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EIGHT

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“SO, YOU’RE THE YOUNG telepath Frank told me about,” Clara said. Frank had returned to the kitchen to inform Ham that Clara needed to see him right away.

“Ah, ma’am?” Ham replied, puzzled.

“Did you or did you not force a young man to bludgeon himself with a plastic pitcher, after making said young man toss its contents on himself?” Clara asked, grinning.

“Well, yes ma’am, I did. But that doesn’t make me a telepath; I’m telekinetic, according to Pris,” Ham replied.

“Well, according to me, young man, you’re both,” Clara quipped. “No one can push someone to do something against their will without telepathic abilities. And that is the term used in the vernacular. The fact you can also swat people with tree branches does indeed, make you telekinetic.”

“When you put it that way, I sound like a superhero,” Ham blushed.

“You are indeed, and so is this amazing young lady,” Clara agreed, looking at Pris.

“We’ve been working through her repertoire of skills, and I must say, she’s a more powerful superhero than I am. I can’t decide whether to call myself Clara the Great, or Kratos the Magnificent, though they both have a nice ring.” Her grin split her face, and everyone joined in the good-natured laughter.

“Can I be Hamtastic?” Ham asked as the mirth died down.

“Oh...boo...Ham...” came from three separate mouths simultaneously.

“Seriously, there are powerful and uncertain forces at work in this city, and we all must be as prepared as possible if we’re going to defeat them,” Clara said, breaking the jovial mood. Her eyes were on fire once again, and Ham and Frank both noticed it. Frank thought it was a trick of the light, but Ham wasn’t sure what it was.

“This is beginning to sound like one of my comic books,” Ham quipped.

“Yes, and there is true evil in the world today, never doubt that,” Clara rejoined. “I would prefer more seasoned warriors, or at least adults with fully-developed abilities to join with in combat, but you go to war with the army you have, not the army you wish you had, to quote Donald Rumsfeld.”

“Is it really that immediate?” Frank asked. It was the first time he had spoken since they had all rejoined in Clara’s bedroom.

In answer to his question, Clara looked at Ham and commanded, “Light that candle,” pointing at a six-inch pillar setting on a shelf opposite the foot of her bed. When Ham began to turn his chair, Clara’s eyes flared white and she barked, “Stop.”

Ham looked to her, puzzlement awash on his face; there was definitely something wrong with her eyes. “What?” He asked after receiving no additional directions.

“Do it from here,” Clara directed, “with your mind.”

“That’s not funny,” Ham said more sharply than he’d intended.

“Am I laughing?” Clara replied. “Many, in fact most, telepathic/telekinetics are also pyrokinetic,” she explained. “You just need to believe you can.”

“But I don’t know how,” Ham replied softly.

“You didn’t know how to break tree branches, but you did,” Clara responded. “Concentrate on the candle, think of the wick, think of fire, and snap your fingers.”

Ham made a show of following her directions, turning to face the candle and twisting his face in concentration. Holding his hand out in the same direction, he snapped his finger; nothing. Taking a deep breath and settling himself in his chair, he tried again, and again; still nothing.

“Well, apparently that doesn’t work, and I’m okay with it,” Ham observed. “Although it would be really cool to be able to start fires with my thoughts.”

“Ham, you’re not concentrating,” Clara chastised. “Your mind was in four other places besides the candle. Your father will be fine, we’ll figure out who the Jenkins clones are, Pris loves you already, and no one is going to die tonight. Now concentrate,” she barked, her eyes flaring yet again.

Ham’s face flamed red at the mention of Pris loving him, and Pris glared at Clara as if betrayed. Ham had turned and was also glaring at Clara, as he said, “I don’t know how you knew I was thinking all that, but I don’t appreciate my innermost thoughts being shared so publicly. And I can’t light a candle just by snapping my finger,” he shouted, snapping his finger in demonstration.

Across the room, behind him, the candle leapt to life. Ham didn’t see it, but he heard the soft whoosh of the ignition, and all other heads in the room had turned to stare at the dancing flame.

“Holy shit!” Ham exclaimed.

“Here, enough of that,” Clara remonstrated. “Thou shalt not take my Father’s name in vain.” Her eyes were flaming, and her hair seemed to rise from the sides of her face.

Frank looked searchingly at his wife. “Did you mean to say Our Father?” He asked.

Clara sighed in resignation. “It was bound to come out eventually, and it may as well be now, as Priscilla and Marrisa already know,” she replied. “Frank, when I had my first attack from MS, it almost killed me,” she referenced. “An Archangel of the Lord appeared to me and said I had many great things to accomplish in His name, but I had to be willing to accept her into my body in order for her power to manifest on Earth.”

Pausing, she looked beseechingly at her husband, willing him to accept. “I did, Frank, and I can now speak, and think, and guide these precious children with her help. Her name is Raquel, and she is the Archangel of justice and vengeance.” Noting the look of utter disbelief on everyone’s face, she hurried on. “It is her job to cast demons into Hell, and bring peace to our troubled world. We believe these clones, as Ham calls them, are actually demons manifest in human hosts, much as I am now.”

Frank stared for a moment longer, then asked, “How do I know who I’m talking to when you speak; it all sounds the same?”

Clara looked deep into his eyes and replied, “Does it matter, as long as we both love you?”

Frank sputtered and stammered, trying to wrap his mind around this immense revelation. “You both love me?”

“Yes, Frank,” Raquel replied, and now they all understood why her eyes glowed bright on occasion. “The care and love, compassion, and nurturing you’ve demonstrated in tending to our needs has given me every right to love you.”

Frank stepped to the chair beside the bed, holding his hand to his forehead while groping blindly for the chair with the other. His mind was so overwhelmed by the prospect of all he’d just heard; it failed to register anything as mundane as a chair.

“An Archangel of the Lord loves me,” was all he was capable of saying.

Everyone else in the room stared in awe at Raquel. She beamed joy and love at them for a moment before speaking. “We have so much work to do, and so little time. Ham, light the remainder of the candles in the room; all at once, please.”

Ham shook himself like a dog after a bath. Even parts of his body over which he had no control seemed to cooperate in the great awakening caused by this divulgence. Closing his eyes, his face became impassive, and every candle in the room ignited.

His eyes sprung open, and he breathed the single word, “Yes.”