Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Complete Boxset: Books 1 - 3

by Benjamin Laskin

  But the story itself aside, what spooked Malkah the most was the calm sincerity in Cyrus’s eyes as he told it. He really did believe what he was saying.

  This left her having to accept one of two conclusions: either she was sitting alone and defenseless in a badly lit park with an absolute psycho, or everything she ever knew or believed had just been turned on its head. If the former, then she was quite possibly in bodily harm. If the latter, then she may have just doomed herself to an existential crisis of Biblical proportions.

  Malkah had questions, but she didn’t know where to start. Did she dare encourage him further? Part of her wanted to be a hundred miles away from him, but his manner and mean gripped her with fascination. As implausible as his story was, it wasn’t rambling and incoherent. There was actually, she admitted to herself, a disturbing cohesiveness to his tale.

  Above all, how else could he have possibly known so much about her? He seemed to know intimate details about everyone she had ever known. How’d he do that? Was this Midrasha thing he spoke about for real?

  Among his stories, he had described with perfect recall a wedding of a girlfriend of hers, Maggie, that she had attended three years earlier. He said that he was the angel that had made that match. And indeed, of all the young couples Malkah had known, this marriage was the only one that was still functioning and happy. Who was this man seated beside me? Malkah thought. And then more unnervingly still, what if he truly was who he claimed to be?

  “Am I the first person you have told this story to?” Malkah asked at last.

  “Yes.”

  “What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “Nothing. You asked me and I told you, and not without warning you first.”

  “I know, but come on, why me? Of all the people you could have told, how come I get stuck holding your baggage?”

  “Maybe you’re special, Malkah. Ever think of that?”

  “Everybody’s special,” she protested.

  “True, but not everyone in the way that you might be.”

  “Might be or am?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “I don’t know how to be…anything. Besides, when I look about it seems to me that everybody wants to be a somebody, and those who seem to want it most are the worst nobodies I’ve ever met. Frankly, they make me want to heave.” Malkah sighed. “Don’t you have any advice for me? I mean, if you are who you say you are…”

  “I regret that I have little in the way of advice. But I will pray with you if you like.”

  Normally such an offer would have freaked her out. But Malkah had already gotten past the suspicion that Cyrus was some self-appointed Holy Roller. He talked funny, sure, but it was no act. His religiosity was not contemptuous or smug or offensive, just unapologetic, which she found strangely refreshing.

  “You said you were an angel. Can’t you just, you know, bless me or something?”

  “I can bless you, but my having been an angel won’t, I don’t think, carry any extra charge. Like I said, I’m fully human now.”

  “Humans can bless one another, can’t they?”

  “We can,” he affirmed. “Would you like me to bless you?”

  “Will it hurt?” she said, only half-joking.

  “Only your pride,” he answered.

  Cyrus stood and laid his hands on her head. He spoke the following:

  “May God always guide you so that all the choices you make are in harmony with His will. May you never be swayed by the approval or disapproval of others in any direction opposed to His will. May He grant you the courage to participate in the world’s design, to join in the unfolding of its story. May God show you how to break free of the restraints of your insecurities and the fetters of your unwarranted fears. May He help you find the way to the sacred sanctuary within yourself, to the precious center of your existence. May He help you to discover your unique place in the world. May God help you learn to depend on no one but Him, and to look nowhere but within, to your higher self—the holy in you which you are meant to profess in word and deed.”

  Cyrus removed his hands.

  Malkah looked up at him, and smiled. “That didn’t hurt a bit.”

  “Come on, I’ll walk you back.” Cyrus offered his hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “You know,” Malkah said as they strolled back in the direction of the restaurant, “you can’t really expect me to believe your story, right?”

  “No, I don’t expect you to.”

  “Does that hurt your feelings?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “And you’re not angry?”

  “No.”

  “Will you continue to come and see me at Saul’s now and then?”

  “If you’re comfortable with that, sure.”

  “Of course,” she said, punching him playfully on the shoulder. “You’re a good tipper.”

  8

  Girddy Up

  Commander Sett, plasma rifle slung behind his back and a demon duster at his hip, stepped out of his disgronifier envelope and onto the beach.

  He looked around and saw Captain Volk leaning against a tree at the jungle’s edge. He was expertly juggling five mangos. He also noticed that Volk was armed with a battle-axe and short sword. Sett rolled his eyes at the sight.

  “How did you beat me here? I didn’t see you at the disgronifier pods. In fact, I’ve never seen you at the pods, not once in—” His brow furled in recollection, and then he said with some mystification, “Forever.”

  “I thought I’d scout things out before you got here,” Volk said. He tossed Sett a mango. “You never know who could be watching these days.”

  Sett snagged the fruit and nodded towards the same washed up tree that they had used as a bench the last time they met on the island. The two soldiers headed over to the log and took a seat, each pulling out a demon dagger to slice into their mangos.

  “What’s the problem?” Volk asked.

  “Who said there’s a problem?”

  “If you weren’t worried, you’d have just called me into your office, but you asked me to meet you here, so something’s up.”

  “I met your girlfriend. I was at her little presentation before the judges. The judges weren’t happy about it, or her, or you.”

  “Have you ever seen those cranky old buzzards happy about anything?”

  “From now on they are demanding a full report, in writing, of every visit you make to Earth. Every minute has to be accounted for.”

  “And you agreed?”

  “Agree or not, it’s what they want. And not just you either. Your sidekick too.”

  “Does this go for all cupids, or just us?”

  “Just you,” Sett said, popping a slice of mango into his mouth.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then you’re grounded. I’ll stick you in an Academy classroom to rot away teaching tactical theory or something, and your brainy little apprentice will be sent back to the Academy, where he’ll undoubtedly be bullied and beaten by his fellow cadets.”

  “You could have told me all this in your office, Sett.”

  The commander finished his mango and tossed the skin over his shoulder. He sucked his fingers clean and then wiped them down the pants of his uniform.

  “After the judges retired to their chambers I had a short chat with the celestial babe.”

  “Her name is Grace.”

  “Whatever. I’m here to tell you that I want no part in what she didn’t say.”

  “Come on, Sett. Grow a pair. Spit it out. What do you think she was hinting at?”

  “Insurrection.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “No, like I said, she was cagey, but I think she was poking me for a response.”

  “Grace is as loyal as they come. Leave her be.”

  “It’s not her I’m worried about,” Sett said. “She’s just a celestial. Maybe smarter and hotter than most, but harmless. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Are you acc
using me of treason, Sett? Because if you are, go file your charge with the Academy and get on with it. Take me out of play right now, because I’m not going to be looking over my shoulder every second, putting my life and Kohai’s in jeopardy to placate your or anyone else’s paranoia.”

  “Hey, hey, big guy,” Sett said. “Calm down. I’m not accusing you of a damn thing. I’m trying to tell you that you’re a marked man. I didn’t like the look in some of the judges’ eyes. I know these a-holes better than they know themselves.”

  “Did you just call our divine judges ‘a-holes?’”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  Sett continued. “The a-holes we’re squirming up there at the bench. When Grace mentioned that Anteros had a legion of trained demons, they wigged out.”

  “Because they didn’t know anything about it, or because Grace told them?”

  “Both, probably. But I think it has more to do with the moon-sized monkey wrench that dropped into their Solow Accord plans.”

  “So you know about that too?”

  “Not as much as you do, apparently,” Sett said. “Grace told me you think that Solow is a scheme to cut a deal with Anteros in order to buy a little more time; that the judges think that if they feed the Anteros crocodiles enough, they will eat them last. You think that the Academy doesn’t believe we can win this war, that they’ve concluded that the fear demons’ take over of the world is inevitable. Is that true?”

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  Sett scratched at his beard in thought. “And so, if this business about Anteros and the demons teaming up is true, then the judges must be smelling a rat and fear they are being double-crossed.”

  “They have every reason to smell a rat. We’re talking about fear demons here, Sett. And we’re talking about Anteros. What’s not to stink? How obtuse can these—what did you call them?”

  “A-holes.”

  “—Be?”

  Sett chuckled and gave Captain Volk a chummy pat on the back. “Yeah, well, it’s still hard to believe, I mean trained demons working with Anteros? That’s something I’ve got to see with my own—Ow! What the—?”

  Volk grabbed Sett by the collar and jerked him off the log to the ground, taking cover.

  “You okay?” he asked, checking the photon burn on Sett’s shoulder. “They winged you.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Sett seethed. “What the hell is—”

  A stream of glowing blue photon balls streamed over their heads, followed by a second round that smashed into the log they were hiding behind.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “Your proof.”

  “Anteros?”

  Just then came the distinctive, ear-splitting whine of a Victim Yetzer.

  “And their pets.”

  “Aw hell,” Sett said, readying his plasma rifle. He crawled deeper into the sand, hugging the log. “How many?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sett peered around the end of the thick log. “I don’t see—”

  He glimpsed one of the ferocious, toad-like Victim Yetzers as it sprang from behind one tree to another. He fired off three blazing rounds at the beast, causing two trees to burst into flames.

  “Damn those bastards are fast!”

  Sett took cover again as another salvo of photons zipped overhead.

  Volk tugged on Sett’s leg. “We got more company.”

  From the lagoon emerged first one, then a second, then a third Anteros soldier. The soldiers wore goggles and special breathing regulators that looked like mini harmonicas. Worse still, they were straddling the backs of black, shark-finned, and barbed-toothed Mendacity Yetzers.15

  Note 15: The amphibious Mendacity Yetzer is one of the few yetzers that can swim. They are known to dive to the deepest depths of duplicity. Persons possessed by Mendacity Yetzers are able to lie with such effortless abandon that most uninformed people believe their words because they can’t imagine anyone would lie so blatantly, shamelessly, and consistently.

  The Mendacity Yetzer most often inhabits persons obsessed with power, fame, or money. Politicians and media personalities are favorite hosts for Mendacity Yetzers. Every yetzer-possessed individual lies, but none do so with the arrogance and conscience-free ease that come with the Mendacity Yetzer. Its hosts can lie in any situation, and always do. It isn’t that such people are incapable of telling the truth; they are unwilling to tell the truth. A person harboring a Mendacity Yetzer lies to accomplish an end, and does so with an éclat that is chillingly sinister.

  “Holy crap, Volk, you weren’t kidding about this.” Sett took aim at an Anteros soldier and blew him off the back of his yetzer. “We’ve got to get out of here!” He tried transmitting for help but all he got was a hiss of static. “Dammit,” he said, firing and killing another soldier, “they’re jamming my signal!”

  The photon balls were coming in showers now. Sett and Volk, lying feet to feet, crammed themselves deeper and tighter under the log’s lip.

  “How’d they know we were here?” Volk shouted over the gunfire and howling yetzers.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Someone knew. Someone at the disgronifier station most likely.”

  Volk’s suspicion had merit. “Son of a—” A salvo of photons pummeled the log, sending splinters flying. “We’re sitting ducks here!”

  Sett craned his head to see what Volk was up to. He saw him lying flat on his stomach, his hands over his face.

  “Volk, what the hell are you doing?” he yelled.

  “Praying.”

  “Well, cut it out! We’re gonna die here, you jackass! Shoot someone!”

  “I don’t have a gun.”

  “What?! Dammit, Volk… Here!” He tossed his own pearl-handled demon duster next to Volk’s head. “Start killing these freaks!”

  The Anteros troops and their yetzers stormed out of the jungle and along the beach, closing in fast.

  Volk took aim at a throng of Anteros soldiers charging along the water’s edge, dropping two of them.

  Sett hollered over the din, “We’re completely surrounded!”

  He shot out a Mendacity Yetzer from under its rider, turned his rifle on a squad of fighters rushing at them from the other side of the beach, and blasted three of them off their feet.

  A splicer bullet drilled a hole through Captain Volk’s cap just as his demon duster ran out of ammo.

  “So much for your damn prayers,” Sett shouted, jamming another atomic cartridge into his plasma rifle. He turned it on the army of Anteros soldiers swarming out of the jungle towards them.

  At that moment, the two heard a tremendous roar as a churning pillar of dark, dense smoke descended from out of the heavens, touching down between them and the Anteros-infested jungle. Simultaneously, another swirling pillar—this one of fire—swooped earthwards and raced across the beach towards the onrushing Anteros soldiers, scattering them in panic. The fiery pillar then turned and swept towards the sea where more yetzer-riding fighters were emerging. The water boiled and sucked them to their deaths.

  “Holy shit!” Sett cried, his voice barely reaching Volk over the roar of the whirlwinds. “What the hell is going on? Volk, did you do that? Damn! Keep praying, man, keep praying!”

  Captain Volk cupped his hand over his eyes, peered upwards and searched the sky. High above he spotted two floating kite-like specks. He smiled knowingly. “Attaboys.”

  The whirling pillars continued their offensive. The fiery pillar chased the Anteros soldiers across the beach, as the black pillar of night vacuumed the edge of the jungle, sucking up sand, foliage, yetzers and their riders into its maelstrom, and spewing them either far out to sea or deep into the canopy of the rainforest.

  A handful of Anteros fighters braved the deadly twisters and rushed towards the log. One of them lobbed a plasma grenade over the log and into the sand beside the two cupid commandos.

  Volk and Sett scrambled over the thick tree trunk t
o the other side a second before the grenade exploded.

  The Anteros soldiers, bayonets fixed, rushed to engage them in hand-to-hand combat.

  Sett and Volk sprang to their feet. Seeing that Sett had nothing to fight with, Volk hollered, “Sett, catch!” He tossed him his sagaris, a Scythian light battle-axe. The axe had a slender axe head made from diorite stone with a reverse spike and a long handle. Volk withdrew his ruby-edged Greek kopis, a heavy, slashing short sword.

  It was eight against two, but the two were a couple of the biggest badasses in their sector of Heaven. Sett hadn’t wielded a battle-axe since the days of his youth, but skilled soldier that he was, swinging it was almost second nature.

  “Come on you fairies!” Sett yelled, slicing the throat of the first soldier to encounter him. The soldier collapsed to the ground, his hands grasping his spewing jugular.

  Two more Anteros soldiers quickly took their fallen comrade’s place, bayonets jabbing towards Sett. He blocked the bayonets with his sagaris and smashed one of the soldiers in the forehead with the butt of the axe, knocking him unconscious. Then, dropping to his knees, Sett spun and hooked the axe around the ankles of the other soldier, pulling him to his ass. Springing back up, Sett came down again, sinking the spiked end of the sagaris into the soldier’s chest.

  Sett spun around to see how Volk was faring. He saw four dead Anteros soldiers at the captain’s feet. The remaining soldier stumbled about in his death throes, Volk’s kopis sword protruding through his stomach. The soldier took a final staggering step, and fell onto his face. Volk placed his boot on the man’s back and withdrew his sword. The eight Anteros soldiers gooped and evaporated.

  Sett looked around the battlefield and watched in amazement as the whirling pillars, having swept or chased away the remaining Anteros forces, ascended back into the sky, and vanished. High above he spotted something, but he couldn’t make out the two objects. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they looked human or cupid-like.