By Lisa Miscione
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Additional info for Angel Fire (Lydia Strong)
Her mother led her back up to her bedroom and closed the shades. Lydia fumed as Marion tucked her in for the second time. But she was tired and sick and fell asleep. When she woke up that evening, she heard the sound of a woman crying. She walked quietly down the carpeted stairs and heard Claire’s voice from the kitchen. Claire had found another woman’s earring in her bed, the last straw in over a year of verbal abuse and suspected inidelity. Claire had packed a bag and was leaving that night to go to her mother’s home just a town away.
Melancholy, contemplative, deinitely alone. She sat down across from him, a good distance, but directly in his line of vision. “Ketel One, straight,’’ she told the bartender, an elegantly dressed black man with a shaved head and a diamond stud in his right ear. Her eyes swept the room. A couple nuzzled in a cozy booth with the intimacy of people who could see only each other. A group of well-dressed, bejeweled older women, obviously on vacation from their husbands, had had too much to drink and were laughing loudly.
It seemed like ever since the death of her mother she’d been hunting demons, trying to reveal their faces to the world so they couldn’t walk around masquerading as normal people, surprising innocent women in the night or little children as they slept. She turned her mind to the Church of the Holy Name and how she had been there the night before and again in her dreams. What would it mean if all the pieces it together as she imagined? She felt a tingling of the senses, as if she’d heard a scream in the night that had awakened her from sleep.