"Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content." - Helen Keller

It took three days to get the lights on again, though, eventually, they went out for good. The day they came on again, Michael was in his studio in the midst of one of the creative firestorms that enraptured him from time to time. He painted nearly every day but, occasionally, some idea or vision gripped him so deeply he became little more than a phantom presence in our home. Chores needed to be done at our church and, since it was a Thursday, I knew no one would be there to be bothered by the noise the boys would inevitably make.

We were in the sanctuary, polishing the old wooden pews with sweetly fragrant lemon oil that soothed the deepest part of my soul with the sweet memories of childhood, when I heard the front door open. The front entranceway could be confusing if you weren't sure which way to go, so I went to greet whomever had come in.

She stood just inside the door, gazing up at the large wooden cross that hung there. She was young and pretty in a very earthy sort of way. Her long glossy hair was so black it was nearly blue. Her skin was as smooth and lovely as warm caramel and her wide, dark eyes were piercing.

"Hello," I greeted her. I wasn't sure if she was human or not but, from that first moment, I suspected not.

"Hello," she said.

"Can I help you with anything?" I asked.

She didn't look away from the carved wooden beams. "Oh, yes. I do hope so." Another long pause before she continued. "It has been a very long time since I came to church," she said.

"I had a long period when I didn't go to church either. That's one of the great things, though. You are always welcome to come back when you are ready. God is always there, ready to embrace us when we come back to Him."

"Not every church teaches that," she answered, looking at me. I imagine I was a strange sight in a Christian church with a veil over my hair and face, but she took it in stride.

"That's true," I answered, "but every church worth going to does."

At this, she laughed. "I believe you are right."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I came here to meet you, Prophetess."

There was no way I would ever get used to that word or the way it would suddenly spring up in my face like a grinning jack-in-the-box. It made me instantly a little more wary of her. "Oh? Well, here I am. What can I do for you?"

She climbed the steps with a grace any professional dancer would envy. "I seek sanctuary. Where better to go than to a prophet in a church?"

I motioned her to the chairs set up around tall tables for use during the after church coffee hour. "Why do you require sanctuary? Is someone trying to hurt you?"

She perched on one of the tall chairs and folded her hands on the table. "I've been hunted by men for six hundred years, and I've been able to elude them. Now my own kind seeks my end. I've nowhere left to run."

"What are you?" I asked, taking the seat across from her.

"I'm a shape-shifter, some would say."

"And what would others say?"

"Spawn of the devil. Half breed. She-demon. I've been called many things. My mother was Shawnee. My father was a full demon. The results of such a paring are... unpredictable."

"No doubt," I agreed.

"When my mother's people learned that she was pregnant with me, they exiled her, terrified that I would come out as some sort of flesh eating monster. I was a bit of a monster, though I've never craved flesh beyond the normal range of humans." The corner of her mouth turned up a bit.

"Good to know," I said. I meant it. My boys were still polishing pews in the next room. I certainly didn't want to go hand-to-hand with a half demon to keep them off the dinner menu.

"Word got out about what I was. Young men would head out in groups to hunt me, assuring one another of great status for the one who killed me. "

"Obviously they never did."

"No. They came close many times, but I was always strong enough and fast enough to elude them. In time, my days among them became the stuff of fairy tales and legends. I was able to live a fairly normal life. I kept to the fringe of civilization where people don't ask too many questions. I even made a few friends over the years. But now the fools have changed everything by declaring us to the humans. Worse, they have started demanding we draw up alliances. They came to me and demanded to know if I would side with the humans or the legends. She held out her hands, as though weighing her options.

"And what did you say to that?" I asked.

"I asked why such an alliance would be necessary. I had found my peace living quietly at the fringe of the human world, and I had no quarrel with the others."

"But they weren't satisfied with that?"

She shook her head. "No. They have the mentality that whoever is not actively with them is actively against them." She shrugged a little. "I've no desire to be a part of anyone's war. Yet I fear I will get sucked in. Even to defend myself will appear, to them, as an act of aggression."

"As will seeking sanctuary from a human."

"Yes, well," one shoulder lifted "You're not just any human."

"I am no one special. It is only through the power of God that I even know what words to say in moments like this," I said.

"But don't you see? The very fact that you allow God's power to be active in you is what makes you someone special."

I leaned forward on the table. "What can I do for you? On a practical level?"

She shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I'm far stronger and faster than you. No doubt my long life has led me to be more cunning as well. But your connection to the Source is powerful and real, and I would take comfort from staying near if you will have me. In return, I will try my best to be of service to you in every way I know how."

I nodded. "I don't know that I can offer you much at all, but you're welcome here. What's your name?"

She smiled her subtle smile. "My name is Atsheena. I'm a wonder at polishing old wood."

I laughed and handed her the can of polishing wax. "You should have said so!"

Together, we carried on with work in the sanctuary. While we worked, she captured the hearts of my children by sharing her people's creation story:

"When the Great Spirit made the world he wanted to fill it with people so he made a man and then a woman and she soon became pregnant and had the very first baby. This made the Great Spirit very happy. He told them that they'd done well because He had made them and then they'd learned to make themselves. In time they had more children and when there were twelve people the Great Spirit told them they could go down and live upon an island He had set aside for them. He told them it would take them twelve of His days to get there, but for every one day of His, it was like a year to them.

"During those years of traveling, the Great Spirit continued to create. He made meat and vegetables for them to eat so the people would have everything they needed. He even put a piece of His very own heart into each person so that they would have Good in them.

"The Great Spirit told the twelve people, 'Remember where you come from and never forget who formed you. One day you will be old and your hair will be as white as mine. Your age will be two hundred years. Then you should be sure to remember to tell your children everything I taught you so it will never be forgotten. If anyone gets sick before they are two hundred years old you should give him this special medicine and he'll be OK.

"The island where I'm taking you rests on the back of a turtle. Call him Grandfather and he'll love you and care for you.

"I won't always be with you but I've given you everything you need: food and the sun and the moon. The first men I created will both be old and called Grandfather. They'll be first and second in command over everyone.'

"Then the Great Spirit created two younger men to take the place of the old ones and He gave the First Old Man a backpack full of good and useful things.

"The first part of the world the people saw was on the other side of a great lake. They stopped and rested on the shore, unsure how to get to the island that had been made for them. Grandfather took a gourd from his backpack and led them to sing and fast for twelve days. He told them that the Great Spirit had promised to take care of them and so they prayed for a way to cross the water and it wasn't long before a path dried up and they were able to walk to the island. By then, the oldest Grandfather said he was too old to carry the backpack any longer, and so he gave it to the second Grandfather. The first Grandfather watched the people, who'd grown in number, cross to the island.

"When they reached the island, all the people rejoiced at the Goodness of the Great Spirit who had been so kind to them. After twelve days, the second Grandfather urged them to go on but said that he wished to remain on the shore so that he and the first Grandfather could see one another on their opposite sides of the water. The people moved on and the two old men sat on the beach and, in time, turned to stone. Some say they are still there, keeping one another company, to this day.

"Chalakatha became the leader of the people. He led them north to a good place and there they stopped and the Great Spirit came to visit them and told them that he had placed the heart of one of the old men among them and, from that time on, they must be wise enough to think for themselves. Then He left them again.

"The old men sent out a party of hunters for food and told them that if they killed any animal they must bring the entire animal home. The young men did have a successful hunt but the elk they killed was too big to carry, so they left the useless backbone. When they got home the old ones scolded them and sent them back for it. The hunters found it but it was moving around all by itself and they were afraid so they ran away!

"The old ones sent them back a second time. This time they found that the bone had become a new man who was red.

"The hunters led the red man back to their elders and they asked him all manner of questions but he had no answers. Since this man was not made by the Great Spirit, nor in the normal way of man, he was appointed to be the head of the warriors. His name was Was-koo-mee-saw and his family became the Pekowi.

"The people decided that the time had come to put one person in charge of the Great Medicine. They weren't sure who to trust but one man, whom none of them could remember seeing before, and who was all covered with white clay, told them that he should be chosen, for his heart was as white as the paint on his body. The council decided to trust him, but only with half of the medicine. Chalakatha would keep the rest safe.

"So it was that when rumors came of new neighbors who did not wish to be visited, the people went to them anyway, without fear. The people explained to the newcomers, called the Creeks, that they came from the Great Spirit and the Creeks laughed at them. To prove themselves, the people struck them all dead with the Great Medicine and then let them live once more and ever since then the Creeks have been considered our brothers.

"Other people and other nations came and there began a time of terrible war and bloodshed. The Great Spirit saw that the people with whom He had once spoken directly had become evil and so he sent a terrible flood and destroyed every person except one old Grandmother who was left to weep for her dreadful loss. She was so sad that the Great Spirit felt sorry for her.

"He created a new people to fill the island and those people met another nation from where the water is salty and yet another from where the water is frozen and the nations were joined together. In time, six tribes came together and formed twelve large villages. The people increased in number and spread across the land and thrived there until the white men came."

By the time she finished, we were done working and sat together on the steps at the front of the large room. Busy little Ike was curled up on my lap with wide eyes and two fingers corked in his mouth. Donovan absorbed every word.

"Your story is kind of like the Bible story, but different, too," Donovan said.

Atsheena agreed. "You're right. You'll find that if you listen to the stories and legends of the people of the earth, we all share far more common ground than most of us realize. Tales get shaped and changed over time, but when the legends cross cultural boundaries--stories of the little winged ones, or those who drink blood, or those who change their form," at this she shone a tiny smile at me, "There is some grain of truth there."

"So the truth is that there really is a God and He really did create us, but we're not sure exactly how that worked?"

To me, she said, "Your boy is clever. He thinks of things beyond his years."

I ruffled his hair, a gesture that he loved and hated simultaneously. "You have no idea," I replied.

"That's my belief, Donovan. Of course, I am far from all-knowing. I'm only drawing conclusions from what I've learned in my long life on this earth."

"Are you immortal?" he asked.

"No. I am not the same as you. Time is different for me, but I will die someday."

At this, his curiosity seemed momentarily satisfied and so I stood and stretched. "I think we've done a good day's work here. Shall we go home?"

The boys jumped up, eager to be done with the tedium of chores, but Donovan stopped, halfway down the aisle and came back, looking concerned. "What about Atsheena?"

"Shall she come with us?" I asked him, honestly curious to know his response. His instincts were uncanny and I wondered how he would feel about such an arrangement.

"I think that would be good," he said.

"As do I!"

I smiled to see Freyja entering the church. One could hardly help but smile in her presence.

Atsheena gave a tiny half-bow to the new comer who acknowledged it with a nod of her own. "Atsheena is humble. The stories of her goodness and bravery are widely known."

The woman studied her feet and made no reply.

"Then it's all settled," I said. "Back to the house and I'll make burgers for everyone."

By then it didn't even seem strange that I was headed home to cook for my husband and children, a shape-shifting half-demon and a goddess. It was just a weekday afternoon.

Michael came out of his studio, and washed up to help us. Mrs. Walczak, from next door came over at Donovan's invitation and was introduced to our other guests. She didn't seem fazed at all to find these unusual ladies in my kitchen, and I loved her that much more for her quick acceptance of the friends of her friend. We set the patio table for dinner and adorned the center with platters of hamburgers, deviled eggs, salad, beans, and pitchers of iced tea and homemade lemonade. Michael encircled the table with citronella tiki torches that kept all but the most voracious of the mosquitoes at bay. As we prepared, everyone laughed and shared stories, and I couldn't help but notice how Atsheena's posture relaxed and her eyes took on a new light. I suspected it had been a long time since she had been a part of a gathering like this.

Partway through the meal, the lights went out once more. The yard remained illuminated by the tall, slender, dancing flames of the torches, but we tensed at the change. An ancient, sleeping animal within our minds had been stirred from its slumber. A part of our brains, long-dormant, remembered when the dinner table was surrounded by fire to keep beasts far more alarming than mosquitoes away. Atsheena reminded us that such a time never really ceased to exist. We simply had simply stopped thinking about it.

"This is happening more and more, especially in the larger cities," she said, indicating the dark lamps. "I have done a little exploring these past weeks. In a small town, like this, surrounded by so many farms, most of the homes still have wells. Many of them even have outhouses. There are cold cellars to keep food, and wood burning stoves for heat and cooking. Everyone has a garden and a pantry full of canned goods, but in the city," she paused. "Everything teeters on the edge of chaos now. People aren't stupid. They know that without electricity, there's no way to get food because the stores will be closed. Even if the water runs it'll be filthy. Even if they can get food, there's no way to cook it without electric stoves and microwaves. Winter is coming. It's going to get bad in those places."

The silence at the table was thick with uncertainty. Ike crawled off of his chair very quietly, and into Michael's lap. There was no way he understood what we were talking about, but even his child's mind grasped the worry in the air.

"Many of the legends are setting themselves up as gods in those places," Freyja shared. "For a price, they will protect you and your family from the looters and rioters, and give you safe shelter, even providing you with food and water."

"At what cost?" Michael asked.

"It's all at their whim. Perhaps they ask for one to share a talent or ability. From another, sexual favors are demanded. Someone else is told they must give the blood of their child," Freyja said.

Mrs. Walczak gasped. "Who would ever do such a thing?"

"There are few limits to what desperate people will do." Atsheena's voice was heavy with the tones of one had lived that hard truth.

It was very late when we parted ways. The boys had long since fallen asleep, curled into the squashy cushions of the patio chairs like puppies. I didn't think I would ever sleep, but I was wrong. I was out nearly the moment my head touched the pillow, though I woke early, just before sunrise.

I slipped from the bed and went to the laundry room where I found a pair of jeans and a tee shirt in the dryer. I put them on, along with the scarf I'd become accustomed to wearing over my hair and face, and I headed out the front door. The air was fragrant as only autumn air can be. The first few fallen leaves adorned the path before me. The warmth of the mild humidity wrapped around me and soaked into my pores. The seasons did not seem to know humans were in turmoil. Mother Nature marched relentlessly on, with or without us. Three or four houses down, on the opposite side of the street, two pair of yellow eyes looked back at me, but I sensed no real malevolence. Whatever waited wasn't hunting, just watching. I walked westward, uncertain where I was headed but knowing two things from the thrum of Power I felt within me.

First, I was safe; at least for the moment. Not even Raziel could touch me when The Power was upon me in this way. Second, I would know where I was going when I got there. The Power had lifted me from sleep, and The Power would lead me as surely as it led Moses to the shores of the Red Sea and beyond.

I walked, and marveled at how good it felt to just be outdoors, moving through the world. I, like many, had forgotten what a delight it was to take deep breaths of the sweet morning air. I took a left and a then a right, random, yet directed movements and, within fifteen minutes I found myself standing in front of the old canning factory at the edge of town.