Semper Fidelis

Chapter 2

I choose not to think about how long my mother and I sat there waiting for word on my father's condition. Minutes seemed like hours, and while I might try to make an estimate by the fact that after so many hours I should naturally desire food, at no time did I ever get hungry. I just sat holding my mom and promising her it would be alright while she cried and said nothing.

At some point Harry arrived, and if anyone looked as bad physically from the strain as I felt internally it was Harry. He asked after my father and of course we told him what we knew, which was not good news, but still better than saying he was dead or would never walk again. Like me, I think the uncertainty of not knowing and being able to brace yourself hurt the most. He nodded when we finished and apparently not sure of himself made to leave assuming for some reason that he was not wanted, or that he was intruding upon a private family event.

My mom felt me tense up when he declared he was going to depart. I knew my mother and Harry did not see eye to eye on many things, me being the most prominent item on that list and laughed at how I did not require a boyfriend to achieve that necessary mother-daughter moment, but that still did not in my book require him to leave and suffer in silence. I made to speak up but my mother gripped my arm tightly, silencing me before I could ask him to stay. And to my surprise she was the one to make the offer.

"No." Her eyes that had been distant and full of worry for all the time I had held her now seemed filled with a fiery determination as she looked up at Harry. This abrupt change in her literally made me blink wondering if the strong woman I knew as mom had returned to me.

"Families stay, Harry." She lifted her chin as if nodding for him to claim one of the nearby chairs and join us. "He would stay for you."

Harry seemed shaken by her words and half stumbled into sitting in the chair she had indicated. I could see clearly that he blamed himself, Harry was like that, all heart and few brains, and would never realize that he was no more to blame for everything that happened than God. While neither my mother nor I was willing to speak of it, we both knew this was the life my father chose to lead, helping those who needed him as God requested. And when the time came, perhaps today, God would call him home.

The three of us sat in silence for hours, I still holding my mom and Harry staring out into nowhere, occasionally searching for a clock to let him know how long we waited. I spent much of that time thinking of my father and all he had taught me. I was not a daddy's girl, but I loved my dad; more than that I respected him. How many teens can say that about their parents?

For some reason I could not get one particular image out of my mind. When I had been five my dad took the training wheels off my bike. I was so proud as he helped me to learn to balance and ride. When I finally thought I had mastered it he had let me go. At which point I fell taking my bicycle with me and skinning my knee really badly.

I only had two little brothers at the time but that did not mean money was not tight for our family. I remember looking down and seeing the new pair of school jeans my mother had bought for me now had a huge tear in the knee and were ruined even before I saw and then felt the blood from my cut turning the open area around the cut dark. I began at once to cry; partly in pain and partly in shame for ruining my new clothes that dad and mom had worked so hard to get for me. I was afraid they were going to be mad.

But my dad scooped me up in his arms and brushed away my tears. To this day I still do not understand how a man who hands were so rough and calloused from his construction jobs and holding a sword could still have such a soft touch with his fingers. As my eyes looked up at him he kissed me on the forehead like he always did and crushed me tight to him promising me that everything would be alright. And suddenly the pain and the shame were gone and I smiled.

He put me back on my bicycle and had me try again even though I was afraid. He told me not to worry that he would be right here to pick me up again if I fell and that he always would be. He said no matter how many times in life I would fall, he would always be there for me if God were willing. And he ended that little speech with words he always said. "Keep trying Molly. With love all things are possible." That seems in context ironically appropriate for the man who wielded God's sword called 'Love.' I hoped my dad knew what he was talking about because the number of people who loved him should be enough to heal him now and bring him back to us.

The doctor came to talk to my mom while I was in these memories. He spoke low but of course since we were all sitting close by we had no problem hearing what he had to say. The bad news was that dad's condition had not improved much as they performed surgery on him and pumped more pints of blood into his body just slightly faster than he was losing it. The good news, however, was that he had not gotten any worse through this additional trauma either. While the doctor did not want to give us false hope, he also did not want to provide us unnecessary despair. In the end he merely promised that the entire staff was doing all they could for my father.

We went back into a silent mode after the doctor left. Harry was too embarrassed or felt too guilty to talk. Mom was nearly catatonic in my arms and had it not been for me feeling her breathing on my neck I might have suspected the strain of worry too much for her. As for me, I just had nothing I could come up with to say except whispers to my mom I made that promised everything would be alright.

"Do you have faith Molly?" My head snapped up thinking someone had spoken to me but there was no one there except the three of us and while my mom shifted with my sudden movement it had been a male voice I knew I had heard. Harry, the only male, had a thousand mile stare down going with the clock, likely replaying the events that had brought hurt to my dad in his mind. I was going to dismiss the question completely when I realized it had been the odd janitor from outside the hospital whose voice I had heard.

I looked around again to confirm Jake was not standing nearby and I had somehow overlooked him and found I was correct, there were only us three in the waiting room. I did note a another hour had passed in the interim and since the doctors had not come out to provide us any bad news it meant at the worst dad was still alive and the hospital was still fighting to keep him that way. That thought brought me comfort.

"With life there is always hope Molly." I heard my dad say and suddenly I was thirteen years old again and sitting with him in the principal's office at school. The part of my mind that realized this was merely a memory once more even identified when this was – having spent a fair share of time in the principal's office there was room for confusion. I was comforted by being there in my mind with my dad.

There was this boy Woody I had grown up with and gone to school with since, well since I had started going to school. We had been friends as kids but as I reached that age where there were noticeable changes taking place with my body Woody's reaction to me had also changed. He started to make fun of me in front of others, first teasing and then cruel. Charity's first born daughter did not find that an acceptable situation.

On the day in question for this particular memory, Woody had made some comment about the way my shirts were ballooning out and saying I must be smuggling things and to show us what I had. He said this right in front of the entire class who all got a good laugh out of his joke at my expense. My teacher who I looked to for support did not say anything but at least did not join in the laughter.

I calmly stood up and walked over to him obviously furious and ignoring my teacher's orders to take my seat. In fairness I barely heard it over the "oooooos" the rest of the class made for dramatic sound effects for the upcoming confrontation. For his part Woody tried to play it cool by not standing up to face me, partly because I had recently had my growth spurt and was taller than him, and partly to try and show the class he did not consider me a threat. This was a stupid decision on his part.

I leaned over placing my hands on his desk and saying slowly and just loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Apologize!"

I could see him swallow and blink and had I understood male egos I might have chosen a slightly less than all or nothing confrontation approach. With no way out except humiliation he made his choice.

"No."

"Ok." I said and began to stand up feeling the tension in the room ease just a bit as I pulled back. Then I slid my hands to each side of his desk and lifted, flipping it, and him, over backward, spilling the contents of both on the ground. I brushed my hands clean and headed for my seat, almost making it before the teacher ordered me to the principal's office and the class broke out in laughter and taunts aimed at Woody this time.

He principal called my dad. Speed dial was a new addition at the school yet for some strange reason my parent's number occupied the first available slot after 911 and poison control. I swear I have no idea why this would be. And within thirty minutes my father had arrive at the school, having come directly from working on a job to speak to the school administrators about his wayward daughter.

The school was fair and I was allowed to provide my side of the story. Being a private school they also called Woody into the office so he could hear my accusations against him and defend himself accordingly to the principal as well. Woody of course did just that, and lied his ass off in the process denying he had done anything wrong. According to him I had flipped over his desk for no apparent reason.

My dad listened and said only one thing, more or less in my defense, to Woody.

"Son, you know it is a sin to lie, right?" Being a Catholic school dropping that particular S-word was as shocking as dropping a certain other S-word. He looked the boy in the eye but Woody would not meet his gaze.

"I know and I ain't lying." Woody said.

After a pause my dad let out his breath and spoke quietly again. "Thank you son. Go with God." Woody looked from my dad to the principal who nodded that he was allowed to leave and fled the room offering me only a quick glance and hint of a smile to say now I was all alone in the lion's den and he had successfully escaped punishment again.

The principal said I would not be suspended over this particular incident since my motivations may have an element of divine righteousness to them, Woody was a common visitor to the principal's office too so his testimony was in doubt, but I was still scolded with statements of turning the other cheek and being asked 'What Would Jesus have done;' that being the current religious catchphrase.

Personally I could not picture Jesus wearing a schoolgirl outfit or his fitting like mine if he did so the question was hardly balanced. A small part of my mind also pointed out that there in very little to nothing said of Jesus's awkward teenage years in the Bible either so it is very possible he might have reacted like me if some of the kids his age made fun of how he looked while swimming or something.

I could actually have said Jesus inspired this action in his treatment of the moneylenders on the steps of the temple but decided that might have been pushing my luck. I will admit I was not stupid enough to voice these obvious points in my defense to the principal, who was a priest by the way, and merely nodded my head in contrition and admitted I was wrong instead to get this lecture part over and move to punishment.

The sentence ended up being afterschool detention for the rest of the week, which since it was already being Wednesday and therefore not as bad as if it had been Monday made me keep my mouth shut to the principal about this injustice heaped upon me compared to Woody getting off scot free. Instead I merely nodded in an outward submissive acceptance of their wisdom, an act I had developed over the years while listening to my mother, and was sent back to class.

Dad walked out with me and it was him I was worried most about disappointing. He did not saying anything as I walked with him toward the front door to see him off so I had to speak up first in my defense.

"Dad, you do know Woody was lying right?" I could not stand to have my father think terribly of me.

"Of course I do Molly." His words were comforting to me by using my nickname and not calling me Margaret which was used only when I was in real trouble. "Your principal knew it also."

"But then why didn't you accuse him of this?" I asked confused. "Why am I the only one getting punished?"

"That is because Molly, Woody's soul is in danger." My dad explained. "He is being called away from faith and toward darkness. It happens to all boys at some point in their teenage years, and by taking action and making him even more resentful against society and the Church we would push him further into the arms of resentment and hate and all the emotions the enemy uses to corrupt souls. Instead of joining you today after school and having him stew and simmer on life's injustice, he will, we hope, instead go home and reflect upon what happened this day was his making and come to realize the error of his ways and repent on his own."

"You really think that he will do that?" I asked very skeptically.

"No." Dad said. "I hope he will do it." He stressed the word hope. "God offers us hope so that no matter how bad things get, we still have the ability to make things right if we choose to. The principal and I hope by taking this course we bring Woody back to God."

Okay, that was really deep for a teenage girl to understand but since my dad said it, and he never lies, I accepted there was wisdom there that I did not comprehend yet.

"What about me stewing at detention and being pulled further from God?" I asked.

"That will not happen in part because now you understand the danger but even more so because you are strong Molly, stronger than Woody will ever be." My dad said smiling at me. "I will not say you will not require moments of hope in your life Molly. But I see instead you are more likely to spend your days bringing hope to others." He said making me even take a small step backwards.

Before I could respond he turned. "I will tell your mother I am picking you up after school so you will not have to walk home." He said opening the door and walking out. "I love you Molly." He said and then went back to work.

"I love you too dad." I said in a whisper, then came back to the here and now realizing I had said it aloud when my mom squeezed me tightly after hearing me say this. But in my head I head Jake's voice. "I did not ask about Hope Molly, I asked you do you have faith?" Of course the janitor was no where around.

The doctor chose that time to return. I glanced at the clock and noted it was almost seven, though being unsure of my rambling mind if that was a.m. or p.m. He told us my dad was still alive and there were wheeling him into a last round of surgery. The trauma his body had suffered was extensive and all their procedures to this time had been to stop any of these from deteriorating further and killing him. Now that they had fought their way to middle ground they had to turn their attention to repairing him as best they could.

The doctor also explained that surgery, any surgery, puts additional strains upon the body and when that body has already been weakened by injury sometimes that strain is too much. My dad's body had been through a tremendous amount of strain in the past day from the injuries to the surgeries that had kept him from dying. But now the staff had to do more if they had any hope of keeping him alive in more than just a vegetative state.

"We could not find you husband's wallet." The doctor said at the end sort of changing the subject. I thought this was a weird time to start asking about insurance. I was wrong.

"In case of the worst, do you know if he was an organ donor?" The doctor asked.

I felt my mother tense and even Harry's eyes hardened over but before I could object my mom spoke out. "Yes, of course he is." She said with just a hint of anger in her words, far better than I would have managed to pull off if I had answered. The doctor nodded and left us there and Harry suggested we go down to the cafeteria for some dinner, which answered my question of morning or evening. On the way he excused himself and went to stretch his legs while I took mom to the cafeteria.

On the way there I saw Jake the janitor casually wheeling his cart of cleaning supplies right past us down the hall. Our eyes almost met as we got within five feet of each other but I turned away, fearing a soulgaze with a stranger. I heard the his voice in my head again asking the same question. "Do you have faith Molly?" He asked but when I looked at him, now still walking away down the corridor he was not even looking in my direction.

Had my mother not been on my arm I might have chased him down, but I could not leave her and the cafeteria was still some distance away. I chalked it off as part of the same dream and focused instead on making my mom eat, while I suspect her focus was on me doing the same. In the end we both did each to appease the other I think.

By the time we made it back to the waiting room Harry was already there and from his look he appeared shaken. I assumed the worst but he caught my eye and understood quickly saying that there had been no word from the doctors and that my dad was still in surgery. I wanted to ask Harry what had made him appear so shaken, but now was not the time.

After ten that night the doctors returned and said my dad had come through the surgery and would likely live though there could be long term issues. Mom asked to see him and the doctor said it would still be a few hours. I was overjoyed until Harry pointed out he and I would have to leave if dad was on life support or chance our inherent ability to short out electronic would make his systems fail as well.

Mom understood and asked me to go inform my brothers and sisters for her and take over from Father Forthill who was babysitting. I promised I would and gave her a kiss on the cheek and a hug, something I had not done in months, and followed Harry out.

He called Thomas to give him a ride even though I offered to take him in my Mustang. Murphy's house was out of my way and Harry knew that so he said he was fine and sent me to do what mom had requested of me. He headed out via the emergency room exit where Thomas would pick him up while I made my way back through the hallways of the hospital toward the main entrance. In part it was because I sensed Harry wanted to be alone and on the other hand with all the snow and cold outside, plus the fact Chicago is known as The Windy City, I also had no desire to add any additional steps to my walk outside that was not absolutely required.

I have told you I am a wizard by nature but I do not think I mentioned my area of specialty is what Harry calls 'sensitive magic.' Harry can toss around raw power, mostly fire and gusts of air, when he uses his magic that is pretty impressive and more than a little intimidating to behold. Other things like defensive shields also come easier to him than me, even when accounting for his two decades more of practice under his belt. But there are other types of spells, ones like veils that are designed to block the sight of others, that are outside his natural talents.

Those types of spells, the ones that affected the senses or the mind, are ones that come much more naturally easy for me. In fact, even with Harry's twenty years of experience I could pull up a better veil than he could, faster than him, and sustain it much longer over a greater area than he can. I do not know how to better explain it than I just understood this type of magic, or I could just 'feel' this type of magic, better than I could those of violence. Not to say I could not do the damaging kind when required, and those were thankfully getting stronger with practice, but I understood it would be sometime before I was a serious threat in those areas if ever.

One of the advantages of being a sensitive wizard meant that I literally felt magic around me much better than other wizards could. If someone drew up power in preparation to cast a spell I sensed that summoning because it felt like a gust of wind flowing over my soul toward some destination. I also could feel the presence of other types of mystical energy, though not what wizards were willing to consider true magic, such as faith-based power. And as I headed toward the front doors where I had originally entered and was now not so distracted as I had been when I arrive I began to sense a well of such faith-based power coming from somewhere ahead of me.

As I reached the main lobby area I found that it was almost totally deserted, which I guess based upon the weather was not all that odd. Those injured badly or deathly ill would call an ambulance and be taken to the emergency entrance. Those who could wait, to include the hypochondriacs among us, would choose that course tonight rather than brave driving in the cold and snow.

Even the duty nurse was not at her desk. In fact the only one in the lobby was the strange little Buddhist monk who had been offering flowers outside to those who entered. He sat in a lotus position and seemed in a distant trance until he heard the rubber soles of my running shoes squeak on the tiled floors and looked up at me as I was walking past.

"I am please that your loved one is feeling better." He said with an all too knowing smile plastered comfortably on his face. That, plus the fact he had been talking earlier with the owner of the newest voice in my head was enough to bring me up short in suspicion since he was the obvious source of the faith-based power I sensed. Harry said a wizard must always trust their instincts because they could sense much the mind ignored and mine told me right then there was something uncommon, yet not unnatural, about this man sitting before me. I evaluated that was worth a quick detour.

"I guess I should ask you how you know my father is feeling better but I expect you will go all Zen on me and say something about the harmony of the universe and how all things are interconnected won't you?" I said with skeptical caution.

"Hardly." He smiled warmly back at me. "Zen is so 1980s and for my taste was way too commercialized." He laughed keeping me even further off balance by such a honest response.

"I thought your type was into Zen."

"We understand the concept and it is indeed a childlike explanation for what we focus upon but it is more like a child's drawing of the sun compared to the real thing. While children have a wonderful connection to the universe, they can't quite comprehend its intricacies." He explained. "And in case you are wondering, the ideas proclaimed in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Repair are completely fictitious. You can no more reach a state of Zen working on a motorcycle no matter the year, make, or model, than you can reach up and touch the sun."

I had never heard of the book he seemed to be referring to but obviously it was a subject near and dear to his heart. "So how did you know my father was doing better?"

"Because you walk was no longer of singularly, determined, and hurried purpose." He said. "The last time you strode like an avenging angel, to use the terms familiar to you, and now you walk with less concern and more planning like you are considering the things you have to do. And since you are looking up and not crying I can assume the one you cared about was not dead and had improved enough for you to feel confident to leave this place."

"You got that all from my walk?" I asked.

"Yeah, your sneakers told me." He said with a smile.

I really did not know what to say and was about to make my excuse to leave when he spoke again. "Now may I ask you a question young lady?" He said.

"Let me guess it's about faith isn't it?" I said back before I even though of what I was saying.

He cocked his head askew sort of like the way Harry's cat Mister did if you told him to get off of the couch so you could sit down. "And why would you think that?" He asked with a hesitant smile that told me I was probably right in my guess.

"Well since your friend Jake the Janitor told me I needed to have faith I keep hearing his voice in my head." I responded. "I do not suppose you know anything about that?" I asked skeptically.

"While he may be one of the less ostentatious of his kind, Uriel is also very focused upon his the roles he is tasked to perform." The old man said to me with a smile, ignoring the sudden shock that his casual response that an archangel was the one telling me to have faith had upon me once I recognized the name he had spoken.

Of course my first reaction was to deny, deny, deny that such a thing was remotely possible. I came from a highly religious family so the very thought that I was personally having dealings with an archangel, perhaps the one who was responsible for the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah if I recalled correctly, who between cleanup jobs was casually telling me to have faith seemed to bridge upon blasphemy or insanity; take your pick.

But then another part of me voiced up in my mind and reminded me that I had dealt with a pagan goddess only half a year ago so it was not like such things were beyond the realm of possibility. And as I thought about it further, was it really so hard to believe that one of God's archangels might happen to be at the very hospital where one of those who carried one of God's three righteous swords into battle was in a battle for his life as well? In many ways the idea brought comfort to me in that it was proof all I had ever been taught about God caring for us.

I looked once more at the old Buddhist monk who seemed completely unphased by his revelation as if this event was an everyday occurrence. I wonder if this was his real state of being or in his order when someone shaves there head they are forced to spend the first few days in front of a mirror working on their 'I got the secret to the universe' look.

"So what did you want to ask me?" I inquired.

"I was merely going to ask if you have faith…"

"See!" I said smugly. "I knew it!"

"…in yourself." He finished, sort of taking the wind out of my sails with this clarification.

I thought about immediately answering with 'of course' but something in the way his eyes were studying me gave me pause. "I am not sure by which standard one would judge this, but I can only say that I try my best when faced with a challenge." And I banished a pagan goddess and defeated a Nazi plot only a short time after becoming old enough to vote so yeah I think I do alright. I admit I did not say all those last words aloud, but I thought them really loud in my mind!

"You have sprouts of wisdom for one so young. I hope they continue to grow." He nodded with a smile to me. "You are a wizard yes?" He asked continuing his run of surprising revelations about me in this conversation.

"I am." Seeing no reason to deny what he obviously knew already.

"Then can you explain to me where your power comes from?" He asked with a smile.

"My magic?" I asked confused to which he made no indication if my assumption was correct but I continued anyway. It made sense that someone dedicated to faith might not understand power from another source. "It comes from the world around me, from the air, from the land, from everything." I replied with the textbook answer just like Harry had taught me when I first started as his apprentice and had drilled me with this question.

"That is where magic comes from." He nodded in agreement. But then his expression changed. "But what I asked you instead was where does your power come from?" He repeated.

"I do not understand." I said confused.

"I suspected as much." He replied and stood up slowly. "Would you allow an old man to show you something?"

There was a time when a question phrased that way might have made me suspect ulterior and less than altruistic motives but due to my encounter with a pair of elderly men who literally gave everything of themselves for a noble cause I was willing to entertain this one now standing before me. "Please do." I said with a nod.

He used his sandal clad foot, please keep in mind it is Chicago and there is snow on the ground, to tap an open spot of carpet in the lobby area and told me to take a seat. I did so assuming the lotus position like he had been sitting in and this seemed to please him.

"I did not expect that of a wizard. Does your master follow the way of the lotus?" He asked and for the first time seemed surprised by something I seemed to know.

"Not my wizard master." I said honestly. "But my Aikido master is very serious about it and my muscles still ache from the pushups she made me do when I forgot this was the proper and respectful way to sit when training with her."

"She sounds like a wonderful woman." He nodded approvingly at my description.

"Yeah I had that opinion myself up until about the hundredth time or so that she knocked me on my butt." This made him chuckle all the more at my joke even though I was not exactly kidding about this.

"Close your eyes and I want you to picture in your mind that your body is a series of three closed doors." He said standing behind me as I did as he commanded. "I am going to touch three points on your back and when I do I want you to picture in your mind a door opening each time. Nod if you understand." He said to me and I did so slowly to keep the image of three doors he told me to picture firmly in place.

"As children when we are born we are graced with the potential that all things are possible." He said. "As we grow in those first years we learn that life cannot hold us back if we just dedicate our minds and bodies to learning. We learn to crawl. We learn to walk. We learn to run. We find within ourselves that our bodies shall do whatever we want of them if we are only willing to try." He explained.

"But then we are taught lies of what we cannot do." He said with a disapproving tone of voice. "And because people we know and trust tell us that what we think we can do is impossible, we believe them and make it so. We shackle our bodies with these chains and hold ourselves down no longer willing to believe we can."

I felt his fingertip come down on the spot where my head met the top of my neck and press into the flesh like a key pushing into a lock and he held it there. As he commanded I visualized opening the first door, it looked like a screen door in my imagination as I listened to him speak.

"This is the spot that contains your mind." He said. "When you face a challenge that you do not believe is within your capabilities or which doubts make you hesitant to attempt, it is here that this door locks and prevents you from success. I have shown you where it is and let me now show you what it does." He turned his finger a quarter turn and suddenly all the fatigue my body felt fell away as the door swung wide.

I felt revitalized and refreshed, better than from the best night of sleep I ever had. I nearly swooned with the feeling rushing through me but the power gave me energy and revitalized me in an instant. It was as if all of my senses had awakened full and I felt more at that moment than I had seconds before. This was incredible.

"While we listen to others and chain ourselves down, we also add our own chains just by living our lives." He continued and I fought my way through this overpowering feeling to ignore the rush of my senses and focus on his words and wisdom.

"As a child we know only love." He said. "Our first registered thought is looking into the eyes of those who love us and make us smile and it fills us with warmth."

"But as we grow that is cut away by many separate little heartbreaks we encounter." He said. "We lose touch with some of those we love and it hurts so we think the love is gone. Our parents teach us discipline through the word 'no' when we want something, and being denied hurts us too. And with each of these little hurts we feel love become just a little smaller until only a very few rare people can show us the love is still within us." He explained.

His finger now touched just to the left of my spine, like a doctor's stethoscope, directly over my heart. "When we fall in love with another all we truly experience is a chance to feel that sense of open and endless love we have when we are first born." He said and I forced the picture of another door opening, this one seemed like a solid heavy wooden door, in my imagination. I felt his finger turn like a key once more.

In my Catechism classes we learned of what the Bible called 'The Rapture' and how God's love at that moment would fill us completely. As the old man's finger turned it seemed to me like this was the feeling he was releasing and that I felt within myself. I saw the worry that I had that my dad would die had made me fearful that I would be hurt worse, so I pushed away some of my love for him in order to protect myself from the pain of losing him. Now though I saw that even if it did happen, his love for me, and mine for him, would not die out. It was a part of both of us, and was eternal just as he had always told me it was. He would always be there to pick me up when I fell.

I could feel tears unabashedly streaming down my cheeks as the old man continued. "Last there is the spark of the divine in all of us." He said and I knew he was talking of the spirit, or the soul, or chi, or whatever the various cultures around the world chose to call it. "It is our connection to the divine, and part of the divine, therefore since the divine can do anything, it is the part in us that can do anything as well." He said letting his fingertip touch my spine right at the center of my lower back.

I pictured the door, this one felt a heavy steel like one guarding a safe in weight, but through my efforts of will it slowly open a crack for me as his finger turned. "When I asked you where your power comes from, or as my people would speak of it, your mana, this is what I was speaking of." At that instant it felt like a mere drop of liquid fire escaped from behind this door of my mind and into the base of my spine then suddenly it flooded throughout my entire body with the same sensation I felt only a little stronger when Harry had me call up magic and hold it for as long as I could.

"Open your eyes not child." He said to me and I did as he asked without question or hesitation much like I followed Karrin's instructions when practicing Aikido.

"Do you know a spell to make light?" He asked and I merely nodded, overwhelmed with this feeling.

"Show me."

My hand drew out the crucifix that my mother had given me from my shirt and I willed my magic to flow into it. "Illuminate!" I ordered and the room suddenly was awash in a sparkling dazzle of light stronger and more encompassing than I had ever cast, yet not blinding so as if the spell instinctively understood the goal was to brighten and not blind. In an instant I could see everything in the room with crystal clarity and yet this did not cause me the slightest discomfort at all.

"You may let it go." He said and I did allowing things to return to normal. And then a sudden sense of spiritual fatigue hit me and I swayed and nearly toppled over were it not for his hands on my shoulders to steady me.

"What happened?" I said as the momentary sense disorientation faded away leaving me back to the state I was feeling before we began this odd instruction.

"You have learned how to add your mana to your magic." He said nodding in approval.

I thought on that and instantly something in the way he described it based upon what I had been taught made me concerned. "If I used up some of my soul to power a spell, then haven't I just released an important part of myself?" I asked. Remember I am Catholic so the idea of chipping away at my soul is not something I was prepared to accept even if it did make a pretty cool impact on my magic.

"Not at all child." He said. "Let me explain in terms you might better understand. Your soul is like a pitcher that holds water. When you pour out a little of the liquid a pitcher holds the pitcher itself does not change. And even when it is emptied completely it can be refilled once more can it not?" He said and I merely nodded at his example.

"So I did not just release a part of my soul I released the water it contained?" I asked.

"Like I explained earlier we call it mana. That way it sounds a little more mystical and we can charge your rich rock stars even more for the experience." He said with a laugh. "But yes that is all you did. Over time it will slowly refill all on its own. However, if your care for another lesson sometime I can show you exercises that will allow you to refill it faster."

"You are telling me you have exercises for your soul?" I said wondering if they have the equivalent of a seven minute abs video too.

"Of course." He said with a smile. "Perhaps you have heard of it. I think here in the west you call it yoga." He laughed.

I do not know why that shouldn't surprise me but perhaps having my mind still open I suddenly understood what he was saying. It actually made sense too that so many places that taught yoga always advertised that after a good workout you felt more refreshed and alive even though you had exercised. The old man had shown me something incredibly important. And the fact that he had made me highly suspicious.

"Why did you show me this?" I asked as I stood up. "Did Uriel put you up to it or are you one of his kind as well?"

The old man laughed. "No I am not like the Watchman." He said with a chuckle. "And I am also not under a service obligation to him either. I merely happened to be here at this place in time and even happier I could show you this." He smiled. "Would you consider taking a flower now?" He asked holding out a blue lotus to me and I took it.

"So I do not owe you anything?"

"Nothing at all; though if you chose to smile a little more I would admit it warms this old man's heart to see it." I did as he asked without even trying. "Now I have wasted enough of your time. You should be back about your business and remember what you have learned here tonight." I could do nothing else but agree.

"One thing first." I said. "What is your name since I have this odd feeling we will see each other again."

He smiled all the more. "I would not be surprised if that were so." He answered. "I am called Hisha by those who would name me a friend. I hope you would do me such an honor as well."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Hisha." I replied. "My name is Molly, Molly Carpenter."

"Ah yes, Carpenter." He said as he sat back into a lotus position of his own. "As was the occupation of the Christian savior. It is a good name and like Uriel directed you to do, it should serve as a constant reminder for you to always have faith." He said and then once more closed his eyes as if meditating and being at peace with the world like when I found him a few moments ago. With that word faith flying around I think it was fair to assume someone powerful was trying to tell me something.