House of the Angels
Chapter 18: Dylan’s Curse

Beauman’s House of Blues was as packed as ever with patrons standing shoulder to shoulder as the blues rock band punched out their hard driving rhythms up on stage and the crowd sang along with every song they knew. The scent of the humid night air was everywhere and the heat left patrons a sweaty mess but Rachel and Dylan enjoyed themselves immensely. The crowd went wild when the band broke into a rendition of Superstition, dancing along and bobbing their heads to the funky blues music.

“Was this worth it?!” Dylan asked, raising his voice over the noise.

“Worth every second!” Rachel hollered.

The revelry continued on until well after midnight. Rachel and Dylan both left the club with their ears ringing from the loud music and the constant thought of a shower on their minds. St. Augustine Street was as crowded as ever but the pair walked on to avoid any trouble, finally ducking around the corner and disappearing through one of their many shortcuts back home.

“We are such bad people for sneaking back here.” Rachel giggled as they cut through the alley.

“Not as bad as Bill and Judith when they first came back here.” Dylan laughed.

He took her back a bit further until they were in a wide open garden, perfectly concealed from the noisy crowds on the streets. It was nothing like Rachel had ever seen before, more magnificent than the one at Angel Manor. The hollyhock, wild indigo and the red buckeye wafted in the humid breeze and the Spanish moss hanging from the oak trees brushed against their skin, tickling the backs of their necks. Standing in the middle of the ring of hedges was a statue of a warrior angel with his sword and shield ready for battle while below it was a plaque bearing the names of soldiers who had fought during the Civil War, the World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm and Iraq….many of them natives of Bayou St Therese and the Crescent City.

“Nobody knows about this place do they?” Rachel asked.

“Nope.” Dylan replied. “Very few do.” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“So,” Rachel cooed impishly. “We’re completely alone here?”

Dylan drew her close to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Completely alone.”

It couldn’t have been a better place or a better night. The two were far from the crowds and their worries from the day before were gone. Somewhere in the distance they heard the faint playing of a radio and a song that Rachel had played in her head time and again whenever someone told her that her and Dylan’s relationship wouldn’t last, but oh were they wrong. Neither one could live without the other for if they did one or the other would die of a broken heart.

Dylan drew Rachel closer to him as though she were the only thing keeping his feet anchored to the earth. The two of them kissed slowly at first, their lips moving in sync with each other. He shivered when Rachel leaned in and kissed the soft spot in the curve of his neck.

Dylan and Rachel broke away for a moment and snuck behind the hedges to avoid being seen by anyone who might accidentally stumble into the alley garden. Here, they could continue their shenanigans and live without the fear of someone interrupting them.

“Have you ever…..?” Rachel asked sheepishly.

Dylan shook his head. “No.” he replied quietly. “I haven’t.”

Rachel felt her cheeks burning like wildfire. It was a question she probably shouldn’t have asked. “I’m sorry.” She giggled. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

Dylan reassuringly held her hand. “It’s ok.” He replied. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The two of them scooted close together with hardly any room between them, their knees almost touching. Rachel and Dylan kissed again, slowly, but soon they grew more passionate and heated as time went on. She lay back in the cool grass with Dylan on top of her and her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he playfully nipped at her neck, their insides fluttering like a bird taking flight for the first time. Rachel’s hand roamed from his shoulders to the back of his neck, her slender fingers running through his sandy brown hair.

Dylan suddenly let out a sharp cry of pain and clapped a hand over the front of his shoulder. A terrible burning sensation ripped through his body, his head aching as though someone had hit him full force with a sledgehammer.

“Dylan?” Rachel asked worriedly, sitting upright in the grass.

Dylan drew in a few sharp, ragged breaths. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would explode. “Something happened.” He said, trying to catch his breath. “I think there was an accident.”

Rachel and Dylan both shot to their feet and left the garden, winding their way through the alleys until they spilled out onto Rue de St. Genevieve. True to Dylan’s word, there had indeed been an accident. A fire truck had crashed on the street corner as had two others close to it, all three dented and crushed like a tin can. Police and ambulance sirens broke the calm of the summer night as they rushed to the scene of the accident.

“Oh my God.” Rachel gasped.

All around them was a scene of chaos and confusion. Dylan had seen chaos before, but not like this. This was a whole other level of chaos. More firemen arrived on the scene and had begun using the jaws of life to get their crewmates out of the first truck while the EMTs were busy tending to the wounded, rushing about like ants in an anthill.

“Dylan, Rachel!” a familiar voice called from the street corner. “We need some help over here!”

Dylan and Rachel rushed to help but they were totally unprepared for what they found. Scott De’L’Eau, Lieutenant McCall and one other were gathered around a young firefighter who appeared to be no older than nineteen. Blood streamed down the side of his head from a wound and his eyes were alert and wide with terror.

“What happened?” Dylan questioned, trying his best to keep calm from the pity that held him in its grip.

“Kid got hit bad when the truck turned over.” Lieutenant McCall explained. “He’s got a head wound so be careful.”

“I d-d-didn’t s-s-see it coming.” The young firefighter stammered in between heavy breaths. “I t-told Alan t-t-t-to hit the b-breaks.”

“Hey, Rusty save your breath.” Lieutenant McCall told him patiently. “Everything’s gonna be ok.”

Rusty gagged and spat up blood into the Lieutenant’s hand. Rachel turned her head away from the scene and hid her face in her hands. “Rusty,” said Dylan. “Did you see what caused the accident?”

Rusty nodded a weak “yes” but spoke nothing more.

“We were responding to a minor call about a gas leak in a garage.” Scott explained. “Davis said he was watching the road when he saw something fly out of nowhere….Rusty screamed at him to hit the brakes and that’s when…”

“What did it look like?” Dylan questioned. “Did anyone get a good look at it?”

Scott and Lieutenant McCall glanced at each other and shook their heads. “All we knew was that it was black.” Lieutenant McCall replied. “Davis was the only one who saw the thing’s face…..said it looked like a devil.”

Suspicion clouded Dylan’s mind. There were very few creatures on the bayou that took that sort of form….and he knew exactly who it was that had caused such a destructive accident.

“P-p-lease d-d-d-don’t let me die.” Rusty gasped out. “S-somebody…..help….me.”

Dylan didn’t know what to do. The pity he felt for Rusty crushed him. He desperately wanted to help but he had no experience with healing. That was a job left to Floyd. Unless…..

“You have to trust me.” Dylan whispered to Rusty, gripping his hand tightly in his.

“What are you doing?” Lieutenant McCall questioned distrustfully. “What the hell are you gonna do to my proby?”

“If you want him to live you have to trust me.” Dylan replied firmly.

He moved a bit closer to Rusty who was fading with each passing second. His breath was shallow, his pupils were small pinpricks while his skin was pale and ashen from losing blood. Scott removed his black and yellow fireman’s jacket and carefully slipped it underneath Rusty’s head.

“Whatever happens,” Dylan told them. “Don’t be afraid. I’m gonna make sure he lives.”

Scott and Lieutenant McCall watched with odd fascination as Dylan traced the sign of the cross from Rusty’s forehead to his chest and from one shoulder to the other with his hand. Dylan rose to his feet and with the toe of his foot, he traced a circle in the grass around himself, Rusty, Rachel, Scott and Lieutenant McCall.

“Rusty,” Dylan said. “Come back. I need you to come back to the light Rusty.”

Rusty barely moved but Dylan kept his focus even when the young firefighter’s eyes closed. He ignored the questions Lieutenant McCall kept asking him, concentrating on trying to find Rusty’s soul within the black he had fallen into. When Dylan found it, he laid his entire right hand on Rusty’s battered and bruised face and began speaking in an odd language no one had ever heard before.

Beneath Dylan’s hand there appeared a blue white aura that radiated a cool heat beneath his palm. He drew his hand up slowly, the aura trailing between Dylan’s hand and Rusty’s face like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

Dylan turned over his right hand, staring at the glowing blue-white ball held within his grasp. He hated what he had to do next, but in order for Rusty to live it had to be done. Dylan tilted his head back as far as it could go and in a flash, the aura flew from his hand, right into his mouth and down his throat. It burned and scratched when he swallowed it, but in a single moment all was done.

Rusty coughed violently, gasping for air and blinking his eyes. Scott and Lieutenant McCall were amazed but Dylan felt like he was going to be sick as an awful, acidic lump rose in his throat. The two of them picked Rusty up and brought him to the ambulance that took him away to the nearest hospital.

“How did you do that?” Scott asked as he handed Dylan a metal bottle full of ice cold water.

“Floyd taught me how to do that.” Dylan explained before taking a swig of water. “Sybilla wanted all of us to learn in case something happened to one of us.”

“We can’t thank you enough for what you did.” Scott assured him. “You’ve got a real gift there Dylan.”

Dylan shook his head with shame. “No, it isn’t always.” he said lamentfully. “Since the day I was born it’s been a curse.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

Dylan was quiet for one long minute before he racked together the courage to speak again.“I’ve taken some nasty sorrows and suffering out of people.” He sighed. “When it gets really bad….better make sure your ears are covered.”

Scott nodded but said nothing more to Dylan. He had said enough to give him an idea of what Dylan had to endure with his powers.

“We’d better get home.” Dylan said flatly. “Sybilla’s probably wondering where we are.”

He and Rachel said goodbye to the other firefighters and headed back down the alley to get home. Both had seen enough for one night and were eager to get some peace and quiet.

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