In An Angels Foot Steps Ch 01

If not for the ability to mask one's presence, the bridge below would have been filled with gawkers. Some shouting words of encouragement, while others felt the need to taunt, screaming jump, using this as a platform to purge the frustrations felt in their own lives. Officials would've had to beat back the crowd of spectators so they could do their jobs.

The solitary figure cast a silhouette in the evening sky similar to that of Rodin's The Thinker. The silent observation and meditation of the figure was almost eerie, especially when surrounded by a bustling city such as New York.

This perch allowed for not only a spectacular view of the city below but also a place to disconnect and recharge. A vantage point, somewhere to absorb the sounds, music and life that made the city the gem it was beneath the thick layers of dirt, grime and cynicism.

Raising his head from his hand, he looked out over the waters that once ran clean so many years before. Now they bustled with boats, and floated the litter, tossed aside by those who gave the water little thought.

Closing his eyes against the glare as the sun moved lower in the sky, preparing to create the lengthening shadows down on the street. Those same shadows made some cringe as they saw them coming, gathering their loved ones close and shutting the doors and windows keeping the shadows and the unsavory it contained at bay. While yet another group seemed to wait almost impatiently for the darkness.

The sunglasses he wore reflected the bright orange orb in the sky as his other senses were called into play, his need for silent meditation coming to an end. His skills and vantage point above the city allowed him to tune in and tune out different things as simple as if channels on a radio. He visibly cringed as he heard an off note from a child taking music lessons, but the laughter at the mistake that followed seemed to smooth over the musical mistake.

For years, so many he'd long since stopped counting, he'd had the ability to listen in as the greatest musicians in the world graced the city with their presence and talents. He soon found that with these great talents came jaded people. Those who felt they were above so many, they were honoring the common, something he felt tainted their work, for himself at least.

Tilting his head he smiled, hearing the clear innocent tones as a local children's choir practiced. Their voices untrained yet pure and ringing true as if a gift from heaven with their enthusiasm and happiness. Shaking his head he didn't laugh when he heard the whispered laughter from a few when the young pianist hit the wrong note as the group sang.

These were the moments he enjoyed the most, the chance to find the untarnished, those who've yet to develop a cloak of importance, distrust and disenchantment with life in general.

Lowering the leg he'd propped his wrist across while lost in thought, he ran his hands down the denim covered thighs, wiping his hands as if removing the layer of solitude he'd sought from his vantage point.

Slipping forward, he dropped, arms reaching out to his sides, head thrown back enjoying the rush of the wind, as he descended the hundred or so feet to the foot path of the bridge beneath him.

Walking slowly, removing himself from the large groups that walked at a clipped pace, hurrying to get where they were going, he waited. Stepping into the deeper shadows he emerged, visible to those around him. He smiled casually when one man jerked his head up, sensing potential danger when he suddenly found himself beside such a large imposing figure of a man.

Silently he had to admit he liked the general populations reaction to the physical persona he'd become. Taller than average at six foot five, broad shoulders stretching the upper regions of the worn tee shirts he loved wearing to their limits. He'd once thoroughly loved the female rush of hormones when they eyed his trim hips encased in lose fitting jeans that seemed to be held low on his hips by sheer will, but over the centuries that had also changed.

Turning from the main street and its population he smiled softly hearing the muted sounds of haunting music ahead of him. This must be a new routine he thought as he moved closer, he sounds becoming louder. A few more turns and he'd be at the small plaza type area where the local police allowed street dancers and musicians to gather, showing their talents and allowing passers by to tip those they found enjoyable.

He knew without a doubt he'd find Ursula as the owner of this unusual music, what style of dance she would be demonstrating he wasn't sure yet. Stopping after rounding the corner he smiled when he saw her.

The lithe lines of her body twisting and moving as if flexible beyond belief as she danced some new contemporary style to the music escaping the small scratched up boom box she used. Her hair was pulled back tightly, captured in a tiny bun surrounded by a matching swatch of fabric he knew she'd saved from the outfit she'd created.

Pushing away from the wall he moved closer, his eyes moving over the crowd quickly gauging their acceptance and reaction to the young girls' performance. Stopping near the now dry fountain in the center of the area, he sat along its edge, winking at her when she briefly met his eye. He couldn't contain the laughter that her smile caused when she saw him.

Ursula knew that as she saw the sun lowering in the sky that before the shadows reached across the plaza to her area that he'd appear, he did every time she came to perform. It had become an unspoken tradition since she'd began sneaking out of the home after school when she was not quite twelve that he'd be walking her home to ensure her safety. This was one of the only reasons that Sister Katherine didn't do as she'd threatened many times, to lock her in her room.

As the music ended she lifted her head from its place on her extended knee, standing she bowed with a flourish to those who'd been watching her. She thanked those who dropped change or small bills into the vintage hat box she used to both carry her radio and also collect any tips people felt good hearted enough to give her.

Wiping sweat from her face she laughed as a young business man sorted through a small handful of bills he'd pulled from his pocket.

"Any and all is a help Sir," she said with a huge smile, flashing the sparkling braces she now wore. "I'm saving my money to go to Julliard one day, that is just incase my grades don't help me with a scholarship," she giggled.

Stepping closer to the young business man she glanced toward her silent self appointed body guard. "I can only encourage you to be as generous as you can," she said her voice dropping to a whisper. "Being a young African American woman means there are times I have to pay for my protection," she said nodding her head slightly toward his silent figure sitting watching her.

Knowing what she was doing, he laughed loudly, making the young business man jump, startled.

"Don't let the little imp make you think you need to pay for her 'protection'," he said pushing himself up to walk toward the pair. "Ursula, if I were to tell Sister Katherine what you're doing she'd have you cleaning the rectory for a month without a break," he smiled at the young girl who stuck her tongue out at him.

"Will five dollars be enough?" the man asked, his voice clearly demonstrating the discomfort he was feeling.

Stepping forward, his hand falling gently on the young man's shoulder, he felt the rush of unease leave him. "I can assure you this little urchin, is working toward her dreams of attending Julliard. But if her grades are as she promises the Sister's and I, she could use any additional money she earns for lessons to refine her styles before auditions later this summer," he assured the man, shaking his head as he watched Ursula huff to put her things away for the walk home.

"My sister had dreams of becoming a ballerina, but she hurt her leg playing soccer and now she's attending college to be nurse," the young man said as he dropped the five in the hat box before Ursula closed it.

"Keep practicing and I hope you make it into Julliard. I'll come by a few times a week and if you're here I'll help the cause," he said with a wave before joining the flow of foot traffic leaving the darkening plaza area.

He watched proudly as she picked up the litter that had been dropped in the area she thought of as her own when she performed. Smiling when she turned, rolling her eyes at him, they began the walk to the home run by nuns that she's lived in since she was almost five.

"When are you going to stop trying to use me to force more money from people?" he asked not even glancing down at her as they walked through the darkening streets. "Better yet when did you come up with the plan of strong arming people into tipping?" he asked, stopping in his tracks waiting for her answer.

"Gabe do you have any idea what it's like to be a young black woman?" she asked, not stopping long enough for him to answer, only nod. "You can stop smiling at me also I know that one was dumb," she laughed. "But I'm trying to tell you that not only being black but also living in a home run by the Nun's cause I ain't got no family, isn't going to make me getting into Julliard any easier," she said with a heavy sigh.

"All them girls in the ballet class you got me into act like they feel sorry for me," she said quietly. "I don't want nobody feeling sorry for me or that they gotta give me nothing," she snapped suddenly. "I'm as good as them," she said, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye even though she fought to contain them.

"Ursula, you're fourteen years old, how is it someone so young could seem to be bearing the worlds weight on her shoulders?" he asked soothingly, kneeling beside her, wiping the tear from her face.

"I don't ever want to hear you say that you don't have a family," he said lifting her chin gently. "Do you have any idea how hurt Sister Katherine and Sister Eloise would be if they heard that? Not to mention how Sadie and Maria would feel if they thought you didn't think of them as your sister's," he reminded her.

Shaking his head when she opened her mouth to reply, stopping her. "I want you to spend next week looking for a definition of a family that says all members 'have' to be biologically related, all the same ethnic background and they all have to look alike," he said chuckling when she rolled her eyes.

Standing he took her hand, starting to walk toward the small church and home he'd taken her to when he'd found her hidden in an alley when she was a tiny little girl.

"Maybe you'd preferred that I'd given you over to the state system when I found you in stead of taking you to the Sister's," he said quietly, as if thinking aloud. "I thought I was doing something good. Especially when I saw how tightly you hugged Sister Katherine when she told you that you'd 'come home' when she saw you."

"You don't fight fair do ya?" she said with a forced sigh. "I love the Sister's, you know that. Heck I even kinda love the annoying boys, but yeah Sadie and Maria are my sisters," she smiled up at him as they rounded the corner, heading down the street toward her home and family.

Gabe waited outside the church for Sister Katherine to come out after she'd finished admonishing Ursula for being after dark in returning. Looking around the neighborhood he saw the graffiti left by the newest gang that tended to try and emerge what seemed like weekly to claim the territory as they're own.

Listening absently to the sharp stucco foot steps of the nun's inside the church he stiffened suddenly. Turning his head he looked around, searching for the source of the cry he'd heard, the soft voice that seemed to float in and out of his mind.

"Gabe we can't thank you enough for acting as Ursula's chaperone as she's coming home from the plaza," Sister Katherine was saying as she walked out to sit beside the large man resting on the church steps.

"I would hate to see the child's dreams crushed, but we simply don't have the man power here, and with as quickly as this neighborhood is changing," she said her voice fading off. "I'm terrified of any of the children being out on their own."

Patting her hand reassuringly, he nodded. "I fully understand Sister. I've been talking to a friend and I think I might be able to talk him into sponsoring Ursula which would allow her to spend her time in dance classes most of the time," he told her with a dazzling smile.

"You have done so much for us for so many years already," the older woman said, tears sparkling in her eyes at the goodness and generosity he'd always shown them. "You might just be the guardian angel that was sent to guide Ursula's life," she squeezed his hand affectionately.

His mind kept hearing the small cry of distress as they talked; turning his head he found he could hear it clearer than others. "I hate to run sister but I have some things I need to get done before it gets too late. And I'm sure dinner time is going to be interesting with Ursula being strong willed," he laughed when she sighed dramatically.

**************

What was that smell that burned her nose, she wondered as her mind slipped between heavy sleep and listless wakefulness. I must be so tired I can't open my eyes, she though when her eye lids seemed to refuse her every command.

"I'm terribly sorry Mr. Slade but we've done everything we can, now we just have to wait and see how she's going to heal and respond," the exhausted doctor said as he closed the heavy metal chart in his hands.

"But you've been saying that all she has are some cuts and bruises other then the knot on her head so why isn't she waking up?" Royce said his voice tingled with the disgust he felt at the situation.

"What in the hells happened to me? Royce why are you asking about my waking up? You might think this is a joke but let me tell you it's one of the worse you've ever pulled," she said sharply, wishing they'd drop the façade and someone would tell her what was going on.

"Even without putting the head trauma into the equation, we sometimes find that victims of violent crimes such as what Ms. Sparten suffered, will become unresponsive during the healing process," the doctor tried to explain to the rather overbearing man who was his patients boyfriend.

"Everyone heals at a different rate and in a different way. It appears that not only the physical trauma but mental trauma that goes hand in hand when a woman is physically and sexually violated. It's going to take an extended period of healing for her," Dr. Smithson said with finality. He had many other patients he needed to see before he would be able to sit down long enough to eat a sandwich.

Royce glanced at his watch quickly, "Is it important that someone be with her all the time or would it be better that she get some rest without being disturbed?" he asked, his agitation at the time painfully obvious.

"We have a top notch nursing staff here at the hospital Mr. Slade so if you have things you need to do I'm sure they will keep a competent eye on Ms. Sparten. They will call you if there's any change," he assured the man, his disgust tingeing his words slightly before he walked abruptly from the room.

Her mind had begun spinning as she was hearing what the doctor was telling Royce. She'd been attacked apparently if she could believe what she was hearing. Her throat tightened when she tried to ask if by 'sexually violated' they meant she'd been raped, but no sound would escape past the constriction in her throat.

She felt a heaviness creeping over her; absorbed in the pain and fear she felt she welcomed it.

***************

He watched silently from the shadowed corner as the two men discussed the battered woman lying in the hospital bed in front of them, the source of the sounds he'd been hearing.

It was obvious to him, who was able to hear her that she was coherent and could hear everything the two of them were saying. The shock her mind and body showed made it painfully obvious she'd been totally unaware and was now beyond overwhelmed.

The sounds of the beeping monitors were the main source of sound in the now dimly lit room. He sat quietly in one of the chairs, watching and wondering. Why had he heard her and been drawn to her?

This was not the path he'd chosen for his life when given the opportunity to make those choices freely. Even though he'd walked the earth with human and nonhuman for centuries he'd found that his solitary existence was the one that suited him.

Being a guide, a care taker had always smacked of being melodramatic to him. He'd hear those who'd chosen that path relating stories of their accomplishments and conquests with one another with little consideration for the fact that it was someone's soul they were discussing so causally.

For many years he'd been amused by the broad belief that if something or someone had the word 'angelic' attached to them it automatically meant that they were good, pure and above contempt. He knew this to be one of the most skewed misconceptions of all time.

He'd rubbed shoulders with both angels and demons who were so opposite from what they were perceived to be, he often wondered if they weren't a mutual joke of god and satin when they found themselves bored.

The hypocrisy of the guides whose job it as to help those souls whose lives ended, were the worst to sit around and gossip and comment on the lives people had led. They felt since they were 'angelic' it was within their right to pass judgment; this rubbed him the wrong way.

The higher the rank of hierarchy the greater the chance of corruption as was usual it seemed for all races yet something he felt was out of place.

From birth he'd felt like an outsider. Always larger physically than those around him, stronger, faster and more prone to asking questions as opposed to silently accepting any explanation someone felt like giving.

He'd never felt very 'angelic' and on numerous occasions wondered if that was the core of his identity issues. When being taught what the humans believed to be the Ten Commandments, he infuriated his teacher by asking how they as angels could understand what each meant. They'd never themselves experienced things such as coveting, or lusting, therefore how could one understand if such was a sin when they had no knowledge of the emotion that went hand in hand with it.

His eyes, mind and heart had witnessed amazing changes since he'd decided that he'd spend his days on earth, living among the human and nonhumans that walked its surface.

His thoughts were broken when he felt the woman stirring, not physically but mentally emerging from the depths she'd welcomed earlier.

The only way she could ever describe how she was feeling was as if someone had piled her mind and body high with heavy wet woolen blankets, she thought to herself as she tried yet again to open her eyes.

The repetitive sound of the monitors made her hesitate realizing the slow steady beat was that of her own heart.

"Thankfully something's working on its own," she mumbled to herself. "Now if my eyes would just take the hint and do the same thing, come on I want to see what's happened to me," she said with a sudden panic when her eyes would not respond.

Standing quickly, he walked to the bedside. Moving his hand to the bed, he brushed his fingers along hers gently, just wanting to calm her as she tried to work out what had happened to her.

She took a deep breath, feeling a wave of peacefulness wash over her suddenly. "Okay now I'm losing what's left of my mind! One minute I'm frantic and the next I'm thinking of wild flowers and ice cream. What gives?" she almost laughed at herself.

He sighed to himself silently, moving his hand above her face, he braced himself for the next time she tried to open her eyes and found they would open.