Tangled Souls by Jana Oliver

soul is mostly light, a kind of energy. Bradley’s light is pure because he’s a child. It’s like a beacon to some of the darker things out there. The longer he stays on this side, the more likely something will find him.
    “A lamb among the wolves.”
    Exactly. He has to cross—soon.
    She closed her eyes as her hand fluttered in her lap like a wounded bird, and she didn’t try to control it. Weight pressed down on her chest, the burden of being a Shepherd.
    “Why didn’t They just have you tell me all of it, right up front?”
    Not all Shepherds can handle who they are. Most end up like that bum, waltzing to the voices in their head.
    “I’m not going to do that,” she insisted.
    I pray that’s the case , he whispered. His eyes spoke of deep concern, almost love. It was touching. He wasn’t the enemy; he was just stuck in the foxhole with her, trying to figure out how to keep from being sprayed with shrapnel.
    Gavenia stared out the driver’s side window. The scene faded from her view and she closed her eyes, thinking of that day she’d hiked into the Welsh countryside alone. After going over a stile, she’d found herself in the middle of a field of sheep, perhaps a hundred or so of the woolies. A pair of Border Collies barked their warning and she’d hesitated, unsure if she should proceed. A voice called to her, and she found an old shepherd taking his tea under a broad-leafed tree. She’d sat with him for some time, talking about the sheep, the dogs, and life. He’d offered some of his tea, but she’d declined, sipping from her water bottle instead. The day had been fine and warm, the hike strenuous. Long before the car accident ended such simple pleasures.
    “What is it you do, lass?” he’d asked.
    “I translate documents from one language to another,” she’d said. “It’s not much fun. Not outside like this.”
    She watched as his old eyes swept the horizon, checking the locations of the dogs and the movements of the flock. He seemed at ease, but she knew he was looking for the nuances, the subtle shifts that meant something was amiss.
    “What’s it like to guard sheep all day?” she’d asked.
    “Pretty quiet, most of the time.”
    “Do you ever think of doing something else?”
    He shook his head. “I know there are other things I could put my hands to, but this is an old profession, an honorable one. God sent his angels to tell the shepherds of His newborn son. I like to think that means we’re blessed, at least in the eyes of the Almighty.”
    “I have no doubt of it.” She watched the mass of moving animals. The low-pitched baas of the ewes were matched by the higher pitch of their offspring. The lambs bounced across the ground as if equipped with springs. Nearby, a small one butted his mother’s distended udder, sucking hard.
    “It must be so peaceful to be a shepherd.”
    The old man’s voice took on a serious tone. “A shepherd’s duty is to the sheep. They come first. A shepherd protects the flock at all cost. It’s what we do.”
    Now, as she felt the rumble of passing cars and the sounds of the city return, the old man’s words burned into her heart.
    A Shepherd protects the flock at all cost.
    Bart observed her with solemn eyes, waiting, perhaps knowing what she intended to ask. She could not summon the courage to speak the words.
    You will prevail , he said. You’re stronger than most.
    Gavenia leaned against the steering wheel, feeling the hard surface press into her forehead. After a few moments, she pulled the car out into traffic, feeling as alone as that night she’d awoken inside a nightmare.
    * * *
     
    Within the silence of the church, memories seized him. Gazing upward at Saint Bridget’s loving face, O’Fallon traveled back to the day his dad died, reliving it. The morning had been quiet, no harbinger of the horror to follow. His father hiked to his pub, the Dragon’s Forge. Doug decided to stay with his gran that day and work on a model airplane,