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Back Black Ambrosia Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. CoverImage
  2. Introduction by Grady Hendrix
  3. Acknowledgments
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. About the Author
  46. About the Cover

And then that voice came, that voice that I knew as well as I knew my own name, that same voice that spoke to my soul, that spoke to me with the ethereal music that supplied the foundations of my life—that voice spoke right into my ear as She had before; a clear voice, a sweet voice, rich and sensuous, and I closed my eyes and saw moist red lips as they spoke to me. “Your gift, Angelina,” She said. “Give the boy your gift.”

I remembered the happiness and peace; I remem­bered the calm and joy. Then I remembered the flood of emotions the night before, and the night in the Ozarks, and I realized that I did have a gift, I did have a mission, and my freedom came to mean a new thing to me.

In that moment, standing in the bushes, feeling new emotions, new feelings, I came to believe that I had been chosen. I had been chosen to own and use the music, that eternal, ethereal music. Why else would something—someone?—take charge of my life as it (She?) had? Why else would my rewards be the loving sense of peace and protection? Why else would I be obsessed with the thought of the bus station, if not to fulfill destiny by going there to pass along peace? I did ease suffering, I did bestow peace. Why else would I be here, instinctively standing in the bushes? I knew what must be done.

My freedom from responsibility was no mistake. My freedom from family tethers, from material as­sets, from even the basic desires to have these things, had not been a plan gone awry. All these things were for a purpose. I had been chosen. I was special. I was to be one of the background people, accomplishing great things with little or no public recognition or acclaim. My kind of assistance would not be recog­nized in a good light, anyway. They wouldn’t understand. Great things were afoot and I was a minor cog in a mighty wheel. Guided by Her voice.

I felt free, wonderful, and one with Nature.

Surety flooded my soul. I heard lovely strains of the music. I glimpsed through the door of eternity, and I knew that if only I could sit down and contem­plate it for a moment, I would understand the elusive concept.

Later. At the moment, I had something impor­tant to accomplish.

I stepped from the bushes just as the young man sank back down to the ground, his hands over his face, his shoulders shaking.