Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father (101 page)

“Thank you
,” Xenia said proudly as she continued to observe Traci taking the little one in.

“Can I ask you something, regarding children?”

Xenia swallowed. She already knew where this was going but as someone who’d been in this for a while, she also realized she had to help Traci, and motherhood wasn’t something that one could shove their head in the sand about.

“You want to know if my children have what Saint, Lawrence and Jagger have, right?”

Traci smiled shyly and nodded.

“Yes. All three of them.”

Traci gasped in disbelief as she peered down at the little girl once more, covering her gaping mouth with both hands in astonishment.

“I
—I had no idea. They seem, well, just like regular children!”

“I know, but you don’t see what is going on behind closed doors.” Xenia smirked. “They are all different, Traci. They all have different gifts. From my understanding, it is also not common to have multiple children, and
for them to all be gifted, but all three of ours are. The theory that Lawrence explained is that because of Saint’s…” Xenia paused and checked the tone of her voice, speaking lower and more in a whisper. “Because of Saint’s level of power, his children were more inclined to be gifted as well. The weaker, gift wise, an Angel Child is, the less likely he or she is to have this happen, but it also tends to run in families, so we can infer a lot from that.”

Traci nodded slowly, taking it all in.
“Where would you say Jagger is on this scale?”

Xenia smiled at her and turned toward a display of accessories. “Traci, Jagger is pretty powerful from what Saint has told me. Lawrence is pretty good, too, but the two of them have what is considered an abundance of power. He isn’t as tiered as Saint, but Jagger is still the wrong person to mess with.” She held a pair of amethyst earrings in her palm then turned back toward Traci who seemed to have paled a couple of complexions. Xenia ran her hand comfortingly over the woman’s shoulder as the last woman of her bridal party was measured.

“It’s okay. I’ll just deal with it.” She sighed. “I love him so much, Xenia.” Her voice quaked a bit.

“I know you do. Traci, it’s alright to be afraid, you know. This is all still new to you and I’ve been married to Saint for a long time, and there are some things I
still
haven’t gotten completely used to. Just know that I’m here for you and that Jagger loves you so much, he’d never do anything to hurt you or intentionally make you feel uncomfortable. Just love him, be supportive, be there for him. There are some nights he is going to want to talk, just listen. There are going to be some nights he doesn’t want to talk, but should—encourage him to. Everyone is different, but people like our guys need our love. They use it like fuel because we’re soulmates and very important to them. We are intricate. When he gets out of line, tell him so. If you need more of his time, let him know, because honey,”—Xenia snatched a purple sash purse off a hook and ran her thumb over the silky material—“he is going to be
very
busy. The organization and their duties as Angel Children are exhausting and take up a lot of time, but they must not neglect home so just help nudge him sometimes, if that starts to happen. All in all, I couldn’t be happier, Traci. It’s hard sometimes, but I couldn’t imagine being married to anyone else other than Saint. The man makes me laugh all the time. He is kind and gentle. He is caring to others in need and he is a damn nut, too.”

They both shared a hearty laugh.

“And I believe Jagger is the same way.”

Traci nodded in agreement. “He is. When we were dating and getting to know each other, I couldn’t believe he was even real and wanted to pinch myself. I mean, damn. Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that the man is gorgeous.”

“Yes he is!” Xenia laughed.

“And he is smart, kinda goofy sometimes, but I like that because that’s the part he kept hidden. He was always so serious so when he gets like that, it lets me know he is comfortable. He is really generous with me and the sex…” Traci rolled her eyes causing Xenia to grin mischievously.

“Well, looks like he is handling his business!” She laughed.

“Yes, and no he isn’t perfect and neither am I, but we are good together
.” Traci paused and folded her arms. “We are good for one another,” she repeated, as if it realizing it crystal clear for herself as well.

“Yup. You’ve got it, little sister. You’ve got it, now!”

“Traci!” one of her friends called out. “Do we have to wear these shoes?”

Traci secretly rolled her eyes causing Xenia to smirk.

“Girl, let me go see what Erin is talking about.”

“Go right ahead and when we leave from her
e, don’t forget we need to stop by the bakery.”

“I won’t, and thank you.”

“No problem, I remember stuff like that.”

“No
.” Traci grinned. “Thank you for the talk. I needed it.”

“Any
time. And we will talk a lot more about this stuff. Everything is going to be fine. You just wait and see.” Xenia winked at her and let her walk over to the small crowd. She looked down at Isis and ran her fingers through the silky waves of her daughter’s tresses. She’d parted her hair at the side and put in a little yellow bow to match her yellow and cream top with sage polka dots. There was nothing that could top dressing a little girl. Xenia had finally got her clone, and as she stared at that angel, she knew, one day, she’d be attending her
own
daughter’s wedding. Saint had threatened to not allow her to date until she was fifty. She smiled at the memory of his joke, even though a part of him wished it were true. One day, her children would have children of their own, and she could sit back and enjoy them as the blessings they truly were. She looked over her shoulder and saw Traci moving about, laughing and smiling with her girlfriends, and realized something. She’d been spending her time trying to mold Shianne into someone that the young woman thought she could never be. Shianne had self-esteem issues, and that encouraged Xenia to put the lady under her wing. But it had come back to bite her in the damn ass.

She’d had so much potential and the fact that she almost caused her death made Xenia never want to reach out and help another person again. She knew she couldn’t do that though. She enjoyed helping people, especially women. Traci was the woman
who needed and wanted Xenia in her life. She was an only child like Saint. She’d had great parents and a nice, stable home, but she was a bit awkward, and needed people around her. Traci was the little sister Xenia never had. Sure, she had Porsche, but that wasn’t the same. Porsche was her twin and didn’t need Xenia’s mothering. Xenia needed other women around her, younger women who desired to grow and be better than they were yesterday.

Xenia looked back down at Isis
. “What a pretty baby doll, honey! I’m glad you like it. Did you name her yet?”

“Yet?” Isis repeated, not quite understanding.

Xenia knelt down low. “What’s the baby’s name?” She pointed to the brown baby doll with short, curly dark brown hair.

“Traysheee.”

Xenia grinned. “Very nice. That’s a good name. I love it, Traci it is!” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and relished the moment in time…

~***~

The screaming and wailing became louder and louder as she cloaked her ears with her moist palms. They’d taken her off the gurney and placed her back in her tiny, rectangular room, while her head swarmed with mind-altering drugs that left her jellied like a fish. She kept telling the psychiatrist about the men, and the voices that wouldn’t shut up. She didn’t understand why no one else saw them. It went on daily, never ceasing, driving her insane as she pointed to various corners of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs,
“Do you see him?! He’s here!” But no one believed her…

Every day, she saw images of Lawrence and Jagger dancing about, their eyes glowing. Sometimes Jagger would turn into a shadow of himself, hovering in a corner, and staring at her. All
she’d see were his light blue eyes, creepy eyes that blinked intermittently. She hated when the lights were off for the evening; that seemed to draw the demons out even further. Usually their eyes were red late at night. Everyone believed she’d lost her mind, but she knew she hadn’t, or maybe she had? They’d done something to her, left her with a calling card that would wreck her sanity like a hard bowling ball against tortured pins. She was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. She heard the doctor, heard him loud and clear when he gave her that sentence. It meant she was out of her damned mind and thought people were out to get her. It meant she trusted no one, and that she had other personalities living inside of her, taking over her life every day. None of that was true, but the fucking man wouldn’t listen.

Shianne cried most mornings and screamed most evenings while cooped up in the hospital. She barely ingested enough food to keep a child alive, let alone herself…and she was starting to lose her will to live. The men
in her visions were all around, see-through versions of themselves, screaming at her—angry, seething, grinding their teeth. They laughed at her, too—her forever roommates, present like a horrible tape playing over and over, but they could respond to her, interact with her thoughts, and that was the horror of it. Whatever thought popped into her head, they’d laugh, or repeat it back.

When the big one with the tattoos had tied her down and the tan one with the long black hair arrived, the big one had
pressed his big, heavy palm into her forehead and stared into her eyes. She’d tried to move, but was too terrified to do anything but breathe. Slowly but surely, she felt her thoughts changing, morphing. Parts of who she once was no longer existed, and a new woman had emerged. A woman who was overly sensitive, scared…petrified actually. She was haunted by fiends scolding her, threatening to touch her and make her listen to her own heartbeat in stereo. It had begun as soon as she took up residence in Australia. She’d gone there so Sinclair, Xenia, Saint, or anyone else couldn’t get to her—but she’d been wrong. She thought about them on a daily basis and knew she’d be forced to think about them for the rest of her life. Now, she couldn’t go anywhere. She’d been admitted into the damned place after being found incoherent in her hotel room. She told the police about the men following her, the ones with the red eyes, and this was where she ended up. She’d never get out, and if she did, it didn’t even matter. They’d only follow her.

During periods of lucid
ity, she did the one thing she remembered doing as a little girl: she prayed. She prayed that, if God was real, would He please make the screaming and vile acts stop? She surmised God was make believe, a figment of her imagination, just as the doctor said these men were.

Soon, the door opened and a nurse entered with a tray of medication. Hazy eyed, Shianne ran her fingers through her matted hair and didn’t bother to wipe the drool away from her lips.

“Hi Shianne. You know the routine, open up.”

She slowly opened her palm, then placed the two small yellow pills on her tongue
and chased them with a tiny Dixie cup of water. The nurse checked her mouth then turned away.

“Will you be joining us for volleyball this afternoon, Shianne?”

Every day, she was asked the same shit, and she always refused. Every night she hoped she’d die in her sleep.

She shook her head and
lay down on her cot bed, listening as the metal door was closed and locked and the nurse went to the next rooms. She stayed on her side, in a fetal position. The sun peered into the barred window at dawn, and at night, the room was pitch dark like the inside of a witch’s hat…and that was when they’d put on their greatest show and when she’d brainstorm a million and one ways to commit suicide hoping that one day, an attempt would finally work. A few weeks later, she found one that did…

~***~

“I, Traci Hudson, take you, Jagger, to be my lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, ’til death do us part.”

Jagger’s black tuxedo and white and black polka dot tie were rather startling to see. His hair was brushed back, exposing a fine hairline. He’d let it grow out a bit for the nuptials from his usual buzz cut. The man cleaned up well, Saint had to give it to him. He looked damn right dapper.

Saint and Lawrence were dressed like James Bond and stood beside Jagger’s two younger brothers who shared similar features as their big bro. The four of them stood close to Jagger, giving support. Lawrence was his best man, and seemed to be taking great pride in the entire ceremony. He had a damn smile displayed on his face that wouldn’t shift or crack. Lawrence was right in his element, loving every second of it. Saint was able to get periodic glimpses of Jagger. The man was just as goofy looking, actually more so, than Lawrence. He, too, couldn’t wipe the damned grin off his face. Saint peeped around to the other side, and caught Xenia crying like a blubbering child. His wife was so emotional about weddings and new babies, and it warmed his heart. He had tried to stay cool, not let the sentimental nature of the shit weave its way into his heart. He remembered all too well what it felt like to be standing next to the woman he loved, vowing every damn thing before God. Someone had to keep their senses about them, so, he figured it may as well be him.

They couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day for a wedding. A sweet seventy-three degrees and a light breeze made the ceremony picturesque as everyone gathered around the couple at the Pickwick Gardens in Burbank, California. Just an hour prior, Saint
had been watching the man getting dressed, a sense of urgency in his movements, as if the blushing bride may change her mind if things dragged out a wee bit too long. He had it bad for her and he’d pulled Saint aside, tears welling in his eyes, thanking him for introducing him to the woman of his wildest dreams.

Saint listened intently while they finished exchanging their vows and before long, the big man was putting a hurting on his new wife’s perfect ruby red lips as he clung to her waist tightly, bringing her small frame to his hulking body in a possessive and loving manner. The cheering drowned out everything else as Saint looked reflectively at the ground, so very happy for his brother’s new bliss. Lawrence and Saint grabbed him after things had settled, giving a big hug to h
im and Traci and congratulating them.

When they’d gathered under the large white tent for the reception, he caught a glimpse
of the only person who’d objected to the union—a tiny guy by the name of Dakarai Aknaten. The little boy was withdrawn and aloof, his hands folded across his teeny chest, glossy bottom lip poked out and his little black suit pants hiked up as he sat on a chair that was far too big. Saint approached him and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Son, there will be other women.” It took everything in him to not burst out laughing, but the little boy was so serious, and heartbroken. Dakarai didn’t respond. Not because the little guy didn’t want to,
but he looked about ready to burst out crying, and he didn’t want to cry. Crying was for babies. Hassani danced about as everyone filtered inside, eating hors d'oeuvres and moseying about. He tried to cheer Dakarai up, too, but it was no use. Hassani shrugged his shoulders and made himself at home at the cheese, cracker and fruit station, loading up as if he’d never been fed a day in his life.

After a few moments, the new couple was announced and Saint, Xenia and Lawrence sat at the long table covered in light pink rose petals. They were pushed toward the back of the room, and in the middle of
the seating area were the kissing newlyweds. They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of one another, and this pleased Saint, too.

Lawrence stood and tapped his fork against his glass to make a toast.

“Good evening, everyone. I want to just take a minute or two to say how happy I am for my best friend, Jagger, and his new bride, Traci. I’ve known Jagger since we were wild preteens running around in Colorado with scarves wrapped around our necks as we played flag football. We’ve been through just about everything together. He was my best man at my wedding to my beautiful wife, Donna.” He pointed out into the crowd. Donna sat back in her seat, her stomach about to burst at the seams and a smile on her face as she politely waved and smiled.

“This woman right here, I know is perfect for my friend.” Lawrence looked thoughtfully at Traci.

She in turn bowed her head and looked down at her plate shyly, causing the small teardrop ornament at the center of her forehead to pivot and catch the light of the nearby candles.

“Traci is sweet…she is kind
,” Lawrence said seriously, his gaze on her. “She is just what Jagger needs. He smiles a heck of a lot more now, and I’m thankful for her being in his life. She is a welcome addition to all of our lives, to our family. All of us here are quite close and this step you made has brought us that much closer. Traci, I consider you my sister now and so does Donna. Please consider us your family, because we love you just that much.”

Jagger gulped, no doubt pushing down a swarm of gushy emotions while Traci nodded appreciatively and wrapped her thin arm around her husband’s.

“We look forward to getting to know you even more. Jagger, I know you already know this, but I’ll say it anyway: I’m so happy for you.” Lawrence’s voice vibrated and the room got real quiet. “You make sure you treat this woman right, and you will be blessed beyond measure. Cheers to the new couple!” Everyone clapped and lifted their glasses, clinking them together and laughing.

After a few moments, Saint stood, thumbing his fingertips against the table, deliberating over
what to say. He cleared his throat and looked around, holding his half empty champagne flute in his hand, the bubbles still discoing in the delicate crystal.

“I want to make a toast.” He lightly tapped his glass to get people’s attention. Xenia immediately zoomed her attention
on him, placing her small silver clutch purse on the table.

“I want to second Lawrence’s statements regarding congratulations, first and foremost. This day may not have happened, but love prevailed, and we are here. As the song goes, ‘Started from the bottom, now we’re here!
’” This evoked a few chuckles. Saint swallowed, trying to not dive into a pool of emotionalism, but it was hard. He couldn’t think about Jagger and Traci without thinking of his and Xenia’s wedding day as well. He’d run from the feeling all day, but he was losing the battle.

…
Everything that all four of them endured, just to make it…

“Jagger,” he
said, looking down at the man. “I am so grateful that Lawrence brought you into my life. You have been a great friend, a wonderful brother, a hard working employee, a confidant, someone I can trust with my very life.” He paused. “You are a big man with an even bigger heart, and you deserve what you are feeling right now, the joy you have. You both deserve this.” He looked at Traci.

“Traci, when I first met you, you were—”

“Making a mess! I bumped into you, got soda all over the place and flirted with you,” she said, causing people to laugh.

Jagger smirked.

“Yes, when you bumped into me and I saw how pretty you were but better yet, spoke to you and got a glimpse of the type of person you were, I knew I had to try to get you two together. It takes a special type of woman to be with Jagger.”

This caused a rolling of laughter that Saint didn’t expect.

“No.” He put his hand up, smiling with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it like that, but…he is a man from the past. What I mean by that is, he has hard-wired moral fiber. He is straight laced and treats a woman like a woman. He opens car doors and things of that nature, stuff we don’t see too often anymore and it is unfortunate, because that’s how a woman is supposed to be treated.”

Many people nodded in agreement.

“So, knowing Jagger the way that I do, I knew he needed a woman who would also appreciate that, and who would be delicate with his heart. The man has been through some stuff, and that’s all I need to say about that, but the fact that he was able to trust again, and trust the
right
person, says so much. Traci, you already know Xenia is crazy about you; I am, too.”

Traci grinned and clutched Jagger’s arm a bit tighter.

“She is already picking out your future children’s baby names and you better accept them if you know what’s good for you.”

The newlyweds and the crowd roared while Xenia elbowed him in the hip, a faux look of anger on her face that soon turned into a huge grin.