Blessed by Sapphires (A Dance with Destiny Book 2) (5 page)

Chapter 7

Rankin

(RANK-en)

The blaring cruiser did nothing to slow my pace. Rankin even tried to pull in front of me. I effortlessly jumped over the hood and continued walking.

Tony’s amplified voice yelled out to me. “Jenevier, you forgot your book!”

Those five little words halted my determined gate. I turned to face the stopped car just as Tony was getting out with his hands up in a sign of peaceful surrender.

“Now, just calm down a minute. I didn’t drag you all this way to fight with you. Come on back. We’ll get a bite to eat and you can be on your way,” he reasoned.

I narrowed my eyes as I gave him a level stare. “With my books?”

“Of course, with your books. Just get in the car and ride back to Marlow. If you do this, I promise I’ll never bother you again.”

My skepticism was as clear on my face as it was in my words. “You promise me this? On your honor? As a warrior?”

“Yes, I promise.” Tony held up his right hand. “I swear it.”

“I
will
hold you to that vow.” I leveled my glare. “Understand?”

Tony smiled. “As you say, Milady.”

I rolled my eyes then. He half chuckled.

Tony stepped aside as I slid in the front seat, scooting over hip to hip with the angry, sandy-haired sheriff. I felt bad for how I’d acted, truly.

“Apologies for my outburst, Sheriff Hart. I would never have harmed you, not on purpose.”

He snorted at my words. “You never would’ve gotten the chance,” he grumbled to himself.

I only smiled, knowingly.

“…Hey?”

I turned to look at Tony when he spoke.

“So, was that Vashti back there?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes again. “Do not speak of things you do not understand and look down your nose upon, Tony Delvado.”

“No, I wasn’t making fun.”

I didn’t answer him. I only glanced back out the dirty windshield, chewing on my bottom lip.

“Seriously.” He lightly bumped me with his shoulder. “I just wanted to know, Jenevier. No offense was intended.”

I only sighed. The thought of Vashti, the raw anger, the warming channeling sensation, and the restless fragment of a soul stirring within me… they were all haunting reminders of what I once was but never could be again.

“No, Tony. Only a pure heart and an innocent soul can contain a mask as powerful as Vashti. I have neither.”

*****

The diner in which we sat was full of dusty old worn-out patrons leading dusty old worn-out lives. They all had the same sun-squinted look. Tired, sapped, not a live spark among them.

Forgoing lunch, Rankin had dropped us off, choosing instead to read my prophetic words in private. I could still see the ruby flash of his break lights as he turned the corner. The poignant vision seared those crimson dots upon my heart. He drove away, my paper treasure now occupying my spot on the seat beside him. The thought made my tummy hurt. Food was the last thing on my mind.

“Is it this hot, dry place that drains them so? Or is it the jobs they do here?” I asked.

Tony looked around at the other customers, shrugged his shoulders, and spoke before he’d completely swallowed his chicken fried steak. “Eh, they look fine to me.”

The little brass bell hanging over the door rang, pulling my attention to the sandy-haired sheriff as he entered. He was taking slow, deliberate steps. As if weights were tied about his ankles. His eyes were no longer squinted but wide with amazement, perhaps. I couldn’t be certain. One thing I did know, they were fixed firmly upon me and that set off alarms all over the place.

I slowly rose from our dining booth, cautiously stepping back from the advancing warrior. My fingertips tingled painfully, my back arched like a cat’s.

“It’s you.” His words started out as a barely audible whisper, but grew with each approaching step. “You’re the one I saw that night. It was definitely your hair and your face. But… your
eyes
, they were different.”

When Tony heard Rankin’s voice, he looked up to find me retreating and the good sheriff advancing as if he were in a trance. Tony jumped up, blocking his way.

“Hey guys, I thought this was something we were going to discuss back at the station? Check please,” he yelled to the waitress.

The nervous young girl left our slip of paper as all the dusty old patrons looked to their sheriff and then to me. This was uncomfortable for everyone, and I didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on. A rumbling growl was already in my throat when Tony grabbed both my arms, shaking me gently, pulling my gaze back to him, calming me almost instantly.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s go for a stroll, you and me. Okay?” He smiled and I obediently followed his lead.

*****

The tiny little room in the back of the sheriff’s office seemed even smaller as Tony began speaking. Rankin sat at the metal table. I stood in the corner with my back to the wall, while Tony paced from one end to the other.

“It’s been several years ago now, Jenevier. Rankin and I were on patrol downtown when the cryptic call came into the station house. The informant wouldn’t leave his name and the call couldn’t be traced to any number in existence. But because of the unbelievably horrid allegations, we were compelled to check it out. Rankin here was the first one up the many flights of stairs. He was young and headstrong, wouldn’t wait for backup. Anyways, he kicked the apartment door open… and was never the same.”

Rankin had tears streaming down his dusty face, each one leaving a muddy little trail to mark its passing. He stared, unseeing, as his cracking voice filled in what happened next.

“There were so many of them. The first thing that got me… was the smell. Filth, waste, and blood all miserably mixed together. I can still taste it in the back of my throat. The bitter memory pulls me from sleep, plays about in my mind, always… that smell.” His nose wrinkled up at the recollection. “In the very center of that demented apartment were thirteen pitiful little angels… clinging tightly to one perfectly beautiful Angel who was trying desperately to hold them all in her tiny arms. I only got a glimpse.” He focused on me then. “Before her eyes flashed like brake lights, and she was gone.”

“Yeah.” Tony laughed. “Bless their little hearts. All we heard that night was the story about the warm, beautiful lady Angel who killed the bad man just by pointing at him, and the giant glowing boy Angel who tried to make her leave.”

Tony took the seat beside Rankin as horrible memories and evil recollections twisted their faces.

I could hold my words in no longer. “Did you find all their mommies and daddies? Did you give them something to eat? Did you clean Billy up and put fresh clothes on him? Did they all get to sleep in their own beds and play with their own toys that night? Did the trembling, broken little girl that wicked man raped… did you find her parents as well? Was there someone to hold her and love her and protect her? Does she yet live?”

Both sets of painful tear-filled eyes were on me.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, Jenevier, sure. We took them to the hospital. One by one, their worried parents came in and scooped them up in their arms,” Tony whispered.

“Yeah, and every crying parent got the exact same story,
your
story,” Rankin added.

“Rankin here, he had a rough go of it for a while. He told everyone about your flaming eyes and he wondered why you weren’t at all those other hundreds of crime scenes we worked the next couple of years.”

I reached a trembling hand toward the silently weeping warrior, barely touching his sleeve. “I could only execute those whom God determined were past the point of repentance. But there are many Vanir. I was not alone. They are there, Rankin, always are they there. You just can’t always see them. That was my very first taste of unexplainable human evil.” I absently rubbed a tiny bit of his sleeve between my thumb and forefinger. “Vittorio tried to make me leave before you got there. I just couldn’t let go of her.” I was no longer focusing on the two men sitting there. My eyes were blurred with pooling tears. “I wanted to stay and hold her forever. I wanted to take her back with me, let her swim in the healing waters of our holy city.”

“Sarah. Her name’s Sarah Wilson. She’d been abducted from a school soccer field in Harrison, Missouri. She’s in high school now and doing quite well. She’s on the honor roll, told me she wanted to go to work for the FBI when she gets out of college.” Rankin spoke through the proud smile spreading warmly across his weary face.

“That’s wonderful. I cried many nights for those precious little babies. I prayed there was someone on this layer who would love them, help them heal.” I didn’t even bother wiping my many tears. They had started to flow from sorrow, yes. But now… they were tiny droplets of joy.

“So you see, Rankin, after reading her fantastic story, I just had to jump on a plane and bring this pretty young lady out here to meet you.” Tony slapped the younger man on the shoulder and leaned back in his chair.

“But how?” Rankin wondered aloud as he shook his head. “How in the world did somebody make up a damn story and it all came true?”

I sniffed, finally taking Tony’s proffered kerchief, wiping clean my face. “I’m not the product of someone’s imagination, Rankin. God formed me with His own majestic hands.” I looked up at the ceiling, drawing in a haggard breath, trying to fill my lungs and clear my mind. “The only thing I can think of is… there must be a seer or prophet living here on layer eight. We have many gifted seers in Ashgard. Someone here must be blessed as well.”

“I always thought psychics were full of horseshit, myself,” Rankin muttered.

“Eh, Rankin, we all have strange unexplainable dreams now and then. They gotta come from somewhere. And how do you explain mother’s intuition or the eerie connections between twins?” Tony said. “That don’t mean they’re psychic though. More than likely, some writer had a weird dream and wrote it all down. That’s all.”

“But, how could they have a dream about what we were actually living through back then?” Rankin shook his head. “That don’t make no sense.”

“Perhaps they…”

I was no longer listening to their strange little tête-à-tête. Their mumbling words were as background noise to my inner memoirs. I smiled. Joy lit a spark within me, and it grew. My lonely heart warmed at the sight of these two mundane, yet noble warriors, vainly trying to take divine power in stride. Trying desperately to explain away magic for their own sanity’s sake.

I couldn’t help myself. “Probably just those damn Pixies.”

Chapter 8

Jenevier

(ZHEN-ah-veer)

I sit here now on a black metal bench underneath an ancient shade tree. I’m not certain, but I think it’s called an oak. There’s a slight breeze rustling, stirring the colorful yellow, orange, and red leaves that mark the eighth layer’s autumn season.

I remained only a few short sweltering days in Marlow with Tony and Rankin. Together, they had remembered the names of all thirteen children abducted and abused in that filthy Detroit apartment.

It seems there was an intricate ring of child thieves working across this land. The wicked group transported their precious cargo to Detroit where they were photographed and sold, for various evil reasons, to bidders living across the entire eighth layer realm. Because of the thirteen rescued that night, twenty-two others were recovered and returned to their parents. Seven had tragically died due to horrible treatment, and four others were simply gone without a trace. It was those four that haunted Rankin. The loss of those four tiny souls forced him to leave the big city. He could not be thankful for the thirty-five little angels saved if there remained four still alive—crying themselves to sleep at night, begging for love but receiving only bruises in place of hugs. It was easy for me to see how a man could quite literally go mad if his mind remained on such things.

I have been sitting here for hours now. I arrived in Harrison around noon. The decision to wait has left me little else to do save write and continue to listen to my broken heart. The tears now soaking my feeble heart are what led my feet back up north, even though I detest these Northern temperatures. Perhaps… if I’m blessed, I may still have time to make it down to the Gulf Shores before the first snowflake catches me.

The school’s actually quite lovely. It looks historic in comparison to the nearby businesses and homes. The brick is a deep red chestnut, what you can see of it. Magical looking ivy has woven itself intricately up the ancient walls, leaving only a spot here and there to mark the paned windows. The sign at the main gate had read ‘private all-girls school’ in smaller letters underneath the much larger wording of the actual name. I will not record said name here for fear someone may yet be looking for Sarah.

Now that I’m here, I wonder how I’ll know which girl she could possibly be. There must be hundreds of them in that giant old building. Yet, even if I don’t see her or speak to her, my heart feels fuller just knowing she’s near, knowing she has healed.

My quest draws near its end. The bells are ringing and students are flooding out the main doors. The tall iron fence encompassing the lush property has a manned gate standing sentinel at both the entrance and the exit. I’m very proud of her loving parents for choosing this school. I feel much better now.

From this distance, I can’t tell the girls one from the other. Cars are slowly leaving the gates as laughing teenagers pile into vehicles with attentive parents. Yes, I feel
much
better now.

They drive slowly past, curious eyes marking my presence, heads turning, drinking in my form. This hadn’t crossed my mind, but I wonder if I’m making them nervous? A complete stranger, staring at their school, sitting on a bench, writing in a journal. I probably should have thought this through a little better. As I write to you now, Reader, the glowing brake lights of a car cast a faint glow upon this page. Yes, I should have thought this one through. I’d better be moving along. Never did I think I would miss being invisible.

When the passenger door swung open, a tall girl with long glistening brown hair stepped out. She didn’t move, only stared at me for a long moment. I stood, keeping my eyes lowered. With my back to her searching gaze, I made my retreat. Then I heard her precious voice.

“Angel? Angel, is that you?”

I slowly turned, intent upon seeing the eyes of the girl now speaking, when I heard the quick clicking noise of her hard soled shoes echoing off the pavement. When finally I faced her, she was already upon me, arms stretched wide, a brilliant smile sparkling in her eyes and spread gloriously across her lovely face. She was a good five inches taller than me. When she slammed into me, wrapping her eager arms around my tiny shoulders, it was all I could do to stay upright.

“Sarah?” I whispered.

The beautiful young lady pulled back from me, showing the tears streaming down her happy face.

“I always knew you’d come back. I’ve looked for your face in every crowd,” she said through her smile. “No one believed us, not truly. But I never forgot those golden curls and that deliciously encompassing scent. Never have I smelled anything like you, Angel, and never will I forget it. The comforting aroma of pure rose petals mixed with… with… heaven.” She squeezed me until it hurt.

Holding Sarah in my arms again was the most pure and glorious thing I’d felt since the time I had held her as a babe. She is so beautiful, inside and out. Her childhood horrors hadn’t turned her into a monster, an addict, or a drain on society. On the contrary. She had grown into an intelligent young woman, one with plans to enter the legal profession. My heart swells with the news. She is unwittingly choosing the path of the Vanir.

Sarah plans to become an expert criminal analyst with the Federal Bureau of Investigation here on layer eight. I laughed when she told me her mission was to hunt down and destroy each and every monster who dared to harm a child. When she shared her dreams with me, I held her and we both cried. In that very moment, I knew Sarah had become like my own blood, my own daughter. And she was following in her mother’s footsteps. I know she’ll be a mighty warrior for her people and I couldn’t possibly be any more proud of
my
little Angel.

Sarah wasn’t the only one. I was lucky enough to be invited to her survivor’s reunion. Every year on the day of their rescue, all thirteen precious little babies come back together to share in their lives, in their successes, in their failures, but most of all in their bonded love for each other.

I was blessed beyond all hope simply being there with each of them. Every single one had grown up with a passionate internal mission to protect the weak. They are following many honorable paths. They confided dreams such as being pediatricians, teachers, law enforcement, psychiatrists, counselors… all thirteen will one day become angelic warriors for innocence and justice.

When I left Sarah, Billy, and all my other precious children that day, everything clicked and fell neatly into place.

Each person, no matter their layer, has an honorable and ethereal destiny. Some may lose their way and need a little angelic guidance. Some may be hindered by the demons inhabiting their realm, requiring assistance that only my brothers and sisters can provide. But no matter who, no matter when, and no matter where… each mortal being has a divine purpose.
Mine
is to ensure they are allowed to achieve
theirs
. Such is the will of God.

Now I understood, truly understood. I had single-handedly saved thirteen powerful Guardians who would help ensure the future of layer eight. And, I had also single-handedly destroyed the one and only person who could ensure the future of layer four.

My father had once told me, “If a single life holds no value, then none are of worth.”

Everyone matters, every… single… person… matters. It has nothing to do with what the eyes see. Varick taught me that. It’s not the wrapper. It’s the gift inside that’s precious. God placed a precious gift inside every soul. It’s their right and responsibility to use that gift to the best of their knowledge. And it was my right and responsibility to guarantee they got their chance to use it. It had always been about them, never about me. Yes, I protect them. But I cannot force them to use their talent. They alone carry that burden.

I laughed aloud when this simple little thought clearly popped in my head…
The executioner is ruled by loving compassion.
I am God’s compassionate executioner, not his vengeful assassin. My compassion for all humanity was to vanquish the evil hindering its progress. This, I realized, I had always known. But only now did I understand. And
that’s
what makes the difference… the understanding.

I was no longer full of self-pity and doubt. If my new destiny was to be a Guardian here on layer eight, then I would be the best servant mankind had ever been blessed with. Now that I was visible to and pretty much accepted by the eighth layer people, it was time for me to use my talents. It was time for me to
unwrap
the precious gift God had blessed me with. If those little children can overcome the atrocities of their youth, I have no excuse but to do the same. I may have saved their tiny little bodies all those years ago, but
they
had saved my tiny little soul this very day.

“Every mortal is responsible for their own path, their own destiny.”

The moment those sweet words fell from my trembling lips, I felt a swelling pain rising inside me, threatening to burst me from within. I was trying to catch my breath, starting to think perhaps I was having one of those panic attack thingies people on this layer are always talking about. A flood started in my chest, exploding outward through the whole of my body.

Then I heard it, the pounding in my ears. It was the glorious sound of blood rushing within me once more. That little fluttering sliver of a soul was swelling, growing until I was certain this body could not contain the whole of it, couldn’t contain the whole of
me
.

I fell upon my hands and knees and blissfully suffered through the pain of being recreated, of being
remade
.

I relished in the tremendous ache, this all-encompassing pain of being reborn, for it… was… glorious.