by Keith Holmes
"How your boo boo?" she asked again. He didn't know if she was that deeply concerned or if she was doing it out of boredom.
"It's still fine, sweetie," he reassured.
"No Daddy, it bad," she insisted, giving the bandage the same stare she'd given it before. He took her into his arms and turned her so that her back was to his belly.
"No," he said, scold in his voice. "It hurts you baby. I don't want to see that. This will heal all by itself, no magic."
"No Daddy...," she began just as a knock came to the door. He leapt from his seat, sitting Catee on the couch. The anger he'd been building all day began to roil inside him, ready to give his wife a good chewing. But as he made the short trip worry filled his belly. What if it wasn't her? As he swung it open wide his concerns were realized. Salim and Jahleel looked nearly as worried as he.
“Have you seen…” Salim and Ethan began speaking at once, each interrupting the other.
“Why aren’t you out following my wife?” he grunted, nodding angrily at Jahleel. The knight's brow grew heavy with worry.
“Tara left?” Salim asked. Ethan grew angrier and turned toward the monk, poking a finger in his chest.
“You said that my family would be SAFE!”
Salim raised his hands to try to calm the angry husband.
“Mr. Moyer, why did you allow her to leave?”
Ethan’s voice grew to a growl as he began pounding his thick finger into Salim’s chest.
“You said that that this son of a bitch would be watching!" Salim was forced back by Ethan’s strong jabs. Jahleel stepped forward aggressively. Somewhere in the background a little voice, unnoticed by the party, chimed in.
“Daddy, we don’t say bad words!”
Ethan caught Jahleel's movement through the corner of his eye and reacted as Salim attempted to diffuse.
“Please, Mr. Moyer… calm down for a moment…”
But Ethan’s ears had closed as his rage built.
“WHADDA-YOU-GONNA-DO?!!?” he barked, and his opened hand jetted toward Jahleel’s chest to force him back. But reaching out to strike the Vigilant is rarely a good decision. Ethan’s eyes could record only a blur; his ears registering only Salim’s surprise as he shouted.
“JAHLEEL!”
When his vision returned to him he found that he was facing a wall, his face pressed to it by a powerful fist balled with the hair on the back of his head. A shooting pain threatened his contorted wrist and shoulder, his arm twisted behind his back. He struggled once, just to test how well he was held. The jolt through his arm forced him to quickly retreat.
“Mr. Moyer, your daughter is watching!” Salim hissed with outrage.
“Tell him to let go of me!” Ethan sputtered, having difficulty speaking with his jaw smashed flat against the wall. He could see that Catee was indeed watching, standing just inside the doorway as her sad eyes looked onward. Embarrassed and humiliated, Ethan stopped struggling and his voice softened.
“Let go of me.”
"Jahleel, unhand him," Salim demanded. Slowly Jahleel stepped away. Ethan turned to face the men and nearly reached for his wrist to rub it but pride reminded him that he shouldn’t give Jahleel ‘the pleasure’. Salim spoke before the two combatants could engage one another again.
“How long ago did she leave?”
“An hour? Two hours? I'm not sure. My watch is in Chicago.” Ethan said, gaze finding the floor.
“Did she say where she was going?”
“She’s had Paris up her ass for as long as I’ve known her. Food, clothes… you know. She said she was going to the tower but... ”
“Ethan, Jahleel and I will find your wife. I trust that you and Catee will stay here and await our return?” Salim promised.
Ethan didn’t like the suggestion but he wasn’t in a position to argue. Nodding softly he finally lifted his eyes to Salim again.
“Yeah… but if I don’t hear from one of you by nightfall, I’m going to find her myself.”
“Everything will be all right. Trust in the Lord.”
Ethan rolled his eyes as he retreated back into the apartment a step or two.
“Yeah, he’s done such wonderful things for me so far.”
The monk understood the young father's doubts. He reached into his coat and produced a heavy pistol, then offered it to Ethan. He took it with a nod. To him it was a greater blessing than all the prayers in the world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Salon du’ Paris was the finest the city had to offer, a playground for the elite where no expense was spared, no request denied. Tara had breathed in every luxurious moment thus far in her surprising journey to the VIP Section of the place but she hadn’t truly heard a word spoken to her or near her for that matter; she was caught up completely in the series of moments.
It wasn’t until she was chin-deep in a mud bath, Joli at her side, that she found a moment to collect her thoughts. With soothing music in the background, a champagne flute nearby, she finally spoke more than a few dizzy, grateful words.
“At the boutique… you told them to ‘hem it up’?” The question was awkward reflecting her own quieted discomfort with what she really wanted to ask. Tara was naive, but she wasn’t stupid. She was the one that donned the dress and it was her body that measurements were taken from. Joli knew what she was trying to ask.
“That depends. Would it make you uncomfortable if I bought that dress for you?” she asked, raising a mineral-covered brow beneath two slices of cucumber. Tara froze for a moment and considered the response.
“I…. Gosh, I don’t know.”
The answer made Joli' chuckle.
“I know what you’re feeling right now Tara. You feel like a little girl lost in a dream… but the adult inside you keeps waiting for the waking; the part where you find out that I’m ‘after’ you somehow.”
Tara didn’t speak. Indeed, everything Joli had said reflected her thoughts and feelings as a mirror. She was afraid to answer in fact, worried that any answer might bring this dream to an end.
“Let me tell you a little story,” Joli began, letting Tara’s silence serve as her answer, “a story about who I really am. Like you, I grew up in Chicago; just another average girl lost in a man’s world. My mom and dad were supportive… when they were home. Mostly they just wanted to live their lives and let me live mine. I wasn’t trouble or anything like that. Just you know, average.”
Tara nodded softly even though Joli couldn’t see it.
“In high school I caught the eye of the ‘Big Man on Campus’ a quarterback named Derrick that made all the girls swoon. It took the sacrifice of my virginity to do it but I managed to reel him in and even keep him happy, long enough for him to propose. I knew in my heart, invisible girl that I was, that I had arrived. Finally my life had direction. I’d live for Derrick and in turn he’d live for me. But it doesn’t work that way does it?”
The two shared a sigh as Tara removed the cucumber slices from her eyes and gave Joli her full attention. Thus far the beautiful woman’s story had been frighteningly similar to her own.
“I worked as a waitress to put him through college, filling in the gaps that his scholarship didn’t manage. Ever try being a wife to a college football player? But I was so sure that he was my only hope for a future, I put up with the infidelities, the lies, the verbal abuse." Joli paused for a moment and grew briefly distant. "After he blew out his knee and kissed professional football goodbye he turned into a real monster. I reminded him of failure. He hated failure.” Joli’s chin quivered a little as she lifted her head and recounted her pain.
Tara could feel each word as if it were her own life’s story. Ethan wasn’t as bad as Joli’s Derrick, but he had served up plenty of verbal abuse… and there was that counter-girl at the hardware store. She’d always had her suspicions.
Joli drew in a cleansing breath as she fought back the emotions bubbling in her chest. “Anyway, boo-hoo,” she offered with a chuckle, trying to take the ed
ge off the uncomfortable story. “He started hitting me. I left after he sent me to the hospital. I sat behind the ER curtain and listened to him feed them the story of how ‘I fell’. That’s when I decided it was time to go... before he killed me.”
A long silent pause inserted itself. Tara didn’t know what to say, empathy marking her face as Joli removed her vegetable night mask and looked into Tara’s eyes.
“Going home wasn’t an option. I just couldn’t go back to my parents and admit failure. I’m not sure they would have cared anyway. So I cleaned out his bank account and headed to Paris. I’ve been here ever since.”
Tara smiled at the end of the story, a triumphant feeling in the pit of her stomach though a question did shine in her eyes.
"That’s a terrible and wonderful story Joli,” Tara offered, “but…”
Joli knew the question before it was uttered and offered an answer before it could be asked.
“But how did I go from being a broke Chicago girl to where I am today?”
Tara nodded softly.
“That’s simple: Claudia.”
Tara’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Claudia?” she inquired.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Have you heard from the Priest yet?” Jahleel asked as he and Salim exited the apartment building.
“Not yet. Father Helforde is sequestered at the Papal Seat”.
Jahleel’s head drooped a bit, frustration in his face.
“Have they no sense of priority?” he asked, lifting his eyes to Salim, causing the monk to smile.
“Patience Jahleel,” Salim offered. “The Pope’s Retreat isn’t for pleasure.”
"Might be so, but it ain't for the Vigilant neither," Jahleel grumbled. Before Salim could agree, the knight paused and began looking about the street, urgency in his eyes.
“What is it?” Salim asked, recognizing his knight's trepidation.
Jahleel’s gifted eyes roamed the street, quickly at first, then slowly, more measured until they came to rest upon a young woman walking her bicycle up the sidewalk. Her gait wasn’t quickened nor was she looking to the pair; she was innocuously making her way down the street. She was dressed in tattered clothing, a shock of short cropped, blonde hair peering out from beneath a loosely worn beret. Jahleel might have let her go, writing his “feeling” off to paranoia but as she slowly passed, she made the mistake of glancing back at him. Instantly Jahleel loaded his gifted muscles. He’d crossed the street in the blink of an eye, leaping over the hood of a compact car.
The young woman quickly mounted her bicycle but he was so quick, she'd barely pressed into a pedal when a powerful grasp took hold of her collar and yanked her backwards and off her seat. Spinning the girl around in his arms, Jahleel bunched her army coat at her neckline and pushed his face into hers. She was frightened, shocked by the speed at which the Knight had managed to capture her.
Lines of anger filled his face as he barked his first, Pikey-laced French question. “Who are you!? Sponsas Draco?”
A few passer-by’s and stoop sitters had taken notice. A man in dreadlocks a short distance away shouted his disapproval. The young woman smiled when she heard it.
“What if I am Vigilant? What are you going to do? Kill me in the street?”
Jahleel stood frozen, looking to all of the various denizens who were witnessing the situation, assessing the danger of taking action against this woman in broad daylight. “Where is the woman?” he barked, tightening his grip on the young sorceress' coat threateningly. He didn't know that they had Tara. He was probing.
“In a place where you will never find her.” She winced as Jahleel cinched her collar. The dread-locked man began making his way over as he shouted for Jahleel to let the girl go.
“Best let me go Knight. You’ll have a difficult time explaining who you are to the police,” she pointed out.
Jahleel’s eyes fired like a laser to the dread-locked man then further, to the others now taking interest in this exchange. He knew that she was right. Their battle was a secret one and not for public consumption. It was a base tenet of his training. With frustration he released the girl, shoving her back a foot or two.
The dread-locked man stepped between them, noting the deathly stare they shared. Both of the combatants’ faces were filled with disgust for the other, each ignoring the good citizen that came to help diffuse the situation. The young woman picked up her bicycle and started to mount it as Jahleel spoke.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said in a voice of warning. The young woman offered a snide smile and spoke before finishing her mount.
“No you won’t. You’re losing. You and your kind have been for a thousand years.” With that she placed her feet upon the pedals and began making her way down the street. Jahleel remained frozen for a moment before turning his head toward Salim.
“Sponsas Draco,” he shouted.
The words hit Salim like a punch to the face and immediately he headed back into the apartment, disappearing through the doorway.
Jahleel watched his Chronica launch into the ‘Plan B’ they had discussed. Shoving the good Samaritan from his path, the Knight broke into a run down the street in the direction the witch had gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Ethan was beginning to calm. He sat down on the couch and pulled Catee into his lap for a little cuddle time. She did her best to console her father, placing both of her small hands on his cheeks as she spoke.
“It be okay Daddy. Mommy come home soon.” Ethan grinned as he looked into Catee’s eyes and hugged her tight.
“I know baby. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
Catee pulled out of the hug and looked into his eyes once more.
“You not yell and fight?” she asked.
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s hard for Daddy to control his temper sometimes,” he apologized.
“Just... not get mad,” she suggested.
“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled.
Both of them jumped when a pounding came to their door. Salim's muffled voice filtered through it.
"Ethan, please open the door."
Quickly the young father arose and twisted the locks, letting the monk inside. His face carried a look of burden.
“Ethan we have to go right now. We have to move you,” he said, trying to seem calm. But his hurry made Ethan wary.
“Now what?” the young father asked, frustrated.
“Please Ethan, there is no time for questions. There are parties that know you are here and so we must leave now." The monk simply didn't have time to talk Ethan into this. He looked to the young father with a plea in his eyes. “Please? Jahleel has frightened off the one watching but we don't know if there are more. Hopefully, if she was alone, they won't know you've gone.”
Ethan’s jaw squared as he nodded and stood with Catee in his arms, ready to leave then and there. The willingness to comply without a debate or a struggle caused Salim to pause, awaiting the argument he’d expected. Instead, after only a moment of confusing silence, Ethan took the lead.
“Let’s go,” he said, making his way toward the door. No one spoke until they’d climbed in Salim’s van and were on the move. “Where are we going?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence.
“To my apartment,” Salim replied, his eyes twisting around the streets and sidewalks, looking for evidence that they were being followed or spied upon.
“What about Tara?”
“We will find her,” Salim said, seeing no need to worry her husband just yet. The witch could have been lying after all. A temporary silence filled the van.
“Who’s watching us?” Ethan didn't want to ask the question. The last time something came for he and his family, it was monsters.
“Witches,” Salim answered. “They call themselves the ‘Sponsas Draco'. It is said that their coven was born with Claudia, wife of Pilate in ancient Jerusalem. Since then they have used their dark gifts to claim power from ‘behind the throne'; First as wives
of powerful men, manipulating their husbands to do their bidding, today as powerful women themselves.”
In a manner of speaking, Ethan was relieved. A pair of Wiccans had lived in his building and they were nice enough people. Of course Ethan never bothered to sort out the difference between Wiccans and other religions anymore than he separated the Chicago Bears from any other team in the NFL. For him, religiously speaking, there was Catholicism and ‘everything else’. Looking to Salim he expressed his relief.
“Well, at least it isn’t... dragon 'things'.”
Salim didn't want to alarm the young father anymore than he already had, but he felt he owed him the truth.
“No. These are the dragon's brides. That's what Sponsas Draco means. They're a very powerful organization Ethan, elites from around the world. They have at their command the means to send an Army after us… a real, true Army if they so chose.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed and he turned to look out of the window, realizing that he should take the opportunity to keep his eyes peeled for Tara. A new sense of worry for her ached in the pit of his stomach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Tara and Joli were neighbors in etched, smoked glass shower stalls, washing the mud from their bodies. Tara was curious to learn more about how her surprise benefactor had transformed her life so markedly, but she was too shy to ask. Joli didn't seem to enjoy the tale. The young mother was lathering her freshly cut hair when she heard her friend's husky voice rise above the trickling water.
“I plodded from one flop-house to the next for my first week in Paris. Derrick’s bank accounts barely got me to the city, let alone left anything for spending. After a few days, I was considering eating from garbage cans. After a few weeks I was giving serious thought to prostitution.”
Tara shot a soapy glance to Joli, surprised by the statement.
“And then I met Claudia,” Joli' smiled. “I was wandering the fashion district, just like you were today, looking at things I thought I’d never have and feeling sorry for myself. I stopped in front of a window to lust after a black dress - just like you did - when this woman, Claudia, spoke to me. I nearly ran away when I realized she was talking to me, but as I turned to go she put her hand on my shoulder and said, ‘It is beautiful, isn’t it?’”