by Keith Holmes
The half-eaten pretzel fell from his hands as his jaw dropped open. He pressed forward for a better look. It was easy to get one. The entire crowd was frozen as a tiny girl glowed with light before them. A chill ran the monk's spine and he stood in awe for a moment. Then his visage filled with angst. He knew what would come to try to extinguish that light.
His hurried gaze passed through the awe-struck mob, looking for whom this little girl belonged. There was Tara. A sense of duty welled up in the monk as his eyes met the young mother's. They needed a distraction. His neck craned as he searched for an idea. When he found the red lever of a fire alarm, he knew what he'd do. He ran to it, yanked it down and then dashed back into the crowd.
***
“Come on!”
Asa and Tara began pushing through the mob, darting around the confused shoppers. They'd broken its edge when Tara felt a hand on her wrist.
"Please lady..." A man in a wheelchair had a tight grip on her arm. He looked up to her, a plea in his eyes. "Please ma'am.... please let her heal me? Please?" he begged. Tara shook her head, tears glistening as she tried to pull away. Catee was nearly lifeless in her arms now.
"Let me go!" she insisted, trying to tug herself free.
Desperate, the man locked the wheel of his chair and grabbed her with his other hand.
"Please lady! I... I want to walk again!" he begged.
Tara was pulling with all her might. Asa was making his way back to her to help when suddenly two white-gloved hands took the man by the wrists and pried them free.
"Go!" the man playing Santa said. "Get her out of here!"
She didn't hesitate. The trio was dashing toward the mall's exit when a shout went up, the man in the wheelchair angrily betraying them.
"THEY'RE GETTING AWAY!"
Asa glanced over his shoulder and then looked away, wide-eyed.
Tara could hear the thunder of footsteps behind them, calls for them to stop. She pushed on. Asa flung a door open and held it. As Tara passed through, she stopped and turned to him. But the mob was coming.
"Go!" Asa instructed. "I'll slow them down!" Tara nodded and bolted away.
The sprint across the massive parking lot took everything inside her. Whether by luck or divine providence, the CTA Bus was at the stop and she leapt inside. She looked quite a mess as she stepped onto the nearly empty bus, her eyes filled with tears, make-up streamed down her face, hair wind blown and wild with a child tugged to her body. The driver didn’t even ask for her pass.
Quickly she moved to an empty seat, far from the sparse passengers, and fell into it. The bus lurched forward and Tara watched as the bewildered mob burst through the doors, searching for her. As the scenery began to move by, a renewed fear crept into her belly and slowly she released Catee from her steel-grip and lowered the child into her lap.
Catee was motionless and utterly peaceful, her breathing unperceivable to frightened eyes. Tara burst into tears once more, sniffling as her body bounced silently, her fingers grasping at her little girl as the only words she knew at that moment tripped from her lips.
“No… oh no.”
She lifted her daughter to her chest and hugged her tight. As despair began overtaking the young mother, a tiny voice pushed it all away in an instant.
“I sleepy Mommy.”
Tara gasped as she lowered Catee once more to look to her face. There before her were those tired, beautiful blue eyes: a mirror of her own. Catee’s face filled with worry as she sat up in her mother’s lap and wiped a tear from her cheek.
“Why you're crying?” Tara couldn’t answer. Instead she pulled Catee into a long, cleansing embrace.
“It’s okay Mommy. You just needa cry a little minute.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Ethan stood in line at the Contractor's Supply, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. The wait was unusually long as a new sales clerk was being trained. Ethan had been in line for about ten minutes when the owner, Sal, happened by behind the counter. Ethan grinned when he saw his old friend and shouted at him.
“Hey Sal, I think the Lowe’s up the street has self check-out now!” Sal stopped and offered Ethan a glare before it melted into a smile.
“Then go up there pal. See how long they wait for ya to pay your tab.”
Ethan stepped out of the line and made his way to the ex-contractor for a chat.
“Bears gonna do it this year?”
“You kiddin’ me? Get outta here with that,” Sal replied, extending his hand to Ethan. Sal believed 'da Bears' were going to do it every year. “You guys still on that grocery store job?”
“Month three," Ethan nodded. " That place was a total wreck. Can’t wait to see how the boss expenses this one out.”
“I’m sure it’ll be creative. Amazing Mike ain’t in jail already!” Sal chuckled. Ethan laughed but the sound of the TV behind the counter took his attention.
"Something goin' on at the mall?" he asked, concerned for his wife and daughter.
"Ahh, some kinda publicity stunt," Sal explained.
Relieved, Ethan prepared to move on when the still image of Catee, her body surrounded by light captured his attention.
"Hey, turn that up," he muttered. A reporter's voice filled the store.
What people are calling a Christmas Miracle took place today in the Woodfield Mall and our Channel 7 cameras were there to capture this exclusive footage. Richard Eubanks, one of the Mall’s Santas had complained earlier in the day of what he thought was a bout of gas but turned out to be something more…
Ethan stood there frozen, glued to the television pleading that his eyes had lied to him - that it wasn’t Catee that he saw - as he looked at a picture of Richard Eubanks posing with a bowling trophy.
Mr. Eubanks had managed a twenty-minute shift when suddenly, he collapsed. What you are about to see is raw video footage shot by our own Michael Carr, on the scene. Bear in mind that this station can offer no explanation for the events that unfold on this videotape. We bring it to you in the interest of breaking news. What you see next, you may find shocking.
As the footage rolled Ethan’s heart raced. He was numb and electrified at the same time, a tingle running through his body that demanded he shiver. Sal spoke to him as he poured his focus on the vision before him.
“Ethan? You okay?” The supply owner looked between a paralyzed Ethan and the television as they pulled tight on a shot of Catee, her hands aglow. And then Sal began to understand. He swallowed hard.
“Jeezuz Ethan! Is that your little girl?”
The statement ripped Ethan’s attention to Sal, fright in his eyes as he fumbled through a reply. "N… no… I gotta go.”
Ethan stared at the television as he began to back out of the store, nearly falling over some boxes. Sal called to him but the young father's mind was racing. Once he'd reached the door, he turned and bolted through it. Sal watched him go and considered giving chase when the reporter's voice took his attention.
The identity of the little girl or her mother aren't known at this time. If anyone recognizes either of these individuals please contact us immediately at 555-1212.
***
Adrenaline was still coursing through Asa's veins as he sat in his computer chair and watched Channel 7 on his small television set. The moment the reporter asked for help identifying the little girl, he spun toward his monitor. He'd already initiated a call-for-aid, a secret network of Chronica from around the world checking in one by one, agreeing to begin searching for her identity. Quickly he launched his phreaking software and punched in the number he wanted to monitor. (708) 555-1212. Then he put his headset on as the phone began to ring. "Channel 7, how may I direct your call." He input a quick code 'hooking' the number. But he needed the extension as well. "I have information about the little girl's identity," he lied.
"One moment."
He waited, barely audible chatter from his modem working it's 'magic' just above the silence.
"News desk."
&nbs
p; Again he input his coding. A number appeared on screen, the one to which, he was currently connected. "Wrong number. Sorry," Asa said, waiting for them to hang up and complete his 'phreak'. Satisfied that he'd now get a feed from both lines, he tugged his headset down around his neck.
"Have you found her?" Elihu's voice startled the monk and he wheeled around. He'd been this knight's Chronica for three years but he still hadn't gotten used to how silently the Vigilant could move.
"I'm about to... I pray," the monk said, still frustrated with himself for letting she and her mother get away without learning who they were.
"You helped them escape," Elihu encouraged.
"To win a battle, not the war."
The knight fell silent. Asa was right. He'd helped Catee and Tara escape a mob of mortals. But what would come for them now would be much worse than that. "The dragons won't have this one," Elihu guaranteed.
Asa looked to him, praying he was right. An Argent Child was a rare gift to the world.
"This one," Asa repeated, pausing in thought. How many had there been? Nary one avoided a gruesome fate. He looked to Elihu and could tell that they shared the concern.
"Channel 7 News. How may I direct your call?" The sound of the receptionist's voice through his headset speakers took his attention. Quickly he turned and put them back to his ears.
"Yeah, is there a reward or somethin' for the identity of that little girl?" came a female voice with a thick Chicago accent. Asa spun to Elihu, excitement in his features.
"One moment ma'am. I'll transfer you."
The wait was excruciating for the monk, the anticipation slowing the queue to a crawl. He held his breath.
"News desk."
"Yeah, are you guys paying a reward for the Santa Girl's identity?"
"No ma'am, there's no reward. You know who she is?"
"Oh. Well, can I get my name on TV or something then?"
"If your information proves credible we can mention you. Sure. Who is she?"
"Well my info is good. My husband shops at the same building supply as her dad. Her name is Catee Moyer."
"I see. What's his name?"
"Ethan. Ethan Moyer. Her ma's name is Tara I think. My husband don't know her."
"Okay, well thank you for the tip ma'am. Merry Christmas."
"Hey.. you forgot to take my name! Hello? Hello? Oh well screw you guys! I'm calling CNN!"
Asa finally let himself breath again. He tugged his headset from his ears and looked to Elihu. "I think we've got her!" He turned and launched a browser and navigated to the white pages. There was only one listing for Ethan Moyer on the south side of Chicago. Elihu stepped up behind his Chronica to catch a glimpse of the address.
"This has to be them. It has to be. Please Empyrean, let it be the one," Asa prayed.
"It will be," Elihu reassured. "What do you want to do?"
"You need to get over there right away and keep watch," he explained. "As for me, I'll contact the Knight-Master for instructions, then I'll go over and talk to them."
Asa turned to find that, as he'd come Elihu had gone: silently. It made him chuckle and shake his head. He wasn't sure which, would be the greatest task: Elihu and the infernal blood he'd no doubt shed, or trying to explain to an average family that dragons wanted to eat their daughter.
***
The engine of Ethan's work truck screamed as he tore through the Chicago streets on his way home. He was dialing his cell phone furiously but got only busy signals from his home. "FUCK!" he spat, tossing the phone across his cluttered dashboard and tugged the wheel hard to make the final corner into his apartment complex. His parking space was occupied by a news van. His first instinct was to fight for the spot but then it hit him.
They knew.
Ethan slowed down and drove past the van. There were two people hanging out at its open door. He recognized the reporter from television. Trying to play it cool, his truck's engine sizzling, he parked several spaces down. He was calmly but quickly making his way to the building's stoop when the reporter moved to intercept him.
“Sir? Excuse me sir?”
Ethan glanced to her and frowned, then averted his eyes. But she didn't get 'the story' by being intimidated. She glanced over her shoulder and motioned for her cameraman to follow.
“Sandra Hartley, Channel 7 News. Do you know the Moyers?”
Ethan didn’t break stride and dipped his head, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets.
“Nope, no comment. I don't wanna be on TV,” he offered dismissively. He reached for the door when she stepped in front of him. He lifted angry eyes to her.
“What floor do you live on? Have you ever met their daughter?”
“I said no comment lady.” With that he shoved past her, quickly making his way up the staircase.
Sandra pressed her hand against her cameraman's chest and glanced to him. As soon as Ethan made the first flight of steps, the duo began to follow. Ethan knew she was following him and hurried his steps. As he walked down the hallway toward his door he glanced back to her, she watching from the stairwell. A few paces from his door, he sighed and tugged his keys from his pocket. He was tempted to keep going, to try to throw them off, but Ethan didn't like playing games. And so, angry and ready to fight if he had to, he stepped to his door and began opening it.
“Shit Frank! It’s the father!”
Like an ambushing soldier Sandra charged into the hallway calling out Ethan’s name, the cameraman following her lead. “Ethan! Ethan Moyer! We just want to talk to you for a moment about Catee!”
Ethan ignored her as he twisted his keys and opened his door. Sandra raced forward only to have it slam shut in her face.
Tara, disheveled still and frightened, rushed into his arms. It was clear that she’d been crying, the television in the living room tuned to the miraculous tale of their daughter’s gift to Santa Claus. Ethan held her tight but frustration filled his face as he noticed that the phone was off the hook.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he questioned, pushing her back a bit to look into her eyes.
“The phone’s been ringing off the hook Ethan. First it was your mom, then mine, then the neighbors… people from work, I couldn’t pick it up without somebody being on it. I took it off the hook when Channel Seven started calling."
“What happened?” he asked.
“She healed him,” Tara said softly, her face reflecting the disbelief laced in her voice.
“I think you’d better explain,” he said, as he wiped a tear from her cheek.
Tara stretched across the kitchen table to put her hands in his. She'd explained to him everything she witnessed at the mall and told him about what had happened with her Mimi so long ago. Ethan's eyes shifted side-to-side as he tried to make sense of it. But he couldn't. It was just too fantastic.
"Why didn't you tell me about your grandma?" he asked, feeling a bit betrayed.
"Would you have believed me? I'm not sure I believed it."
Ethan nodded. He knew she was right.
“So what are we gonna do?” he asked solemnly. Tara shook her head when a knock came to their door. A voice filtered through it.
“Hello? Mrs. Moyer?”
Ethan turned to the door, disgust on his face.
"I'm going to check on Catee. Don't answer it. It's just more reporters." But as he disappeared down the hallway, the knocking became more insistent. Frustrated, Tara stood and stepped to the door.
"We're not giving interviews!" she shouted.
“Mrs. Moyer? My name is Asa. I'm the man that helped you at the mall.”
Tara put her hand to her mouth. This man knew something about Catee, she was sure of it. But Ethan had said not to allow anyone in. She considered for a moment, glancing over her shoulder to be sure that Ethan wasn't watching, then she opened the door a crack. Asa peered at her through the sliver.
“Mrs. Moyer, it’s urgent that I speak to you. You’re in terrible danger. Catee is in terrible danger.”
/> Tara's face grew wary. “What kind of danger?”
Asa looked over his shoulder before speaking in a quieter tone.
“I can’t explain through the door. Please, let me inside. I mean you no harm.”
Tara believed that Asa meant no harm. The only thing staying her hand was Ethan's missive. She glanced over her shoulder again and then closed the door and removed the chain.
CHAPTER SIX
Tara fidgeted, her eyes darting back and forth between Asa and Ethan as she fumbled through an introduction.
“Ethan, this is Asa. He’s the man that helped us at the mall today.”
Ethan eyed the monk, thankful for his help but also sizing him up. Asa was ordinarily a neat, humble man. But since he'd met Tara and Catee, his life had been suddenly filled with apprehension and the burden of duty. He was still a bit frayed.
"Thanks for your help." Ethan's tone was wary. "Have a seat."
"You're welcome. It was my duty," Asa said, kindly taking the offer. Tara was too nervous to sit, instead hovering in the background, leaning against the stove.
"We appreciate it," Ethan said, tugging his wallet from his back pocket and opening it.
Asa shook his head. "Oh... no Mr. Moyer. I don't want money," he explained.
Ethan stared at him for a moment before putting his wallet away. "Well, forgive me for being direct but it's been a really long day so... what do you want?"
Asa considered how to answer that. He'd never had to have a conversation such as this. "I want for your family to be safe," he said, not displeased with the opener.
"Okay," Ethan said, obviously tired. He nodded to direct Asa to continue.
"Mr. Moyer, I am a monk. I serve the Chronica du Militia Christi."
Ethan rolled his eyes fearing this was about to get preachy.
"I am able to provide you and your family with certain protections. You see, my Order believes that Catee is..."