Agnes in the Fifth Bardo (Agnes Series Book 1) by Duncan MacLeod

Author:Duncan MacLeod [MacLeod, Duncan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-15T22:00:00+00:00

21 – The Crossing at Cherbourg

The light was an unusual shadowy red, a lot like what you see during a solar eclipse. We could make out figures of people, cars, animals but they were shrouded in shadow. It reminded me of the final scene in As Above So Below, which, if you haven’t seen it, is a brilliant mind fuck. We were ghosts in this town. I looked at the street signs to try and gauge where we were. As far as I could tell, we were in Cherbourg, France. I wanted to pop out a colorful umbrella and sing “I Will Wait for You” à la Catherine Deneuve. Nobody could see us. At least not at first.

After an hour of walking through the small town, we arrived at the waterfront, where the big ferries traveled to and from Portsmouth, Poole, and Dublin. An enterprising lady of middle eastern descent had set up a mobile creperie. There was a long line of adults and children waiting to purchase a sweet or savory crepe. I wanted so badly to taste crepe again. I tried to snag a little piece from a baby, but she pointed at me and cried. Then, because the baby could see me, people began to see us. We were invisible, but our auras or something were showing up.

“Qui sont-ils?”

“Pourquoi on ne peut voir le peau?”

“C’est une abomination!”

That last accusation came from an Angel, who flew straight for us, knocking us off our feet and leaving us gasping for air. The angel’s talons clawed at our souls, shredding the exterior.

Unsure how to remedy the situation, I asked Patsy to release her fog. It worked wonders. Nobody could see anything. The Angel, lunging for an attack, struck its chin on the sidewalk. In the chaos, we held on to each other as we climbed a gangplank to a ferry of an unknown destination. We hid in the bathroom until the ship was out to sea. At last, we were safe. Jerry was doubled over in pain. The Angel had done a pretty nasty job on his belly area.

Patsy hovered her front paw over the spot and said, “sana sana colita de rana.” The wound healed instantly.

“Where did you learn that?”

“From my Daddies. They both speak Spanish. It worked when I had Idiopathic Thrombocytopenia Purpura.”

“Idio what?” Jerry sat up, feeling much better.

“ITP for short,” she said. “It made me poop blood. I was in the hospital for a week.”

Jerry did his best to hug Patsy, given our magnetic conundrum. “You saved me. Thank you.”

“It’s what we do.” she said, turning tail and curling up under the bathroom sink.

I was perplexed. “We’re on a boat to nowhere with an Angel in hot pursuit. Are we safe?”

Jerry shrugged. “I’ll go check it out.”

He opened the door a crack and peeked out. He shook his head. “No angel in sight.”

He boldly exited the bathroom, forgetting that we would be dragged along behind him. Patsy nipped at his ankles for disturbing her micro nap. The passengers were only mildly aware of our presence.

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