A young Norman Balthus sat in the park on a beautiful spring day, studying. His seminary books were spread around him on the park bench, and he was absorbed in them.
"Oh, how sad!"
Norman had hardly noticed the young woman with dark, curly hair sitting nearby until he heard her exclaim.
He looked up, and followed her eyes to a mother passing by with two children. Simultaneously, he realized two things – one, that the girl was about to die, and two, that this young woman knew it. She knew it the same way he did – because she could see the child's aura.
Norman had always been able to see auras – he hoped it would be an asset in his chosen profession as a Methodist minister. To him, everyone had a glow of colored light, or occasionally darkness. He would use it to bring them to God, he decided, and to help them to find answers to questions they didn't even know they were asking.
To begin with, he hadn't known the meaning of the colors he saw. As a boy he had studied where he could, though he knew well that few adults approved of such exotic aspects of the spiritual world. He learned a little about the meanings of the colors. And he learned that some could be contradictory – white, for example, could be mean pure spirituality, but could also suggest death was near.
"You can see it too, can't you?" he said to the pretty girl with the dark hair.
"See what?"
"She has a white aura. I know you can see it."
"I don't like to talk about it."
"Please, I've never met anyone else who understood. May I introduce myself? My name is Norman Balthus."
"How do you do? My name is Rose. Rose Tomasen."
Norman looked into her soft dark eyes, brimming with tears for the dying child, and was lost. He had found the woman with whom he would share his life. They were married two years later, after his graduation from the seminary, in a quiet ceremony in the church she had attended as a child. Rose wore a simple white dress and held a bouquet of yellow daisies, and Norman wore his best suit.
Justin and Iris
Their honeymoon had barely passed when Norman was assigned to a church in Stockton with an orphanage attached. Together, they ran church and orphanage, worked long hours, and were very happy together. Their only sadness was that they had no children.
"You should have children, Rose. A woman like you should have children."
"Norman, the orphanage gives me children. It would be nice to have our own, but perhaps God has other plans for us."
The night that Norman found the two Russian children seemed to be the answer to their prayers. The resemblance to the two children that had brought them together made them even more determined to give these children a good life. Both children had dark, smoky auras, presumably a sign of the hardships they had suffered, and Norman and Rose wanted to make up for the tragedies of their early lives. While technically the children lived in the orphanage, they loved them as their own.
Only a few months after they took them in, little Alexei approached Norman, with Irina beside him to translate. He was learning English already, but she had spoken it before they arrived.
"I want to change my name."
Norman was surprised. "Why do you want to do that?
"My father will find us. I want to be … Justin. Justin Crowe."
"But Alexei is a nice name. We can make it sound more American if you want – how about Alex? Or Al? We could make your last name Bell. Alex Bell – how's that?"
"No. My name is Justin Crowe. It's the right name."
"All right, I suppose, if it will keep you safe. Irina, do you want to change yours too? "
"She can be Iris – after the irises in the garden. Iris Crowe."
"Is that what you want, Irina?"
The girl nodded solemnly. And they were Justin and Iris Crowe from that day on.
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By the time the children were grown, Norman had become an expert in reading auric colors. He knew green was healing, silver and purple had spiritual connotations, and orange meant power. Interestingly, the members of his church committee tended towards orange rather than purple, but he accepted that. He had learned, too, that dark, dirty colors were negative. Sadly, in these dark days, few people showed the yellow aura of joy and freedom. Rose was an exception – from the day they met, she had glowed with life and vitality, her aura ranged from yellow to crimson, the color of love.
Justin and Iris still concerned him. For all that Iris played the role of the supportive sister, looking after her little brother Justin, she had a troubling aura, smoky and dark, but with brilliant flashes of orange. Power? Iris? Norman knew, too, that black was about protection, but he always felt there were secrets there.
"It's as if she knows something about Justin," he said to Rose, "and she's protecting it."
"Who knows what happened to them when they were little, Norman?" she said. "All that talk about their father being a bad man, and their mother dying like that? You can't expect them to be like everyone else. They're just children."
"You're right, as always, my love."
Justin's aura had always been strange. For one thing, it was never consistent. Often shades of blue, sometimes bright, electric blue, now and then with streaks of silver, it would sometimes show dirty gray tones, and even black spots – contradictory and secretive. Norman always felt there was something wrong, but he never knew what it was. And what could he have done? Gone to the Bishop and said he didn't like the aura of this little boy he had adopted? He'd have been laughed at, and the job he loved so much would have been at risk. So he waited, and watched.
As time went on, Rose worried a lot about Justin.
"Norman, I just keep remembering how he looked after that accident at the carnival – the one where the little girl was killed," she said. "When I saw him first, he seemed, I don't know, almost transfixed. His aura glowed orange, which was so strange. Then he changed to blue, and he was just Justin again."
"He is just Justin, dear. You worry too much."
"You're right, of course. Another cup of tea?"
Time went on, and in spite of their concerns, Justin and Iris turned out well. Justin took after Norman, went to the Methodist seminary, and became a minister – a good man who looked after his congregation well. Iris became his bulwark – supporting him in all things, running the choir and the church's charity endeavors. And in spite of some things that concerned Norman –Justin's obsession with the gypsy woman in St. Paul, for example – Norman was content with the son and daughter he and his beautiful Rose had raised.
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The year 1927 changed the lives of many people. Charles Lindbergh flew from New York to Paris and amazed everyone. Hundreds of people died in a Yugoslavian earthquake, in England thousands of people died each week from influenza, and the Great Mississippi Flood inundated seven states and killed 246 people.
To Norman, only one death mattered. Two months after the Lindbergh flight, Rose slipped and fell from a ladder while picking oranges to make marmalade.
Norman heard Justin's voice screaming. "Norman! Norman! Get help, quick!"
Justin was visiting from Mintern and helping Rose with the orange-picking, but there was nothing to be done. As chance would have it, she had hit her head on a rock, and went into a coma. She was taken to Dameron Hospital in Stockton, and Norman stayed by her side. Iris came from Mintern to help, and she and Justin got Norman through hour after hour of waiting and watching.
On the third day after Rose's accident, Justin and Iris whispered in a corner of her room as Norman slept in a chair.
Justin: "She would have told him."
Iris: "He wouldn't have believed it. Norman thinks the world of you. You shouldn't have done it."
Justin: "I had to."
Iris: "Sssh. Norman's awake."
Terrible thoughts crossed Norman's mind, but three hours later, Rose was gone, and he had other things to think about.
Norman would never be the same, but life went on. He made his church and congregation his life. Over the next few years, Justin also became a success in his church in Mintern, and Norman stopped worrying about what he thought he had overheard. He wasn't sure, anyway – exhaustion played tricks on the mind, he knew. Besides, Justin's aura seemed to have settled down to blue and touches of silver – exactly what you hope to see in a man of God.
With Rose gone, Norman saw the world and the people in it differently. In fact, it seemed that it was no longer easy to see auras, something that Norman was almost grateful for.
In his mind, he continued to talk to Rose, and she answered. He knew it wasn't really her, but it gave him comfort.
Rose, I don't want to know so much about people. What good has it ever done me? If I can't see the auras, I don't have to worry about the ones I can't help.
That's not you, Norman. You want to help people. The auras help you do that. You need to see them."
Norman did his job, visited Norman and Iris in Mintern, and one day even treated himself to a new car. He needed it to pay calls on his parishioners, of course, but it felt good to have a new, expensive car.
When the orphanage burned, he worried. He couldn't bring himself to think Justin had done something, but he worried nevertheless. When Justin disappeared for weeks, he listened avidly to Tommy Dolan's radio reports for news of him.
The new Justin
Then came the day when Justin returned from his "sabbatical" on the road, and made his dramatic entrance into the church. Norman was delighted at first – of course he was – until he saw the change. Silhouetted in the light from the windows, Justin's aura glowed in a way it never had before. Gone were the peaceful shades of blue; instead there were the colors of fire – red and orange, with black streaks. Whether Norman wanted to see it or not, it was there. It was as if a different man stood there, an ambitious man who valued power above all, with a darkness that had once been hidden and was now there for the world to see.
Norman watched, stunned, as Justin paced the aisle of the church. In his aura, electric blue flashes appeared amongst the fire, as he read the minds of congregants and named their sins. As he paced, the overall aura of the congregation changed too, shades of orange appearing here and there. The sense of power and excitement Justin conveyed was contagious.
Iris's aura changed too, as she watched him. Still smoky and dark, but orange now dominant. Justin's power would be hers too.
Justin missed Rose more than ever. He visited her grave often.
There's something wrong, Rose. If only you could see him. He's not the boy you remember. He's something else. He's fascinated by the power he has over people – he enjoys the fear and awe they feel.
When the demon revealed itself, Norman did what he could, though he knew in his heart it was too late. He wrote a letter to the Bishop, explaining what he now knew. He left out the part about auras – he'd never believe that Norman saw haloes, anyway – but he did tell him about the demon. Not that Justin had begged him to kill him, just the demon with its black, terrifying eyes. The Bishop would believe him. He had to.
After several days with no response from the Bishop, Norman knew what he had to do. He told Rose.
I should have done it then. He asked me to, and I didn't understand. I thought he was Justin – our Justin. But he's not, and I have to do it. He's preaching at the Bishop's church tomorrow. I'll do it then.
Norman! You can't kill a man in a church! And what would you use for a weapon, anyway? You can't take a knife or a gun into a church!
I'll use the statue of Christ – the one at the back of the church. It's not a sacrilege – it's a task for God, and God will give me strength.
What if the congregation turns on you? They'll think you've gone insane.
Rose, it doesn't matter if anything happens to me. I'll join you, and we'll be together again.
The next day, Norman's headache began when he left for the church. By the time he stumbled out of the car, he was almost blinded by it. He never remembered collapsing on the steps – just waking in the hospital, watching in horror as the Bishop told Justin about the letter.
For weeks he was helpless. They moved him into Justin's house, where Iris nursed him. He sat in the congregation as Justin preached, the fire of his aura matched by the fire in his words. And he watched in fear, as the demon he knew as Justin gathered a huge following, crowds who followed him blindly, almost worshipping him.
Sofie
When Sofie, the latest maid, arrived, Norman was uneasy. She seemed to be a nice girl, but given Justin's history with the maids, he couldn't be sure. Norman was under no illusions about the previous maids – he didn't need to see auras to know that these girls were not quite as innocent as they appeared to be. And when he saw them quickly succumb to Justin's charms – well, he wasn't entirely surprised.
Sofie was different. He could see her aura (he couldn't always, since the stroke, but hers he could see), and it was startling. Luminous and glowing gold, it gave her a spiritual aspect he hadn't seen in years. Norman wanted to protect this girl, especially when he saw her block Justin's attempt to read her "sins." On the inside, he cheered for her – on the outside, a tiny chuckle earned Justin's wrath and cost him a bloody tooth. It was worth it, though, to see Justin defeated.
You'd understand if you saw her aura, Rose. She's a saint. She must be.
The day of the baptism dawned. The whole idea horrified Norman. It was blasphemy for Justin to conduct a baptism, and he was disturbed by the idea that Sofie would take part. His only hope was that her own purity would protect her.
Sofie wheeled Norman's chair into the living room, next to the window, where he had a view of the valley, and in the distance the pond where the baptism would take place. Silhouetted against the light, Norman once again saw the glowing golden aura.
In his mind, Rose's voice spoke.
"She's pregnant! That's the aura of a pregnant woman. The baby is close to God, so the aura is pure."
Staring at Sofie as she talked about the baptism, he realized Rose was right. It was the pregnancy that gave her the halo of gold. Who knew what her true aura was? There was no sign of any other color. Sofie put her hand on his arm – "Maybe it would help you." He recoiled – although he couldn't see her true aura, something about Sofie frightened him, and the thought of her being baptized by Justin terrified him. If Justin was a demon, in whose name was he baptizing?
Sofie went to wash up, and Norman sat, staring out the window, thinking. If she was pregnant, who was the father of her child? Was Sofie really the kind young woman who had looked after him so carefully, or was she something else entirely?
Ben
Norman sensed somebody behind him. A young man stood in the doorway, someone he'd never seen before. Norman should have been afraid – this person had somehow gotten past the bodyguards, he must be up to no good. But Norman saw something else. A glowing gold halo of light, similar to the one surrounding Sofie. No pregnancy here, though – he smiled inside himself at the thought – this young man was the real thing. A saint? He certainly didn't look much like one, in his scruffy overalls. Whatever he was, he was the answer to the evil in this house. And – was it possible that the similarity to Sofie's aura meant that he was the father of her child?
Had Justin left yet? He hadn't seen him go, but he had been in the back of the house. If he was still here, he was upstairs. And Sofie had probably gone upstairs to wash up. Whatever this young man was here to do, it was upstairs. He signaled him with his eyes – "Up!" – and he turned and started up the stairs.
Norman heard Iris follow him up the stairs with her load of laundry, and he held his breath. Nothing bad happened, though, and a few minutes later the young stranger left the house, and Norman was left alone with his thoughts.
He was slowly recovering his strength, gaining control first of his right hand. Justin spotted it, though – Justin just knew these things – and challenged him to eat his food himself. In private, Iris took pity on him, and, while she spooned food into his mouth, explained that Sofie was actually Justin's daughter, but that he didn't know it.
Norman was stunned. Justin was a demon – how could he have a human child? It made no sense.
Now, most of all, he needed Rose's wise counsel.
"She can't be what she seems, Rose. A demon can't have a human child, can he? And she's having a child of her own. There's something wrong with her aura, too. Under all that gold – it's as if there's nothing there. As if the person is all on the surface, and under it is something not human. "
But this time Rose didn't answer.
Iris was Norman's only confidant now. Ever since the day when Justin had collapsed, writhing, and she'd seen the black eyes of the demon, Iris had turned against her brother. She had started to talk to Norman, planning Justin's downfall.
She wasn't happy, though, when Norman took matters into his own hands, grabbed a gun and shot at Justin. She wanted to wait, but Norman knew the need was urgent. Justin had to die, and now.
He wanted to warn Iris about Sofie. He knew she liked Sofie, though she knew she was Justin's daughter. He was able to write words on paper now, but Justin hadn't allowed them to have time together since the last time he came upon them discussing him.
I'll warn her somehow, Rose. If I write her a note, I'll be able to slip it to her.
Justin interrupted him while he was writing, however, and he slipped the note into a tear in the cushion of his wheelchair. He never had a chance to finish it – the Carnivale had arrived, and Justin was here to take him to visit it.
While Justin and Iris took a ride on the Ferris Wheel, Norman decided to investigate the healer's tent. Benjamin St. John was his name.
Norman, you don't really think a carnival con man will help you, do you?
What can it hurt to see, Rose?
Norman was shocked when "Benjamin St. John" turned out to be the young man with the glowing aura. Then he started laying hands on people in the audience, and miracles began to happen.
The young healer looked intensely into Norman's eyes, laid his hand on his forehead, and it happened. Cooling, healing energy flooded Norman's body, and he felt the strength return, for the first time in the months since he had collapsed on the church steps.
Rose, it's a miracle! I'm well!
Norman, you have something you have to do now. You know you do. Go!
At that moment, the little man from the Carnivale burst into the tent, shouting to the healer to "Run!"
Norman suddenly found himself face to face with Justin, with no weapon but the words of the exorcism.
"The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!"
There was a moment of searing pain, then Norman found himself high above the crowd, looking down at his collapsed, bleeding body, and Justin – the other Justin, the one with the black eyes and, he now saw, an elaborate tattoo on his chest – slashing through the crowd with a sickle. An odd weapon, to be sure, but deadly in its consequences.
It's all right, Norman. You're safe now.
Rose! You're here!
I've always been here, Norman dear, waiting for you. You know that – you talked to me, and you heard me too.
That was really you? I thought I was talking to myself.
Silly – it's the same thing. We've always understood each other. We've always been together. And now we always will be. Come. We've done all we can - it's time for us to go.
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Two weeks later, Justin was sitting in Norman's wheelchair, which Iris had retrieved for him after the Carnivale had left. He was gaining strength every day, and now he sat on the porch, where Norman had once enjoyed the morning sun, watching Sofie hanging laundry on the line. Justin mused over the day he had come upon her beating the rugs, and shifted in his chair.
His musing was interrupted by the crackle of paper. He looked down – no paper anywhere, but there was a small tear in the cushion. He reached inside with two fingers, and pulled out a small piece of notebook paper.
SOFIE IS PREGNANT.
SHE IS NOT H
Pregnant? He looked more carefully. There was a roundness to her. If it was true, the child wasn't his – he had not felt strong enough to coax her into his bed yet. She had been a blessing in the past two weeks, caring for him even better than she had cared for Norman. Now he saw her with different eyes. She would make a wonderful wife, and she would be grateful to him for taking her in with a child on the way. She was what he needed.
He had no idea what the second sentence was meant to say, but it couldn't be important. He would marry Sofie, and together with Iris, they would expand his ministry to millions.
He crumpled the little piece of paper and tossed it aside.
A while later, Iris picked it up. About to toss it in the trash, she smoothed it out and recognized Norman's shaky handwriting. Pregnant? Foolish Norman – Iris already knew that. "She is not…" What? A word beginning with "H." Here? No, that couldn't be it, Sofie had been around Norman all the time. Probably the word was "happy." She resolved to give sweet Sofie the happiness she had missed during all those years of nursing first her mother and then Norman.
She turned and went into the house. From the yard, the Omega watched her go.