by Kimbra Swain
“You prayed for a guardian angel. I know that prayer from being raised a Catholic. Why did one not come?”
I turned to him and smiled. “Because silly man, I prayed to the guardian inside of you. The part of you that would not harm me. I prayed to what you are really supposed to be, because I believe in you.” He shuttered as the reality of my actions in the corridor became fully realized in his mind. I recited the words in English, “Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom His love commits me here, ever this night be at my side, to light and to guard, to rule and to guide.”
He stood up and started to pace the room in front of the fireplace. I can only imagine the torrent of thoughts running through his mind. “You controlled it by believing in me?” he looked back to me, and even with the fire behind him and his face shadowed I could see the doubt in his eyes.
“Yes, that’s all it takes. I called upon what you are supposed to be, and it responded. It’s not how a Mayan shaman would do it. But it’s how Abigail Davenport would do it. Magic isn’t about doing things a certain way. Following a cosmic or scientific formula. Magic is about what you believe and what you know to be true. Sometimes it’s just a matter of self-fulfilling destiny,” I explained. “It responded not only because it’s what I believe you are, it’s what you believe you are.”
“No, I know what I am. I’m dangerous. I could have killed you back there,” his words were frustrated, but his tone was steady.
“No, Tadeas, you cannot hurt me as a guardian.”
“Just because you believe something is true, doesn’t mean it is.”
“The act of believing it wholly and completely makes it true.”
“It’s not that simple” he argued.
“You are right. There is nothing simple about utterly trusting someone. I spent two years learning who you are and learning to trust you even before you knew me.” I knew I was bringing the subject back up about me virtually spying on him for two years, but this was a slightly different perspective so maybe it would help ease the whole conflict a bit.
“It saved your life,” he muttered still pacing the floor.
“From a certain viewpoint, I suppose it did.” I stood and walked over to him, faced him and put my hand firmly on his arm just below his shoulder. He lifted his eyes to me, and I said, “And I would do it all over again, exactly the same way, even with you angry at me, just to get to know what a wonderful, noble person you are.”
I didn’t expect it at all, but he wrapped me up in his arms and hugged me. He was strong. Almost squeezed the life out of me. He held on for a good minute. He didn’t want me to see him cry, but I knew. He whispered in my ear, “Thank you.”
We stood there for a moment before I felt his arms start to relax. It was wonderful. I remembered that hugs are awesome especially when they aren’t from your grandfather or your butler. It had been a very long time anyone had embraced me that wasn’t an old man. He pulled back, but still kept his hands touching my arms.
“I don’t know about you, but I need a serious drink,” I said.
“I’m actually starving,” he responded. Which was all George needed to appear from his not so concealed spot, and announce that dinner was ready and waiting in the dining room. Tadeas reached up to my cheek and rubbed it a little.
“Crap. There’s still dirt there.” I said.
“Yeah, there is.”
“Give me a few minutes to clean up, and we can have dinner if you dare stay any longer,” I genuinely hoped he would stay.
“I think I’ve committed myself for the entire day, haven’t I?” he said.
“As a matter of fact, you have,” and I turned to walk to my bedroom to clean up, “George, keep it warm for us. I need a few minutes to clean up from the dust.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Just before I rounded the corner out of sight Tadeas asked, “Hey Abby, if it’s not a bother, can I wash up somewhere, too?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a terrible host. Of course, George will you show Tadeas his room?”
“My room?” he asked, heavy on the ‘my’ part.
“I told you. I had hoped you would consider this your home, too.”
“There you go proposing again.”
I smirked at him, looked toward George and pointed back at Tadeas, “Please George, do something with him before he starts thinking he’s a comedian again.” George smiled and slightly bowed to me, and the last thing I saw was George motioning Tadeas to follow him. I rushed to reach the double doors at the end of the hall, and up a flight of stairs just as they came in sight, I slipped in the doors to my bedroom quickly. I just needed a little room to breathe for a minute. I felt the lock click shut behind me. I had a ward on it that kept the door locked at all times. I admit to being a little bit paranoid of people coming in my bedroom. I took a deep breath and leaned into the door. I felt exhausted. I couldn’t decide if I felt more tired or hungry. Probably more tired. And astonished that he was still here. Each little conflict throughout the day managed to resolve itself. But the whole thing had not been a walk in the park or even through a vineyard.
I walked into the large tile-covered bathroom and clicked on the lights. A large claw footed ceramic tub sat in the center of the back wall. To my left a walk-in shower stood surrounded by glass doors and the door to a rather large closet full of clothes and shoes. To my right was a double vanity with a mirror wall behind it. I looked at myself. I looked pale and my face was covered in dirt. Good grief. I walked over and turned the water on in the shower. No amount of wiping was going to get this dirt off. I hadn’t noticed the road was extremely dusty, but it had been several days since it rained. I ducked into the closet, removed my rings and necklace, and slipped out of the dusty shirt and jeans. I think I wallowed in dirt somewhere along the way, because even my socks and underwear were all full of grime. I jumped in the shower, and washed off quickly. To be honest, I wanted to stay under the warm water and let it wash all the dirt and emotion from the day off of me. But I was the host, I had to get out of the shower and get dressed. I debated on what to wear. I chose a simple pale green sundress and a pair of flat sandals. I put my rings and sun necklace back on, and with a flick of my hand and one word, Assicco, my blonde hair dried and fell loose around my head. I looked at myself in the mirror. At least I was clean.
I hurried back down the hall to the sitting room where George dusted the mantle. “It was awfully dusty today. He still in his room?” I asked.
“Yes, he is. I think he was impressed.”
“You think he was, or he was impressed?” I questioned him.
“He was. I think he is taking a shower, too.”
“It couldn’t be helped. Dirt and dust covered me head to toe. Everything okay, George?” He paused his dusting, and looked back at me.
“It was close, wasn’t it?”
“No, it wasn’t. I believe in him.”
“Yes, but you still doubt yourself,” he said. He went back to dusting, and I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. I turned and Tadeas walked in with his hair still slightly wet. He wore a white button-down shirt and khaki slacks.
“Sorry I had to shower. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” he explained.
“No, I showered too. I didn’t realize all the dust that had accumulated all over me,” I said as I waved waving my hand in a dramatic motion up and down my body like Vanna White. He shook his head smirking at me. I heard George grunt behind me, “George’s grunt means dinner's getting cold.”
He walked down the couple of steps into the room and nodded toward the dining room, and waited for me to pass him before following me. The table could seat up to 20 guests. Once again, like at lunch, it had two cloches sitting at the end and to the right of it. However, this evening, there were two large silver candelabras spaced evenly on the table. They each had twelve white candles which were lit. George had placed out the silver candelabras. I scowled. George and his damn atmosphere. I turned back to give him a look, but Tadeas was right
behind me, and I almost turned into him.
“Whoa, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Oh, I was just going to have a quick word with my butler, but never mind.” I heard the old man chuckle from the other room. “I better not find any dust in that room,” I shouted. Crazy old man pushed his luck. I thought it was by sheer coincidence that Tadeas was even here, much less George trying to make it romantic. Tadeas laughed and walked over to pull out my chair. I sat down without a word. I was all out of witty comebacks. He sat down, and we removed the domes above our plates. George once again did not disappoint. It was my favorite meal. Herb crusted lamb chops and new potatoes, glazed and roasted carrots, a fresh tomato and cucumber salad and rolls. I saw Tadeas eyes open wide, but he was unsure of the plate before him.
“If you don’t eat it all, you can’t have any pudding,” maybe I wasn’t out of witty comments just yet.
“Ok Floyd, I gotcha. It’s lamb, right?”
“Yep, my favorite,” I said cutting into the chop.
“I’ve never had it.”
“What? How in 125 years have you never had lamb?” I asked.
“They don’t serve it at the cafeteria,” he said still looking skeptical. He stabbed a potato with his fork and ate it.
“Touché. Which reminds me. I need to get you that number for the restaurant delivery service.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You can still have pudding if you don’t eat it, but at least give it a try,” I said and added, “I won’t be offended if you don’t like it, but George might.” Just then George showed up with a bottle of our own red wine, a Cabernet Sauvignon. He poured us both a glass and smiled at me before leaving the room. “I don’t know what I’d do without that man,” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but there it was.
“He certainly knows how to serve a good meal,” Tadeas said with a chunk of lamb in his mouth.
“Well?”
“It’s good. I like it.”
“Sounds like it hurt you to admit it.”
“Bah. Shut up, and eat, woman.” At that, I had to laugh. I would never let anyone tell me to shut up or call me woman. But apparently, he had earned that one. We ate and chatted a little about the horses, and the stable which we didn’t go into this afternoon. I talked about the house, and how long it had been here. About how the workers go back and forth to the mainland every evening, and only a very few of them are here on weekends except for the rare occasion when the winemaking process is in full production like it was today. Tadeas talked about work and fighting techniques and more ideas for changing the training. If anything, I had him hooked on that part. We finished eating including amaretto cheesecake for dessert, and this time George gathered the dishes. I eyed him, and he shrugged. I let him do it. He knew I was tired. I was very thankful for him. Tadeas got up and walked back into the sitting room. George had opened all three sets of double doors and the sounds of the night drifted into the room. The fire had died down and wasn’t blazing like before. The room was cool and relaxing. Instead of sitting down, Tadeas continued out the doors to the covered part of the patio and took a seat on one of the cushioned iron benches. I sat down on the same one only the other end. I pulled one leg up underneath me, and leaned back into the cushion.
“Is it too cool out here for you?” he asked.
“No this is great,” I said. George appeared and asked if we needed anything else. I told him no, and he wished us both a goodnight.
“He going to bed?”
“Yeah probably, or whatever he does in his room late at night.” We sat and listened to the sounds of the night. Mostly crickets and occasionally a frog. “You are welcome to stay here tonight. The room is open to you whenever you need it.” I said.
“You weren’t kidding about the clothes and the room. The closet is full. The drawers are full. The bathroom is fully stocked. Not to mention it’s all the shampoo, and other stuff that I generally use. It’s just a little bit creepy, Abby.”
I looked down and started fiddling with my fingernails. I was tired of fighting with him. “I’m thorough,” I said softly. Hoping that was an indication that I was resigned not to argue with him.
“I’m not mad. It’s actually kinda flattering. I don’t think anyone on this earth knows me as well as you do. I mean look at these clothes. They fit perfectly. There are at least three formal tuxedos in there, all custom made. I admit I’m a little impressed.” That made me smile, but I tried not to smile too much. Good thing I didn’t, because that’s when he dropped the whammy. “I have to say no, Abby. Maybe it’s because I’m not ready for change. Maybe I’m afraid. I’m not sure exactly. But I do know my instincts are telling me no.” I was glad I didn’t look up. I was tired. I wanted to be in my own warm bed, and just forget about all of it. I was done. He continued, “I know you put a lot of time and effort into this, and I do want to work with you on changing the training at the Agency.”
“You don’t need me for that,” I said. My voice was dead and thready.
“True, but I want you to be there just the same. I hope that maybe Monday morning you could go into class with me, and we could start changing it all around.” I started shaking my head no, but he kept talking, “They all know who you are now. I think they might have questions for you. They might like to have you there and know what the whole purpose was, to know that somebody upstairs cares about what happens to them.”
“No, I don’t want to do that,” I said barely above a whisper. He slid closer to me on the bench. I still wouldn’t look at him. None of it mattered now.
“I know you don’t want to, but you need too. At least once, go in there and be a part of the change. It would complete at least part of your plan that you’ve worked on for the past two years. It wasn’t all just about me. It was about them, too.” I was uncomfortable close to him like this, because I slowly lost grip of my emotions. I pushed back anger and sadness. I wanted to get up, and move away. But he grabbed my hands, “Please say yes, that you will come, at least just once.”
I continued to shake my head no, and tried to pull my hands away from him, but he held tight, “Maybe, I don’t know. Just let me sleep on it. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said and released my hands. I couldn’t help myself but to swing my leg off the bench, and walked away to the closest pillar. I leaned against it to let it support me. I wasn’t just tired. I was exhausted. I unconsciously rearranged my hair, pulling it away from my shoulders and over to one side and twirled the end of a clasp of strands when I heard him swear behind me. “What the fuck!” I felt him move quickly toward me, and I tensed up. It was like he had seen or sensed danger that I didn’t see. He stepped behind me so quickly that I couldn’t move, and I felt his thumb sweep down across the back of my right shoulder. I had a scar there shaped like a cross. A brand from an exorcism attempt. I shuttered. I knew that he had one too, even though I’d never seen it. “How did you get this?” he asked. His voice cracked, and I could feel how tense he was behind me.
“The same way you got yours.”
The priest stood over me chanting in Latin. I didn’t know what I had done, but it was bad. They had me tied to a chair. I felt confused and scared. I was crying. They had repeatedly splashed me with holy water. They had my mouth covered. I wore the black dress that all the girls who hadn’t taken orders wore in the children's home. They had removed my plain shoes, and my bare feet touched the cold stone floor.
There were several priests in the room and a large fireplace blazing with flame. I couldn’t see the door, because it was behind me. I tried to scream, but only muffles came out. I struggled against the bonds, but the priest continued to chant the prayer of exorcism. I tried the best way I knew how to explain that I was me, and not some demon.
They spent hours questioning me after one of the nuns saw me move a box in my room around with magic. I had always tried to be careful to hide it, and I didn’t realize she entered the room. She ran out of the room and grabbed one of the priests.
I knew what these priests were doing. I’d seen them do it to others. They were trying to exorcise a demon. But I wasn’t possessed. They wouldn’t believe me. I struggled and screamed. The priest would switch out when one got tired. And eventually I gave up as well.
I was very tired. So very tired. I passed out in the chair.
I awoke and the room was quiet. Father Francis stood before me with his prayer book. He glared at me with disdain and hatred. His eyes were dark and scary. I was only sixteen years old. I had been put here as a very young child. I didn’t know either of my parents. But I did know that I knew magic. The church hated magic. They would call me a witch, or worse they might think I was possessed and try to drive the “demon” out of me. I just couldn’t stop using it though. Just for little things like moving boxes or lighting a candle in my room. Father Francis began the exorcism chant again. I strained against the bonds, and tried to scream. His voice continued to get louder. I didn’t know any way to get myself out of that situation even with magic. I continued to strain and try to get loose. My anger grew inside me. I needed to tell them that I wasn’t possessed. I feared they would kill me.
Behind me I could hear more priests praying and chanting, saying prayers in Latin that normally I could understand, but my fear blocked them out. Occasionally one would lay his hand on my shoulder and a cold surge would rush through my body. I cried until I had no more tears. They continued to chant. I’m not sure how long it lasted. I would black out occasionally from straining on the bonds. The room grew darker. And the Father before me looked down at my hands, and took a step back, but continued the prayer. My hands started to glow with a white light. I turned them upward and soft glowing orbs formed above them with wisps of miniature lightning flashing around them. I wasn’t trying to do this, it was just happening. I couldn’t control it. Part of me wanted to fling them at every person in the room and strike them all down for this, but I fought it. Then I heard the word behind me, “Abomination.” Several of the priests behind me repeated the word, “Abomination.”