Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(28)
“Yes,” she said. “That’s how.”
Dana gave a stubborn shake of her head.
Corinda sipped her own tea, then set the cup down firmly. “Last night when I was meditating, I was letting my consciousness rise free from my body. Do you know what astral projection is?”
“I think so. Leaving your body? Something like that?”
“Yes. Your spirit self leaves the physical behind and can travel great distances without assistance. The spirit undertakes a willful out-of-body experience, what we call an OBE, and once free of the body, the spirit expands beyond the limits of the five senses. It can see more, know more, understand more.”
“And you’re saying this is what you do?”
“All my life,” said Corinda. She gave a rueful grin. “It’s not the easiest way to grow up. It was bad enough being taller than every guy in my class and acing all my courses, but then I had to go and be deeply weird on top of it. But then … you know what that’s like, don’t you?”
“Do I?” asked Dana, keeping her guard way up.
“Sure,” said Corinda. She selected a scone, tapped crumbs off it, took a bite, and spoke as she chewed. “You ace your classes. You always have.”
“How do you know that?”
Corinda gave her a look. “I told you already. Don’t look like you’re totally shocked. You’re in my house and this is what I do. Now … give me your hands. Let me read you. It’s okay, I don’t bite. Come on.”
Corinda set down her scone and reached across to take Dana’s hands. Dana resisted for a moment, then allowed the touch. Corinda’s hands were warm against Dana’s cold fingers.
“How … how does this work?” asked Dana. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Just look into my eyes,” murmured Corinda. “Concentrate on me and allow me to step inside your energy field.”
“How?”
“Just allow it, honey. That’s all. I’ll do the heavy lifting.”
“Um, okay?” It came out as a question.
Corinda stared at her with green eyes that were flecked with chips of gold. She kneaded Dana’s fingers gently and steadily, as if working to soften stiff pieces of modeling clay. At first Dana was very aware of the people and movement around her and was certain she looked like a complete idiot, sitting here holding hands with a woman twice her age. But the soft, steady, constantly moving pressure of Corinda’s fingers on hers was strangely soothing. It was like a massage in a way, and the warmth seemed to spread, to run up her hands into her wrists and through the muscles of her arms. The Australian folk music ended and a new album began playing, one Dana recognized from past yoga classes. A somber flute played by Paul Horn, recorded inside the Great Pyramid of Giza, and it had a hypnotic quality. Slow and subtle and very deep.
“I can see your spirit self, Dana,” said Corinda in a low, measured voice. “Your aura is orange-yellow. It means you have a scientific mind. You tend to analyze and overanalyze everything. You’re a perfectionist. You love to solve riddles and problems and to find order when everything seems chaotic.”
Dana opened her mouth.
“Shhhh. Just listen. Just be. Let me see what I can see and share what is open for me to share.” Corinda slowed and deepened her kneading motions. “My aura is blue. My gift is that of being a spiritual intuitive and clairvoyant. That’s why I can see all the way into you. I can see spikes of yellow shooting off you, Dana. They’re like solar flares. Yellow means that you are on the verge of a great spiritual awakening, and there is a circle of violet above your head, over your crown chakra. It tells me that your higher self has become very active. Your inner eye is struggling to open. Let it! Let your third eye see what your human eyes cannot. I’ll help you, Dana, because I already see. My third eye has been open since before I was born.”
Dana felt herself drifting to the edge of sleep. She tried to blink herself fully awake, but that warm, constant touch was so soothing.
“These visions aren’t new to you. You’ve had them before, but now they’re getting stronger—now they’re happening more often, and that’s scary. You saw something and you don’t know if it’s an angel or a devil. You don’t know why you’re having those visions, and you’re afraid of what it is you’re seeing. It’s okay, though. Let me be your guide. Nothing can hurt you while we’re together. I have my shields, my spirit guides and protectors all around me. This is a safe place.”
“Safe…,” murmured Dana.
“The being who has been visiting you in your dreams is an angel, Dana,” said Corinda. “He is a messenger who wants very badly to share important information with you. Nod if you understand that.”
Dana nodded. She believed that, too.
“Sometimes he is beautiful, the way you think an angel should look. Pure, whole, filled with glory.”
Another nod.
“But sometimes he appears as something else. Darker, stranger, frightening. A monster.”
“Yes,” said Dana very, very softly.
“Yes,” agreed Corinda. “I will tell you why, little sister. The being that is manifesting to you is an angelic being, but it is not an angel as you have been taught to think of one. They are not tall, blond white men with fluffy wings. They are not little babies. Angels are very powerful and very different from anything you can imagine. They are not human. They only appear human when we humans give them that form. They have no physical manifestations at all. They’re beings of pure cosmic energy. But when you look at them with your human eyes—even when dreaming—then your human, organic mind becomes confused and demands that you clothe them in a way that makes sense. That’s why angels have been depicted as beautiful and regal humans. It’s why painters have created images of God as a man with a white beard. They are clothing the cosmic All in the shape of a king, because that’s how they imagine kings to look.”