Saint And Sinners (48 page)

“So what!” the other replied.

Xenia rounded the corner, surging with anger.

“It’s true!” The woman raised her voice, trying with all of her might to be heard,
to be acknowledged, to be recognized by someone,
anyone
, once and for all. “I don’t care if she heard us! She knows it’s true!”

And then Xenia could hear them no more. She paused, took a couple deep breaths, and
regained her composure.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Isis asked, her big golden eyes canopied by lush, dark eyelashes,
thanks to her father.

“Nothing at all, baby.” Xenia smiled down at her, then gently kissed her earlobe,
causing the girl to giggle and squirm in her seat.

“You’re so ticklish, girl!” Xenia grinned. “Now, let’s get Hassani and Dakarai some
snacks. What do you think they’d like?” She turned down the aisle filled with pudding
cups, fruit snacks and flavored gelatin.

“Maybe some fruit roll-ups? Or some raisins?”

“No, Mommy. Candy!” Isis exclaimed, holding her arms up high as if she were going
down a roller coaster.

Xenia smiled down at her. “I think we’ve all had enough candy, and besides, you’re
sweet enough!”

Isis wasn’t buying it. She searched far and wide for anything that resembled a bag
of gummy bears or gumballs. Xenia picked up a box of white grape raisins and placed
them gingerly in her cart. She stood there for a short spell, noting her hand was
actually trembling. How could it be? She’d developed quite a thick skin over the years.
It wasn’t an option or a choice, but a necessity… but at that same moment, she realized
why she was so riled up.

I’ve got things to do, a message to give, something to say, and women like that need
to hear it. I need to push my anger aside, and deal with the real issue at hand. They’re
scared… I might not be able to help them, but at least I can say I tried…

Digging in her purse, she grabbed an ink pen and scribbled down her name and the address
where the conference would be held.

“Hold on, baby!” Laughing, she pushed as fast as she could, causing Isis to giggle
and sway as she searched for the two women who’d made her temperature rise. There
they stood, next to the milk, still running their mouths. Xenia pushed the cart in
front of her, so she could keep an eye on Isis as she approached them.

“Oh shit,” she heard one mumble. “I told you she’d heard us…”

“Good afternoon, ladies. I am so sorry to interrupt your shopping. I’m sure you’re
in a hurry, but you two look like you may be interested in some great, empowering
information for women of color… Black women, in particular. My name is Xenia Donnellson
Aknaten.” She smirked, enjoying how the face of the one with the biggest mouth and
sourest attitude slipped, dropped and hit the damn ground.

“Xenia Donnellson? I
knew
you looked familiar!” the other one piped in. “I loved you on the ‘Morning Tea’!”

“Thank you so much, sweetheart. What is your name?” Xenia extended her hand and the
woman shook it eagerly.

“Phaedra.”

“Nice to meet you, Phaedra. Well, let me get right to it. I know this is not professionally
written, but the flyers aren’t finished yet. Anyway, I’m going to be hosting a new
radio show here in New York that begins in one week. I wish for you two to call the
station and request two—no, make it three—free tickets to a wonderful conference I
will be speaking at. Now, normally tickets range from fifty to seventy-five dollars
a piece, but I want to give you complimentary ones.” She handed one of the women her
name and the number at the radio station. “Just say I invited you to the ‘Queendom
Conference’ and you are to receive the three free tickets.”

“Oh…okay.” The big mouth one looked at her suspiciously and tucked it into her purse.
“Well, thank you.”

“What’s it about?” the other one questioned as she placed two chocolate milk jugs
in the cart, her interest genuinely piqued.

“It’s about us, being the black Queens that we are, loving ourselves and never putting
periods or pauses on our experiences in this life…that’s what it’s about.” Xenia wielded
a big smile, the kind she was known for, the smile that made her man drop to his knees
before her feet and the smile she’d perfected from her long years in journalism… And
then she paused. “Oh, and please invite your friend, April. The third ticket is for
her.”

“Oh, I see…” the big-mouthed one replied, looking a bit nervous.

“
This
particular weekend, I think it would be fabulous if she had plans. One more thing,
not to meddle, but watch the chocolate milk. Those of us with African ancestry oftentimes
are lactose intolerant. Now, I’m not saying give it up completely. Chocolate is delicious.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But almond and coconut milk are also worth a try. Expand your
horizons; you just may like what you taste.” She turned away, glancing over her shoulder
one last time as she spun Isis in the opposite direction. “You two ladies have a
beautiful
day. I know I sure will. It’s supposed to rain, but that only means we might get
to see a Rainbeau…”

And that…was that.

*

K
rishna looked like
an ornament flown direct from Santa’s Christmas land of exceptionally iridescent
trinkets. He glowed obscenely, like a bursting star, but not of his own doing. It
was simply his nature to be that way. He sat at Saint’s dining room table, admiring
the artwork and décor as he ran his thick, wrinkled hands along the stark white tablecloth.

“Your wife has impeccable taste.”

Saint nodded, a smirk on his face. No sense in trying to fool Krishna. Most of the
layout was in fact Xenia’s doing though he believed his abilities to put things together
were nothing to scoff at. She would not allow the black lacquer vaginal statue to
make a debut, however, much to his chagrin. Regardless, this wasn’t about egos and
embellishing, this was much more serious. Xenia had stepped out with the children
on the bright, sunny Saturday afternoon, leaving him and Krishna alone to finish the
discussion that had first been cut short due to a certain little boy running away
from class. Regardless, Saint was trying to move past that, to give his son some space
to stretch, but there was now a clear understanding that should he wish to do such
a thing again, the consequences would be more than the little boy could imagine. He’d
stick to his guns, too, no matter how many tears flowed. Xenia remained none the wiser,
just as Saint promised his son, but she
did
know all about Krishna, and she took an immediate liking to the man…

The fellow had met her, and as soon as their fingers touched in a handshake, he looked
as if he were going to pass out. The older gentleman laughed lightly and nodded in
Saint’s direction.

“Yes…she’s perfect for you. Simply perfect.”

In less than five minutes, he’d also seen his children and pointed to each of them,
giving special prophecy.

“That one is like you…” he said of Hassani, not mentioning one word of the incident
a few days prior.

Saint and Xenia looked at one another and nodded in agreement.

“That one…is like his mother. And he’s slick. Cunning. He’d do well with undercover
operations. His mind is constantly moving. A beautiful and rare Deaf Mute. How lovely
he is…” Dakarai seemed oblivious that he was being spoken of as he pilfered through
his baggy jean pockets, looking for the two quarters he’d found in the corner of his
closet earlier that morning.

“And that one…she is a beauty.” Isis smiled, as if she knew she was the prettiest,
sparkling thing in the room. “Her heart is beautiful, too. Very kind soul. She will
help people. She is a different type of healer. No, she can’t put her hands on anyone
and do what we do, but she can use her special gifts to show others the best course
of action. She is a storyteller. She tells the stories of peoples’ lives via mirrors
and beautiful, sparkling things.”

Reflectors.

Saint recalled the demonstration she’d once given and knew that yes, Isis would be
a modern day gypsy woman of sorts, only she needed no cards or tools. No, a broken
mirror, puddle of water, large diamond or juice glass would suffice.

“…Do you know why she is such a voracious eater?” The man grinned as Xenia placed
a light pink jacket on the girl.

“I thought she was just greedy like her old man!” Saint teased, causing everyone to
laugh.

“Well yes, she does enjoy a meal or two… But no, it is because that is how that gift
is fed, through protein and sweets. She craves fruits and candies, not only because
she has a sweet tooth, but because her mind and gifts require it. This is a common
occurrence for the Princess of Life, especially if she has psychic abilities, and
most of them throughout the centuries did go through this. Once she reaches the age
of twenty-one, the gift will be fully developed. Once she reaches the age of thirty-five,
she will be using it practically daily. It will be fine-tuned after years of practice.
Her accuracy level will be above ninety-percent. She is one of the best fortune tellers
I’ve ever seen.” The man shook his head in awe. “Make sure she takes care of the loose
ends in Egypt, Saint.”

Saint nodded. “I will.”

“It was nice meeting you, Krishna.” Xenia extended her hand once more to the man.

“Likewise.”

“We will leave you two alone. Saint,” she said. “If you need me come back or pick
up something, just give me a call.” She kissed her husband on the cheek and disappeared
out the back door…

“Saint…”

Krishna called out his name, bringing him back into the here and now.

“Oh yes. I’m sorry, Krishna. My mind has been a bit scattered as of late.”

“I understand. I will once again begin to speak to you telepathically so that I may
be more easily understood. My accent will be removed, just like before. You may respond
verbally. I will understand you either way.” Saint nodded in understanding.

“Now, back to what I was saying. I want to discuss with you why this is happening.”

“Uh…can I get you something to drink?” Saint knew he looked weary, and didn’t understand
his current compulsions but something inside of him wanted to delay the inevitable.
Once he knew the truth, he’d have to act on it—and that concerned him the most.

“I would like a glass of your wife’s lemonade that you were previously bragging about,
but not right now.” Krishna once again had his number, but didn’t call him on it directly.
His tone let Saint know that he would not tolerate even one more interruption. Saint
steepled his hands and tapped the fingertips together, staring down at them as if
he’d never seen the damn things before.

“Now, let’s discuss this and move on. Saint, your half Egyptian ancestry has a direct
link to our Mecca as Angel Children. We all know Egypt is our origin, our birthplace.
Just as Africa is the cradle of all civilization, Egypt is ours. None of this, not
even your ancestry, is by coincidence. You were required to have an Egyptian parent,
didn’t matter if it was your mother or father, but one of them had to be and I will
explain more of that in just a moment.” The man paused, seemingly deliberating over
his next words, and then continued. “There has been a shift in the parliament due
to centuries of corruption. The Angel Child kingdom has decided over one hundred years
ago that, when the time came, they would move portions of the kingdom to wherever
the chosen Kings dwelled. The Kings would not be told they were Kings, however, until
each of you was settled in.”

At this point, Saint swallowed. Hard.

“A hidden, golden, timed clock was set three months ago, Saint. It was turned on and
whenever it stopped, that is where the new Kingdom would be established for you in
particular. It had to land on a hub, however. There are certain parts of the world
that are considered Angel Children hubs—the places where we are most needed and attracted
to. As you may be aware of now, New York is one of them.”