Saint And Sinners (44 page)

“And you will.”

“There’s no learning curve!” he shouted. “Baby,” He slid up the bed and gripped her
knee, his fingers faintly trembling against her flesh. The sheets provided little
barrier to the heat of his touch. His concerns came through loud and clear from that
gesture and the fretful look in his golden eyes. His nose was now so close to hers,
one more centimeter and they’d bump foreheads. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed,
then his soft lips parted as he stared at her a bit deeper, causing her damn heart
to beat faster. “This guy…he isn’t like the others, Xenia. I haven’t even laid eyes
on him but I can promise you, he’s worse than
anything
you could imagine.”

“…I know.” She stroked his chin, fighting her own internal crusade, squashing her
need to react. Now, she was simply trying to not lose her nerve. Lord knew she wanted
to shelter him, make him stay close to her heart, but with all that had transpired
as of late, it was more than obvious their journey would have a reason bigger than
either of them could have ever envisioned.

“This is almost like some horrible movie, Saint. I wish it wasn’t happening. I don’t
know what else to say… There isn’t any title for this though.”

“I can borrow one.” He smiled at her sadly, his necklace bumping into her collarbone
as he kissed the bridge of her nose.

“What did you borrow?” She looked up into his eyes as he lowered her back down on
the bed with one hand and undid his shirt buttons. He seemed to have changed his mind
about going out and blowing steam. Before she knew it, the man was undressed and pressing
his big cock between her legs. He slid his arms under her back, crisscrossing them
just so, and clutched her shoulders, bringing her far down onto his thickness as he
shoved himself inside of her.

“Ahhh…” she moaned, rearing back and propelling hard and fast inside of her over and
over again.

“The title, baby…is…Something Wicked This Way
Cums
…”

*

“Man, we ain’t
had no down time like this in a minute! How are the renovations going for the new
place?” Raphael asked as he reached across the table, gripped the salt, and made it
rain on his thickly sliced piping hot fries.

“Smoothly, I’m glad to say.” Saint grabbed the white handle of the coffee mug and
took another sip of the hot peach ginger tea. He sighed and looked around the restaurant,
delighting in all the New York vernacular. It was as if he’d never left home. The
Lucky Cafe on First Street in Midtown East, Manhattan was packed. At five minutes
after twelve, there was barely elbowroom, yet Saint stretched his muscles and flexed
a bit, all the same. The back of his eyes throbbed with tension. He glanced down at
his watch.

Krishna will be here soon…

For some reason, the notorious healer wanted to simply appear. He asked that Saint
follow his typical routine, and he’d find him. So, he didn’t cancel his lunch date
with his best friend. He simply went about his way, and then, he got a whiff of something
in the air… Yes, Krishna was close.

“You can sense him, can’t you?” Raphael tossed a ketchup-drenched French fry in his
mouth and chewed vigorously.

“Yeah…he can’t be more than twenty minutes away.” Just then, his cell phone rang.
Saint glanced curiously at the number that popped on the caller ID, which he didn’t
recognize. “Hold on, man.”

Raphael nodded and continued to eat, gripping his greasy, humungous cheeseburger with
both hands. His mouth grew wide as he hunkered down on the thing, taking a big bite
and drawing the juicy meat and bread into his pie hole.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr. Aknaten?” came a high-pitched feminine voice.

“This is he…”

“Hello, Mr. Aknaten, this is Ms. Safar from Speyer Legacy School.”

Suddenly, Saint didn’t feel so well. All he’d eaten was half a plain bagel as he nursed
his tea, but the queasiness grew stronger while the woman kept speaking. He causally
ran his palm across his stomach and grunted, shifting his weight a bit in the chair.
Although Hassani’s home room teacher spoke in a low voice, he heard her just fine.

“Yes, what can I do for you, Ms. Safar?”

“I just wanted to know how Hassani was doing? He has been out sick and if a child
misses more than two consecutive days, we require a doctor’s note.”

Saint swallowed and turned towards the window, trying to keep his damn cool. Many
things ran in his mind, and the biggest one consisted of him getting his hands on
his son and doing damage. He hated he’d gone there, sunk to that level, but his heart
couldn’t take much more.

“Yes…I see. Ms. Safar, I assure you that you will have everything you need.”

“Uh…okay. Is he alright?” She came back for him, wanting answers.

“He
will
be. Just a bit under the weather is all.” He forced a smile, hoping with all of his
might that it bled into his tone and convinced her ear that all was well.

She appeared to have bought it, her voice relaxing a bit as it married with a faint
laugh. “Okay, wonderful. I know sometimes new students get the jitters and unfortunately,
he got in a fight with two other students on his first day. He is such a bright and
pleasant boy…”

“Thank you, Ms. Safar. I appreciate that. Yes, his first day was rather…upsetting.”
Saint looked down at the table and tapped it with his fingertips, playing a mean percussion.

He caught Raphael out of his peripheral vision. The man was spying him like a detective,
his brow raised in concern.

“But, sometimes these things happen and hopefully, it is behind him,” Ms. Safar said,
but he was only half listening.

He wanted to bolt from his seat and rush to find his son, but then, the scent grew
so strong, he was rendered almost speechless. The woman finally brought the call to
an end and before Raphael could rattle off his litany of questions, Krishna appeared
in the doorway. Dressed in a cream shirt and matching pants, his smile lit the room.
He pointed to Saint.

“Saint…come. It is time.” His voice boomed, despite all the voices bouncing around
the place. Yes, it was definitely time…

*

“Are you cold?”
Saint asked, removing his jacket and offering it to the man as they walked slowly
side by side on the busy street during lunch rush hour.

Krishna smiled at him then looked ahead. They moved like twin oceans tides, psychically
crashing along their chosen paths.

“No, thank you.” He nodded as they came to a cross walk. “Saint, I am going to speak
to you telepathically, so that you may understand me clearer. I know my accent sometimes
clouds the clarity of my words. You may answer with your voice, if you so wish.”

“I will answer verbally. Thank you.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the top of his
iPhone with nervous fingers. His newfound distraction, courtesy of his eldest child,
had triggered escalating anxiety within him. Krishna immediately read his mind.

“The boy is fine. He is with another boy, in case you hadn’t known, looking at art.”
A small smile broke across the Indian man’s clean-shaven face. He tucked his intricately
designed, illustrious black cane under his arm while they continued to wait for the
electronic go ahead. “This is not the first time your child avoided school. It is
the third.”

Saint said nothing, though he did feel a bit better. He’d already gotten a read on
Hassani, but the boy’s mental state would not come through clearly. He suspected intense
blocking. Regardless, he could track his children no matter where they went in the
entire wide world. He just needed some alone time to sort it out.

Looking at art? Hmmm…

They crossed the street and Krishna once again placed his cane in front of him, as
if needing the assistance of an old friend to lean on. It seemed to be more for ornamental
purposes than anything else however, for the old timer had pep in his step and moved
like silk dangling in a cool summer breeze.

“Now, we will begin with our discourse. First and foremost…” The man coughed hard
into his tight dark brown fist. “You did right to conduct your business as usual.
You were drawn here, back to your hometown, due to a needful event. The scales are
unbalanced. Typically, Koki and you would know of one another but have no reason to
fight. You see, you both coexist and serve important purposes. Regardless of any judgments
one could hurl, there is a significant place for the likes of him in this world, and
those that share his same proclivities. Also…” He turned slowly towards Saint, his
brow slightly raised. “He
knows
you are here, and he is waiting to see what
you
do. When you make your first move, the war begins. If he makes a move, the same.
Koki does not relish confrontation or domination. He prefers to play under the radar,
just as you do. While you do nothing, it increases his anxiety though, and this may
cause him to do something he could later regret. Now, what questions do you have thus
far, Saint?” he asked telepathically, his tone clear and crisp.

“Krishna, I’m…afraid,” Saint admitted. Such admission punched him in the gut, deep
and hard, leaving a shameful soreness after he’d uttered it. “Not of Koki,” he further
explained. “But of the malevolent powers from others that will be released onto innocent
people… It sickens me.”

He paused and caught his breath, taking a look at all the New Yorkers racing back
to their respective work places, their feet moving faster than their brains, words
jumbled in their minds as they tried to stay ahead of any pitfalls that may come their
way. All that twitching, nervous energy was alive and invigorated, waving to the world
then zooming away in a cityscape blur. The yellow and black taxicabs lined the streets
like bumble bees on a honeycomb. The incessant honking played a familiar symphony
to his ears. All the while, fast-moving men in their uniforms unloaded items from
enormous white trucks, pouring skids of goods into local grocery stores, restaurants
and clothing boutiques. All of this touched him in a special way. He ran his finger
over his left brow as he contemplated and tried to gather his thoughts.

“I need to know how to protect myself and my family from him. I believe I understand
what I have to do, but I cannot allow my actions to cause a domino effect, where my
family is harmed in any way, shape or form. This is not like in Egypt… This is more
like…more like damn gang warfare…this shit reminds me of Westside Story.”

“Yes, that would be an accurate analogy. Koki does not wish to receive anything from
you, and I’m sure once the time comes, he will explain that to you.”

“…Because he has to give full disclosure to me regarding his purpose and nature.”

“Precisely. It is the demonic code. Once you ask, he must reveal his identity and
place in your world, or your place in his, however one wishes to look at it. Koki
comes from a long line of what we call fog blood.”

“Fog blood?” Saint’s curiosity went on an elevator and up a floor or two.

“Fog blood is an illusion. It morphs and pretends to be other things, tricking the
senses. Like you, he was created by his father’s seed and placed in his mother’s womb;
only, his kiss was the kiss of death, not life. Koki is an intelligent human being.
You see, like you, he had no choice in what he was. But…he
did
have the choice to live it out. Demon Children do not have to act as they are originally
designed for. The same with Angel Children.” The old man paused briefly, his body
stiffened as he glared at nothing in particular.

“A perfect example is your father and his father before him. They did not utilize
their powers for years. Matter of fact, they pretended as if they did not exist. Many
of us choose that path for a myriad reasons. However, the multi tiered ones do not
have it as easy, thus it is less likely that will occur. These are not powers one
can simply ignore or deny. Each power added makes the Angel Child stronger. Their
strength determines why they were designed from the Almighty Creator.”