True Intentions (22 page)

"Okay. Be my guest."

I nod and take a deep breath, wishing I knew a way to calm my nerves. Kate intimidates me more than most girls my age. Of course technically she really isn't my age . . . . She is five hundred years older.

"I know how I would feel if my brother's life was in danger because of a girl, I would hate her for it." I don't blame you if you hate me or wish he would reconsider. I can sincerely say to you that I love him, and I am sorry your family is going through all this because of me."

I wait for a response. The silence is so thick; you could cut it with a knife,
or even
a spoon,
at this point.

But Kate doesn't respond. Instead, she just looks around the barn, and I wonder if she is ignoring me or trying to think of something to say in response to my speech.

After a prolonged moment of silence, she finally makes eye contact and speaks her mind.

"I understand why he is doing this," she confesses, selecting her words with the utmost care. "Sam has a good soul. He doesn't deserve this life. Some of us made bad choices. That is why we are here. Sam wasn't like that. That's why he found you."

I blink rapidly, unsure what she means.

Found me?

I stay silent.

She watches me intensely, her eyes not leaving mine. My silence appears to intrigue her.

"Do you think he found you by accident?" she asks, raising one eyebrow.

I shrug.

What is she talking about? He
acted
like he found me by accident.

"I see," she says, shaking her head. "Let me tell you a little about our friend Lucifer."

I feel a lump form in my throat as I hear her speak his name.

"You see, Lucifer is very predictable; God is the one who works in mysterious ways. Sam found you because God knew he would love you. He knew Sam would do anything—
even die
—to protect you. Hopefully it will never come to that, and someday when you die
without
your soul going to Lucifer, Sam will get another life—a second chance. Then it will be his decision to make the right choices or fall victim to the devil once again . . . ." She stops abruptly, looking away. "At least that's what the prophecy says."

I'm lost.

What prophecy?

"I don't understand."

"Sam didn't tell you? He didn't tell you he would become human and have a normal human life—another chance?"

I shake my head. He mentioned my gift of influence, but that was it. There is clearly much more.

"You are what we call a
Mahatma—
the most powerful soul around. That's precisely why Lucifer wants it so much. He is trying to get you to death's door, where you may consider trading your soul to stay alive. If you're not willing, you'll die, and then he doesn't have to worry about you ruining his plans for mankind. After all, what if you start saving mankind from his evil influence? Following me so far?"

I nod as her words sink in.

"Okay. Then there's Sam. He is protecting you on several levels. Not only keeping you pure so we can't use our powers against you, but also allowing your influential gift to develop so it will eventually shine. Your abilities work in mystifying ways. If you truly care for Sam the way you claim you do, your love should set him free when you die—even if you died tomorrow. Of course, there's one glitch; if Sam dies first, he obviously doesn't get a second chance."

I gulp . . . . My stomach feels queasy as I think about what she said.

"Then why doesn't he let me die so he can be free?" I ask. My heart aches for him.

She raises her eyebrows in confusion.

"Because he loves you . . . . He wants you to have the chance to live your life."

She frowns and I get the feeling she doesn't approve.

"Sam doesn't want to be alive without you. He is looking for a way to keep you safe and hopes your power can free other people's souls from sin. Does that make sense?"

I nod. I'm sort of getting it.

What if Sam dies protecting me?
He wouldn't get the second chance to go to heaven. Now I feel the urge to protect Sam and to make sure he doesn't get destroyed by Satan, so he can go back to being human and spend eternity with me.

"I have one question," I say.

I'd rather ask Sam my question, but I appreciate Kate's honesty. "How does my gift work? I have no idea how to influence anyone."

Kate smiles for the first time. "Just be yourself, Ava. Others will gravitate toward you, and then you can guide them to what's right instead of what's wrong."

I take a deep breath. My nerves are even more unstable after talking with Kate. I feel a tremendous amount of responsibility being this
Mahatma
for mankind. It's a duty I'm not sure I want. I just want to be normal like everyone else.

Okay, maybe not like all the Barbie's around here.

Kate smiles again then turns and goes back to combing the horse. "I think Sam is waiting for you."

I walk away without saying another word. I'm too shocked to even say thank you. Once outside the barn, I sprint up to the house to find Sam. He's sitting on his kitchen counter, eating from a bowl of strawberries.

"Can we go somewhere?" I ask.

"Why, what's wrong?" He jumps off the counter and moves closer. He suddenly tenses up his jaw.

I don't want him to worry.

"I just would rather not be here. What if Stephen and Susan are right and they're being watched? I don't want to put them in any more danger than necessary."

Sam doesn't debate any of my concerns. He just motions for me to follow him.

We climb back into my Jeep, and Sam finally speaks, breaking the silence. "I think I've got the place we can go for a bit." His tone is calm.

We drive in silence down some of the remote mountain roads until we reach the lake. I've never been on this side before. Along part of the thick forest is an open beach

—very secluded. I step out and stare in amazement. From here, the view is spectacular.

In the background, a thick forest of mature trees can be seen on the other side of the lake. The still water is absolutely breathtaking; it looks like a sheet of glass. The scent of pine fills my nostrils. In the distance, the sun is descending for the evening throwing beautiful rays of color across the water. Its surface shimmers like a kaleidoscope. Sam takes my hand, leading us down to a sandy beach. As soon as we reach the shore, he slips off his sandals and sits. His attention is on the water, not me. I follow his lead and sit next to him, cross-legged. I gaze at the perfect view. I get a glimpse of Sam out of the corner of my eyes. I'm unwilling to fight the urge to turn my entire body toward him and stare at his beauty instead of the water.

In his white button-up, he has the appearance of an angel. His profile gleams in the sun's soft lighting. I try to imagine 1798 and what he was like back then when he was actually alive. Although I'm hesitant, I seek out the answers to satisfy my curiosity.

"Tell me more about you."

Sam turns his face in my direction.

He looks me up and down as he responds.

"What do you want to know?" he asks. His voice is soft and welcoming.

"Actually . . ." I pause briefly, trying to determine what I want to know the most.

I give up, unwilling to narrow it down. "Everything, I want to know everything about you. Like, tell me what were you were like back when you were human." My voice cracks. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. Maybe it's too painful for him to reminisce.

Sam doesn't appear stressed by my questions.

"I was like any other seventeen-year-old boy, reckless and stubborn." He looks out at the water. His voice sounds more guarded than usual.

"But times were a lot different than they are today. If you were too audacious, you could end up with an injury that would cost your life. So, I guess I walked on a tightrope, adventure on one side and danger on the other." He draws circles in the sand.

"Okay. Then what's your favorite color?" I ask unexpectedly, not sure where that question actually came from. Maybe I'm trying to lighten up the conversation.

"White," he replies without the slightest hint of indecision.

"Why white?" I ask. My nose scrunches up while I consider why anyone would have white as their favorite color. Is white even considered a color? White's so . . . plain.

"To me, white represents heaven. It's pure and good. What were you expecting, black?" His response makes partial sense. I can understand why he desires heaven, no matter what side he officially works for.

"Do I get to ask you my questions?" He smirks and our eyes meet.

"Not yet," I insist and immediately start my next line of questioning.

"I know about tempting Walter. What types of other temptations do you typically cause—" I stop abruptly, unsure if my question makes much sense. "I guess I want to know what temptations do you create that can damn us to owe our souls to Satan."

He looks down and moves his fingers in the sand once more. I can tell by the look on his face, this topic is agonizing to talk about.

"I focus mostly on violent acts," he admits. There's a look of resentment in his teal eyes.

"Generally, I encourage crime. Theft, assaults, rape, murder . . . ." he pauses, as if he's waiting for my reaction.

When I don't seem bothered, he finishes. "Things like that."

"Why?" I ask without thinking.

Silence fills the air. After several minutes, I consider just saying I'm sorry and dropping my questioning. Before I can get the words out, he responds.

"Because, I believe God is exceptionally forgiving—at least when people ask for forgiveness. I have always focused on people in whom I sense a strong aura of evil.

Those individuals who are already living on that fine line. I just help them decide if they are willing to cross over."

His answer inspires my next question.

"Have you ever had someone you thought was evil not give into your temptation?"

"Once."

I lean forward.

"It was in my
youth
of this existence. There was this one guy who had committed several small crimes in the past."

He closes his eyes briefly as if he's trying to remember back to the day.

"The guy was fairly young, maybe late teens or early twenties. He was very poor and having a hard time making enough income to survive. I knew of another wealthy man who wanted his enemy taken care of. This wealthy man was scum. He was unwilling to do the deed himself, but more than willing to pay a high price to have it done. I was fairly confident this young gentleman would take the money and complete the assassination. I watched as he took a large deposit of cash from the wealthy man and stalked the enemy for days. In the end, he couldn't go through with it. I was dumbfounded for the first and
only
time."

I ponder what life was like for Sam the last two hundred years. Has he ever been remorseful about bringing temptation to others, even when they do have an "
evil aura
"?

Unable to keep my mouth shut, I ask the next thing on my mind.

"Do you ever feel guilty knowing some other innocent person will end up being affected by you bringing temptation to the evil individuals? Like what Walter did to Jessica?"

"Ava . . . ." he says, stopping his explanation to make eye contact. He intertwines my hand with his. "With every single fiber of my being, I wish things could be different.

I've never enjoyed this horrific role. I would never wish this existence on my worst enemy. I've had to close off my mind when it comes to empathizing with the innocent, or I wouldn't be able to continue. It took time, but after a few years . . . I've been able to block it out. That technique worked extremely well for decades, at least until you affected me."

"Affected you?" I ask, shocked and baffled by his comment. "You must be confused. You have it all wrong. It's the other way around."

Sam grunts at my response, his hand tightening around mine. "You're absurd.

You know that? When I saw you in the woods running that morning, I'm sad to admit, but I was prepared to let you be victimized, like Jessica. I even knew this time Walter wouldn't have been satisfied with just the sexual domination, he needed more. I knew he would kill you, and for a brief moment, I was okay with that. I sensed your purity and your gift. That actually made the situation more interesting, because I knew Lucifer would be pleased. But then, these strange feelings inside began to overwhelm me.

Foreign feelings of empathy, compassion, and wanting to protect you clouded my judgment. Before I had the chance to second-guess myself or talk myself out of it, I was stopping you from going any further. I was bewildered and furious for protecting you.

That's why I was such a jerk to you. I couldn't control these unfamiliar emotions you brought out of me. I was taken aback by you and have wanted nothing but to protect you from all the monsters of this world ever since that moment."

Tears fill my eyes. I blink repeatedly to stop them from flowing over. Not because he had at one time been fine with my assault and even my death, but because he is now in complete danger and will probably die because of
me
.

"Is that why Satan wants you dead?"

Sam shrugs. He pulls his hand from mine, and strokes my hand up to my wrist.

"I thought if I avoided you and watched you from a distance, you would be safe.

Somehow, Lucifer found out you exist. That's why he sent Matthew to have you destroyed. Before I killed Walter, I probably would have been scolded and punished for letting you escape the first time. Since I saved you from Walter, I've been sentenced to death.

We sit in silence for a moment.

As the awkwardness continues, Sam tries to lighten the mood. "So, I guess you could say I'm now a wanted man. Kinda like Jesse James." He grins.

I snicker lightly at his comment. He definitely is wanted
, in more ways than one.

"You said once before a human wouldn't be able to kill you, but another angel could. How does that happen?" I ask, my demeanor turning serious again.