Untamed

walked. I looked all around us, watching for twisted bird images hiding in shadows, listening for the mocking sound that passed too easily for simple ravens. But there was nothing. The only thing I sensed in the night around us was waiting. And I didn't know if that was a good or bad sign.
    There was a handy bench not far from the fountain. It faced the white marble statue of Mary surrounded by lambs and shepherd boys that decorated the southwest corner of the hospital. There was also a really pretty statue of Mary in full color, wearing her famous blue shawl, right inside the door to the ER. Strange how I'd never noticed how many statues there were of Mary around here before now.
    We'd been sitting on the bench for a little while, just resting in the cool silence of the night, when I drew a deep breath and turned on the bench so that I could face Sister Mary Angela.
    "Sister, do you believe in demons?" I decided to go right for the jugular. There was just no point in messing around. Plus, I really didn't have the time or patience for it.
    She raised her gray brows. "Demons? Well, yes, I do. Demons and the Catholic church have a long and turbulent history."
    Then she just looked steadily at me, waiting like it was my turn. This is one of the things I liked best about Sister Mary Angela. She wasn't one of those adults who felt like it was their job to finish a sentence for you. She also wasn't one of those adults who couldn't stand to be quiet and wait while a kid got her thoughts in order.
    "Have you ever known any personally?"
    "Not any real ones, no. I've had some close calls, but all of them turned out to be either very sick people or very dishonest people."
    "How about angels?"
    "Do I believe in them or do I know any?"
    "Both," I said.
    "Yes and no, in that order. Although I'd much rather meet an angel than a demon, should I get the choice."
    "Don't be so sure."
    "Zoey?"
    "Does the word Nephilim sound familiar to you?"
    "Yes, they're referenced in the Old Testament. Some theologians surmise that Goliath was either a nephilium, or the offspring of one."
    "And Goliath wasn't a good guy, right?"
    "Not according to the Old Testament."
    "Okay, well, I need to tell you a story about another Nephilim. He wasn't a good guy, either. It's a story that comes from my grandma's people."
    "Her people?"
    "She's Cherokee."
    "Oh, then proceed, Zoey. I enjoy Native American tales."
    "Well, hold on to your wimple. This one is no bedtime story." Then I launched into an abbreviated version of what Grandma had told me about Kalona, the Tsi Sgili, and the Raven Mockers.
    I ended the story with Kalona's imprisonment and the lost song of the Raven Mockers that prophesied their father's return. Sister Mary Angela didn't say anything for several minutes. When she did speak, it was eerie how she echoed my first reaction to the story.
    "The women made what was little more than a clay doll come alive?"
    I smiled. "That was what I said to Grandma when she told me the story."
    "And how did your grandmother respond?"
    I could tell by the serene expression on her face that she expected me to laugh and say Grandma had explained that it was a fairy tale, or maybe a religious allegory. Instead I told her the truth.
    "Grandma reminded me that magic is real. And that her ancestors, who were really my ancestors, too, weren't any more or less believable than a girl who can summon and command all five of the elements."
    "Are you saying that is your gift and why you are important enough to require a warrior escort to Street Cats?" Sister Mary Angela said.
    I could see in her eyes that she didn't want to call me a liar and break our newly formed friendship, but she didn't believe me. So I stood up and took one short step back from the bench so that I was out of the abrasive light of the streetlamp. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply of the cool night air. I didn't have to think long to find east. It came to me naturally. I faced St. John's, which was across the street and directly east of where I stood. I opened my eyes and, smiling, said, "Wind, you have answered my call often in the past days. I honor you for your loyalty and I ask that you answer to me once again. Come to me, wind!"
    There had been virtually no night breeze, but the moment I invoked the first element, a sweet, teasing breeze began to whip around me. Sister Mary Angela was close enough that she felt the wind obey me. She even had to put a hand up to her wimple to keep it from blowing