Avenging Angel chapter 9
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Avenging Angels Ch. 06 free porn video
The late afternoon sun shone through aged maples highlighting the blondish red hues in Mary’s hair.
She sighed, looking around at the courtyard it gave her a fleeting sense of peace, the Baroque Resurrection cathedral was an inspiring sight that always left Mary feeling safe. It’s high stonewalls encircling this small courtyard, giving the impression of an oasis, a place untouched by time or turmoil.
‘Is there anything bothering you my child,’ Father Pytre asked as he sat down next to Mary.
How to answer that question she thought, as what was bothering her continued to test her belief that she had a purpose greater than her life here in Klin.
‘No father, I’m fine it was just a long day, I think ill retire for the evening,’ Mary replied as she rose from the granite bench and made her way to her small room.
The small-stonewalled room was cool as dusk embraced this corner of the world. Mary had been here for almost two years, she was drawn to this town for some unknown reason, she just knew that this was where she needed to be, where her gift would be put to the best use.
The gift, Mary scoffed as she removed her simple nun’s habit revealing her pale white skin to the orange candlelight. ‘How can a gift bring so much turmoil?’ Mary said to the drafty room as she sat on the edge of her bed.
Had it been four years already, it seemed both a very short time and an eternity since her ‘gift’ had been bestowed.
Mary Elizabeth Shane’s life would be considered by most to be absolutely normal.
Her father Phillip was a fire fighter in engine company #48 in Hyde Park, a suburb of Boston. Her mother Anne worked part time as a bookkeeper for the local parish.
They were good parents who loved and doted on their only child. Their extended family was large with six aunts and four uncles there was rarely a weekend that some family member was not celebrating a birthday, anniversary or the like.
Mary had a few close friends and together with them and her family she wound her way through her childhood happy and content.
Mary’s life changed when she was fourteen, it had started out as just another day at Cathedral High School when, while sitting in Sister Monica’s geometry class listening to her lecture on Pythagoras she felt an unfamiliar wetness in her panties.
‘Damn’ she thought as she quickly glanced up at the crucified likeness of Christ on the wall, she lowered her eyes thinking the lord did not like that type of language. She walked up to the nun’s desk and whispered in her ear ‘I think I just started my period’.
The good sister had been teaching at Cathedral for more than thirty years and was well prepared for these ‘circumstances’. Handing Mary a slip of paper she motioned towards the door saying ‘Just go to the clinic, Sister Veronica will help you get things sorted out.’
Sister Veronica handed Mary a large pad and a fresh pair of panties then shooed her off to the ladies room. Mary had been somewhat prepared for this event as her mother had told Mary what to expect.
She stood for a moment, holding her soiled panties in her hand regarding the deep red stain that now covered the crotch. ‘So much blood,’ she thought as she dropped them gingerly into the wastebasket and pulled the fresh pair on.
Affixing the pad as her mother instructed she pulled them up, straightening her skirt she was not pleased with how uncomfortable the large pad felt between her legs. ‘I’ll have to ask mom about that,’ she thought as she turned out the light and closed the door.
Returning from the bathroom Mary started to feel a bit light headed, the nun gave her a cold washcloth for her forehead and had her lie down on one of the small cots until she was feeling better.
About fifteen minutes later Sister Carol brought Imogene Watson into the clinic. ‘Sister Veronica,’ Carol called out ‘we’ve had a small accident on the hockey field.’
Imogene was crying, someone’s spike had raked her left arm, blood was flowing out of the deep gash in her bicep. ‘You sit here and let me get some bandages for that, you may need stitches, we should call her parents,’ Sister Veronica said to Carol as she opened the supply closet for the things she needed.
Mary looked at the wound on Imogene’s arm, saw the pain etched in the little girls eyes and felt driven to help. Standing, she moved over next to her and lightly placed her hand over Imogene’s hoping to console her classmate.
The next thing she remembered was opening her eyes looking into the face of her priest, Father McElroy. ‘Shhhh now,’ he said to her ‘everything is fine you just fainted, we’ve called your parents and they are on the way here now.’
Father McElroy was her favorite, she had the naughtiest dreams about the young priest, being this close to him was disconcerting, she could smell his aftershave as he bent over her, checking her head for any bruising.
‘You were lucky Mary, you could have really hurt yourself but Sister Carol saw you start to blackout and caught you before you fell,’ The father said as he moved back from her.
‘I don’t remember anything father, I went to the clinic because my p… she stuttered, I wasn’t feeling well, they brought in Imogene and then I was here, what happened to me is Imogene ok?’ Mary asked a little too frantically.
‘Imogene is… fine Mary, no need for you to worry about her just now, you rest till your parents get here,’ the father said as he left the room.
Standing in the hallway he contemplated the nature of miracles and how you would go about explaining them to a fourteen-year-old girl.
Mary could not shake the feeling of lightheadedness, sitting up in the cot she looked around, it seemed odd that Imogene was not there, how long had she been unconscious?
She tried to think back to what had happened, she remembered seeing Imogene’s arm bleeding, she remembered a strange pull to go to her, to touch her. When she touched Imogene she felt different, she had no frame of reference for the feeling so likening it to something was difficult. She layback wondering just what had happened and why.
…..
Father McElroy looked at Philip and Anne, wondering how they would react to Mary’s newfound ability.
‘A miracle?’ Phillip said again giving the young priest a look of disbelief.
‘Phillip, I can only tell you what happened, the instant Mary touched the other girl her wound simply disappeared, spontaneously healed and then Mary passed out,’ Father McElroy said again as he picked up his water glass and took a long drink.
Anne and Phillip simply stared at each other, neither comprehending the changes that were about to take place in their tranquil family.
…..
The church, having some experience with cover-up’s made the whole story disappear.
After several meetings with Mary’s family and members of the church hierarchy it was decided that it might be best if Mary were to be tutored by clergy members instead of going back to school
Mary was taught all of the normal school courses, however there was also three hours per day of ‘ecumenical training’ which consisted of learning the nature of miracles from the bible, finding the true meaning of faith and slowly indoctrinating the girl into the church so she could be watched and controlled.
It was during these teachings that she learned many saints had related tales of being filled with the Holy Spirit. It was described as loosing oneself as the pure power of god flowed through them. Mary thought on this long and hard, while the description of being ‘filled’ fit she just didn’t think there was a great deal of god involved.
After two years Mary had convinced everyone that she saw herself as a missionary of god, here to do his work in the name of the holy church.
She was confirmed a novice and requested to be sent to a village in Russia to do missionary healing works, she had see
n a short story on a news magazine about the town of Klin where Tchaikovsky had lived.
When the missionary idea came to her she chose this spot to do her works, ‘as it is out of the way and I’ll not attract much attention there,’ she explained to the bishop.
Her real reason for picking Klin was that from the instant she saw the television story she was drawn to the place and simply knew that this was where she needed to be.
Her handlers were hopeful that this experience out in the real world would help her come to terms with her gift and further strengthen Mary’s ties to the church.
…..
Sitting alone in her room, the candlelight playing haphazardly across the irregular stone walls she was reminded once again of what had taken place that day four years ago.
Mary had never told anyone of the vision she received that day in the clinic, sitting alone while the good father talked to her parents of miracles and responsibility.
As Mary sat on the cot, wondering when she would feel normal again, the room seemed to dim and shrink, as if the air within was sucked out leaving a vacuum in its place.
She felt a tightness in her chest and watched wide eyed as the room went from a dusky hue to a contained luminousness that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
And then there was the presence.
To Mary the only analogy she could make was that of being at the zoo looking into an empty lions cage, while you could not see the lion, you could feel it’s ‘presence’ watching you, evaluating you, sizing you up as adversary or prey.
‘We are Onus,’ the voice said in her head. It was strange, hearing without the involvement of your ears.
‘You have become today, we come to welcome you, it has been too long since one such as you has come forth, ‘ the voice continued.
‘What do you mean one such as me,’ Mary thought, staggered by the inherent power of the entity contained in this small room.
‘How to explain the indefinable, you are a conduit, a pure channel, a person who can tap into one of the fundamental creation energies of the universe,’ Onus began.
‘Oh is that all?’ Mary quipped showing her quick mind and dry sense of humor.
‘It will be a hard road for you, as in the past many will find your gift frightening, understand that you could be in great danger from those who do not wish to acknowledge that unifying energy forms underlie all things, you could be hurt or killed by such beings.’
Mary understood the gravity of what Onus imparted, ‘What should I do?’ Mary asked, suddenly scared and feeling very alone.
‘The ones here are equipped to shelter you, let them, you can be safe while learning to use your abilities, there will come a time when you will be free of them and start your true work and find your purpose,’ Onus responded.
‘Will I speak with you again?’ Mary asked wondering if this being had been watching her all along. ‘From time to time, we are merely sentinels, ones who watch and occasionally guide, we stand at crossroads, watching the flow of time and space, noticing those who evolve beyond the normal. We shall meet again.’
And with that the room grayed out again and an instant later all was as it had been, leaving a very confused young woman in its wake.
…..
And so the next two years played out, being tutored by nuns and priests she received her high school diploma at sixteen, and then the missionary work began. Her parents had not liked the idea of her going but in the end the church made a strong case that this was just what she needed.
The town of Klin had been welcoming if not warm. Klin had fared better than some towns in Russia since the fall of the communism.
Far enough away from Moscow not to be bothered by the political and criminal machinations of the capital. It was close enough to have a nice even stream of visitors travel to see the 16th century church of the Dormition cloister and the baroque Resurrection cathedral as well as the Tchaikovsky museum
The Klinskoye brewery has helped to keep the economy stable while much of Russia tried to find new industries to support the local populations.
Mary picked up russian fairly quickly, at least enough to be understood and was given a small room in the church rectory.
Her days were filled seeing people with varying ailments and curing them. Her gift was amazing, from broken bones to cancer caused by Chernobyl Mary had but to lay her hands on the stricken and the malady was cured.
The church took great pains to protect Mary’s identity, the individuals to be healed were stringently screened and the healings took place in a converted confession booth, so that no one ever saw Mary’s face.
Only father Petyr knew why she was here and that she was the ‘Healer of Klin’. Mary had no real friends as she remained on the church grounds at all times.
She spoke occaisonly with some of the nun’s in the cloister but they were mostly older women who were at the end of their service, content to await rejoining their lord when their time came.
The only real brightspots had been her two trips into Moscow, once to see the Bolshoi and once for a tour of the national mueseum.
It was a lonely life, a life that had become so ponderous Mary often wondered why she bothered to continue.
Lonliness can manifest in many different ways, people can withdraw, they can become wild they can fall into a depression so deep that they do not remember what happiness felt like.
Mary sat on her bed, the images of a life unlived passing before her eyes. ‘How does a person exist without friends, without human contact,’ she thought as the tears began to flow.
Looking at herself in the mirror across the room she saw a pretty young woman with piercing azure eyes bereft of hope.
Her redish blond hair fell in loose curls down her long neck and across her feminine shoulders. Her chest was large but not disproportionally so, capped with small sensitive nipples she often found carressing them very soothing and exciting.
Her belly was flat with just the hint of muscles ending in a small strip of copper colored hair that dropped sensuoulsly to just above her clitoris.
Long lean legs, their pale skin tight over her muscles, unmarred by any blemish completed the image of the beautiful young woman staring back from the mirror.
She was favored in her looks as her parents had been, getting the best from both of them.
As time slipped by, her tears changed to wracking sobs as she fell deeper and deeper into her depression and lonliness, finally she was faced with what seemed the logical end to her suffering.
Taking up a pair of sissors she slid the sharp blade lightly over her wrist, the cool metal sent a shock through her heated body as visions of release and freedom swirled through her head.
A little harder this time the steel pressed into her flesh, still not hard enough to break the skin but the pressure gave form to what was to come.
Eyes glazing over and a small sweet smile playing over her lips, Mary increased the pressure on the slide of the blade, its edge bitting deeply into her flesh, drops of blood falling like rain to pool at her bare feet.
The sensation that immediately gripped Mary was one of slipping on ice, that quick shift of perspective as your balance is lost and you are wieghtless for a moment, suspended between what was and what will be, that nanosecond where gravity is cheated and time stops.
The feeling passed and Mary felt… different, looking down at her wrist it was flawless, as if the blade had never penetrated her lovely pale skin.
Mary sat for several moments, her emotions swinging from elation that she was still alive to rage that even this most simple and personel of choices was denied her.
Mary walked slowly down the hall and out into the moonlit night naked, the soft breeze care
ssed her skin and made her nipples harden as she sat on the granite bench in the center of the courtyard.
‘I can’t stand this life but cannot end it,’ she muttered to herself.
Father Pytre regarded the naked young woman sitting in the courtyard.
So much talent, so much love to give, it was a shame that she was trapped here with no one to comfort her. The good father felt a familiar tightening in his loins and began to recite the rosary as he walked back to his room, winning once again a little test of faith.
Mary sat as the moon made its transit, listening to the sounds of the night, the frogs burring quietly to each other, the occasional shriek of an owl as it pursed it’s prey, the sounds of the trees, their leaves lightly brushing against one another. It all melded into a kind of symphony, a song of life.
As the sun began to rise so did Mary, all of her angst and fear and trepidation had faded during the night, she found a restless peace and as the sun rose over her shoulder she made her way back to her room to start yet another day.
…..
Once again on her bench she reflected. Twenty-seven healings, all maladies that would have killed the person within six months, it was odd to have so many terminals in one sitting.
Going over the details she realized that they had all been men and all must have been wealthy as she replayed the hands that were pushed through the little opening to receive her gift.
‘Manicured, almost all of them had manicures,’ Mary said to herself, wondering about the significance of this little detail.
So caught up in her reverie she was, that Mary didn’t notice the old bishop, who stepped out of the Cathedral and moved slowly towards her, until he was almost standing next to her.
Surprised she rose to stand before him, he looked down at her with a sense of awe and wonder, thinking she truly was a miracle and his lifetime of faith was well warranted.
‘Mary, you have been given a great gift, the likes of which I have never in all my years encountered,’ the bishop began. ‘Today you have confirmed my faith in the divine and for that I shall always be truly grateful.’
Pausing the bishop reached into his robes and pulled out a think envelope. Handing it to Mary he concluded ‘This was delivered by Vatican messenger to Moscow this morning, it seems you are about to start your true service to god.’
Bending down he hugged the girl close to him, unable to resist just one last touch of one of god’s chosen few.
Mary sat back down, she had noticed when she took the envelope from the bishop how nice his manicure was. ‘So,’ she thought, ‘the church wanted to get some of its own healed today, I wonder what that could mean.’
Opening the envelope she found another sealed envelope, a plane ticket and several thousand euros.’ Examining the plane ticket she was surprised to see that it was for this afternoon, one-way Moscow to Rome.
The red wax seal on the inner envelope bore the papal seal, only used by the pope, it meant that his holiness had written what was within.
The butterflies started in Mary’s stomach as she ran her fingers over the seal. ‘Why would the pope want me to come to Rome?’ she wondered as she snapped the brittle seal and opened the letter inside.
My Dearest Mary,
I hope that this finds you well and that your works continue to provide you with happiness and joy.
Since you came to the church four years ago we have watched your progress with much interest. Know that we are pleased with all that you have done, you have been a bright light in a sometimes dark and evil world.
The church has always tried to help humanity as a whole, our greatest wish is to help people be all that they can be. The church has been entrusted with the duty of protecting and nurturing the human race as it progressed through the ages.
We are now faced with the culmination of our work.
Others such as yourself, those with special gifts are being called together to help humanity.
It is my solemn wish that you will join this group, adding your own unique blessings to the whole as we attempt to sheppard humanity into a new age.
Enclosed you will find a plane ticket and some funds that will allow you to get to Rome with all speed. From there you will be met and join the others then you will finally come to understand how unique you truly are and find out the struggles that lie ahead.
Fawn
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