“Ready for your last lesson?” he asked.
“Uh, sure, I guess.” My mind was reeling trying to make sense of what Teddy had just told me about Peter. I didn’t know what to feel. Sad because Peter had lost someone he loved? Happy because I apparently helped him get over his enduring misery? Confused because I had no idea how Peter felt about me? I felt schizophrenic with emotion.
“Okay,” Teddy began, “so when you want to teleport yourself back up to Archives, just focus on the Time Keeper. Do you have a picture of it in your head?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then, go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
* * *
Teddy and I arrived in the Archives to find a very concerned-looking Peter and another male figure waiting for us.
“Miss me?” I asked drolly. He ignored my attempt at humor and glared at Teddy.
“You’re late,” Peter said.
“Sorry, boss. Little Bo Peep over here just had a few questions.” Teddy looked at me out of the corner of his eye and winked. “But she’s got a pretty good handle on phasing and teleportation. She’s a quick study.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.” Teddy’s progress report seemed to relax Peter some. The features of his face softened and he flashed me a playful smile. “So, Bo Peep, are you ready for your next lesson?”
“Bo Peep, huh? Are you planning to make this nickname stick around for a while or are you just having some fun at my expense because we’re late?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t quite decided yet.” Peter chuckled and extended a hand out to Teddy. “Thank you, my old friend.” Teddy and Peter exchanged their farewells and Teddy flashed a sly look at Peter who just nodded. Again, I couldn’t figure out what they were saying to each other. It was like they were speaking in a code I didn’t know how to decipher. I looked at the man standing next to Peter to see if I could read his face, but his expression gave away nothing. He either had a really great poker face or had no idea what the two of them were talking about either … Or maybe he just didn’t care.
“It was my pleasure, Petey. But I can already tell that this one’s a handful.” Teddy flashed me a big smile and winked at me again. “She’s all yours, Eli,” he then said to the figure standing next to Peter.
Faster than the speed of light, Teddy was gone.
* * *
It turned out that Eli was my defensive strategies teacher. He was petite in stature, being not much taller than me and not much bigger than me either. He wore a charcoal grey, velour jumpsuit and white socks—but no shoes. He looked to be in his early forties, but it was difficult to know for sure. Eli was a man of few words. In fact, compared to Teddy, it was like Eli had taken a vow of silence.
After a quick introduction by Peter, Eli took my hand and teleported me outside of the Archives to a small field adjacent to the English garden. I had no idea if I ever had any martial arts or self-defense training while I was alive, but I seemed to pick up Eli’s teachings with relative ease. In addition to practicing several basic self-defense techniques used in various different martial arts, Eli also showed me how to disarm someone who was holding a gun, a knife, a tire iron, and a baseball bat.
For situations where I didn’t have time to disarm an assailant, or was unsuccessful in my attempt to do so, Eli taught me how to do selective phasing, or phasing out only part of my body, so that the weapon used had no point of contact with me.
Eli made me practice selective phasing with my eyes shut, which I didn’t like at all. But after one near hit with a bat aimed at my head, I paid much closer attention to the telltale sounds of an approaching weapon.
I also learned that I was much stronger than any human being. I easily bent tire irons and snapped two-by-fours in half.
“This is awesome!” I exclaimed when I crumbled a cement brick between the palms of my hands. I didn’t care what Peter said—this was very much like being a superhero.
My least favorite part of the lesson was learning how to absorb and withstand blows. Despite being a man of few words, Eli did explain that there could come a time when I would have to step in front of my “sheep” and take a blow for him or her if I couldn’t disarm the assailant in time.
“Here, take this knife and thrust it into my abdomen,” Eli instructed while placing a dagger in my right hand. He took off his velour jacket and exposed his naked torso.
“You want to me to do what?” I exclaimed in alarm.
“Do it,” Eli urged.
“No way!” I protested vehemently.
“Do it!” he demanded. He held his arms up towards the sky, closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and waited for me to stab him. But I couldn’t. I just stood there, frozen.
A few seconds passed before Eli realized that I wasn’t going to do his bidding. He opened his eyes and glared at me. Frustrated, he dropped his hands and took a step closer towards me. Before I could react, he grabbed my right hand and shoved the knife into his stomach. I heard it rip through his skin as I felt the knife enter his body. Instantly, I let go of the weapon, jumped backwards, and screamed. Horrified, I didn’t dare to look down at the knife sticking out of his abdomen. I could only see his pain-stricken face. Sheer panic set in.
Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap! my mind was shouting. I had no idea what I should do.
I was about to scream for Peter’s help when I noticed Eli’s abdomen begin to glow. I looked down out of the corner of my eye and saw one hand hover over the wound as the other hand slowly extracted the knife from his body. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open in awe.
In less than a minute’s time, Eli was healed. I examined the wound—or where it should have been—but there was no trace of any injury, not even a scar.
“I … don’t understand. How did you … What in the world just happened? I mean, I stabbed you. I’m sure of it. I felt the knife … I saw it go into you. I saw your face,” I rambled on, practically begging with my eyes for Eli to give me some answers.
“Getting injured does not have to be the end for us. As long as our minds remain conscious, and as long as we remain calm and focused, we can heal ourselves,” he remarked calmly.
“We can heal ourselves?” Rage set in. “Well couldn’t you have told me that before we conducted this little exercise?”
“Yes.” Eli flashed me a smug little grin. He actually enjoyed scaring the daylights out of me. I thought about stabbing him again, but I mustered up enough self-control to refrain from doing so.
“Well, I sure hope it was better for you than it was for me,” I said venomously. Eli was still smiling when Peter arrived.
I’ll take that as a “yes,” I said to myself.
* * *
“That was not funny, Peter.” I was still seething when we returned to the Time Keeper in the Archives.
“Eve, I’m sorry. I should have warned you about Eli; he has a rather sadomasochistic sense of humor.” Peter was trying his best not to smile but failing miserably.
“Go ahead—get it out of your system,” I said, annoyed.
“You should have seen your face.” Peter busted out laughing. “It was truly priceless,” he spit out.
“You mean you watched me suffer out there and you did nothing to help me?” Rage erupted within me again.
“Correct me if I’m wrong … but you weren’t the one with a knife sticking out of your gut,” Peter sputtered out in between laughs.
“Unbelievable. Has anyone told you that you’re all a bunch of lunatics?”
“Oh come on, Eve. Cut us a little slack. It’s not often that we get new faces up here. It’s hard for us not to take advantage of such opportunities when they present themselves.”
“Is that what I am to all of you?” I asked angrily. “An opportunity to be taken advantage of? So tell me—just how do you plan on taking advantage of me?”
“Eve, you have it all wrong.” Peter had stopped laughing.
“Then explain it to me,” I demanded.
&
nbsp; “Eve, you are my mentee, my student. I’m here to help prepare you for your assignments the best way I know how. Look, I know that Eli can seem a little medieval, but his teaching methods are time-tested and proven to be effective. Eli has good shock value. He forces you to be in a frame of mind similar to what you’d experience during a real attack. Panic and stress are unavoidable in traumatic situations. You have to be able to think clearly and always be ready for surprises—”
“I’m not talking about Eli, or his shock value. I’m talking about you.”
“Eve, I’m not sure what you mean.” Peter shifted uncomfortably.
“Peter, do you only see me as your mentee?” I closed the distance between us, so he couldn’t avoid making eye contact with me.
“Well, I do hope I’m not interrupting anything,” said a sweet, melodic voice from behind me. I turned around to see an elegant, middle-aged woman in an impeccably tailored linen pantsuit.
“No, not at all, Agnes. As usual, you’re right on time.” I heard the relief in Peter’s voice as he backed away from me a few steps. “Eve just returned from her lesson with Eli, and she’s a little … shaken up.”
“Oh, Peter, when are you going to tell Eli to stop doing that awful ‘stab me’ thing. It’s really nothing more than a platform for him to show off.”
“Eve, I must apologize on the behalf of my colleagues.” Agnes walked over to me and took both of my hands in hers. “You know what they say: men will be boys—and truer words could not be spoken about these fine gentlemen. Eli’s lessons are real, but what these boys will neglect to tell you is that Eli never really gets hurt. It’s all a trick—an illusion he creates in your mind. Then these boys get together and chuckle about you young ones and your reactions to Eli’s supposed injury for decades to come. It’s absolutely juvenile.” She cast a maternal glance at Peter that seemed to say, “What am I going to do with you?”
“Now, first things first,” she added, turning her gaze back towards me. “I don’t know what Peter has told you about me, but I’m Agnes. I will be teaching you the art of healing. It certainly is a pleasure to meet you, my child.”
“Likewise,” I responded. I liked Agnes already. She had a very nurturing face—not to mention, she clearly had no reservations about busting the “boys.”
“So let’s leave these boys to their games and go somewhere a little more delightful, shall we?” Agnes took my hand and smiled at me. I closed my eyes and wondered where she would be taking me. Suddenly, I could hear waves crashing over rocks.
“Go ahead and materialize, Eve,” Agnes directed.
As soon as I did, the smell of the tropical ocean air overwhelmed my senses. I could almost feel the salt collecting on my skin. Warm water rushed up over my feet and then receded, causing the sand to tickle my toes as it was carried out by the current. I opened my eyes to discover that I was standing on a black sand beach tucked away in a little cove. The beach was small, surrounded by ocean caves; stone arches; and low sea cliffs covered in a lush, green blanket of tropical trees, plants, and flowers.
“Where are we?” I asked in awe.
“In Maui—on Wai’anapanapa Beach, to be exact,” Agnes responded. “The beach is said to be a sacred place with sorrowfully romantic ties. I come here from time to time when I want to slow down a bit, think, or just relax.”
“It’s amazing. It’s so peaceful, so … perfect.”
“Exactly,” Agnes sighed, taking it all in.
“Well, Eve,” she said, clapping her hands together, “I fear we don’t have much time, so I think the best thing to do is begin with your lesson. Agree?”
I nodded affirmatively.
“Okay then, my child, why don’t you close your eyes again and tell me what you hear.”
I did as Agnes instructed. The sounds of the rainforest and the ocean filled my head. I could hear the ocean waves as the tide was rising. I could hear the saltwater-filled breeze rustling its way though the trees. I followed the sound of the wind deeper into the rainforest where I could hear cascading waterfalls … and animals. I could definitely hear lots of animals—birds squawking; mongooses scurrying about; wild boar snorting; and a seemingly satisfied, well-fed, feral cat purring nearby.
Something caught my attention out in the ocean—the melancholy song of a humpback whale. I opened my eyes and scanned the surface of the ocean only to see water shooting out of a whale’s blowhole about a half mile from the coastline. Every animal seemed so healthy, so free, so … alive. A pang of jealously darted through me.
Eve, get a grip, my mind snapped at me. You can’t possibly be jealous of animals! You’re lucky enough to have been given any kind of second chance, much less one like this.
My self-admonishment was cut off by the sound of a very faint gurgling. Something was wrong; whatever was making that sound wasn’t well.
“Agnes, do you hear that?” I asked apprehensively.
“From which direction is the noise coming?” Agnes asked calmly.
I closed my eyes and zeroed in on the origin of the sound.
“From over there!” I yelled as I ran towards a pile of rocks at the water’s edge. Agnes was already there by the time I reached the shoreline.
“Oh, I guess I could have teleported myself here,” I muttered, feeling a little silly.
“In due time, my child. This is all so new to you.”
I looked down to see a young, injured sea turtle. I felt the turtle’s instinctive need for self-preservation as it helplessly gasped for breath after breath. I was hit with what seemed like another moment of déjà vu—all I could see were blinding bright lights. My mind shuddered at the thought, but now was not the time to figure out what was going on in my head. The sea turtle’s aura was so faint. I had an undeniable urge to help the baby turtle … to heal it. But how? I looked at Agnes.
“Please teach me how to save this little guy,” I begged.
“Eve, place one of your hands about an inch or so over the turtle,” Agnes instructed. I quickly did as told.
“Good,” she continued. “Now I want you to focus on the turtle’s body. I want you to find the source of its injury.”
“How do I do that?” I asked frantically.
“Just concentrate on the turtle’s heat signature—where is it the weakest?”
I focused all of my attention on the tiny little body barely struggling before me. I scanned the turtle from its head to the tips of its flippers, over and over, trying to find the source of its pain, until I noticed that its signature was weakest on its underside. I gently rolled the turtle over and gasped when I saw that the turtle had been impaled by fishing hook. The turtle looked up at me, like it was silently pleading for me to help it.
“Now what?” I half-shouted at Agnes, anxiously bouncing on the heels of my feet.
“Take a deep breath and ever so gently remove the hook from the turtle’s neck. Then place your hand an inch or so over the open wound and focus on healing it. You’ll know when you are doing it correctly.”
I took a deep breath and a big leap of faith. I carefully removed the hook from the near-lifeless body on the sand and then quickly concentrated all my efforts on healing the turtle. As my hand hovered over the helpless creature, its body began to glow. It took me a second to realize that the turtle wasn’t actually glowing; rather, its wet body was merely reflecting the amber glow emanating from beneath my hand. Almost immediately, the turtle began desperately kicking its flippers back and forth as it tried to roll over onto its stomach. I pulled my hand away, afraid I was hurting it. Just then a big wave crashed over the rocks and flipped the little guy over. The turtle swam out to sea, carried away by the wave as it receded.
“Oh no!” I gasped.
“What could be wrong, my child? You just saved that sea turtle’s life,” Agnes announced proudly.
“I did? … But it started kicking—I thought I was hurting it.”
“Oh, poppycock! You accomplished quite the opposite effect. You healed th
e turtle and it was ready to heed the irresistible call of the ocean once again.” Agnes smiled in approval.
“But … it happened so fast. I saw my hand glowing and then … then the turtle was gone.”
“It was a small animal, so it did not require you to expend much of your healing energy.”
“Huh,” was all that I could muster. I allowed myself a moment to bask in the glory of saving the turtle before standing up to see if I could catch one last glimpse of it in the water. Once upright, however, I was hit with a dizzy spell.
“Ah, but it did require enough of your energy that you need to sit for a minute and let yourself rest.” Agnes reached up for my hand and helped me back down to a nearby rock to sit. “The power required to heal a living being will take its toll on you; it will drain you of your strength,” Agnes cautioned.
“So how much of my energy will be drained if I heal a larger animal or a—”
“Human?” She finished my question. “The healing process is the same for all creatures, including humans. However, the larger the animal, or the more critical the injury sustained, the more energy will be required to heal it.” She paused for a moment before continuing.
“I must tell you, Shepherds rarely ever use this power—the goal being, of course, that we never find ourselves in a position of needing to use it. Healing a human will risk exposing your true identity. And, of course, there is always the danger of draining too much of your own strength in the process. Without your strength, even for a limited period of time, you will be rendered defenseless to protect yourself—or carry out your assignment. You will be incapable of guarding your human against the dangers that wait quietly and patiently in the wings, ready to strike when you make a mistake. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I mean, I’m pretty sure I do,” I said thoughtfully. “If I’m on assignment, and I use my power to heal, my charge is essentially a sitting duck for the duration of time it takes for me to regain my strength.”
“As are you,” Agnes warned as she stood up and brushed off some of the black sand that clung to her linen pant leg before offering her hand to help me up. Once on my feet, she linked her arm with mine and began leading me back to the middle of the sandy beach.
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