Free Angel Eyes by Eric Van Lustbader Page A

here.'
    "That night, the young priest was shown to the spot in the exact center of the monastery where he must keep watch. A pillow was placed for him to sit. It was a crossing of the four main corridors of the stone structure, and from his vantage point he could see most, if not all, the monks' tiny sleeping cells.
    "The hours of the night crept by with agonizing slowness. Nothing happened. The silence became a weight on the young priest's eyelids, so that once or twice he found himself drifting off into a light slumber before starting awake. He yawned and stretched to keep himself alert. He began to wonder why he had come here, or if he had come to the right place at all.
    "Then, all at once, he stood up. He looked from corridor to corridor, sure that he had heard a sound. But there was only the heavy awful silence, claustrophobic as the inside of a tomb. Then he became aware that the 'sound' was an ethereal stirring, as if in his own mind, and he whirled around.
    "He was not alone. Something was in the west corridor. It came toward him but, in the flickering light of the reed torches, he could not make out what it was.
    "Suddenly, it burst out of the corridor, coming upon him like a whirlwind, and he felt a chill race down his spine. It was as translucent as the wings of an insect; he could clearly see the corridor behind it, through it.
    "The wraith brushed past him, careening down another corridor. Soon the intersection where the young priest now stood was thick with these wraiths. Sometimes it seemed to him that they had faces, bodies, hands and feet. At other times they were nothing more than pure energy.
    "The young priest felt a fright welling up inside of him. What were these forms? Were they the enemies of the Tibetan monks? If so, how was he to combat them, when violence was anathema to him? These questions and ten thousand others crowded his mind in the same way the wraiths crowded the corridors of the monastery. The terrible fear built inside him, until he contemplated abandoning his post, turning tail, and putting this mad place behind him forever. But, as if in a dream, he felt rooted to the spot. He did not know whether to fear for the loss of his mind or his life.
    "Then he noticed a curious thing. The fear was coming from inside him. When he concentrated his spiritual powers, he realized that the wraiths, whatever or whoever they might be, posed no threat to him or to the people of the monastery. The chaos of their rushing to and fro was, in a way, self-contained.
    "And then he set about trying to turn the chaos into order. He found that, with continued concentration, he could move closer to these darting wraiths, could feel where they wanted to go and, eventually, guide them on their way.
    "It was at that moment that he recognized one of the wraiths as the monk who had led him to the lama's sanctuary, and to this crossroads. And then the young priest understood everything.
    "These wraiths were the spirits of the monks. Unleashed as they slept, freed from the bonds of their daytime work, these spirits were prone to the chaos that lurked within the innermost recesses of even the most disciplined mind. They lacked but a single soul-a kind of Zen policeman-to see them on their proper paths, to keep them from the dangers inherent in chaos.''
    Tori and her father had come to the far end of the pergola. He turned around, took one last look at the statue of Diana, cloaked now in the robes of twilight. He said, after a long silence,''Does that answer your question as to how I have survived in Diana's Garden? I learned that I had to change in order to survive the demons peculiar to your mother's genius.''
    Tori thought for a long time. It was an amazing story, and even more amazing that it had come from her father. She simply had not thought he had such subtlety in him. The story also explained many things about her parents' relationship. But it also brought into focus some of her own childhood concerns. She said