Blessed by Sapphires (A Dance with Destiny Book 2) Read online

  “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.

  Sara
h 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.

  Chapter 9

  Vindicus

  (VIN-dah-kuss)

  At first, I thought the voice was only in my mind. For one elated heartbeat, I thought the voice of my conscience had returned to me—my Varick. It was strong enough to pull me through the excruciating pain of my rebirth and back into reality.

  Lying there upon the grass, just outside the home in which I had been invited to share in that wondrous, revelation-inspiring reunion, I realized two things. 1) Even though I knew my whole soul had been returned to me, I realized I was no longer visible to my all-grown-up and wonderful children. They were leaving, one by one, and not a single pair of eyes or ears took notice of my screams of pain or my thrashing about upon the ground. And 2) I realized the voice wasn’t coming from inside my head, but from the iridescent creature leaning against the only tree in that little suburban yard.

  “Well, it took you long enough.”

  The voice was unfamiliar, but the woman was unmistakable. She was Vanir.

  “Do you have any idea how many years you’ve been in limbo?”

  “N-no, I ha-have no idea.”

  “Four. Four years of roaming this layer, smelling of nothing but doubt and self-pity. And suicide? Did you truly believe you could escape your punishment through death?”

  I couldn’t utter a single word.

  Her haughty berating continued. “You had just better be glad you didn’t succeed in your phenomenal idiocy. Believe me. You don’t even want to know what awaits you if you had. All right, get up now. There’s much to do.”

  “Wh-who are you?”

  “Well I guess you could say I’m the executioner’s Guardian Angel.” Her words were heavy with disdain. “At least, that’s what I’ve had to resort to these last few years. Lady, you are one serious hard case, you know that? I have seen some messed up Angels in my time, but nothing compared to you.”

  “I’m not an Angel,” I whispered.

  “That’s right, and neither am I. So get up, Princess. Dust off your wings and start acting like you have a little sense from here on out. My babysitting days are over. It’s time you took care of yourself for a change.” The ethereal woman turned to go.

  I tried to catch her. Alas, she was gone.

  “Come on already!” She materialized before me, grabbing my arm, jerking me through the clouds.

  Ugh, I hate that part. I’m not sure what the Vanir actually call these transporting clouds. I have only ever heard them called clouds. But the people on layer eight would more than likely call them a wormhole. The thought made me giggle, despite my nausea.

  Hehe, wormhole… full of Angels, no worms in sight.

  We popped out of the sky and softly landed in Vanahirdem. At least, I thought it was Vanahirdem.

  The lovely lady Vanir released my arm the moment my feet touched the ground.

  She walked away, yelling over her statuesque shoulder, “Welcome to Vandermil. Make yourself at home. Blah, blah, blah, whatever.”

  If it were possible for a city to have a twin, then Vandermil was definitely the long lost sister Vanahirdem never knew she had. The domed houses, the crystal gate, the spiraling centralized temple—all identical to my long-lost home.

  “Well now. What do we have here?” The enticingly warm bass voice rumbled through my essence. “Mmm, an enchantingly fragrant fear, laced about with just a pinch of delicious… what is that… anger?”

  The deep guttural laugh made my hair feel like it stood up on its end, yet it ripped my heart wide open, leaving a tender, gaping wound. My mind was immediately flooded with images of my first encounter with Vareilious. He had used almost the same words, had almost the same laugh, and definitely owned a voice as deep and lulling as this one. My heart crumbled inside me.

  I took a deep breath, stilling my nerves, commanding my will. “Tell me not. Let me guess. You are the Gate Guardian and enforcer here.” I spoke without turning to see the glorious giant I knew was standing right behind me.

  “That is correct, little lady. Perhaps we’ve met… in your most erotic of dreams.”

  I swear I literally heard his tongue sliding across his razor sharp teeth.

  “No, I cannot say we
have. I simply know you by your crass comments and inappropriate behavior. Those are two traits I find you must all share.”

  The guttural laugh caught me off guard for an instant. It was so much like his. I regained my composure and headed into the heart of another enchanting city.

  If you’ve been with me from the beginning, Reader, then you know me well. And you must also know that my dear friend, Fate, wasn’t going to let me out of this situation quite so easily.

  I had taken only two steps when my face slammed into a perfectly chiseled chest. I, of course, fell backwards, landing on my clumsy bottom. Now I had no choice. I would be forced to look at the sentinel towering over me. Sighing loudly, I resigned myself to events I knew I could not escape.

  Dusting tiny pebbles off my palms, I stood up to do the same to my derrière, talking all the while. “So be it. Let’s go ahead and get this all out of the way. Shall we?” I cleared my throat. “Yes, you are gorgeous beyond all reason, masterfully sculpted perfection. You will want, and need, to flirt and tease while I will reluctantly oblige you with playful counter banter. Eventually, we’ll laugh, become great friends, fight side-by-side, and be as close as blood-borne kin—”

  After brushing the dirt from my clothing, I finally looked up to see my new brother Vanir standing before me. I froze.

  In place of the flowing silver hair of my Vanahirdem family, this warrior had tons of shoulder length, wavy azure locks. I tease you not, this warrior boasted blue hair.

  I’ll try my best to explain the mesmerizing hair of the heavenly Vanir. They don’t have what I like to call people hair. When I say it is flowing silver, I literally mean flowing silver. Each individual strand is pure precious silver growing out of their ethereal heads. When I say flowing, I mean just like my hair, and probably yours, too. It blows with the wind, gets in their face, and covers their eyes the exact same way. Yet their hair is cool to the touch, like metal. And light as air, like people hair. This new warrior’s epic mane boasted all these same characteristics, only the color was different. Did I mention it was blue?