewolves, weredragons, skinwalkers……” her voice trailed off.

  “It does things I would never do.”

  “Yes, because no one ever helped you control it. No one taught you how.”

  “I can’t control it.”

  “Yes, you can, but only if a shaman shows you how.”

  “A wielder? Like you?”

  “Yes.”

  I had only learned the stories of the jaguar guardians in the Mayan tradition after I arrived at the Agency. They told me what I truly was. The early priests in Mayan culture taught of the sacrificial heart, the act of giving unconditional love, and loyalty to your fellow mankind. Through the years this belief was perverted and became more literal, thus the stories of human sacrifice by Mayan priests. The Jaguar spirit was the enforcer in a way to insure mankind followed selfless practices and integrity, the most important virtue of the belief system. The spirit stalked those without a pure heart until they found their way, and conversely those who ignored the urging of the spirit met the full vengeance of the guardian. Mayan people were often honored to have a jaguar guardian born into their village. He became a protector of all the people within the village. A shaman guided the newly-born jaguar to accept their power and magic, and to embrace their calling thus control their talents. They healed and advised the jaguar, and they worked together to spiritually lead the village to practice the virtues of integrity and selflessness. It was not an easy journey for the jaguar to accept the dual life of walking the day as a human, and walking the spirit world as an animal. As Europeans came into the main continent, they brought their religion. The human sacrifices spurred fear into these new conquerors. They burned villages to the ground for these practices in the name of their God. And soon villages converted to Catholicism to avoid being laid to ash. The shamans and priests were run out of the villages or hunted down and killed. If a jaguar spirit child was born into a converted village, they would kill it or leave it for dead in the jungle. That’s what happened to me. They tossed me in the jungle and left for dead. I don’t remember it since I was an infant, but the story was told by the Catholic missionaries that found me in the jungle. My adoptive parents told me the story when I was young.

  My life with those parents didn’t last long. I knew the innocent reason they told me, but I suspected that somehow, they found out about my beast and returned me to the church. That’s when Father Sergio took me under his wing, and I worked in the church and monastery. He taught me the Word of God. He wanted me to be a priest too. He was an honorable man.

  But for all the knowledge of what I was, no one had ever come forward to teach me how to control it. All of the wielders at the Agency, and not a single one attempted to instruct me. I set it upon myself to learn to control it. I found that if I avoided emotional situations and followed a strict routine the animal within me would sleep. I found the exertion and outlet of instructing the recruits to fight to be the best medicine. As so, I lived that way for over a hundred years. I stopped aging around 30, and never developed a grey hair or a wrinkle. I spoke to a werewolf once in the Agency who stopped aging at 20, the lucky bastard. Not aging has plenty of drawbacks though. Those around you that are purely human, live, age and die. And you were always the same. I was afraid to do anything other than the routine I set up, because I knew I was in control as long as I followed it. I had many offers to do other things within the Agency, but I just stayed where I was, until Abigail came into my life.

  After recovering from the surge of power within me, I looked down to assess the damage to my arm. I didn’t expect him to claw me, but I knew it was a possibility for him to strike out as I moved closer to him. But I had to show him that I wasn’t afraid. I had to show him that the animal could be controlled. It also pained me to have to do it. He should have been taught many years ago. Sometimes I think that the Agency, for all the good we do, is way too big, and the little things slip through the cracks. We aren’t thorough enough. We don’t finish what we start. I rubbed my arm in remembrance of the pain, but the power blurred out all the pain when it happened. We brought him in and saved him after the accident with his fiancée, but no further action was taken. Since Lincoln knew about him, I would have thought that someone would have taught him. Lincoln could have taught him. But no one did. I focused completely on Tadeas in the corridor, and trying to help him. He looked angry, sad and afraid all at once. My heart broke for him. He was noble and strong, but once the animal started to take over he became almost childlike and afraid. There was no visible scar on my arm.

  He saw me rubbing my arm, “Are you hurt?”

  “No, it’s healed completely. Just a memory nagging there now,” I had no idea where to go from here. Things were threatening to fall apart in the corridor, and now all was calm again. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster. I had resigned myself that he wouldn’t work with me, but maybe, just maybe he would agree to let me me help him control the animal. At the very least I could emp
ower a token for him to carry to suppress it. But even that didn’t feel right to me, it was part of him. A beautiful, terrifying part of him, but suppressing it would only cause problems in the future. Controlling it would be very easy once he understood the full capabilities of it and most of all embraced it. These things should have happened before she died. “I feel like I am constantly apologizing, but I spoke her name again, for bringing back the memory and causing you pain, I am sorry.”

  He turned his face to the fire. The flames created shadows across his features, and reflected in his eyes. “I would appreciate it, if you didn’t mention it again.”

  “I won’t. If you want to leave, I understand. Today has not gone how I planned. My ultimate goal today was to invite you into my home, let you relax and enjoy the beauty and peace here. I have failed as a host.” Those words triggered something in him and he rose and moved to the couch beside me.

  “You said that the church failed me, and I get that. You said the wielders of the world failed me, and I understand that too, but you said the angels failed me. What did you mean?” He noticed from this perspective of the room that we could see George hovering just around the corner. I turned to him.

  “A jaguar spirit is a guardian. Much like an angel. The angels know of every child that is born on this earth, and can be called to protect the child if needed. But the angels are not perfect. Only God is perfect. Sometimes they fail in their duties. They failed to help you. At the very least guide you to someone that could help you. I don’t know if it was the church in Guatemala that influenced that because you should have been helped there as well. Perhaps they thought you were safe already.”

  He nodded in George’s direction. “Wouldn’t he be able to tell me what happened?”

  “Unfortunately, no, George was not that kind of angel. Not that he could tell us anyway. Once an angel retires, he cannot interfere with the world anymore.”