Archangel Crusader
impossible."
    "You said it. At the present time, scientifically, they are. But they can be done through other means. Let me demonstrate." Michael rose from his chair.
    "You can't be serious." Impatience tinted Walter's tone.
    "I’m dead serious. How do you think I mopped up that spill in the kitchen earlier?" Michael screamed in Walter's mind, leaving him red-faced and wondering. "You want proof?" he said aloud, some irritation in his voice. "Let's go to the back yard, so you cannot say that the house was rigged." Michael walked straight to the wall, and banged his head."
    Debbie and Walter looked at each other and laughed.
    "What did you do that for?" Debbie asked, still laughing. "Are you all right? I'm sorry for laughing but it was funny."
    "I meant to go through the wall, but I don't feel quite right today." Michael rubbed his brow, wondering at his failure. The drinking of the day before must have affected his neural pathways. Also, he had lost his calm.
    Still chuckling, Debbie came with a napkin dipped in cold water and dabbed at his forehead.
    "Let me try again. This time, I'll concentrate better." Michael gently pushed Debbie's hand away from his face.
    "This is ridiculous, Michael, don't do it," she pleaded.
    "I have to convince some skeptics." After a look at Walter, Michael closed his eyes and breathed slowly, concentrating through the pain pulsing in his skull. When he felt all the molecules of his body adjust to the new vibration, Michael slowly walked through the wall and onto the patio.
    Debbie and Walter stared at the wall, speechless, then used the sliding glass door to join him outside.
    "My God, Michael! Is this how you got into the house this afternoon? I knew I locked the doors this morning." The German shepherd almost ran Debbie over, rushing to be petted by Michael. "I've never seen him like this with anyone before. He's supposed to be a watchdog."
    "Well... How do you explain this ability of yours?" Walter finally gave in to professional curiosity.
    "It's an unbelievable story. Let's only say for now that I was born with a special gift. I always suspected it but only recently learned to use it. We all have it to some degree, though. And it can be developed."
    "Did you learn it on your own?"
    Michael could tell Debbie was hooked. "No, I had some help" He hesitated on how much to tell them, then continued, "from my father."
    "Your father? Michael, no one ever knew who your father was. Your mother even denied you ever had one. How did you find him?"
    "I didn't. He found me. He was far away all this time but just came back."
    "This is great news! How wonderful. I'm so happy for you. How do you feel about it? Can we meet him sometime?" Debbie bubbled over.
    "Maybe, who knows... Anything is possible, but for now, I have to make a case for psychic powers, so let's just do it. Debbie, didn't you mention this afternoon you found this cherry tree too small and too far from the house for decent shade?"
    Walter rubbed his chin, but Debbie seemed to enjoy the game. "Yes, I said I would have liked it right there at the south corner." She pointed, delightful in her excitement.
    "Like this?" A slight flicker of magnetism, a faint rustle of leaves. Now, the cherry tree, three times its original size, stood at the southern angle of the house. Instead of blooms, it carried dark red cherries, months ahead of the season. Michael then teleported himself to a heavy bough and picked a handful of crimson fruit. "Care to try some?" He popped one in his mouth and jumped down like a cat, dropping the rest of the cherries into the hands of a wide-eyed Walter.
    "This is too much. No one can do this." Debbie, in shock, laughed nervously. "I had no idea you could do such things. This is incredible! Someone pinch me. I must be dreaming this."
    "Is there anything you cannot do?" Walter, sober and dead serious now, asked. "Do you know what this kind of power could do in the wrong hands?"
    "Unfortunately, yes. I even experienced it." A

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