A song plays on a handmade boom box. Cobbled together from random odds and ends, it looks like something out of Dr Frankenstein's lab. But hey, it works.
"T-the remedy is the experience.
th-i-is is a dangerous liaison
- the comedy is that it's serious.
this is a strange enough new play on words."
The CD had seen better days.
"I say the tragedy is how you're gonna spend
the rest of your nights with the light on
So shine the light on all of your friends
--it all amounts to nothing in the end."*
(*"The Remedy," by Jason Mraz)
I can remember back when mp3 players ruled the planet. Then little by little music was regulated to smaller and smaller devices until culture was nothing more then an app ran in the background of more important projects. Who would guess that in the dawn of the 22nd century the only music we have left is what was real; CDs, vinyl, cassettes. Everything else was lost int he destruction. Perhaps that's why I wish to write my story, to put it into words so that it will never be forgotten. Because it's my story to tell; the life of Dr. Ella Flores.
I was just twenty-one years old when my mother received the letter that would change my life. No, not anything nice like an invitation or a letter of acceptance to a decent school. This was much well...stranger.
As I stood outside my mother's house waiting for the carriage she reserved, I fished the piece of paper from my satchel. The letter, from a small town in Mexico.
It was around ten at night, dark and cold, even for Southern Texas. I checked my hair wrap, to make sure it would stay in place. I didn't cover my hair for religious reasons, more for my own safety. Under the shadow of the night, I could pass as a brunette, like my mother and sisters. But in reality I was "blessed" with my father's blonde hair; hair the color of gold, hair that made me a target.
When I was certain my hair would behave I attempted to re-read the letter, by the light of the full moon. Long story short: a farmer lay dying of fever. According to the letter the man had been living as a beggar, having lost his land and his family. But by the mercy of the Lord, he had been granted sanctuary at a church, someplace called Saint Theresa's.
The story had so many plot holes; did the man claim to be a farmer? Had he sought sanctuary in a church? Was there no doctor located closer? A more importantly, who was this letter from? there was no point of contact, all it said was "We will be expecting you, Dr. Flores."
That was the other issue on my mind: the letter was addressed to my father, Dr. Alberto Flores. But he was dead; murdered. So it was decided, by my mother, that I was to go in his place.
I could hear the sounds of the robotic hooves approaching. Centuries ago carriages were pulled by horses; majestic creatures that all but went extinct during the great famine. Cars still existed but with the cost of fossil fuel, only a handful of people cared to own them. The majority of people traveled via steam robot. Or walked; if the journey did not take me into such unknown territory I would have considered making the trip by foot.
I greeted the driver who was clad completely in black, including an industrial mask. As he held open the door of the grotesque mental carriage I could see he was armed with both a knife and a pistol.
"Thank you, sir," I said in my most polite tone.
He gave no reply. I knew the ride was prepaid through my mother's bitcoin account but knowing her she probably stiffed him on the tip.
"Here," I whispered, hanging him some coins from my pocket.
The man raised his mask, allowing me a view of his face. He had the most stunning green eyes. "A-are you sure?"
I nodded and quickly hopped into my seat.
I could see his gloved hands trembling. It was clear he hadn't eaten in days. I watched as he lowered his mask and pulled on his chest armor before firing up the engine.
I knew I was safe inside the carriage, although part of me wanted to see the glow of the radioactive core that powered the steam engine. "How long have you been a driver?"
"J-just a few m-months, when my Pa got too sick."
"I'm so sorry." I knew it was the nature of the job, men of the lower-class rank would line up for the chance to rent and operate a carriage. Drivers would be supplied with all the material necessary to power their vehicle, in exchange for a monthly fee- and eventually their health. “This address,” I asked if only to change the subject, “is it a church?”
“No, St. Theresa’s is actually a convent,” the driver replied.
"You've been there?"
"On occasion: dropping off young women like yourself."
"Like myself?"
"Young women looking for a career change..."
His words felt strange. What kind of work was done at a convent located just past the Mexico border? "I'm actually a doctor."
"Like a real doctor? Did you go to school?"
"My father did," I replied awkwardly. Truthfully, I was only an apprentice.
As the carriage crossed the Texas-Mexico border I glanced out the window. I could see the remains of guard towers and even the once legendary wall. That was before the world went to shit. In 2075 more people wanted to cross into the south, than the north. Countries run by gangs were safer than ones run by elected officials.
"Your father? A man was allowed to attend school alongside the witches?"
"Yes, he was one of the few." I paused as I fought back tears. "My father was a brilliant man."
"Was?"
"My father was stolen from my family life by a coven. It makes me sick to think what they did to him." For witches, men are catalysts. They can be claimed through sex or cannibalism. A man claimed through sex belongs to his mate, their hearts united as one. But for many witches, true love is too much to hope for so instead they resort to kidnapping men and devouring them like cigarettes for a temporary power boost.
"And your mother?"
"She's a practicing healer."
"Healer? An interesting title for a witch."
"You say 'witch' as if it's some kind of derogatory word."
"All women of impurity are witches."
"Impurity?" I chuckled at his choice of words. Yes, all women were witches. All women craved the life force of male victims. I knew my mother wanted me to kidnap the patient at St. Theresa’s, to replace my father. She was hungry, we all were. Hence why my two sisters left home, determined to find men to claim as their own.
The driver started to speak, chuckled, then simply coughed. I could tell he was trying to stop himself from going into a laughing fit.
I rolled my eyes. "No, I have not taken a lover." Within the last hundred years, all women were born of power to some degree. I inherited my mother’s healing abilities, but I didn’t want a man- not as a lover or a food source. Even if that meant my powers would be hindered.
"I guessed as much."
"Why, have you?" I asked with concern. I had always believed that once a woman claimed a man they would mate for life.
"Only when I have no driving jobs lines up." He chuckled softly as if he was joking. But I knew he was not.
"None of them ever wanted to keep you?"
"I wasn't worth their time. Not even to keep around as a snack. But you know what the really messed up thing is? I would have gladly lived with any of them, abandoning my father to live out the rest of my life as some witch's pet."
"How many women have you been with? Never mind, oh God I can't believe I said that."
"Seven."
"Excuse me?"
"I've been with seven women, all for pay."
"Oh..."
We rode in silence for the remainder of the trip. Upon arrival at the convent, he opened the door and just as quickly attempted to return to his seat to leave.
"Wait! I never got your name."
He left his rig, stepping down to face me.
I reached to hold his gloved hands. "My father told me stories, a long time ago men used to rule the world. Some were good, some were evil but at the end of the day they all slept under the same stars." I removed his gloves, revealing the driver's badly burned hands. "Witches, men, cats, dogs, all of God's creatures- and the end of the day when we close our eyes, we all sleep under the same stars."
"M-my name is William."
I lifted his mask to look into his eyes. "That's a beautiful name. Was it your father's name?"
"My grandpa, my mother's father." He swallowed hard, blinking tears from his eyes. "She gave me my name before she passed away."
"I'm Ella. My father named me after his mother, Eleanor. Our names are all that we are. William, I want you to find a place to sleep. But only after you return to your father." I placed his gloves back on his hands. "May God hold you in his grace."
William nodded and pulled on his mask. "Goodbye, Dr. Flores, I hope you find what you're looking for."
I watched him leave before turning to the front gate of St. Theresa’s.
I was greeted by an elderly woman who introduced herself as Mother Lorena. “You must be Dr. Flores’ assistant?”
“No, I’m Dr. Flores.”
“Oh? I was under the impression Dr. Flores was male.”
“I’m as skilled as my father.”
“I have no doubt, but the patient’s current condition will put your lady-like senses to the test, I’m afraid.”
We walked to a cold barn area. As we got closer the smell of death and decay became strong. Mother Lorena opened the door to a remote wooden structure. The room was dark, lit by only a few candles. From the doorway, I could make out a man laying on a dirty mattress. His face was obscured by a beard and long, matted hair the color of the night sky.
“Is there a source of water nearby?” I asked.
She motioned towards a metal pail. “We have someone assigned to bring him water once a day.”
Much to my surprise, the container did actually hold clean water. With the pail in hand, I approached the bed.
As I removed the thin blankets, it was clear he had not been properly bathed in days. Besides the dirt and the smells, more disturbing were the lesions. There were deep wounds on his arms and back where he had been flogged without mercy to the point where the skin had been torn from the flesh. It was clear the wounds had been left to fester but there was something odd; he was healing in that I could only describe as stripes.
Not that the gashes looked like stripes. No, the wounds looked like the work of a medieval torture professional. That, or a wild animal.
But his body was healing itself in long flower-petal shaped chunks, forming a chrysanthemum-like shape. I would wait until we were alone before taking a closer look. “How long has he been here?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” the old woman replied. That was clearly a lie.
I touched the man's neck. As I expected, the body was covered in sweat. Despite the coldness of the night air, he was burning with fever. With every weak breath, he was shivering so badly I could not help but weep. All I could think was, that this man is someone’s son, perhaps even a husband or a father.
His eyes flickered.
I could see the dark brown color sparkling by the light. But I was not certain if there was anything beyond those eyes. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what my own father had endured?
“Is there anything you require?” asked Mother Lorena.
“Perhaps a bath?”
“I will have some water brought to the guest quarters, for after you have completed your examination.”
“Not for me, for the patient. This man’s body is covered in open wounds.”
The old woman rolled her eyes. “It's quite late. I’ll wake one of the servants, and see what I can do.”
It was clear to me Mother Lorena was not the one who wrote the letter, sending for a doctor. She would have been content, perhaps even happy, to watch this man die.
As she left I put down my bag, setting up my humble equipment. I had a small camp stove and several small candles. My flask of vodka would have lit the fire much faster but I needed to conserve the contents for sanitizing my tools. And to be able to sleep later.
Using one of the nearby candles I lit my stove to boil some water. I poured in some herbs, mixing them with some oils: a formula I'd committed to memory. As the mixture simmered I held my patient's hand, stroking his cold, motionless fingers. "I'm Dr. Flores, you can call me Ella. If you can speak, that is."
I stripped the blankets to fully examine his body. As expected, the man was kept naked, like an animal. Despite his current state of sickness he had the body of a warrior; muscular, with a broad chest, thick arms and long legs. To my surprise he wasn't shackled or restrained. I laid the man on his back, to observe the movement of his breath.
His eyes shot open as his body convulsed.
I quickly rolled him on to his side, allowing him to cough up blood and mucus. It was clear he was breathing, he was alive. Even if he was barely conscious there was no way he was not in pain. "Sir, I don't know if I can help you, but I'm going to try."
I soaked a cloth into the warm liquid, then pressed it to his forehead, neck, working my way down the wounds of his back. With every touch, he flinched in pain. There was no logical reason why he was still alive, save for the mystery of the chrysanthemum.
I left his back exposed but kept him positioned on his side as to not inhibit his breathing.
That was when I heard him gasp. “Ava?” The sound was barely a whisper.
“Who’s Ava?”
He coughed a deep congested cough, gripping his chest in pain.
“Try to take some deep breaths, you’re safe now. I’m a doctor. I’m going to give you something for the pain.” I returned the cloth into the warm water to soak up more of the mixture. “Is Ava here, at the convent?” That would explain why he was not restrained. There was someone here, a wife or maybe a daughter; someone worth dying for.
“Ava runs the most beautiful garden,” he explained, his voice drifting away into a dream-like state. “She requested a slave to help her with the harvest..."
“You’re a slave?” I reached for a pair of scissors from my bag. I ran my fingers through his dark greasy locks trying to determine just how much had to go. I wanted to get a look at his face.
“A slave is what I am, here.”
“But you’re defiantly not a farmer,” I muttered out loud as I began to cut away chunks of hair, revealing his forehead, cheekbones, and neck. “Keep talking, tell me more about Ava.”
“She was so beautiful, with hair the color of the ocean on the darkest night. And skin the color of coffee with cream.”
“Of what?" I had heard of cream. But coffee, that was something I had only briefly read about in old, foreign cookbooks.
“You are too young to remember, back before the great famine. There was so much beauty in this world. The clear blue oceans were teeming with fish, while birds filled the smog-free skies.” He paused for a moment as his lungs struggled. “That world was a fantasy, like Ava herself.” His body shivered in pain but his lips broke into a smile.
What he said was strange. No one alive knew of such a world. People refer to the ‘great famine’ as a single event, but in truth, it had taken place over decades. It was a massive series of dominoes; country after country falling into economic depression, overpopulation, global warming. It was all God’s way of saying mankind’s time was up.
I stroked my finger along his jaw. He was a very attractive older man around the same age as my father. “Why do you refer to Ava in the past tense?”
He swallowed hard, his words escaping as a labored breath, “Because she’s likely dead!”
“They found you in her bed, I assume?” My self-taught scientific mind in action: he was handsome and this Ava was clearly not a blood relative. I focused the cloth on his neck. With each breath, his body appeared to be getting stronger.
He turned his head, looking at me with his dark eyes. "She offered herself to me so that I might know comfort.” He paused his lips into a seductive pout as he took in a stream of air. “We were both taken away in shackles. I knew if I took the blame there was a chance she would not be harmed.”
"That's very sweet." I could feel my cheeks flush. Was it possible I had a crush on this stranger? "Is this medicine helping?"
"Yes," he said in a soft moan, "your touch feels heavenly."
"Ok...thanks..." I attempted to roll him on to his back again, hopeful he had healed enough to not go into convulsions. Thankfully, his body remained perfectly calm.
I soaked the cloth then held it to his throat, working my way down his chest. I could feel the rise and fall of his breath becoming ever stronger. “I learned this technique from my father. The warmth will help you breathe easier. My father was a trained physician, he devoted his life to helping people.”
“And your mother?”
“My mother is a healer, just a different kind. I've witnessed her power first hand. My father, ever since he was a child he walked with crutches and leg braces, just always in terrible pain. My mother was one of the few people who were kind to him. Her healing gave him a chance at a normal life."
"Kindness?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.
"Yes," I replied, slightly annoyed. "My mother is a kind women, much like your Ava."
"But it's your father whom you idolize."
"Even more reason to appreciate my mother. Had she not chosen him, my father would have ended up like the millions of homeless men and boys who wander the streets looking for a work."
"I do not disagree. Tell me more."
"My parents, they met in high school."
"High school? So you come from wealth."
"I did, mean they did. After the elimination of public education, there was no way my parents could afford to send me and my sisters to school. My grandmother was rich."
"Hence your blonde hair?"
"My father was a stunning, Nordic man. His height and his blonde hair were a gift from the expensive fertility clinic where my grandmother purchased sperm in an effort to give birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl. But instead, fate saddled her with a sick crippled little boy. All she could do was make sure he the chance to go to school so that he might find a powerful woman to watch over him." I giggled remembering the stories my father used to tell me. "He was fourteen, in year one advanced biological sciences. Out of a class of fifty, he was one of only four boys."
"Lucky man."
"He was also the only one with cerebral palsy."
"Oh." The man turned his head, leaning into my touch.
"She wanted so badly to help him, so she developed a very special way of treating his pain. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”
“Would you care to show me?” The man whispered, his eyes closed, lips agape.
I laughed as I shook my head. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to, I don’t possess her level of power.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“No, I guess not," I replied nervously since I was essentially admitting to my virginity. “But we don’t have that kind of connection.”
"How can you be so sure?" He sat up, stretching his back. "You healed my body. I say give it your best shot.”
"I healed your body?" I moved to his lap, caressing my hands down his shoulders. His body felt sticky. I could feel the movement of his skin and muscle tissue sealing the once open wounds. The medicinal water did not possess such an ability, on every other patient I'd treated it provided only sanitation and relief of their pain.
I knew needed to touch the chrysanthemum on his back. I glided my hands down his spine. I could feel raised scar tissue in the flower pattern. It felt cold and perfectly smooth, like metal or glass. “Fine, for you, I’ll try. But first, tell me your name.”
The Remedy 2: Lovelorn[]
I didn't want to kiss him. The man was old enough to be my father. But there I was, in the decrepit old barn, on my patient's lap. My lips were inches away from his. "I'll ask you again, what is your name?"
He could tell I was stalling. My patient's body was healing itself at a superhuman rate. "My name? Dear girl, you're not ready to know my name."
"Why is that?" I asked with a forced smile. "You know my name."
"Yes, Dr. Ella Flores." He licked his lips. "I know your name but not your full power."
My patient had gone from semi-conscious with a badly flogged back, to sitting up. All without the use of my 'full power.' Looking into his dark eyes, I saw nothing but raw passion. I could give myself to him. It would have been so easy. "My mother had never shown me the treatment in its entirety." I rubbed my hands together to prepare my mental focus.
“Tell me a little about your parents. Perhaps holding their memory in your heart will inspire you.”
Just the thought of my father made me smile. I missed him. I couldn't even remember the last words I said to him before he left. And now he was gone.
My patient stroked my cheek, forcing me to look into his hypnotic eyes. “Can you see your father's face, looking up at your mother with passionate love?”
I nodded. “With my father lying in bed mother would pull at his energy. She wouldn’t actually touch him she would massage his aura.” I could see the moment in my mind. “The colors of energy would caress the bare skin of his stomach moving downward to his pain-stricken hips. The bruises would heal and my father would fall into a peaceful sleep.”
I knew my mother started the treatment by touching my father’s throat, aligning her breathing with his. Then she would move her hand down his collarbone to his chest. With my hand over my patient’s heart, I could feel the rhythm of his breath, his beautiful spirit. As I closed my eyes I could feel his energy in my hand. It felt like numbness on my skin; pins and needles.
“Yes, just like that. If your mother’s hands were anything like yours, I wouldn’t be surprised if your father was able to go dancing after one of her treatments.”
I looked at my hand. To my horror, it was hovering over the man’s erection. His lap was covered with the thin blanket but it was awkward none the less. I drew back my hand, and with it my healing energy.
The man chuckled. “My dear how old are you?”
“That is none of your concern! I am a doctor, I have examined men’s bodies before but I do not wish to engage in such impure acts!”
I could see that my choice of words made him laugh even harder: the little girl trying to speak like a grown up. "Viejo," I muttered.
“Old? How old would you wager I am?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Forty, fifty?”
The man shook his head with a devious smile. “I will tell you when the time is right,” he said, pulling the blanket up to his chest. “If you wish, I hope you might return to cutting my hair?”
"Sure." I moved from his lap to sit behind him. Part of me wanted to thank him for taking sex off the table. But no sex meant I would have to find a different means of learning who he really was. "If you won't tell me your name, at least tell me about your back tattoo. Why a Chrysanthemum?"
"It does resemble a Chrysanthemum, doesn't it?" he replied with a sigh. “My first wife’s name was Rosa. For every lover since her, I've added to the tattoo.”
"Oh, intresting." I removed the towel from the medicated water, pressing the warmth to his cheek. With the skin soft and supple I attempted to shave the man’s face. I made sure to work slowly, staying focused on my blade.
“Were your parents legally wed?” he asked. “That’s a rarity in this day and age.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “That’s how his captors knew where to send the remains.”
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I know of the cruel manner of death brought upon slaves. Not only husbands and fathers but also sons; so many young boys torn from their families.” His body trembled. “After my Rosa died, I was forced to watch as my own little boy was taken from my arms.”
I quickly put down my blade. He was sobbing so hard I could no longer safely shave his face. I had heard of male children torn from their mother’s arms and executed in the name of population control. This happened most often in third world countries; dictators flexing their power over the masses. Civilized nations treated their non-magic male children with slightly more dignity since males were necessary to keep as partners and fuel. I stroked his face wiping tears from his eyes.
He looked at me. And for the first time I felt a true connection to him.
"My name is Juan-Miguel. I am to be put to death for the autumn feast. I imagine that's why they sent for a doctor: to make sure I will survive the bloodletting long enough for them to fill their rations before I am beheaded.”
The thought made me sick, I needed to change the subject. “What are you given to eat?”
“As of late, I have been given only scraps,” he explained, motioning towards the pile of rotted food that seemed more fitting for a pig than a man. "Of course prior to your visit I had been too weak to sit up, much less eat."
I suddenly heard a knock at the door. I brushed the hair off my skirt as I stood to open it. “Hello?”
“Hello!” There stood a tall slender girl with long black hair, tan skin and the brightest smile I had ever seen. She wore a loose canvas dress, stained with blood and other debris. But most noticeable was the fact she was rolling in a metal bathtub filled halfway with water. Upon getting the heavy item inside, the girl quickly locked the door.
She rushed to the man's side greeting him with a deep tender kiss.
I watched as his hand slid up her leg caressing her thigh.
The girl giggled. "Viejo pervertido." She stood up and pulled close a large burlap sack that had been attached to the tub. “Look what I brought you,” she said as she started to take out various glass jars. “I grabbed as much as I could. Take a bite. It will give you strength.”
I pushed the tub closer to the mattress. It was heavy for me. But this girl somehow pulled the three-wheeled tub while and a bag filled with food items.
Juan gasped, "Ava, is that really you?"
“Yes, my love. I told the nuns that I wished to help prepare you for the sacrifice, and they believed me. That’s why they let me send for a doctor. Here, have some food.” She opened a container of red jam and pulled a small wooden spoon from her pocket.
Juan closed his eyes as the bite touched his lips. “I fear I am dreaming.”
She kissed his forehead. “Don’t worry, this is not a dream. I’m here. I made it back to you just like I promised I would. I love you so much. Everything is going to be ok now.” She then turned to me. “Right, Dr. Flores?”
“Dr. Flores was my father.”
“I know. You’re Ella, right?”
“How do you know my name?”
“Your father was an inspiration to me. He told me… ” She held out her hand. “Where are my manners, I’m Ava. I’m sorry I’m nervous, it’s just such an honor to meet you!”
“Did you send for my father knowing he was dead?”
“I needed to find you, I needed to make things right. It was my mother’s coven that captured him.”
Juan pulled Ava close, speaking over her. “Before coming to work as a gardener, at St Theresa, my Ava was employed as a comfort girl. She cared for many men.”
"Um, what?"
Ava pushed away from Juan. It was clear the topic was one of great emotional strain. “The young girls of the coven are selected to befriend the prisoners. We were allowed to read to them, talk to them. Many of the men had children of their own so in theory, the act was intended to bring them some level of comfort and peace. Of course, the majority of the coven children were horrible; they would spit or even kick the men. And a few of the men were not much better; taking advantage of being in the room alone with a young girl.”
I watched as Ava put her hand in her pocket, clenching her fist. But she wasn’t angry, she was holding something.
“Your father, Dr. Alberto Flores was a good man. He loved his family with every fiber of his being! When he was not asking the Lord for guidance he spoke only of your mother and sisters. Please, you have to believe me!”
“I believe you.” I had little choice in the matter. “What was your relationship with my father?”
Ava handed the jar of preserves to Juan. “I had been living in Monterrey at the time, with my mother. She was the high priestess who sent for your father, under the guise of treating a little girl who had been gored by a wolf.” Ava stood up and lit a series of candles. Almost immediately the room felt warmer. “He wasn’t even allowed to treat her. She died a week before he did.” She closed her eyes. Placing her fingers through the flames, each candle grew stronger and brighter, as if feeding off her magic. “You father was held for a little over a month. But during that time he became very sick. I was allowed to stay by Alberto’s side until the fever took his life.” Ava took the canister of food from Juan. She put her arm around him, to help his weak body into the bath.
I watched as she bathed Juan-Miguel. The water shimmered with metallic aqua, silver, and gold. It was as if she was bathing him in sparkling oils.
“Your father’s words inspired me to leave my mother’s coven, to set out on my own and find my destiny.” She moved her hands up Juan’s chest allowing the water to sparkle down his skin. She finished her act with a kiss on her lover’s forehead, down the bridge of his nose, to his lips.
Juan smiled. “I’ve missed you, my love.”
“And I you,” she said as she playfully splashed water on his face. “Ella,” she continued, her gaze was on Juan, clearly lost in her lover’s eyes. “Alberto told me about you and your sisters, Tasha liked to paint, and Annabelle she taught herself the violin. And your mother, she would bless him as I am about to bless my man now.” As her gown fell to the floor one thing became very clear- she was pregnant with his child. Her slender, physically fit body was strong yet soft with beautiful curves.
Juan sat up, his arms reaching out to her. “Is it mine?”
“Of course, my love. Our baby is the reason why I stayed away.”
As she moved her clothing away from the tub she removed a piece of paper from her pocket. It was the item she had clutched in her hand earlier. “Ella, this is for you. Once you read it my truths will become clear.”
I took the wrinkled paper from her. There was something wrapped in the paper: father’s prayer cross. I placed it to the side, as I carefully unfolded the letter. Written in dark red ink was my father’s handwriting. I felt a horrible pain in my chest, as I read his final words. In the letter, he wrote about how sorry he was, how much he missed his family. He blamed himself for getting captured, for putting his work before the needs of his children. ‘I pray this letter will someday find its way into the hands of my family; if not my wife and or daughters then perhaps their children. I truly believe in the strength and courage of my girls. Even without me, their lives will prevail.’ I crumpled the letter in my fist, hurling it to the floor.
I looked at Ava who was now sitting in the tub on Juan’s lap, his arms wrapped around her. “Ava,” he, whispered, his lips pressed against his lover’s neck. “Go comfort the good doctor.”
Ava stood up, dripping wet as she exited the bath and grabbed my hand. “Let’s take a break from the letter. Have you ever blessed someone? To give pleasure, or ease pain without seeking a reward: that is true power.”
“I sorta tried it earlier.”
Ava giggled. “Let me guess, he told you to ‘Give it your best try’? My Juan is just a dirty old man.”
I smiled. “Yeah, my father was the same way.”
Juan started to laugh until Ava slugged him in the arm.
“I mean he was charming, funny,” I specified. “Not that...”
“Not that you have daddy issues?” Juan chuckled.
“Come here, Ella,” Ava said with a sexy smile.
“I don’t think we can all fit in the tub.”
“You don’t need to be inside to take part.” She took my hand and pulled me close for a soft kiss. “Give me your hand,” Ava whispered. "You need to learn to embrace your sexual spirit." Ava took my hand, stroking my pointer finger to Juan's lips.
My body shuddered. I could feel his breath, his mouth opening. He was smiling as his tongue teased my skin. I had to admit he was undeniably stunning, but something felt off.
His fingernails suddenly transformed into claws, tearing at my clothes.
“Stop!” I cried.
Ava put her hand over my mouth. “Just relax,” she said she kissed my cheek, down my jaw. “He won’t hurt you.”
I took a deep breath, trying to focus on her touch as a tear slipped down my cheek.
Ava pressed a finger to Juan's throat. All at once his breathing slowed and his body became calm. "Juan acts like a lion but he’s really just a kitty cat.” She stroked her fingers down my now exposed skin “Is that a tattoo?”
“Yes, I have a cross on my ribs. My sister did it for me.”
“It’s your father’s cross!” Ava said excitedly. “Did you get it in honor of him?”
“After the funeral service Tasha did one for herself on her leg and Annabelle got one on her wrist but I wanted mine to be more personal; to be close to my heart.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Ava said as she got out of the tub. “I know he would have been so honored.” I could feel her grab my shoulder. “Come over here, lay down on the bed.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I wish to help you unlock your full potential.”
Ava’s magic had made the room comfortably warm so I felt at ease, as I slipped out of my skirt and undergarments. I laid my unimpressive self on the dirty mattress and closed my eyes.
I could feel Ava lean over me, her long wet hair dripping on my skin. “Just relax, Ella, I used to do this all the time for the older women of my mother’s coven.”
Never in my life had I fantasized about a woman but Ava, she filled my mind with lustful sin.
Suddenly I could hear the water sloshing as Juan stood up in the tub. “Ava, are you truly going to leave me to my own devices?” He grabbed Ava by her neck.
I watched in horror as he flung her backward.
Juan gripped my thighs. He spread my legs, with his knees, pinning me down with his body weight. “It’s time for me to play doctor.” With his free hand, Juan pinned my shoulder down. His gaze feral, teeth bared.
I could feel the heat of his breath. “This is not you. This is a corruption of your magic!”
“This is me!” he roared. His skin sparkled with white energy, emanating from his shoulders: his back tattoo. That was it!
“If what your body requires is a vessel to use as a means of release, then I will give myself to you willingly.” I reached my hand to his face, caressing his cheek. I could feel him trembling. “You are a kind man, a loving partner and God willing you will be a good father to the prince that rides within your lover’s womb.”
“A boy?”
"It's my guess, based on how she's carrying. But boy or girl, the baby will be special because it will be a child born of your love."
Ava sat up as if nothing had happened. “Ella, you’re so sweet.” She leaned in and kissed my cheek, cuddling her face to my neck. She then switched her focus to Juan, placing his hand on her stomach. "Can you feel our prince? He’s going to be powerful, like his daddy.”
Juan laid on my opposite side and kissed my cheek. “I apologize for earlier.”
"So, Ella," she said, "I heard what you said earlier, did you really want my lover to take your virginity?"
I was not certain didn’t want my first sexual experience to be with a man, especially not Juan-Miguel. I pulled Ava's close to kiss her soft lips. "I want you to finish what you started."
Ava smiled. "I believe that can be arranged."
I watched as Ava moved back, between my legs. She lifted her ass, positioning herself for her lover to take her from behind.
The world moved in slow-motion.
I could see his hands grasping her thighs holding her by her hips as he penetrated her.
Ava rested on her elbows. With her face over my genitals, I let her do as she pleased with her mouth. It was not pleasurable. It was not what I wanted. But even still, my hip bucked as my muscles tensed. With each breath, I was arching my back. I closed my eyes, as I massaged my breasts.
Suddenly I felt Juan’s hands cupping my chest. It was clear by the lack of motion he had finally achieved his release. “Earlier I asked you to guess my age.”
"I remember," I replied still not opening my eyes.
“My true age is two-hundred."
“What?” I said with a laugh. I was shocked, but it was not unheard of. As a child, I heard legends: men born of magic had the ability to restore their vitality through sexual conquest.
“Ella, you told me your father was a doctor, but you never asked what I was prior to being a held captive.” With is freehand Juan reached down and took my hand, placing it on his now flaccid penis.
I could feel a strange, warm, energy. It was like touching a light bulb. “What are you?”
“General Juan-Miguel Torres, a witch hunter and officer of the revolution.”
Ava wiped her lips as she returned to my side. “He’s a sorcerer. Just tell him you’re impressed so we can move on to the important part.”
“A sorcerer? I had heard of such powerful male magic users but I assumed they had all been captured or hunted to extinction.”
“I had been living as a farmer. When my wife passed away I was sold into slavery.”
“But you could have fought back. From what I’ve read sorcerers have the power to level entire cities.”
“Not alone." Juan sat up, covering himself with the blanket. "I had lost so much. Without an ally, I was as weak as any mortal."
Ava reached for my father's cross necklace. “Ella, now that you know you can trust us I need you to put this on.”
Trust? I failed to see how participating in their sex play equated to trust. "Why should I?"
Ava shrugged. "The way your father explained it to me, was that only someone of blood relation would be able to wield the artifact's true power. And even if you don't want to use its power to help us escape, the necklace was always meant to be yours."
The Remedy 3: Visions of Power[]
Ava placed my father's necklace over my head. The moment the cross hit my chest my mind was sucked into a strange place. I say mind because I know for a fact my body was still back at the barn. My skin could feel the cold of the night, the sweat of my physical body. I wasn't physically moving, yet here I was, making my way through a dark corridor. I looked down at my body, in this reality, I was a glowing blue skeleton.
“Ella,” Ava’s voice was in my ear, “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I could only assume she was talking to my unconscious body. "Can you hear me?"
"Sort of," she said. "You sound like- like a toy."
"I sound like I'm talking to you from inside the necklace?"
"Yes, exactly!" Ava's disembodied voice sounded so sweet and child-like as if I was being followed around by a fairy. “Your father, he was someone special, powerful. He knew things, he could see things. Upon his death, he passed along his life force into this cross so that the truth could be found.”
I suddenly saw a ghostly vision of my father and Ava playing before my eyes like a movie.
A younger, teenage, Ava darted into the prison cell. “I found it, Alberto, I told you I would.” She put on a smile but her body was trembling. From under her dress, she revealed my father's prayer cross tied to her thigh.
“You’re a clever girl, Ava,” he said in a weak whisper. “Quickly, place the talisman to my lips.”
Ava removed the rosary and placed the cross in his mouth.
I watched as he bit down, on his own tongue, his blood transforming into a stream of white light. “This necklace must make it into the hands of one of my children.”
“How will I find them? Where will I go when I leave here?”
“Bless me with a kiss and all will be revealed.”
Ava kissed my father on the lips as tears filled her eyes. “I’ll miss you so much. You were like a father I never had.” Her eyes glowed white for a moment as if siphoning his powers.
“I have faith in you, Ava. Do you remember all that I have taught you of Christianity?"
"Yes, sir."
"You will take that knowledge and faith, combine it with your own skills."
"I don't understand."
"You must seek out a powerful man to take as your ally. When you find such a man all of the pieces will fall in to place. But now you must flee. My body will soon die, signaling the guards to come for my remains.”
When the cross fell from his lifeless lips Ava quickly pocketed it and fled the room.
I blinked my eyes as the scene flickered away like a dying candle flame, to reveal a large metal door. Since I was outside of my body I knew I could simply walk through. But I was not emotionally prepared for what I would find.
"Oh, Dear God." I entered a room filled with bodies, thousands of men and boys on what appeared to be ventilators. As I got closer I could see they weren’t ventilators and they weren’t bodies: they were souls like myself.
“What do you see?” Ava’s disembodied voice asked.
“Bodies made of energy,” I said out loud. I approached a man, his eyes closed, chest barely moving. “Their veins are metallic blue.”
I walked further, passing room after room until I feel a strange pulling sensation. I entered the room, to the sight of my father’s body, his veins glowing the same color of metallic blue. “My dad- my dad’s alive!” I ran straight to him, but as I reached out to him my hand passed through his shoulder.
My father’s voice echoed in my head. “Do you know where you are, my daughter?”
I shrugged. “A storage facility, for men born of magic?”
My father smiled his sweet, kind smile. "You are wise, dear Ella, you always have been."
"Are you a sorcerer?"
“Your grandmother sealed away my powers to give me a chance at a normal life. I would not be sent away like a normal child or have to go on the run like Juan-Miguel. But my true purpose was to bring about a revolution. In my soul, I had always known that. It was why I struggled so hard to be a good husband and father.”
There was a sadness in his voice that broke my heart. “What will become of Mother, Tasha, and Annabelle?"
“You were the only one I ever truly loved. From the day you were born, I knew you were the only one I could trust.”
“But mother wept for you. After we buried your remains, she locked herself in her room for days.”
“Your mother, she healed my body only to defile it.”
I had never thought of it that way. I always assumed my parents’ relationship was one of mutual love. “Then why get married, if you were only her property?” I passed my fingers through his chest. I could feel the soft rhythm of his heartbeat.
“It was always about you. The spell for creating the chosen one; the warrior princess worthy of being my vessel, required a wedding, a ceremonial joining of two hearts in eternal love.”
“Your vessel?”
“We are becoming one. My dear Ella, we are now connected. Lead the hero and the guardian, to this place. When we are reunited, our powers will be enough to awaken all of these men. Together we will lead a revolution. You do trust me, child?”
“Of course.”
“Then, for now, you must return.” My father reached up and touched my cheek.
I opened my eyes. I was back at the barn. “Phoenix, Arizona,” I said out loud.
“What?” asked Ava.
The words had escaped my lips involuntarily. “I think that's the location of our army.”
The word 'army' appeared to grab Juan's attention. “How do we get there? How will we know what to look for?"
I had no idea how to make it to Arizona. I had never been further west than Texas.
“What?” Ava asked. She placed her hand on the area, right below my breasts.
I looked down at my chest to see a glowing blue line. It was like a string of light attached to my body. “What is that?”
“A map!” Ava’s voice trailed off as she bit her bottom lip. “I feel it! Alberto gave you a map! I’ll prepare the supplies for our trip.”
I looked around. She had a few cans of food, enough to last us a week if we rationed. But the night was freezing cold. We needed a means of travel. And Juan, with his newly healed body, still had no clothing.
“Blessed Goddess, Mother Earth,” Ava’s eyes were closed as she knelt down. “I invoke the law of equivalent exchange.” She lifted a handful of dirt, and right before my eyes the dirt transformed into a bolt of cloth. Ava pulled foot after foot of the light brown fabric until she had enough to form a large blanket. “I thank you.”
I wondered how that was equivalent exchange when Ava was simply asking the earth to give her material. But then I remembered the scene with my father. She somehow was drawing power from both Wiccan energy and Christianity.
She motioned for Juan to kneel before her. Ava picked up a handful of dirt and sprinkled it over his forehead. "My lord, my love. I bless you with garments worthy of your power." The dirt sparkled like glitter, transforming into what appeared to be armor made of black leather.
I chuckled softly. "You look like my driver."
"And he shall be." Ava reached for my scissors and began to cut off chunks of her long hair until she had amassed a handful. She tossed the hair into the air and as it fell it started to morph into a creature; four dark legs, a massive torso and finally a head. She had made a horse. “Juan, be a dear and finished off the creature while Ella and I get dressed.”
I picked up my clothing and started to get dressed. My wraps destroyed, I wore only my dress and shawl, which left me uncomfortably cold. Suddenly I felt a rush of heat.
The black horse neighed as a pair of glowing red stripes formed on its sides. Juan wrapped himself in the blanket and mounted the horse. As he did the animal grew massive wings of fire. “Your chariot, ladies,” Juan said with a grand hand gesture.
I fell backward in shock. “Ok, I guess I can ride behind Ava and carry the supplies.”
“No, you have to ride in front,” Ava said as she secured the basket of supplies to the animal using pieces of my town wraps. “You have the map.”
I gritted my teeth. “I have to drive the fire-horse?”
Ava climbed on the back of the animal stroking its shimmery body. "It's our fire-horse."
Juan scooted back slightly, as Ava put her arms around his waist. “Take a seat on my lap.” He reached a hand out for me. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Who said I was afraid?” I took his hand and nearly screamed as he pulled me on to his lap in one fluid motion.
“Lean forward, dear,” Juan said, placing one hand on my head. The horse flapped its wings and burst through the ceiling of the barn.
I clenched my eyes closed as we shot straight up. When I opened them, we appeared to be in the clouds or traveling through a thick fog. “How do I steer?”
“Look at the map!” Ava shouted over the roar of the wind.
“I can see the map, but I want to know where to place my hands!” The horse’s mane was made of fire; there was no logical way to grab hold of it.
I felt Juan grip my hands. “Trust in my power.”
“I trust you.” I could feel the warm energy emanating from my arms. I kept my focus on the glowing blue line, guiding me to Arizona, to my father. I wondered how fast we were going since all I could see was a blue line cutting through a sheet of clouds. I forced myself to stay focused on the line. That was all that mattered. After some amount of time, I could feel the horse descending.
“Stay calm, you are very tired,” Juan said, putting his arms around me.
I laid my head on his chest. The lower we drifted the more exhausted I felt. “Where are we?”
“We just crossed the border into Laredo, Texas,” Ava replied. “We need to find a place to sleep during the day so we can start again under the cover of night.”
As soon as the horse landed, it disappeared into a cloud of black dust. Juan was carrying me. “Are you ok to stand?”
“Of course,” I said. But as he put me down my legs felt like jelly. "How long were we up there?" I received no answer. I watched as Ava used her powers to grow a shelter out of tree roots. It looked like a small wooden cave.
“Put her down over here,” Ava said to Juan.
Juan laid me down under the shadow of the shelter. He dug a small hole in the dirt and used his magic to create a small glowing stone. “Keep the fire small, just enough to stay warm. I’m going to scout around the area for food and supplies.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Juan.”
Ava put our supplies in a corner and then put a blanket over both our bodies. She took my hand, placing it over her stomach, which had gotten noticeably larger. “I’m using my powers to grow the baby. If anything happens, if you have to make a choice between saving me or my baby I want you to save my child.”
"Ok, whatever..." I didn’t want to think about such an outcome. “Sorry, I’m just really tired.”
I awoke a few hours later to the light of the moon. Juan was sitting by the fire wearing a dress-shirt and dark colored pants. “Where’d you get the clothes?”
“I made them, along with the pot.” He reached into the fire to pull out a small pot. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, thank you.” I sat up, moving the blanket completely over Ava’s body. “What did you make?”
“A porridge of wheat and corn; it’s not much, but it will keep our strength up.” He poured some of the porridge into a wooden cup.
“Ava said she’s trying to grow the baby with magic.”
Juan glanced over at Ava’s sleeping body. “That worries me. I fear Ava will not survive the birth of a baby born of magic."
"Why is that? Ava seems perfectly strong."
"So was my first wife."
That didn’t add up. “When your wife died, what were you doing?”
“What?”
“What role did you play?”
“I stayed by her side.”
“You’re a sorcerer; if you had lent your powers to her, she might have survived.”
“I don’t understand what you are suggesting.”
“All three of us have power; if we channel our power into the baby, it can be born safely.” I hoped that my voice didn't reveal my true fears. I had enough to worry about without having to consider the possibility of cutting the baby out of Ava’s dead body.
Juan was still looking at me with a disbelieving gaze. “Wake Ava. If she agrees with your theory I will oblige.”
“Ok, I will.” I nudged Ava’s shoulder.
She opened her eyes. “What?”
“I have an idea, I want to induce labor using magic. All of us will combine our powers and bring your son safely into the world. Do you trust me?”
Ava looked at Juan who looked away. “Papi?”
“If this is what you choose I will remain by your side.”
“Ok,” Ava said as she sat up. “Let’s get this baby out of me.” She unceremoniously took off her canvas dress revealing her swollen breasts. They had grown substantially since the previous night. “I can feel my baby. He wants to meet his daddy.”
Juan came over, he removed his shirt, rolling it into a pillow that he placed under Ava’s head. "Are you comfortable, my love?"
"Very much so."
He kissed her stomach, down her hips to her legs.
Ava ran her fingers through Juan’s hair.
It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Now I had to do my part.
I cuddled close to Ava, sharing the warmth of her body. I noticed there was milk dripping from her nipples.
Ava's breath was slow. She didn't look like a woman in labor; she looked like she was about to fall asleep. "Will you kiss me?"
I gave no reply as we kissed. Ava touched her milk then touched the liquid to my lower lip, like a gloss. It felt strangely warm and tingly, like the pins and needles sensation. Ava bit my now-numb lip until I could taste blood. Now I could taste both of us.
Ava moved her lips to my ear. “I can feel my baby.”
I looked down, and the baby was slipping out of Ava, into Juan’s arms. “I have a blade, hand him to me.” I reached for the knife in my handbag and made quick work of the baby’s umbilical cord. Then something strange happened. The baby reached for my chest, nursing through the fabric covering my breasts. “No sweetie, that’s not going to work,” I said playfully as I pulled him off. Silly babies, their minds running on instinct.
Then I felt moisture. There was a stream of milk oozing down my chest. I looked at Ava for an answer but she was busy 'celebrating' with Juan.
Ava appeared to be siphoning his power via oral sex. But the act did not look pleasant; Juan looked like he was trying to pull away from her, but Ava gripped his thighs, forcing him closer.
I kept my focus on the baby. I assumed Ava 'blessed' me with her milk so her baby would always have a source of food. This little one belonged to all three of us. I rocked the baby in my arms until I heard Juan's voice.
“May I hold my son?”
“Can you breastfeed?” I asked jokingly. I turned the baby to face Juan; the little one smiled. “He knows you.”
To see Juan holding his infant son against his bare chest was a sight so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes.
“What shall we call you, little one?” he asked as Ava sat up.
I cut a piece of the blanket to wrap the baby. “Perhaps I should bathe him first.”
“No need.” As Ava touched the baby his skin became clean like a doll’s. “His name is Angel, our little angel.”
"We should get going soon," I suggested since we all were very much awake. “We'll need to travel the rest of the way by foot.”
“We have to travel half the length of Texas and the entirety of New Mexico,” Juan pointed out.
“My concern is for the baby.”
“Ava will prepare a carrying rig while I conjure up a new horse.” Juan left and went outside.
I stayed with Ava cooing over the baby. I knew from my medical training that newborn babies didn’t smile. But Angel did. That was all he seemed to do. Well, that and feed.
"It seems little Angel loves beautiful women as much as his daddy." Ava stood up with her same level of uncanny physical strength.
Outside, Juan conjured up a horse with fire wings. And once again I had to sit in the front.
We flew until we landed in Reserve, New Mexico. The small desert town was one of the few free settlements left in North America; a place where men and women lived together as equals, outside the confines of society.
Even with that knowledge, I was not sure how my new 'family' would be received.
The Remedy 4: A New Dawn[]
We landed in New Mexico when our flying horse rammed head first into a forcefield. Ava, being the super witch, managed to conjure up a soft landing out of tree branches. But upon hitting the solid ground we were met by armed guards wearing what looked like medieval knight helmets.
"Welcome to New Mexico," a female voice said before knocking me down with a blow to the head. (I knew better than to get back up.)My team was led blindfolded through what I assumed was a gate.
I kept my focus on the blue line emanating from my chest. Even with my blindfold on I could still see it. The line was a magic, a gift from my father.
“Hello Ella,” said a female voice.
A smile spread across my face. “Annabelle?” I removed my blindfold. My older sister sat with a harem of women. Clearly, she was their leader.
"Yes, my dear sister. This is my new home, my new family. Care to introduce me to your family?"
"Yes," I said quickly.
Ava and Juan were still blindfolded. I understood their strategy; the less powerful they appeared the easier it would be to become accepted.
"These are my friends." I removed the blindfold from Ava's eyes.
She looked innocent and demur holding her infant son in her arms. "Hello, I'm Ava Soto, this is my son, Angel." Ava fell to her knees. "We thank you for your sanctuary."
I looked at my sister. She motioned for Juan's blindfold to be removed. "I recognize you."
Juan took a knee. "I am a humble farmer."
"No, you're a sorcerer. A rather famous one if I'm not mistaken."
Her words brought a smile to his face. "Milady, or your highness..."
"Annabelle will be fine. Any friend of Ella is a friend of mine."
"Thank you Miss Annabelle." Juan was still avoiding eye contact. "I could not help but notice a few of your women are with child. Where are your men?”
“Our men care for the children,” she answered sweetly. “While the women work on the pathway. Of course we would have an exception for you.”
“Pathway?” I asked.
“To Arizona, possibly Phoenix."
“Do you know what’s in Phoenix?” I asked, gripping the cross on my father’s rosary.
“No, only that there is an abnormally high power resonating from that area."
"Show me."
"Of course. But please join us for dinner first we will leave under the cover of night."
After a meal prepared and served by the men of her village Annabelle showed my team to the pathway, a massive tunnel. “It goes all the way to Phoenix but anyone who we try to send to the end ends up vaporized.” She motioned to what looked like a pile of glitter.
The glitter continued as far as my eyes could see, perhaps all the way down the tunnel. “Do you only ever send one person at a time?”
“Of course not. I send teams of two or three, but I can't risk any more than that." Annabelle sighed. "I have already lost too many of my people. What do you suggest?”
“My team will make the journey.”
Juan immediately grabbed my shoulder. “Not Ava.”
"But we need the power of three."
"You heard what your sister said, the power of three does not guarantee safe passage."
"So you suggest two is better than three?" I asked, clearly annoyed.
"I think," Juan's voice trembled. "I think it does not matter the number but more so the individuals."
"And you believe we would make a good team?"
I was still addressing Juan but it was Ava who answered. "No matter what, you are going in there, because only you know what awaits."
Her baby had been asleep but as she spoke he woke up and appeared to be looking at her. And then at me.
I needed an ally but this child also needed a parent. While Ava was the most powerful witch I had ever met, Juan was an immortal sorcerer.
“Please take care of him, Ella.”
I hugged Ava. “I will, I promise.” I then stepped aside for Juan to say his goodbyes.
The baby began to cry. His little arm reached out for Juan.
"I'll come back to you, and your mother, I promise." He leaned down to kiss Ava's forehead. "No matter what you will carry on. You and Angel will be part of a new better world."
“Ok.” Ava crossed herself. “Ella,” she turned to me. “Say hello to your dad for me.”
“I will.”
I took Juan’s hand as we took one step into the tunnel, then another. Juan chuckled. "I guess we're friends now?"
"You could say that," I said as I glanced at the glittery walls. The patterns were not random, they appeared to be hand prints and possibly screaming faces. It was as if the victims had been dragged or slammed into the walls.
"Well, are you at least happy that you're getting your wish?" Juan asked, again in a joking tone. "I recall someone wanting to walk the rest of the way to Arizona."
"That was to protect the... baby." I smiled back at him. He was trying to be funny to mask the fact he was as scared as I was.
"I wonder what happened," Juan said as he touched his palm to one of the handprints.
I screamed as we were swept up in a tornado of glitter. Juan put his arms around me, I assume to prevent me from slamming into the walls. The journey lasted only seconds.
We arrived, thrown into a dark corridor, the same one from my vision. But we were surrounded by spirits both male and female. I was about to stand when I heard my father’s voice.
“Don’t let go of his hand, Ella. It is only because there are two of you that you have even survived this far,” my father explained.
“So what now?” I could feel the energy, the power of thousands if not millions of powerful souls.
“Take what is yours.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. In my mind, I recited a manta. “My heart is open, my mind is clear. My heart is open, my mind is clear.” When I opened my eyes me and Juan were back in New Mexico standing before Annabelle and the remains of her entourage. I looked at Juan, but he and everyone in the small crowd were looking at me.
I gazed down at my hands. They were large, masculine. I touched my face. It was my father’s face: we had become one.
Ava, still holding the baby ran to me. “Alberto! I can’t believe it!” As she stroked my back I could feel wings of energy form. "But what about Ella?"
"Ella is safe," the words felt strange in my throat. "We are one; all our wisdom, our power." I gazed into Ava's sparkling eyes. "Our memories."
My new body felt immortal, the power of thousands of souls coursing through my veins. I shouted to the heavens, "All who follow in our light will receive protection, guidance and compassion regardless of gender color or creed!"
"We are to fall in line behind men?" muttered one of Annabelle's followers. The girl was muscular and tall, clearly a leader in her own right.
"Not behind, all will stand beside us." I looked to Ava and Juan. We held hands forming a triangle; the power of three personified as a pillar of light erupted from our location.
I could hear whispers and gasps: "This is going to start a war"- perhaps, "This is going to attract attention"- most definitely.
Lights turned on throughout the village as men women and children emerged to stand in awe of our power. Since that day our fellowship has only grown. My team now governs the entire southern United States with our hearts and dreams set to spread our message of love to the world.
That is the end of my story, for now anyway.
"Come to bed, my King," her voice flowed like silk. "You know the baby always sleeps calmer when in your arms."
"I'll be right there, Ava."
END
Written by Dourdan
Content is available under CC BY-SA
https://dourdan.wordpress.com/