“You’re right on time.” Her arms crossed defensively over her chest, and she turned away. “Alex is in the kitchen.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she led the way. “We just finished dinner. Are you hungry?”
The aroma of food drifted from the kitchen, and Damien’s heightened sense of smell told him they’d had beef, potatoes, carrots, and bread for their dinner. He couldn’t remember when he’d last had a home-cooked meal; probably not since his youth.
He experienced another rare nostalgic punch. Both his parents had enjoyed cooking—hearty soups and stews on cold New York winter nights, and French toast or waffles on the weekends, replete with bacon, fresh fruit, and real maple syrup. But the family meals had ended thirty years ago—
Damn it! What was the matter with him? He was methodical and logical, able to maintain an intense focus on whatever task was at hand. He didn’t indulge in going off on mental tangents in general, much less forays into his past, especially into his childhood. That life was over and long gone.
“I’ve eaten,” he said brusquely, stepping into the kitchen behind Kara.
It was an inviting and cheerful room, with pale green walls, rustic, white-painted cabinets, and a warm terra-cotta tile floor. A white wooden table and four matching chairs were grouped in a breakfast nook on the left side of the room. Alex sat in one of the chairs, playing with the remaining food on his plate.
He shot a quick sideways glance at Damien, looked back down. Damien could feel the boy’s heightened tension. He knew he’d be more effective if he could present himself more as a friend and put the boy at ease.
“It smells great in here,” he said to Kara. “Do you do the cooking?”
A small snicker came from the table. “No.” She shook her head. “I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid.”
“No?” Damien looked toward Alex. “So, young man, does that mean you’re the cook?”
A quick shake of the head, brown hair bouncing; Damien thought he saw the flash of a smile. “Then it must be your maid—” he stopped, corrected, “Or housekeeper, or whatever she is.”
“Luz takes care of Alex after school and cleans the house and keeps us from starving to death, at least during the weekdays,” Kara said. “Have a seat, and we’ll get these dishes out of the way.”
He pulled out a chair and sat before prodding to find out more about the housekeeper. “Luz is very protective of you and Alex.”
Kara picked up the leftover meat loaf and potatoes and carried them to the counter. “Yes, she is protective, and she’s very good at swinging a baseball bat.”
“She’s not a conductor,” he mused, ignoring her inference, “yet I sense unusual mental strength in her.”
“She’s a curandera. Not only can she swing a bat, but she can put a curse on you.”
Another snicker came from the table, followed by, “Oh, Mom!”
“Ah, a healer.” Damien considered a moment. “What is her specialty?”
Kara shot him a surprised look. “Well. I’m impressed that you even know what a curandera is, and that they practice different kinds of healing. Luz is a midwife and herbalist.”
“She looks too young to be very skilled,” he commented. “And I would think what she does would be in conflict with your scientific approach to medicine.”
“Not really.” She pulled some aluminum foil from a drawer and began wrapping the meat loaf. “Most of her patients would never go to a conventional physician. Luz is very knowledgeable. She learned from her mother, who was a skilled curandera for many years. At least she’ll contact me if one of her patients has childbirth complications. That’s better than nothing.”
“True enough,” Damien agreed.
“Alex, please clear your dishes off the table.” Kara bent down to look in a lower cabinet, giving Damien a tantalizing view of jeans stretching across a very fine rear. She retrieved a storage container and stood to put the potatoes in it.
Alex picked up his plate and glass and carried them toward the sink, but detoured to open the back door. Before Damien could protest, Mac rushed inside, already barking. Damien started to send a mental command to the animal, but then he saw the flicker of Alex’s hand toward Mac, felt the quicksilver flare of power.
With a final growl, Mac subsided. Kara, getting the bread and carrots from the table, didn’t see the action, nor did she see the quick glance Alex shot at her, then at Damien—or the flash of triumph on his face and the little smile.
Damien contemplated the boy’s too-innocent demeanor. So, Alex must have observed him silencing Mac on Saturday and again on Monday, and figured out what he’d done and then replicated it, which showed intelligence and ability. Not only that, but Alex was obviously experimenting with his powers.
That wasn’t unusual for a curious boy who could sense things most humans couldn’t, but it could prove dangerous with a Belian nearby. Without working closely with Alex on his powers, there was no way for Damien to know how long he’d been using them, or how gifted he really was. But he’d told Kara he’d hold off as much as possible, and he intended to honor that.
Considering, Damien sat back in his chair. Alex turned to the sink, Mac settling expectantly on his haunches, his full attention on the plate the boy was holding. Alex paused at the sink with his back to them; Damien saw a piece of meat loaf falling into a dog dish on the floor.
Kara sank into the chair to his right. “Every night, I tell him not to give Mac scraps, because I don’t want Mac begging at meals,” she said, her voice pitched low. “And every night, he sneaks scraps to Mac anyway, and I pretend not to see.” Her voice hitched, and she paused until Alex stepped onto a small stool by the sink and turned on the water to rinse his dishes.
“I love the normalcy of our little games and routines.” She clenched her hand into a fist on the table, her gaze hardening. “Fate has no right—no right—to take this away from us! I don’t want to give up the life we’ve built here.
At least her tirade hadn’t included Damien as a villain, which he considered a sign of progress. But unfortunately, Sentinels and conductors were not fated for ‘normal’ lives. “I can understand you wanting that,” he said quietly. “But as I’ve already told you, there are no guarantees.”
Alex shuffled back to the table, with Mac right behind him, nudging his hand, probably hoping for more scraps. She turned toward Alex, her expression changing, and her face taking on a glow. As she looked at her son, she radiated love. Damien found the transformation fascinating. He vaguely remembered his parents looking at him like that—once upon a time, in a carefree world he hadn’t known for years.
“Sit down, sweetie,” Kara told her son. “You know Mr. Morgan is here to talk to you.”
Alex slid into the chair across from Damien, his expression wary. Damien leaned forward, maintaining direct eye contact with the boy. “Do you know what I’m here to talk about?”
“Kinda.”
Without dropping his shields, Damien deliberately projected energy. “Can you feel anything?”
A pause, then a small nod. “You feel funny. Like you did on Saturday, and yesterday.”
So Alex could sense the power, even when it was shielded. Sentinel energy vibrated on a very high frequency. Conductors and Sentinels could usually pick up that energy from other Sentinels because they operated through the three higher chakras. Belians operated only on the four lower, Earth-based chakras, with two consequences. The first was that they couldn’t readily sense Sentinels or conductors, which was fortuitous. But it also made it difficult for Sentinels to sense them.
“What you’re feeling is a special energy that I have,” Damien explained.
“So you’re different.” Alex looked down, played with a napkin left on the table. “Like me. I’ve always been different from the other kids.”
“You’re a very normal boy, Alex,” Kara interjected. “You’re smart and good, and I’m very proud of you. Your thoughts are just unusually stro
ng sometimes, that’s all.”
Damien placed his hand over hers, gave a small shake of his head to let her know he didn’t want interference. “Do you agree with your mother, Alex?”
“No.” He scuffed his feet against the floor, looked at Kara. “It’s more than that, Mom. I can tell if someone is sad or happy, or angry. I can always tell when you’re upset. And if I think hard enough, I can move things with my mind. Although I know I’m not supposed to,” he added hastily. “I know we’ve talked about it a lot. I don’t think the other kids at school can do any of that stuff. I’m not like them.”
“Does being different bother you?” Damien asked, keeping a warning hand over Kara’s.
“Sometimes, ‘specially since I can’t tell anyone about it. Mr. Morgan…”
“Yes?”
“What’s a Sentinel?”
Damien felt Kara tense, sensed she was about to jump in. He squeezed her hand. “I’m not going to discuss that with you tonight. I will say most people don’t know anything about Sentinels, which is why you should never mention them to anyone.”
Alex thought about that for a moment. He appeared to be very deliberate in his words and actions, reminding Damien of himself as a boy. “You told me I’m a Sentinel, like you. That we both have power.” Alex tilted his chin up. “My special powers—the ones the other kids don’t have—are those Sentinel powers?”
“Alex—” Kara began, jerking her hand free, but Damien cut her off.
“Yes, they are.”
“Did my dad have those powers?”
“Yes, your father had them.”
Alex’s eyes flared, darkened. “My dad was a Sentinel,” he said, making the obvious connection.
Kara leaned forward, placing both her hands on Alex’s arms. “Sweetie, those Sentinel powers are part of the reason your father died. Which is why it is very, very important that you must never use them. You must never talk about them, and you must be very careful to shield your thoughts.”
His brow furrowed. “Shield my thoughts?”
“Kara, let me handle this,” Damien said firmly. “I gave you my word we’d only discuss shielding tonight, and I will hold to that. But you can’t ignore the boy’s questions. That will only confuse and upset him further.”
“I’m not upset,” Alex protested, then chewed his lower lip. “Not ‘zactly.”
“I’ll let you handle it, as long as you stick to our agreement,” Kara told Damien. She returned her attention to Alex. “Mr. Morgan is going to work with you on shielding your powers. He can help control them. Will you work with him on that? For me?”
Damien watched as the boy considered. A gleam sparked into his eyes, and Damien suspected he found the idea intriguing. Kara had been stifling any urges or inclinations he’d displayed toward using his power all of his life, and he had to be a little bit curious. “I guess so,” he finally said.
“Good.” Damien leaned back in his chair. “There was a game my mother taught me when I was about your age. I would imagine sucking all my energy and thoughts deep inside me. Then I would pretend I was locking them into a box, so they couldn’t get out. Do you think you can do that?”
He waited until Alex gave a slow nod, then continued, “That’s basically shielding your thoughts. But the first step is to learn how to center yourself. Let’s try something. Sit back and close your eyes.” He waited until the boy complied, then continued, “Now, take a deep breath, and imagine all your energy is right in the middle of your body, and it’s forming a straight line going from the top of your head down through your abdomen.”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Damien tried to think of a comparison he would understand. “Do you know what a lightsaber is?”
“Like in Star Wars. Yeah!”
“Just like in Star Wars. Imagine that your energy is inside a lightsaber, and when you turn it on, the energy comes out in a perfect, straight line of light. Now keep that light beam in the exact middle of your body. Can you imagine that?”
His eyes squeezed tightly shut, Alex nodded. His excitement caused his energies to fluctuate wildly. “Keep the light steady and straight, and at the same time, take deep even breaths,” Damien said. “That’s called centering, and you should do it whenever you want to shield yourself.”
Alex would also use the same technique when he wanted to use his powers to track, but that would be a later lesson, if Kara ever allowed the boy to be trained as a Sentinel.
“Do I always have to close my eyes?”
“No. It helps to visualize things at first, but soon you’ll learn to center yourself automatically, without closing your eyes. Right now, imagine you’re turning the lightsaber off, and all your energy is sucked inside the metal handle. Can you see that?”
“Yeah! Cool, just like Luke turning off his saber.”
“Now imagine a box made out of something very strong, like steel.”
Alex’s brow furrowed again. “Or the stuff they use for streets and parking places?”
“Do you mean cement? That’s good. Any box that’s very thick and strong will work. Once you see the box in your mind, put the lightsaber—which contains your energy, right?—into the box, close it and lock it. Now your power and energy are inside that box, and no one can see or feel or know they’re there.”
“But…if all my energy is gone, will I still be alive?”
The boy was very astute. “Of course you will,” Damien told him. “Your energy will still be there inside you. It will just be protected.”
“Like from Darth Vader?”
“Absolutely, and from anyone else who’s evil. Do you think you can do that?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s practice. Visualize the lightsaber projecting the energy in the center of your body, then turn it off and lock it in the box. Try it.”
They worked at the process several times, and Alex quickly became very adept at “hiding” his power, even from Damien.
“That’s good,” Damien said, after Alex had shielded himself the fourth time. “You must practice this every day, especially when you’re not at home. When you’re at school, or with your friends, or out anywhere, you need to center yourself by visualizing the lightsaber. Then suck your energies into it and lock everything inside the box. It’s very important. It will help keep you safe.”
“Keep me safe from what? Strangers?”
Damien guessed that was a valid question, as Kara had probably been warning Alex about strangers all his life. “It’s to keep you safe from anyone who doesn’t like Sentinels.”
“Why don’t people like Sentinels?”
Damien knew tonight wasn’t the time to bring up Belians, so he replied, “Because some people don’t like anyone who is different from them.”
“That’s cause they don’t know better,” Alex said, accepting this with the innate wisdom of a child, along with the intelligent comprehension of his Sentinel birthright.
Damien felt a pang of regret that this precocious, serious child would probably never have anything approaching a normal life. He reminded himself that Alex’s soul had freely chosen this path.
“Yeah, they don’t know any better,” he answered. “So for now, I don’t want you to mention Sentinels to anyone, not even your best friends. Again, you need to lock your energies and thoughts in that imaginary box every single day, especially when you’re not at home. All right?”
“Okay,” Alex said, but it was apparent he still had a lot of questions.
“We’ll talk about more ways to shield your energy and powers after you’ve worked with locking them in the box. Try it for a few days, then I’ll come back for another visit,” Damien said. “Call me if you have any problems. Your mom has my telephone number.”
“Sure, Mr. Morgan,” Alex said, his dark eyes reflecting a maturity far beyond his six years, and a knowing that told Damien it was going to be next to impossible to keep the boy’s Sentinel heritage at bay—no matter how much Kar
a might fight against it.
CHAPTER SIX
The next day, Kara managed to keep herself convinced she’d made the right decision in letting Damien Morgan work with Alex on shielding his energies—until her cell phone rang while she was driving home late that afternoon. She reached over and snagged the phone, saw it was from home. “Hello!” she said, expecting one of the normal after school calls she often got from Alex.
“Get home immediately,” Luz said, her voice tense.
Alarm roared through Kara. “What’s wrong?” Sudden childish shrieking sounded in the background, and her alarm coalesced into panic. “Was that Alex? What’s wrong?” She was practically screaming herself.
“Espíritu malo. ¡Hay un espíritu malo en la casa! ” Luz lapsed into rapid Spanish, something she did only if she was truly rattled.
“What? For God’s sake, speak English!” Realizing she had edged into the other lane and into the path of an oncoming car, Kara swerved back, barely missing the vehicle. “Is Alex all right?” Her heart was pounding so hard, she had to strain to hear Luz.
“Evil spirit,” Luz gasped. Another shriek came through the phone. “There’s a…a fantasma—a ghost, in the house.”
“What do you mean, a ghost?”
“Something not human is in this house,” Luz shrilled. “We cannot see it, but it is throwing things around, and Alex says it is ‘talking’ to him. The boy is terrified, and I don’t know what to do. You must come. ¡Pronto!”
“I’m on my way.” Kara’s mind was reeling, her body shaking from adrenaline overload. A ghost? A cold vise gripped her heart. Her experiences with Richard had taught her that discarnate entities—what some considered “ghosts”—did indeed exist, and they were often very evil and dangerous. Sometimes they were even displaced Belians.
All-out terror ripped through her at hurricane force, impeding cohesive thoughts. She had to stay calm. Her son was in danger. Think, Kara! Damien—they needed to get Damien over there.