Saved and SAINTified (78 page)

“Shut the fuck up!”
Saint shouted between clenched teeth. Just then, he heard the television blast from the entertainment area. A line from the ‘Lion King’ came through crystal clear.
“You must take your place in the circle of life.”

“Perfect timing,”
Saint smiled at Gyasi as he watched the man lower his gaze, seeming to accept the fate he knew Saint had written in stone.

“Okay, Gyasi, you know
, I was going to drag this out a bit, enjoy myself. It’s been a long ass few days, but seeing as I haven’t seen my family in a little while and I have to undo the
bullshit
you pulled upstairs,” Saint screamed angrily, “we can just get right to it. I must admit, you’ve spoiled my fun, forcing me to have to rush.”  Saint looked at him and deliberated. “My gun would cause too much mess. I don’t want your blood messing up my office. So I’ll do this…”

He bit down on his bottom lip and gave a swift, hard chop to Gyasi across the
Adam’s apple, cutting his breath, just because.

Gyasi’s eyes bucked and he gasped for air, his legs shaking from the extreme pain.
Saint slid him off the wall and stood behind him. He put his arms under Gyasi’s and locked his hands stiffly behind the man’s head. He felt Gyasi shiver and try to break free to no avail as the full nelson was being put into play. Saint applied hard pressure—bending the man’s neck forward, cutting off the spinal fluid to the brain—and simply waited. Seconds later, Gyasi slumped down, the last breath of his life slipping past his lips.

Saint
let the corpse drop haphazardly to the ground like a bag of spoiled trash and looked down at him. “I’ll take the garbage out later. Don’t worry, I’ll come back soon to throw you out. I can’t have you stinkin’ up the place. My house isn’t the city dump or Holiday Inn.” He stepped over him and made his way to the door. “You can’t come over here unannounced. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed your stay.”

Saint snapped his fingers and began to sing,
“Ho-tel! Mo-tel! Holiday, Inn! Say, if yo’ girl starts actin’ up, then you take her friend!”

****

Saint burst out of his office, closing and locking the door behind him. He didn’t want to risk Hassani or Dakarai running in and seeing the mangled body of the man that scared them half to death earlier. He walked swiftly toward the entertainment room, banged on the door and screamed out over the loud Disney movie. “Xenia! It’s me, baby! Open the door!” He banged again.

Xenia swung the doors open and leapt into his arms. Saint hugged her tightly and soon felt his sons grabbing hold to his legs. He smiled widely, kissed the top of their heads, then her cheek, looked back down at them and smiled.

“Everything is going to be okay, soldiers. The bad man can’t hurt you anymore.
He went away.” The boys’ smiles were brighter than the sun.

“Saint.” Xenia’s face grew grave.
She pulled him closer and whispered in his ear.

He looked at her, nodded and turned. “Baby, I need to go upstairs
. Keep the boys down here a while longer and
don’t
go into the office. I’ll take care of
that
issue as well. Oh, and I know where she is. I had that set up before I left.” He winked, turned away and raced up the steps.

He made his way back to the foyer. The
sleeping fog still hovered over the others. Saint stood some distance and concentrated, trying his hardest to move the airborne sleeping potion out of his home, even though he’d never tried to move something that was non-solid. The protective smoke began to dissipate. He pushed his hands out in front of him. He swallowed deeply, and forced the front door further open with his mind. It opened quickly, banging against the house. He then took another deep breath, directed it, and within moments, the miasma began to dissipate until it was out of the house and floating upward into the sky.

Saint
raced over to Jagger, Beset, Lawrence and his father. He gently tapped the sides of their faces until they came to. Jagger was the first to rouse from his blood-stained spot on the floor, followed soon by Lawrence. Moments later, his father opened his eyes, dazed and woozy. Beset was taking too long. He felt her pulse; it was very weak compared to his earlier check.

Saint
looked at the three men as they rubbed their heads and got to their feet.

“She’s not breathing right
... she’s not opening her eyes,” Saint said frantically as he began to lightly shake her. “Beset ... Beset!” He gathered her tighter in his arms, squeezing her to his chest, trying desperately to revive her.

He
grabbed Lawrence’s collar. “I need you to go into her room, the guestroom, and look under the floorboard in the closet.  There, between the floors of the house, is a make-shift small nursery I made for Isis, for Beset to hide her in. The door is locked; here is my key.”

Lawrence
nodded, took Saint’s key ring and made his way up the steps like a bat out of Hell.

Saint
turned his attention back to Beset.

“Son,” his father said weakly
. “Let’s try to lay her down, and you go ahead and try to heal her. I’ll put her head on my lap.” Saint anxiously helped move her body then slid down next to her. He put his hand over her heart, and moved her hand to his chest, pressing deeply with his fingertips.

“Come on, Beset
... come on!”

Saint
’s mind raced as he continued to receive no response from her. He couldn’t go through it again; he’d lost too much. He wasn’t even sure Beset knew it, but she’d become the grandmother he’d never had. His mother’s parents wanted nothing to do with him until he was a teenager, and by then, he had no desire to form a relationship with them. His father’s parents had passed before he could even remember them. He’d lost his mother, James—his surrogate father and boss—countless friends he’d grown up with ... and now this. His heart couldn’t take much more.

“Beset! Damn it!”

He pressed harder, rocking the old woman in his arms like a baby, bringing her head up from his father’s lap. Spirals of her long salt and pepper hair flowed out from under her head wrap.  Maybe her heart couldn’t take the sudden slumber; after all, it was an infamous Egyptian spell just like the one she’d concocted to protect Isis. There was nothing mysterious about it, It was in several books Saint had read and, just maybe, it was like many viruses that affected the very young and very old in more adverse ways.

“
Saint,” his father whispered as he gently touched his shoulder.

Saint
lurched back, his eyes becoming glossy. “No! I can save her!” he protested.

He picked her up and
hastily carried her into the upstairs hall bath. No one followed him; his intensity was all consuming and it was quite obvious he wanted to be left alone. Saint turned on the bathtub water. He looked around, noting some of the toiletries that Xenia had recently purchased for her—lilac scented bubbles and rose shaped soaps. The old woman smelled like them.

The water was cool to the touch. He lowered her into the water, hoping to shock her senses.
After plunging her into the icy liquid, he pressed on her chest a few times, then gently opened her lips and blew warm air into her mouth. Cerulean fog left his mouth and went into hers. The lights in the bathroom began to blink and flicker as he drained the energy from the room and himself, to continue to move forward.

He felt himself becom
e lethargic and light-headed, but he continued on. He refused to fail ... he refused to let her go. After a few seconds, Beset’s eyes flew open. She gasped for air and her soaking wet clothes clung to her frame as she frantically splashed about. Saint quickly lifted her out of the water and placed her gently on the floor, propping her head with a towel. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, unable to hold back his smile as he watched her confusion grow and the color return to her face.

“Beset
, please don’t ever scare me like that again.” In a world of pain, he rubbed his chest. His heart beat erratically. He’d given a bit of himself to bring her back, and he’d need to rest for several days to recuperate. The last forty-eight hours had caught up with him, and his running on adrenaline was now officially on ‘E’. But he didn’t care; she was saved, just as she’d done for him and his daughter. For his entire family...

****

Saint placed Beset in her bed to rest, then flew down the steps to Lawrence, who held Isis in his arms. He handed her over. Saint gripped that baby with all his might, so thankful that she was okay. He kissed the baby over and over, showering her with flowing affection.

“You’re okay,
Isis,” he choked. “Everything is okay now. I love you so much.”

His heart burst with love—unexplainable love that a father has for his child, for his precious angel. After a few moments, Saint cleared his throat and looked back at his father, Lawrence and Jagger. Even Jagger smiled through his physical pain. Saint walked over to his father, kissed his cheek then handed his daughter to him.

“Lawrence,” Saint said softly as he peered out of a window at nothing in particular, “That man is downstairs in my office. I need you to...”

“I already know.”
Lawrence smiled and raised his hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Not by yourself,” Jagger choked out. “Let me get this guy out the front here before someone sees him, and then...”

“Wait a minute, Jagger.” Saint laid Jagger down on the floor, placed his healing hands over the wounds, and healed him with the little bit of strength he could muster. After a few minutes, it was done. Now, Saint could barely walk.  He was completely zapped, unable to help so much as a fly. Lawrence led Saint to the nearby couch, helping him raise his legs.

“Saint, it is imperative that you rest here for a little while. You have no more energy and could impair your system permanently if you do anything else today. You’ve over-exerted. First Nizsm, his son, then Beset and now Jagger. That is too much, even for you.”

“And I had to fight one of his wives and take out another son while I was there. He tried to ambush me.”

Saint’s father shook his head and turned away.

Saint grimaced but conceded, knowing he needed to follow the sage advice. He closed his tired eyes. Lawrence was right. He wanted to immediately get rid of the bodies, gather around his family again and celebrate—but it was physically impossible. He had never felt such exhaustion in all of his life.

Jagger’s gruff voice broke through the peace and tranquility. “Don’t worry, Boss. Lawrence and I will take care of everything. We know exactly what to do.”

Jagger had removed more than his share of bodies, never to be found again. It was the nature of his job. Lawrence would ensure that it was still done with respect. You didn’t just throw an Angel Child into the ground; there was a protocol that had to be adhered to, even for the wayward ones that worked for the Lords of evil.

Lawrence
knew the prayers inside and out, and then, the brothers would be burned. Not with a match and gasoline—by their own psychic acts of nature, so that no remains would survive the harsh flame.

“And so do I. Please rest, son. We know how to take care of this.” Osaze assured, allowing Saint relax just enough, to drift into a deep sleep that his battled and bruised body so desperately needed.

****

Hours later
...

Xenia
burst into Beset’s bedroom to check on her. The day had been nightmarish.  She wanted her children close to her, but at the final hour, she’d resigned to the fact that her offspring were not interested. She laughed as they insisted on sleeping in Hassani’s room, remembering that is where all the good toys where.

But she knew it was deeper than that. They had a special connection that had grown exponentially over the course of the last few days.
They had a new respect for one another and now shared a bond even closer than the one previously formed. Dakarai insisted on piling into the bed with Hassani, cramping their small bodies like sardines, but they appeared more than content. Hassani even placed his arm around his little brother. The sight of it filled Xenia’s heart with joy. She stepped in to check on Beset. The woman rested on the side of her bed, still feeling lethargic and rubbing her throat. Her voice was hoarse, and she battled a cough. She nursed a hot cup of tea with fresh lemon Xenia insisted upon serving her, and held sleeping Isis close to her after the grueling day she too had endured. She’d insisted on holding that baby—she
needed
that baby right then and there...

Xenia
waited patiently as the woman held her a while longer. Beset’s eyes glossed with happy tears, and soon, she held out the precious baby, placing Isis in her mother’s arms. After that, Beset slowly closed her eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Xenia
leaned down, and kissed Beset softly on the cheek, holding her daughter extra tight as she flicked the small lamp beside the bed, and left the room, closing the door quietly. Taking gentle strides, she made her way down the steps in the quiet, serene home. She entered the den, and sat down in the overstuffed, regal chair. Staring at the dark fireplace, she imagined a roaring flame, wishing it were lit. It always gave her comfort when she and Saint would have discussions in front of the lit fireplace that he would start, just for the two of them. It was so romantic, so beautiful.