Page 11 of Ace (The Deuces Wild #4)

“Be at peace. Breathe with me, Isaiah,” she commanded him while she again released Agent Boniface’s hand to add fragrant evergreen rosemary sprigs, sweetgrass, and cedar to her smudge bowl.

Adding a few drops of frankincense, Savannah handed the bowl to Agent Boniface, then told him, “Light this for me with a matchstick. Hurry.”

“A lighter would be faster,” he grumbled even as he flicked the matchhead with his thumbnail, sparking an instant flame. Why did he argue at a time like this?

“Easier does not mean better,” she told him as Gran Mere’s brand of magic began to fill her. To Isaiah she said, “Breathe deeply. Rest. I command you to let go. The peace you seek is here. It is ready to fill you up, but first you must let them go.”

Agent Boniface canted his head, not yet understanding or not yet willing to believe. Savannah couldn’t read which, because his doubts were not important. Not now. Only Isaiah’s doubts mattered.

Snapping her fingers, she cast her purification spell to an unclean but sterile place far to the north, to a place she’d never seen nor visited before.

A pure white place of glass and chemicals and mankind’s pride in his limited, narrow knowledge.

An empty, lifeless place, when Isaiah desperately needed the healing powers of the wise, eternal universe.

As she fanned the combined smoke from the smudge pot and the shell upward and outward, Savannah told him, “Let them go, Isaiah. Do it now. Do it fast.”

Never before had she encountered so much power within a single person. So much resistance. Yet as strong as Isaiah was, he was weak, too. Like most of humanity, he suffered from the burdensome weight of hubris. His own pride was killing him.

Groaning, Savannah winced at the anguish he’d carried for years because of that misplaced pride. “The weight of the world is not yours to carry. It never was. Let it go. Quickly. Do it now. Let them all go.”

A tortured wail came out of nowhere, filling the confined space of Gran Mere’s simple home with an ice-cold blast of mental anguish. Isaiah was enraged by her revelation. Her accusation. I. Am. Not. Proud!

Agent Boniface clutched her fingers as if he feared she might blow away. It could happen. Isaiah’s wrath was that powerful.

Savannah continued to speak out loud, so Agent Boniface could hear her part of the conversation. “We’re all proud, Isaiah. Please. Just do as I ask. Let them go.”

‘How?’ the wind howled, rattling every dish in the cupboards and anything not nailed down.

‘Teach me!’ it begged, and Savannah was sure the floorboards creaked and the walls groaned. Even Gran Mere’s magnificent hutch swayed beneath its assault.

At last relenting, Isaiah cried, ‘I’m not strong enough!’ The utter anguish in his voice rocked the houseboat on its foundation. Like a frightened lost boy… He. Cried .

“You are strong enough,” she told him fiercely. “You are magnificent and powerful, and you are brave. You can do this. There is no try, remember?”

The terror emanating from his poor tortured spirit broke her heart.

Isaiah hadn’t the strength to do what needed to happen next.

He’d fought his demons alone for too long.

Worse, he believed himself too far gone, too despicable to come back from the ledge he now balanced precariously over.

All he could see was down. Beguiling Death whispered at his back, tantalizing him with its promise of sweet release.

Isaiah needed something—someone—to hold onto, and he needed her now.

Savannah had never encountered a spirit so broken nor so lovely.

So fraught with compassion that he’d willingly taken on the sins of the many perpetrators of evil whom he’d bested during his years.

Isaiah wasn’t old enough to have shouldered so much agony that he could barely draw a breath.

That’s what was killing him. The weight of the world.

She didn’t have all the answers. Gathering every last bit of her resolve, she did precisely what Gran Mere had trained her to do for all of her twenty-five years.

With a firm hold on Agent Boniface’s hands, Savannah mentally reached across the miles for Isaiah and ordered him to, ‘Take hold of me and Agent Boniface. Trust us. At the same time, focus your heart and your soul on Roxy. If she is there with you, grab hold of her hand and do not let her go. Above all, hold on to what is most dear to you, Isaiah. Choose. Roxy or them… ’

The fight to save Isaiah from his most intimate demons was on. Bowing her face nearly to the table, Savannah acknowledged the almighty power of her Lord and Master. ‘Please help me help him,’ she prayed privately.

The struggle was real. It all came down to the power of light against darkness.

Good against evil. Folks thought Gran Mere a sorceress or a witch because they chose to.

It was easier to accept magic than truth.

Always had been. But the truth here today was that Gran Mere wasn’t really a witch or a voodoo priestess.

She’d just chosen long ago to believe in the most ancient magic of all magics.

Savannah prayed harder now. “For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,” she chanted. “For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory.”

Isaiah struggled to let go of the souls his exceptionally powerful, and all too compassionate mind had snared and retained—for their own good.

Of all the sins known to mankind, his compassion was the saving rope he’d extended to even the depraved and wicked.

But at the end of life, every soul had to stand on its own merit, not his.

He had to let them go, all of them. There was no other recourse.

The lifeline he’d offered to others was now a noose around his neck.

Out of the blue, Agent Boniface’s hoarse baritone vibrated along with Savannah’s softer alto. “For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory,” he chanted along with her. “For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory. ”

Ah, so he does believe.

“Please, cher, let them go,” she crooned to Isaiah, his internal battle manifesting itself in the whirling vortex swirling around her and Agent Boniface, battering them with its fury.

“You have to let each of them go, or they will take you down with them. Think with me. Pray with me. Picture the wicked men and women you saved as tiny little fish that you’ve caught in a net.

Lower the net into the river that is the universe and give them back. Let. Them. Go.”

Agent Boniface now clasped both her hands within his powerful fists, squeezing her fingers. The scents of nature swirled around them. The wind built to a thunderous roar. It seemed Gran Mere’s tiny home had captured a hurricane. The boat would surely break apart soon.

“Please, Isaiah. You can do this, but you must do it quickly,” Savannah ordered the stubborn man. “You can do it. I will count with you. On three, okay? One…”

The wind lashed out, lifting her hair into the center of its fury, the ends of it whipping her face as if fighting her for Isaiah’s soul.

Savannah held onto Agent Boniface as he held onto her.

It was them against a force so strong that, for a single moment, she doubted they could save Isaiah.

He was so hurt. So angry. And embarrassed.

As he should be. It was never easy to admit to one’s pride.

To be humble. But confessing sin was the first step. If he didn’t…

As if he knew precisely what Isaiah was going through, Agent Boniface called out, “Isaiah. Buddy. Come on, you’ve got to let those creeps go.

If anyone can do this, you can. Let ’em all go.

They’re not important, but Roxy is. They made their beds, let them sleep in them.

But I’m telling you, man. Roxy needs you now, she and that baby boy in her belly.

Your family deserves you more than anyone else.

She loves you most. She’s gold, Isaiah. Everyone else is dross and chaff.

Give ’em back to God. Let ’em go. Isaiah, let us all go. Save Roxy and your son.”

“Two…” Savannah breathed, secretly thrilled Agent Boniface knew how to reach his friend.

To Isaiah she said, ‘You’re not the savior of this world.

That job was taken long ago, and it was never what your power was meant for.

Who do you think you are? God? Do you think you are more powerful that He is?

Than His Son? Do you think you can save them when He could not?

I promise He will catch them if they choose to be caught.

Redemption has to be their choice, but you must first let go of your pride, and then—’

‘I never knew. I didn’t realize . I’m... I’m… Not. That. Guy.’

‘I know, my poor brother,’ she told him mentally. Quietly. Privately. ‘I see you. Are you ready now? Can you do it?’

Isaiah’s spirit was bowed down with so much remorse for things he hadn’t done and couldn’t change. But it was time he let go of the thing that was killing him—his pride.

Before he had time to answer, Savannah breathed one final, “For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever… On three! ”

Just that fast, the struggle ended. The howling stopped.

The wind stilled. Dishes settled onto the cupboard shelves with a clatter, as the windowpanes stopped rattling.

Savannah’s hair fell softly to her shoulders and over her face like a veil.

She swallowed hard at the sudden silence ringing in her ears.

Holy Mother, she hadn’t realized how hard her heart was pounding until then.

What a frightening, electrifying, sacred, fulfilling experience.

A whispered, ‘I understand now,’ came to her as Isaiah’s tortured spirit collapsed in upon itself, trembling from the tremendous battle he’d won.

“You are most welcome,” Savannah told him kindly. “Be good to yourself until you are strong again, my friend. I hope to meet you some day.”

‘Ssssssooooon…’

“What’d he say?” Agent Boniface asked, frustration gleaming dark in his eyes.

“He’s at peace,” Savannah murmured. Man, she was tired. “He’s going to live, Agent Boniface. Because of you, he’ll live a long and happy life.”

Agent Boniface made a face. “Thank God, but it was all you, not me.”

“And thank Isaiah for finally letting go and letting God,” she scolded. “But understand, this fight took both of us. You’ll see.”

Satisfied, she blew the messy curtain of hair out of her eyes. Despite, or maybe because of the tragic morning, Savannah felt oddly lighthearted and at peace. Isaiah had just triumphed. He was in a better place. Like Gran Mere .

“Are you gonna be okay, buddy?” Agent Boniface asked his friend, his big hands still squeezing Savannah’s fingers, his eyes dark and shimmering as if he might be able to finally mentally communicate with Isaiah.

Isaiah still lingered. ‘Yes, Roxy’s here. She’s really here. She stayed,’ he said tiredly.

Savannah hurried to pass that psychic message onto Agent Boniface. “His wife is with him. Roxy helped him to hold onto us. He needs to rest.”

“She’ll never leave you, man. She loves you,” Agent Boniface whispered to his friend, a definite sheen in his honeyed eyes.

‘You heard your friend, Isaiah. Agent Boniface will never tell you, but he loves you, too.’

‘I know,’ Isaiah whispered. ‘Gotta go-o-o-o-o-o…’

Savannah smiled as the spirit of a man she’d never met retreated northward like a feather on the wind, back to the loving embrace of his distraught wife.

‘Go in peace,’ she told him privately, wiping the back of her fingers across her bleary eyes. Tears brimmed again, but this time they were happy tears.

Still seated across from her, the tough FBI agent let go of her to brush a big hand over his face. Isaiah’s rescue had touched him too. The circle was broken, and that was okay.

“It’s over,” she said out loud.

Agent Boniface inhaled a cleansing breath, then pushed back in his chair, his legs stretched under the table. “You’re not a witch and you’re not a voodoo priestess, either. There’s more Catholic in you than pagan. What the hell are you?”

“I might ask you the same thing,” Savannah replied as a sharp, impatient knock sounded at her front door. “You’re not just an FBI agent, are you? You’re an empath. Like me.”