by Kimbra Swain
“You know it isn’t a good idea to sneak up on a wizard,” I told him. He was six-foot tall, with boyish features, shoulder length sandy blonde hair that curled a bit on the ends and pale blue eyes. Today he wore a white tee shirt, black leather jacket and blue jeans.
“I think I could handle anything you threw at me,” he said smiling.
“You going all ‘rebel without a cause’ on me?” I asked.
“What’s that?”
I giggled, “Never mind. I thought you guys kept up with things in the world.”
“We keep up with the people in the world, not the trivial things, Abigail,” he walked up and sat beside me a few feet away. He looked up to the stained glass. “You know a storm is coming?” “Yes,” I replied. When an archangel talks to you, he rarely says what he means. I could only guess that he wasn’t referring to the one blowing in outside. But the one my grandfather has felt coming for a while now. “Prophet, did you come to warn me?”
“No, we were concerned.”
“We?”
“My brothers and I,” he said. He meant the angels, but more specifically the seven archangels.
I turned to him. Gabriel’s beauty astounded me. All confidence and grace. Of the seven, I’ve only met Gabriel and Uriel. Since my grandfather had Lincoln pull me out of the Catholic children’s home, the two of them had visited me before something large and supernatural would happen. Gabriel always brought warnings. Uriel bestowed knowledge. “Gabriel, I know you can’t tell me everything, but please tell me as much as you can.”
“Actually, my brothers and I are concerned about you. It seems you are in a great turmoil now. I personally have never seen you unsure about yourself.”
I hung my head down. He had better things to do than be here comforting me, because my not partner “broke-up” with me.
“It’s not just about the jaguar, although he is part of the bigger picture,” he said reading my thoughts.
“Stop that. It’s creepy.”
He smiled at me again. He couldn’t half smile. Just big radiant ones. I had to look away again. I blinked, and he sat right next to me. The aura around him surged with power. I found it hard to concentrate. Slowly I could feel him toning it down for me again, reading my thoughts. “You have sat on the sidelines for far too long. Your work in this world is important. The things that used to tremble at your name and cower in deep caves of the earth are emerging again. We need you to do what you were born to do.”
“What is that exactly, Gabriel?” I wasn’t trying to be trite with him. I didn’t want to be struck down in my own chapel. But it was a valid question.
He lifted my face with his hand gently, but forcing me to look into his pale blue eyes. I saw the continents crumbling at the edges, falling into the sea, thousands of voices crying out in the waters and sinking into the deeps. A single crystalline tear flowed down his face. Then the wind blew the chapel doors open, and all the flames went out. He no longer sat next to me, but stood at the door with his back to me. I could hear his voice on the wind.
“The darkness is growing. The storm is close now, Abigail. Fight for the world as you once did. We are always here if you need us,” and with a loud crack of lightning he was gone. The room grew lighter and the torches flickered to life again. I sat stunned. Had he shown me the future? I shivered at the images I saw. Many lives crying out for help. I closed my eyes, and I could hear their voices, “Abigail, help us!” I shook my head. My heart cringed and tears flowed down my face. No matter what happened between Tadeas Duarte and myself, I had to do my job. I had to find myself again, and be the force I once was in the world. The angels were counting on me. Which meant God counted on me also.
“Praefoco,” I muttered and the flames extinguished. I walked to the doors of the chapel and pulled them closed behind me. I could see the storm passing the island on the west. The wind still wrapped my skirt around my legs and whipped my hair into a frenzy. I tried holding it down watching the lightning striking in the distance. The storm would not hit here, but it was beautiful to watch. I stood with my back to the house. Transfixed by the storm I pondered its power. Storms were magic. Violent elemental magic with lightning, wind and water passing through the world and nothing that could stop it
That was my problem. I stood by watching the storm grow, and move to other places, move over people with no regard. Watching the world instead of participating. Sitting in my chair, watching my monitors. Lincoln, most of all, would be disappointed in me. The time had arrived that I could no longer watch the storm effect those around me, and do nothing about it. I needed to act. Calm the storm. Quies.
The phone rang on the table beside the bed. I had to untangle myself from Mwenye and the poor girl that had joined us last night. As I rolled over, the girl fell to the floor with a thud. Great, another dead body to make disappear.
“What?” I said into the phone.
“Hey, it’s me,” a lovely voice said on the other end.
“Yeah, give me a minute,” I said happy to hear her voice and slid out of bed. I hurried down the hallway to the living room and kitchen in the condo. “Okay go ahead. I didn’t want to wake him.”
“Have you done it yet?” she asked.
“No, I told you. I am waiting on someone special.”
“If you kill Donovan’s daughter, he will have your head on a platter,” she said. “Please don’t do that.”
“Look, if I do, it will be because we are leaving these pompous idiots behind. Did you call to scold me, or do you have information?” I asked her.
“I do. And you don’t have to be harsh with me. I know who you really are,” she said. She was right. She knew that most of my seductive talk was a front to complete the tasks we needed to complete.
“I know,” I said simply and waited for her to continue.
“She was here in the recruiting classes. She pretended to be a student,” she said.
“You are saying that she isn’t retired?”
“No, and she’s recruiting a new partner from what I understand.”
“Very interesting. Who is it?” I asked. Abigail Davenport had not had a partner in 25 years. Ever since Lincoln died, or was murdered, I should say.
“It’s Duarte,” she said. I could hear the hurt in her voice.
“Oh, honey, I know you liked him. You know what that means though,” I said, trying to prepare her for the worst.
“I know. He has to die too.”
“The Director ordered the hit on her a few days ago. I’ll get this information through the proper channels. Just keep tabs on them. Be my good girl,” I coaxed her.
“You don’t have to persuade me Nessa. I know the greater purpose. I did hope I’d get a chance to fuck him, though. He’s handsome,” she truly sounded hurt over losing a potential lover.
“Don’t worry. There are lots of handsome men in this world. I’ll introduce you to a lot of them,” I consoled her.
“Like Mwenye?” she asked. She knew I loved Mwenye, but to be honest he didn’t classify as a pretty man.
“He has an abundance of attractive qualities,” I replied. I could hear him stirring in the back. He would be up soon. Hopefully he would dispose of the girl and not make me do it.
“Yes, eating souls is hella sexy,” she smirked.
“Whatever, you take care of your fine ass, and I’ll see you soon. Keep quiet, and be my good little spy, okay?”
“Yes dear,” she said and hung up the phone. I smell the faint smell of burnt flesh. Well, at least, Mwenye cleaned up the mess.
He walked into the room in a black silk robe which matched his ebony skin. “Phone call?” he asked.
He probably knew good and well who it was and what they said, but he was always testing me.
“Yep, good info from Boulder,” I said. “I knew this plant would work.”
“What's the info and I’ll decide how valuable she is,” he stated. I told him about Duarte, and that Abigail had gone undercover into the recruitin
g classes to basically recruit him.
“What is he?” he asked.
“Hmm? What do you mean?” I said.
“She would not recruit some mundane human. What sort of monster is he?” he demanded.
“Oh, he’s a shifter.” He walked across the room to me so fast I barely had time to flinch. He had me pressed against the wall. His hands pinned my forearms down and I couldn’t move as he put magical pressure on me. I cried out in pain a little.
“Do not toy with me, Vanessa Vaughn.”
“He’s a jaguar,” I choked out. Tears rolled down my face as he squeezed my arms tighter.
“I want to know everything about him, and do not return to my sight until you can tell me what I want to know. Are we clear?” he demanded.
“Yes.” I said softly.
“Yes, what?” he lowered his tone.
“Yes, my love,” I whispered. He leaned down still holding my arms and kissed me. Then he slung my body across the room. I bounced off the back of the couch and crumpled on the floor. I gathered my robe around me and hurried off to the back room. I slipped into jeans and a tee shirt. I hurried back to the front and while he faced the windows, I grabbed my phone and slipped out the door.
Sometimes I love the roughness and the anger. But sometimes I want to cut his heart out and eat it. I headed to the GEA offices, and a beautiful red-head named Cassidy.
“Hey Cass,” I purred as I entered the room. Sometimes I wish I were Fae. Those women walked into rooms, and all the men and women wanted them. Cassidy just smiled that cute innocent smile.
“Hi Vanessa, how may I help you?” she said formally.
“Look I need some info on a shifter. Don’t we have a database of known shifters?” I asked.
“Yea we do. You need some help looking through it?” she offered to help.
“That would be lovely.” I pulled up a chair beside her behind the desk and she opened the computer software. Now I know my way around a computer, however, I am not allowed access to these systems. She did not need to know that.
“Ok. Do you what type of shifter?” she asked.
“Yes, he’s a jaguar and his last name is Duarte.” She tapped a few keys and a full profile showed on the screen of one Tadeas Nahuel Duarte. He originated from Guatemala. Deceased biological parents. Deceased adoptive parents. Raised by Catholic Church. Exorcism attempt in 1908. (The Church was stupid. They probably saw him change and thought he was possessed. Idiots.) Ran away from the church. Engaged to an Isabel. Killed fianceé on first change. Taken by Agency. Employed there since 1910.
“Sad story,” Cassidy said.
“Um hmm. That’s what happens when shifters aren't taken in by those of us who know what they are. I’d like to help this guy. He’s handsome,” I said.
“Yes, he is,” she agreed. “But how would you help him?”
“Well, he’s been stuck in the Agency since he was 18 years old. He doesn’t know any life other than the Agency. I doubt they are respecting him as the beautiful creature that he is. I’d like to catch him one day outside the compound and have a few drinks with him. Maybe convince him to come help us better the whole world,” I explained. Bless her heart she was so naive. I could not wait for the day I could consume her.
“Yes, he might like to change his perspective,” she added sweetly.
“You are just the most darling thing,” I said and leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. I heard the Director and someone coming out of the main office. “I got to run, Cass. Thank you very much. You’ve got to let me buy you a drink sometime.” I grabbed my jacket and hit the door running as soon as the Director came into the room.
I stood at the door and listened.
“Who was that?” the Director asked.
“It was Vanessa. She was looking for a shifter.” I grimaced. I should have told her not to tell.
“What shifter?” the male asked. It was The Priest.
“This Tadeas Duarte,” I heard her say and heard her computer monitor swing around.
“What is it, Sergio?” the Director asked.
“Madre de Dios, I thought he died,” he said.
“You know him?” both Cassidy and the Director asked at the same time.
“I do. He was under my care in Guatemala. I tried to keep him from shifting. He was a good boy. But he murdered a woman. I tried hunting him down, but never found him,” he said.
“Interesting. Why did Vanessa say she was interested in the shifter?” the Director asked Cassidy.
“She didn’t say specifically, but that she wanted to help him. Try to get him out of the Agency. Maybe come here with us.” The director growled.
“Vanessa Vaughn is not allowed in these systems for a reason, Cassidy. If she approaches you for any more information, you ask me first. Are we clear?” the Director spouted at the poor girl. I could hear her crying. I wanted to rush in there, and beat the Director’s face in.
“Easy child,” I heard The Priest comforting her. Then a door slammed inside the office. I took this as a good time to exit. I had already spent too much time here. I took off toward the stairwell to try to sneak out. I rounded the corner, and almost plowed over Milton Trujillo.
“Good god Milt, old man, get the fuck out of the way.”
He chuckled, “Miss Vaughn, what evil are you about today?”
“No evil. Just getting information for our endeavor,” I explained.
“Ah yes, anything you’d like to share with me?” he asked.
“No, not really.”
“You haven’t told Mwenye yet have you?” he surmised. “Well, that’s fine. I don’t want you to lose that pretty little head. Best not tell me now.”
“Thanks, old bastard,” I spouted at him as I ran toward the stairs.
“Anytime, dearie,” I heard him say as the door shut behind me. He wasn’t so bad. He was just old, and he liked really young women. And they loved him. I could not figure it out.
Evening was setting in when I returned to the condo. I stopped by a bar on the way back to slam back a few shots. I needed the liquor. I’d probably have to pay more for this morning. I slipped in the door, and he stood exactly as he did when I left. Still in his bathrobe, but he held a glass of dark liquid. I approached him quietly with my head down and stopped about two feet behind him.
“Tell me,” he said.
I gave him the name and the details that I read in the profile. He stood there thinking. I did not dare move. I could feel his power building. He fed on souls more often these days. His skin and eyes grew darker. The sex was rougher. The dead piled up. I would never say it out loud, but it felt like he was losing control. I knew I needed to plan my exit soon, or I would be a victim. I just had to play this game for a little bit longer.
“Very good information, Vanessa,” he complimented me. I raised my head slightly. I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. He opened his robe and said, “Now come over here and get on your knees, and say you are sorry for this morning.”
“My pleasure,” I obeyed. But soon, very soon I would make him wish he’d treated me better. No one else in this world would put up with his deranged bullshit, like I did. Yes, one day the nasty vile man would miss me.
I swear that I heard something break behind me. I ducked to the side a bit. But nothing else came through the portal. I teetered for a moment and caught myself on the wall. Stupid portal. The office was dark and silent. I closed the door to the closet, and got close to the door to the hallway. I listened. I smelled. I needed to get to my room as fast as I could and avoid Meredith at all costs. The anger at Abigail still churned inside me. I needed quiet. My security blanket of routine was ripped off of me, and I wanted it back.
I opened the door and ran down the hall. I hit the stairwell instead of the elevator. Two flights down and stopped at the door to the hallway. Only 20 more feet and I would be home free. Dropping my keys before the door, I swiped them up and jammed them into the door knob. Flinging the door open, it slipped out of m
y hands making more banging. I grabbed it, and tried my best to click it shut without a sound. I leaned with my forehead against the door and sighed. Nothing ever goes to plan. I wanted to leave her with an understanding. Not to give her hope or straws to grasp, but to be able to work together in the future. I should just give up on all of it. Forget it ever happened. Go back to teaching. She had given her blessing on changing the classes. I would get a few hours of sleep, and then start making a plan to produce more effective canvas crews.
Well, I tried to sleep. I tossed and turned. I’m pretty sure the bed at Casa del Sol was actually more comfortable than this one. I gave up and went to my desk in the alcove off the kitchen. I switched on the computer, and went to the fridge to grab a drink. The fridge was pretty much empty. I started a pot of coffee. The phone rang, and I swiped it up fast because it was still early in the morning here in Colorado. “Hello,” I whispered, hoping whoever it was would think I was sleeping.
“Mr. Duarte?” a female voice asked.
“Yes, is that you, Miss Taylor?”
“Yes sir. I’m sorry to call so early in the morning, but I wondered if you had a way for me to reach Rachel? I mean, Abigail.” Of all the people in the class, she seemed to be the only one that Abigail connected with during the whole undercover operation.
“Um, not at present, but the next time I see her I can deliver a message for you if you would like,” I answered her completely confused as to why she would want to talk to Abigail this early in the morning. Did she think Abigail was in my room?
“Yes, please, if you would tell her I need to speak to her soon. I mean, if that’s possible.”
“Sure. She might come back to class and teach us a few new things. Are you ok? Is there something wrong?” Maybe she reached out to me for a whole different reason that she couldn’t say.
“Nothing is wrong. I just need to talk to her sometime before I leave here. I’m sorry to bother you,” she said and hung up the phone. That was extremely strange. I would go back up to the offices tomorrow and see if I could find someone who had a phone number for Abigail and deliver the message.