Sure, if you like. If I live.
"She still had a little money left," Jolie continued. She was getting nervous now, because if this ploy misfired, they would have no other chance except a desperation fight for life. Fortunately Ilka had not been bound—but that might only be because the man was quite sure of his ability to overpower her. She didn't want it to come to that, though she had learned a thing or two about close combat in the course of her association with Satan, Gaea, and Mars. "She used it to have her brother located. Then she went to where he was, which was indeed in another city, for he had moved frequently, for what reason she didn't know."
Because it wasn't safe for him to stay close to where he had killed. Vita thought, having picked up most of the man's background from Jolie's thoughts. Lorelie won't much like that!
"At last she came to him, at night on a deserted street. 'O my brother, where are you?' she thought, her pure heart beating with anticipation and excitement." Now came the crucial part; she didn't know whether it would work, but it was all she had. "She walked along the street, looking, somehow aware that he was near—and a man jumped out and grabbed her."
Kane jumped. "No, I wouldn't do that!" he exclaimed.
"He hauled her into the building, his hand over her mouth so that she couldn't scream—but it also prevented her from identifying herself," Jolie said, nervousness putting a shake in her voice. This seemed so obvious, so stupid, now that she was in it; how could it possibly work? "He thought she was one of the bad girls—"
"It's a lie!" he cried. "It's just a dumb story to fool me! You aren't my sister! You're just a black teenage slut!" He lifted the knife threateningly.
Jolie realized that she should have engineered the story to account for the color and youth. The sister could have been gravely injured, so had to use magic to animate a younger body. But it was too late for that now. "Lorelie tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen—"
"You aren't her!" he screamed, throwing himself on her, the knife held up. "You have to be used and killed!"
Jolie, still in control of the body, tried to squirm aside, but he was too fast and strong for her. He held her down with his left arm across her throat, choking her, while his groin pressed against hers. But he could not make headway, because she still wore the panty hose.
He cursed and used his free hand—the one holding the knife—to reach down, to wrench the hose out of the way. He reversed the knife without letting go of it, so that it pointed up, while with two fingers he caught the waistband and yanked down. The material tore—and Jolie, in desperation, bucked her hips, trying to throw him off in this moment of his partial distraction. "Kane!" she cried. "No!"
Her left hip slammed into the butt end of the knife. She felt dull pain as it bruised her. But Kane cried out at the same time, in pain and horror, his body stiffening.
Then something liquid coursed down on her hip. Unable to think what it might be, she looked—and saw bright redness spreading out across her thigh and the bed below. He had stabbed himself! Or rather, her effort to buck him off had caused the point of the knife he held to ram upward into his body, right at the crotch. He had castrated himself.
Then he relaxed, his weight becoming heavy on her. He had passed out. She struggled to pull herself out from under, lubricated by the blood. It was messy, but possible, now that he was not trying to hold her. Soon she stood beside the bed, her left leg swathed in blood, staring down at him.
He's bleeding to death! Orlene thought, horrified.
He deserves it! Vita retorted. He's a rapist and murderer!
Jolie, more experienced and practical about this sort of horror, wasted no more time. She hurried to the apartment's little bathroom and hastily peeled off the panty hose. That left her leg almost clean, but she found a sponge and washed it anyway. Then she scrambled back into the dress, having no trouble with the fastenings. As she did this, she explained to the others: "He may be dying, or he may be less gravely wounded, and he could recover at any moment. We need to be out of here before he wakes. Then it will be in God's hands whether he lives or dies, not ours." She found the two slippers, and put one on. The second was blood-spattered, so she quickly rinsed it under the rushing tap and put it on wet. Details didn't matter!
She rinsed the soiled panty hose in the sink, then wrung it dry, wadded it up, and held it in a ball in her hand. She ran more water to clean the sink, so it would not be apparent that it had been used. She used the wadded hose to wipe her fingerprints off the handles.
The door wasn't locked. Had she realized, she might have distracted the man, led him a chase around the bed and made a break for the door and out! She went out now, running down the short hall and the stairs, and outside.
Then she slowed, deliberately, and walked on down the street in the direction she had been going. "I will return your body to you in a moment. Ilka," she murmured. "Are you able to proceed?"
No! the girl thought. He almost killed me!
"But you are alive," Jolie said. "When something similar happened to me, long ago, I died. This time I helped you avoid that—but I think in future you must stay closer to home, even though it may be dull."
Yes! Yes! I'll never go out alone again!
Jolie suspected that would be the case. The girl had had about as bad a fright as it was possible to survive. "I think you should say nothing about what happened. I have tried to eradicate the traces of your presence in his chamber. Go home, sneak back into your room, and pretend you were always there. Wash and dry your panty hose when you can. There will be a big splash of news when the man's body is discovered—or none, if he survives and flees the city. Stay out of it; there would be only mischief if they knew about you. Just make sure that you are never caught by such a man again. Are you ready to take over now?"
I think so.
Jolie returned control to her. Now we must leave, she thought. We have corrected our error, and we have other business.
"No!" Ilka cried. "I need you!"
No you don't. Vita thought. We got you into trouble, so we had to get you out of it, but now you can get along okay yourself. But I'll try to visit you, when I'm back in my own body. Remember my name: Vita. Don't forget and try to kill me!
Ilka began to laugh, hysterically, but managed to stifle it. "Then 'bye, for now," she said. "You sure did help me!"
They pulled out and floated beside her. Jolie shaped herself into visible ghost form. "Maybe you helped us too," she said, projecting her thought carefully so that the girl could receive it despite the separation.
Then they floated up into the night sky, fading from the girl's view. They saw her walking on toward her home, briskly, as if nothing had happened. It would take Ilka some time to recover equilibrium, but it seemed she would make it.
"Gaea!" Jolie called. She could have returned directly, herself, of course, but neither Orlene nor Vita knew how, so it was better to have Gaea do it.
The window opened immediately before them. They floated through and were back inside Gaea's Treehouse. They went to Vita's body and entered it, and Orlene animated it. It was her responsibility to report.
Orlene got up, paused for a moment to acclimatize, then walked out to the main chamber. Gaea was waiting for her.
"What is your conclusion?"
Orlene sat down. "The girl was confused and dissatisfied with her life, I think with reason. She would have gotten pregnant without meaning to, but the notion didn't really bother her, because she thought she wanted a baby. She thought it would improve her life. So the root of it was deeper than mere accident or carelessness; she wanted someone to love, who would love her."
"It is in my power to abolish love, with the aid of some of my supporting Incarnations, such as Eros," Gaea said.
"Should I do that?"
"Abolish love?" Orlene asked with horror. "Oh, no, that would be a horrible overreaction! It is love that makes life worthwhile when all else is ugly. There must be some other way!"
"What way do you suppose
that would be?"
"Well, maybe—maybe if there was love, but not the ability to conceive unless all the considerations were in order. If a woman is healthy, and well-balanced, and economically secure, so that the baby would have a good home. If she couldn't have a baby until then, there would be far fewer babies, and perhaps no further overpopulation problem."
Gaea nodded. "I think your opinion is worthy of consideration. But such a course would require a judgment of female fitness that goes beyond the strictly natural. The social factor would have to be right. That sort of larger judgment is the prerequisite of another Incarnation, whose active cooperation I would need to make the policy effective."
"Who is that?" Orlene asked, excited by the prospect of such a significant step in the welfare of mankind.
"God."
Orlene stared at her a moment. She realized that this answer was obvious; she just hadn't been thinking in that context. "God must decide what is good, of course," she agreed. "But couldn't you approach Him about the matter?"
"I think not at this time," Gaea replied, with a strange expression.
"But in my quest to—I must approach Him!" Orlene said. "Would you mind if I mentioned this matter too?"
"Not at all, my daughter. I think that would be appropriate. If you gain the acquiescence of the final two Incarnations, I will grant you the tear you seek. You have, I think, more than earned it." Evidently Gaea knew about their siege with the murderer.
That made her think of something. They had caused the man's critical injury, or even death—but had it been only them? Or had a deeper part of Kane truly wanted to believe Jolie's story, despite his conscious denial of it, and caused that hand to turn in that critical way, placing the knife? What punishment would a man see as suitable for the one who attacked the one truly pristine woman in the world? The one who called him by his name at the very end, when he had never told it to his captive. Something very like the one he had received, perhaps.
"Quite possibly," Gaea said, reading her thought.
"But God—where was God when that awful man grabbed that innocent girl?" Orlene asked. "Why didn't He stop it? Why does He let this sort of thing go on all the time, all over the world?"
"You would handle things differently?" Gaea inquired, lifting a brow.
"Oh, I didn't mean to criticize God!" Orlene said quickly. "I just—there is so much I don't understand!"
"Perhaps you can ask Him that, too, when you see Him," Gaea said, unsmiling.
Chapter 12 - EVIL
They retired to Hell's Acres, where they spent a comfortable night. Theoretically they needed neither food nor sleep here, but the experiences they had had with War and Nature needed digesting. What a huge amount of misery there was in the mortal realm! So much of it appeared ultimately unnecessary, yet even the Incarnations seemed largely helpless to ameliorate it.
You know, I thought it would be fun, meeting Incarnations and all. Vita thought. But each time, I get another glimpse of the awful stuff they have to deal with, and I wonder how they stand it.
"It isn't always that bad," Jolie said, in charge of the body for the evening. "They do have their pleasures too. But with their enormous power comes enormous responsibility, and they all feel it. Every so often one gets too tired and retires, and then a new one has to be broken in. We saw how it was with an Aspect of Fate—but there, at least, there are always two experienced Aspects to help. It is worse with the others."
It must be! the girl agreed. To have all that responsibility, and to know so little at first—I think I'm glad I'm mortal! At least I'm the only one I can mess up.
Even our effort to deflect Ilka from getting pregnant almost got her killed, Orlene agreed. I can appreciate better than ever why Incarnations don't like to interfere in mortal affairs. There are so many variables, so many ways for something well-intended to go wrong. Even God must get tired!
"Well, it will be Hell tomorrow," Jolie reminded them cheerfully.
They let Vita peer out a turret window for a while, watching the cavorting flame figures on the moat. Gee, I wish I was doing that with Roque right now, she thought.
"What you call a hot time," Jolie said, smiling. But she understood; she wanted to be with Satan similarly, but knew this was not the occasion.
They slept, letting that bit of unconsciousness put some space between the horror of the recent events and their next challenge.
In the morning they made their way to the Hellevator and headed down, this time all the way to the basement stop. The mock flames of it loomed higher and fiercer as they descended past the mortal realm, until at last they came to a stop in what appeared to be a phenomenal bed of blazing coals. It was as if their precarious chamber were being flame roasted.
Jolie opened the door. "I will get us in, then Orlene will take over, as it remains her mission," she reminded them.
I never thought I'd get to go to Hell before I died! Vita thought brightly.
The door opened and Jolie started to step out. But a demon stopped her. It was huge and masculine, with hooves and horns, and its trident had sharp points. "Halt!" he barked gruffly. "Mortals can't come here!"
"I am a ghost," Jolie explained. "I am not evil, so can't come here in my natural state, but it is possible in a mortal host. We have come to see Satan."
"No mortals here!" the demon insisted. "Go back where you came from."
"But I just explained—"
"I have my orders. Go!" The trident moved menacingly.
Tell him to sit down hard on his pitchfork! Vita thought. Endwise!
Jolie considered whether to identify herself specifically. As Satan's consort, she was permitted in Hell. But this wasn't her mission, and she did not want to misrepresent it. Orlene had to be allowed to do it on her own, to the extent possible.
She stepped back into the Hellevator. "There is another way," she murmured.
"No way!" the guardian demon cried as the door closed. "First you die—then you come here!"
Go have a hotfoot! Vita thought back at him.
They trundled back up to Purgatory. "We shall have to enlist the aid of Gaea," Jolie explained. "But I think she won't mind giving it."
Gaea can help us get to Hell? Vita thought, surprised.
"She knows someone who can."
They exited at Purgatory and hurried to Gaea's Treehouse. Jolie explained how they had been balked by an ignorant demon. "I didn't want to identify myself, because this is Orlene's business. But I thought that if Natasha were willing to help—"
Who is she? Vita asked.
Gaea smiled. She fetched a small harp. She went outside and sat on the soft turf, setting the harp between her lifted knees. Her fingers caressed the strings, touching without playing. Then, facing the cloudbank horizon, she began to play.
The sound of it was exquisite. Jolie had heard this many times before, but was always entranced anew. She was Satan's first wife, and Gaea was his second; there had never been any competition between them, but had there been, Gaea's magic with music would have been decisive. Every note was perfect, and the theme was transcendent.
Then Gaea sang. The whole region seemed to come alive, resonating to the sound of her voice. The distant clouds turned color, passing through the spectrum of the rainbow. Dawn seemed to come, and sunset, and all between. No earthly voice could match this; it was the melody of the Incarnation, a fragment of what was called the Llano.
Both Orlene and Vita were rapt. There had been no hint of this potential before. Gaea had seemed like an ordinary woman in command of potent magic. Now, through Orlene's own magic, Jolie saw Gaea glow. More than that; her glow extended out into the environment—as far, in fact, as her music did.
After a brief passage, Gaea paused. All Purgatory seemed to wait with bated breath.
Then mere came an answering song. It was a man's voice, without accompaniment, but so vibrant and feeling that all the world seemed to be the accompaniment. A few notes only, a few words, and then silence.
&
nbsp; Gaea sang again, and accompanied herself on the harp. Again the region responded, joining her evocation. Then she paused a second time.
The male response came, closer now, stronger. It had seemed that in all the universe there could be no equal to Gaea's voice, but now it was clear that there was an equal in this hidden man.
After a momentary pause, Gaea sang a third time—and the man joined her. They made a harmony so beautiful that there was nothing for the listeners to do but be transported by it. The counterpoint was perfect.
Now the man came into view, walking swiftly toward the Treehouse. He was young and handsome, and he sang as he walked, still keeping time with Gaea. He wore ordinary slacks and shirt and shoes; were he not singing, he would have seemed to be just another man. Obviously he was not.
Jolie knew him, of course, but she kept her thought quiet. Let Orlene and Vita have this experience for themselves!
The man came to stand before Gaea. Their song climaxed and abruptly ended.
The plain before the Treehouse had been blank. Now it was covered with flowering trees, and a crystal stream wound through it. Warblers perched in the trees, listening.
Gaea set aside her little harp and stood. She had been middle-aged, but now she was in her lovely young state and her housecoat had become a summer dress which caressed her contours. Bright daisies formed a diadem in her hair. She was as lovely as a summer creature could be.
She stepped into the man and kissed him. They made a perfect couple, and they certainly seemed to be in love. Both Orlene and Vita were astounded.
I thought she was married to— Orlene thought.
Who the hell is this guy? Vita thought.
Now Jolie spoke. "Girls, meet Natasha, the handsomest man of the realm," she said as the couple broke from their close embrace.
Natasha's a MAN? Vita thought.
The man turned from Gaea. "Ah, Jolie," he said. "Come to me."
Jolie did. She stepped into his embrace exactly as Gaea had, and kissed him as ardently.
Holy refuse! Vita thought. Orlene, stunned, thought nothing.
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