“You never told her.”
“No, I didn’t see any reason to. I knew she didn’t believe in demonology any more than I did. I’m sure you noticed the bible was also in the box. If she wanted to discuss it, she’d tell me. If not, I respected her right to privacy and her need to work through her fears and curiosity herself.”
We sized each other up across the table. Daniel squirmed in my arms. “Wait a minute,” I said and got his baby swing from the living room and put him in it. He bounced happily inside it, playing with his rattle keys. “You’re right about the dream. There is more. And I have to tell you about my strange conversation with Ginnie this morning.”
She heard me out as I filled in all the gaps, but as I related Ginnie’s sudden personality change, complete with words she had no memory of uttering and her near attack on Daniel, Mother’s patient expression hardened in anger and alarm. I quickly informed her of the prayer I’d sent out for greater spiritual protection, the instant and intense granting of it, and the brief contact with the entity called Quatama.
Mother lifted her cup to her lips, drained the remaining tea, and put it down. “That was what I felt this morning.”
“What?”
“A feeling of immense well-being, of love. I was lying in bed, half-dozing, and thinking, well, worrying about you. Then suddenly I knew you would be all right, that everything would be all right. But everything isn’t all right. Ginnie was psychically attacked, used, to issue you a warning.”
“That was before Quatama appeared. Ginnie’s protected now. I know it.”
“I’m not so convinced.” She shook her head.
“Mom, you told me you don’t believe in demons.”
“I don’t.” She spoke in a firm voice that underscored her words. “But there are entities who, through their own negative natures, act like demons. They may create complete personas to fuel their egotism. They take the names of characters out of legends, to fool the unwary and frighten or impress the gullible. It’s all a bunch of warped fairy tales, but it doesn’t mean these entities aren’t potentially dangerous.”
“Do you think Bael could be dangerous?” I nearly whispered it.
“I don’t know. Thus far, he hasn’t been.”
“You told me he might be demonic.”
“When?”
“The night he revealed his name, and you asked him, in the name of God, to state his purpose in seeking me. He disappeared at the mention of God, and you said he might be demonic.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, dear. A semantic slip of the tongue. I was speaking psychologically. That he might believe he was demonic, a negative entity.”
“Mother, what exactly is a negative entity?”
She deadpanned me. “A spirit on an ego-trip. Same as a living person with a bad emotional disorder, only in spirit. Leigh Ann, I want you to cut off all contact with this Bael. Even if he’s not directly to blame, he’s creating a psychic situation, possibly attracting other elementals, that might badly disrupt our mortal lives. Ginnie was right. You have unleashed something—now, don’t look at me that way. I know it’s not your fault. I know you didn’t start it—this Bael did. But you did respond to it, to him, and formed an attachment to him. You have to break it now, for all our sakes.”
“But Quatama is protecting us.”
“I don’t know this Quatama,” Mother said. “It’s possible he is protecting us, possibly also telling me to tell you to end this. You’re making a second mistake in your life, this time with a noncorporeal man who has no place in it. For once, listen to the experience of your elders, Leigh Ann, if not for your own sake, then for ours. Think of Ginnie, your brother, your father, me . . . .”
Her eyes shining, on the brink of tears, she sat stiffly, nervously, needing my unquestioning obedience.
She was also afraid. Of what?
The thought of breaking off all contact with Bael felt immeasurably painful, no, impossible. I sensed his presence, his mind touching mine, listening, assessing this new conflict.
“All right, Mother. I’ll correct the situation. There’ll be no further disruption of our lives. I won’t permit it.” A reservoir of strength poured into me, and the slightest breath of a whisper spoke silently and privately close to my ear.
—Well-said. There shall be no more disruptions. I will not permit it.—
“Promise me,” Mother said, her voice softer, her tense posture loosening. She appeared unaware of Bael’s interjection.
“I promise. I’ll straighten it all out. No more admittance to spirits who act unwholesome.” I tried for light humor, hoping to relax her, to assure her.
—I am whole again. I have found you and you, me.— His intimate murmur acknowledged my determination and control, carte blanche, an equality between us that, nonetheless, championed me, allowing me to take the wheel firmly as we steered ahead into uncharted waters.
Mother stood up. “Good. I know you’ll keep your promise. Honesty is one of your better traits. Now I’m going upstairs to take a hot shower and calm down. Then we’ll all get dressed and go find Danny a crib.”
“Go ahead, Mom. I’ll wash up the dishes.”
“Thank you, dear.” She leaned over and pecked a soft kiss on my cheek.
“And Mother? Please stop worrying?”
She offered me a wan hint of a smile, nodded, and went upstairs.
As I soaped, rinsed, and dried the breakfast dishes, I thought about how hard it had been to answer her without lying. Lying horrified me. As a young girl I had been unjustly accused of lying and punished for it. That experience had molded me—my honesty both a blessing and a curse. I knew I could not break off all contact with Bael, but I could direct the inevitable journey of exploration, shape it to my will. Perhaps Quatama had given me my newfound strength and self-assurance. His brief message—to come to him as I slept—suddenly resurfaced in my mind. But how? Another dream?
I put away the dishes, glancing at Daniel, who had been remarkably well behaved all morning. “I guess I’ll figure it out when the time comes,” I told him.
He waved his hands and bobbed up and down in his swing.
I bent to pick him up and felt an invisible touch upon my shoulder. A shiver went through me, travelling down my arm and back.
—Tell Quatama I still love you. Tell him he must allow us to seek an answer, to heal the rift that once tore the angelfolk apart.—
A different kiss brushed my cheek, full of longing, an aching sorrow barely checked.
My breath caught in a tight band between the pit of my stomach and my throat. Then the sensation, the emotional connection, ceased. My chest heaved, releasing, relieving, the constricted air in my lungs.
I hefted Daniel up out of his swing and into my arms, carried the swing back to the living room with my free hand, then took him upstairs to dress us warmly.
CHAPTER 7
March, although nearly over, kicked up strong cold gusts at us as we locked up the car in the mall parking lot. I looked forward to the winter ending, to Spring’s new beginning. But the trees and shrubs on the streets of the Northeast still sported bare budless branches, and patches of remaining snow mounds still dotted sections of the mall.
Carrying Daniel, I followed Mother into Lit Brothers and rode the escalator up to the second floor. The children’s department contained an infants’ section which included furniture. We looked at the two cribs displayed,