My father must have been a demon. When I was growing up, I met some very strange friends of his. Their names were unpronounceable, and when they talked to him, although I understood perfectly, it wasn't English or Italian. And if they were talking about anything on earth, I know not what. Being the man he was, he was ruthless in everything he did. And he taught me the same, often with a strap across my back.

If my father was a demon of some kind, then my mother was at least part angel. Everything my father was not; her voice was almost a song. Father always said that was what first caught his eye. And she was always teaching me things to live by. Kindness, and not to hurt people just because I could.

Between these two contradictory people, I grew up. Hearing the damnedest things, seeing, and knowing things I was sure I shouldn’t, and far more often than not, wondering who, or what, I really was. But eventually, I found out the hard way.

One afternoon, now age 17, I walked into my home, and saw, for the first time ever, my parents standing side by side, arms around each other. But something was wrong. There was a strange, mistiness, as if they were completely insubstantial. And together, they spoke to me.

"Tuathla, it is time. We have been called home, and now, it is your turn. There is a man in the city of New York, who we believe can show you your path. His name is Dementor and he is the head of a large and successful organization there. He can protect you and guide you as you learn the ways of the world we traveled. But a word of warning, there are always those who would oppose you. And they will use anything to get to you. Be mindful, and as you protect yourself, keep that darling angel of your safe. You two were meant for each other, and we know that.

You are, and will always be, our son.”

As their voices, and the vision, faded away, I stood, wondering what was next. Clearly, I now had a path to follow, and god, or the devil, only knew where it might lead. But I had a starting point. I had to seek out this man Dementor, and ask him for help. And I needed a new name. The perfect thought came to my mind. In honor of my parents, I would be the Dark Angel. And I would do what they had instructed me.

My life, and that of the women I loved, might very well depend on it.

Angel walks up beside you and takes hold of your hand

Go get them, Darkangel. Squeezes your hand. I'll be fine on my own. I've taken care of myself most of my life. You're father is right and you must go.

Steps back but still continuing to hold your hand

Just come back to me.