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

by Benjamin Laskin

The young cupid swallowed hard as Sett delivered the soldier an eviscerating look of disapproval.

  Latching onto a face-saving idea, the soldier turned abruptly and began clearing a path through the crowded dance floor. “Make way!” he shouted. “Make way for Commander Sett!”

  Grace and the commander stepped into the cool night air, both of them relieved to be out of the bar’s racket. Sett asked Grace if she’d like him to escort her home.

  “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you, Commander.”

  “All right. Keep me posted on things, will you?”

  “Certainly.”

  Sett paused, as if putting his ear to the ether.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Am I just old, or does that music truly suck?”

  Grace listened to a few seconds of the muffled cacophony vibrating through the club’s closed door. She smiled. “Both.”

  25

  Headbangers

  Captain Volk met up with Cyrus in a secluded spot in a national park three bus rides and a forty-five-minute hike from Officer Jeffrey’s home. They sat alongside a mountain stream hidden between a clutch of mammoth-sized boulders. Volk showed up with a bag of emerald dust. He powdered his hands and face, and using sign language, explained to Cyrus his plan for traversing their different dimensions.

  Cyrus was dubious, but after Volk related my encounters with the Baal Shem Tov, he became intrigued. Volk conveyed the Besht’s words of the power of expectation. He told Cyrus that the Besht said that he never doubted for an instant that angels existed, and that with perfect faith he expected to see us.

  “But I am nowhere near the Besht’s holiness, nor do I possess his kind of emuna,” Cyrus said. “The Besht reached his level of emuna without evidence, and without prior knowledge. He got there through study and prayer and good works. I was born into such understanding. I knew who I was.”

  “True,” Volk signed, “which is why you should believe him when he says that you can do it too. If the Baal Shem Tov says that you—a man who once was an angel—can communicate with angels still, are you going to argue with him?”

  Cyrus grinned. “Not when you put it that way.”

  “All right, then. Know it. See it. Expect it,” Volk signed.

  For an hour they sat in meditation trying to establish a link, but the distance between them seemed too great to overcome.

  “We’re trying too hard,” Volk signed.

  “Or not hard enough.”

  “No,” Volk said, shaking his head. “It shouldn’t be so difficult. It should be similar to rising into the Midrasha. The first few times are hard, but it’s really just a developed knack—something we could do on the fly anywhere, anytime.”

  “As long as you were in Heaven,” Cyrus reminded him. “You can’t enter the Midrasha from Earth. The vibration is too low.”

  “But the Midrasha is a dimension away from our Heaven,” Volk signed back. “If we could traverse between those two dimensions, we ought to be able to communicate down here too. I mean, look, we’re doing it right now, just not the way we want.”

  “We had the Midrashic Cave to give us a boost until we got the hang of it. We have nothing like that here.”

  “Maybe we do,” Volk said. He unzipped a vest pocket and withdrew a silk pouch.

  “What’s that?” Cyrus couldn’t see what Volk was doing, only that he was doing something.

  “A little bit of you, my friend. The previous you, anyway.”

  He spilled two crystals into his glowing green palm and rubbed them between his fingertips, coating them with a fine film of emerald dust. He held up the gumdrop-sized jewels for his friend to see.

  “Essence of Cyrus,” Volk signed.

  “My sweat?”

  “Yep. I’m going to hold one and since you can’t, I’m going to set the other here on this rock in front of you. Hold your hand over it, and let’s try again.”

  Cyrus did as told, and they both closed their eyes and entered a deep, meditative state. After a minute, the two crystals began to glow as their thoughts spiraled outwards. They felt one another’s presence, but their minds seemed to encounter something like a thick windowpane between them. They knocked at it, and then kicked at it, but the barrier was too strong. Volk was able to see Cyrus clearly through the pane now, but Cyrus could only detect Volk’s fuzzy silhouette.

  The two captains lost track of time as they pushed and pounded on the barrier that separated them. It was the cold evening air and the broadcasting of millions of twinkling stars that informed Cyrus that night had fallen and that he and Volk had been in their meditative states for hours. Cyrus’s human physical needs began to distract him. He was cold and hungry. Volk sensed something was wrong as Cyrus’s picture began to flicker and fade from view.

  “V,” Cyrus said. “I need a break.”

  He got up, put on a jacket, and walked away to relieve himself by a tree. He returned and pulled out a bottle of water, a couple of energy bars, and an apple from his daypack. He bit into the apple.

  “Mmm,” he murmured. “Things taste so much better down here. It’s very easy to understand why humans are such slaves to their physical desires.”

  “I felt we were close, C,” Volk signed, returning to their dilemma. “I could see you, but I just couldn’t break through that wall. Could you see me?”

  “I sensed you were there,” Cyrus said. “I saw shadows and sometimes your outline, but I just couldn’t bring you into focus. We’re missing something.”

  “Maybe if we used more sweat,” Volk signed, pulling the pouch from his pocket.

  “We can try,” Cyrus said. “But I think it’s something else, some ingredient that we’re overlooking. Did the Besht say anything else, something you’re forgetting?”

  Volk thought it over. “No, that’s all Kohai reported. Expectation and emuna.”

  “Okay,” Cyrus said, finishing the last of an energy bar. “Let’s try again. Ready?”

  Volk withdrew two more crystallized beads of sweat, keeping one in his hand and placing the other beside the one on the rock in front of Cyrus. They were about to start clearing their minds in preparation for another round, when suddenly both men looked up and stared at one another in mystification. Cyrus covered his ears, and then released them. Volk did the same, and swiveled his head searchingly left and right.

  In unison they thought, “Kohai…?”

  The volume of their voices was so loud in one another’s head that they both yelped and reeled backwards. Cyrus smacked his head against the boulder behind him.

  “C…?” Volk thought, dialing it back.

  “V…?” Cyrus answered.

  “Captain Volk? … Captain Cyrus…?”

  “Kohai?” They both thought simultaneously.

  “Captains…? Can you read me?”

  Volk smiled and said, “Loud and clear, Kohai.”

  “Captain Cyrus, are you there too?” I asked.

  “I’m here, Kohai,” Cyrus said, beaming in wonderment.

  “Whoa,” I said.

  “Kohai, how are you doing this?” Volk asked.

  “I just am,” I said. “I was desperate.”

  “Desperate?” Cyrus said. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Virgil. Anteros has him. We were with Malkah Stern and they ambushed us. They dropped a net on him. There were too many of them, and…”

  “I told you to keep your distance from her,” Volk scolded.

  “I know, Sir. I’m sorry. We didn’t think a little eavesdropping would hurt.”

  “Where are you?” Volk asked.

  “I’m at the outside perimeter of an Anteros base. I think it’s their headquarters. It’s massive, and they’ve got trained yetzers all over the place.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me with this immediately?”

  “I tried. I looked all over but couldn’t find you. I went by Captain Cyrus’s house too but no one was there. I waited and waited. I even checked with Grace. She didn’t know where you
were either. While I was there I had a run-in with Commander Sett.”

  “A run-in?” Cyrus said.

  “He tried to arrest me. We had a little sparring match. I think I’m in big trouble.”

  “Is he okay?” Volk asked.

  “Yes, Sir. I made sure not to hurt him.”

  “All right,” Volk said. “Stay put. I’m coming. Give me your whereabouts.”

  I gave Volk my coordinates and said, “So it worked. The Besht was right. Captain Cyrus, you can communicate with angels!”

  “Apparently so, Kohai. Good work. Though, frankly, Captain Volk and I aren’t sure how it happened. It’s something you did.”

  “Me?”

  “You don’t know?” Cyrus said. “You didn’t do anything? No sweat? Nothing?

  “No, Sir. I just really wanted to find you guys. I’m very worried about Virgil. He’s my best friend.”

  “Look,” Volk said. “Just wait there. Don’t move, and don’t do anything stupid. You got that?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Okay, over and out.”

  Volk stood. “C, you still with me?”

  “I’m with you, V.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Very,” Cyrus said. He got to his feet and slung his pack around his shoulder. They began walking, following the creek back towards the park’s main entrance.

  “How’d he do it?” Volk asked.

  “The missing ingredient, V-man. Heart. He put his heart into it.”

  “Emotional content,” Volk acknowledged. “We understood the Besht’s words intellectually, Kohai took them to the next level. He felt them.”

  “We chose well, V,” Cyrus said proudly.

  “That Kohai is quite a kid,” Volk admitted. Then, picking up on Cyrus’s chuckling mind, he said, “What’s so funny?”

  “Poor Sett. I was just imagining Kohai making an ass out of him. I wish I could have seen that! But, I guess there’s no hope left in recruiting him.”

  “We knew he’d be a hard sell, C. Sett is as pigheaded as they come. But, let’s not give up on him yet. I still believe that beneath all that grit and bluster, there’s a pilgrim’s heart yearning for HaShem.”

  “I hope you’re right, V, because we could sure use the guy on our side, and time is just about out. So, what about Virgil? What are you going to do?”

  “Dunno yet,” Volk said, adjusting the baseball cap on his head. “I’ll have to see what we’re up against.”

  Cyrus slammed fist to palm in frustration. “I wish I could help. I feel so damn useless!”

  “There’s nothing you can do about this, C. But what you can do, is keep an eye on Malkah Stern and that Gideon Baer character. Kohai and I feel pretty certain that one of them is the Swerver. You can’t interfere directly, but you may be able to keep others from doing so.”

  “Others? Like who? I can’t take on the yetzers or Anteros from this dimension.”

  “No, but you are trained to know their handiwork.”

  “I’m listening,” Cyrus said.

  “They may try to use others to foil the Swerver’s chances. Malkah Stern’s cousin is Ellen Veetal, and that Matterson fellow is a veritable yetzer breeding ground.”

  “Got it,” Cyrus said with an understanding nod.

  “All right. I’m spinning out. I’ll contact you when I know more.”

  “Be careful, V. Don’t underestimate those bastards.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Yeah?” Cyrus chuckled. “Then I suggest you wash the emerald dust from your face and hands before you go.”

  Volk looked at his glowing hands. “Oops.”

  He stomped down to the creek they were walking beside, knelt and washed his hands and face. He stood and turned to Cyrus holding up his hands.

  “How’s this?”

  Cyrus smiled, looking at Volk but seeing nothing. “Ugly as ever,” he pronounced.

  “Smartass.” Volk whipped up into translation, and spun off, leaving a dust devil of swirling leaves in his place.

  Cyrus sighed. “Man, I miss that.”

  26

  Happy Warrior

  “We could have gone somewhere more romantic, you know,” Gideon said. “I mean, your fifty percent employee discount is nice, but it is your birthday. Wasn’t it cheesy enough that I took you to a firing range on our first date?”

  Malkah smiled. “Guns and meatloaf. To me, that’s romantic. Besides, since we came straight from Krav class, I’m not dressed for anything fancier. I was a sweaty mess.”

  “You look great. And you weren’t kidding me, you really are a badass. I’m impressed. I pity the poor guy who tangles with you.”

  “I won’t,” Malkah said in cool understatement.

  “That guy you were sparring with at the end, how long has he been at it?”

  “He joined our gym about a year and a half ago, but he studied a couple other martial arts before. He has a black belt in something, but I forget what.”

  “You kicked his butt.”

  “Actually, I held back. That blond girl with the yellow belt, that’s his girlfriend. I didn’t want to humiliate him in front of her.”

  “That was sporting of you,” Gideon said, “but if I may, I advise not making a habit of it. You have to know what it feels like to go full on. Your mind and body act differently when you’re totally committed. I don’t mean kill or maim the guy, but you want to hone your reflexes and agility to their highest pitch.”

  “My instructor told me the same thing afterwards,” Malkah confessed.

  “Good for him.”

  “Anyway, I never get to eat here as a customer. It’s fun.”

  “Were you always a cheap date?”

  “Yes, but I never let any guy know that.” She winked.

  “So you used them.”

  Malkah nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Why not pull the same scam on me?”

  “Because I wasn’t interested in impressing them.”

  Gideon chuckled. “You are trying to impress me?”

  “Is it working?”

  “No need. You had me at jackass.”

  “I never called you a jackass!”

  “No, but you thought it.”

  She grinned. “Well, you were, you know.”

  Gideon nodded in agreement. “And yet, here we are. How’d that happen?”

  “Beats me.”

  “Heyyyy Malkah!” sang an ebullient waitress strolling up to their table and setting down two glasses of ice water.

  Her name was Beverly, and she wore the requisite Saul’s Deli T-shirt, which was too small for her well-endowed chest. Equally tight jeans covered her rolling hips, and her baby face had so much pasty makeup that she looked like she had been squeezed from a tube.

  “Hi, Bev,” Malkah said with a smile.

  “Can’t get enough of us, eh?” Beverly said.

  “Never.”

  “Hi,” the genial waitress said, her hand stabbing out towards Gideon. “I’m Beverly, Malkah’s best friend and confidant here at Saul’s Deli.”

  Gideon extended his hand, which she gave a strong, vigorous shake. “I’m Gideon,” he said. “Malkah’s jackass.”

  Beverly let out a big, hearty laugh. “Well, if she ever gets tired of riding you, give little Bev here a call. I’ll make a stallion out of ya!” She gave Malkah a just-joking wink and set down two menus. “Something to drink while you decide?”

  “Two Gold Stars,” Malkah said.

  “You got it.” She scribbled onto her pad and smacked it with her pen. “Be right back.” As she left, she glanced over her shoulder and mouthed the word ‘hot’ to Malkah, who smiled back.

  “That’s Beverly,” Malkah said. “She’s a sweetie. More men have stomped on her heart than home plate at Yankee Stadium. Poor girl.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Have you ever offered her some sisterly advice?”

  “All the time. But does she ever put it into practice? Nope.” Malkah shrugged. “She likes the
attention, and she’s so bubbly and funny, I don’t mind giving it to her.” Malkah handed Gideon a menu. “Whatcha gonna have?”

  “You know what’s good. You order for me.”

  “Easy,” she said, and gathered up the menus and set them aside. She folded her hands on the table. “So, what’s new in the crime business? Arrest any bad guys today?”

  “Oh, yeah. Business is booming.”

  “Do you like it?” she asked. “Arresting people, I mean.”

  “Not really. I prefer shooting them.”

  “I think you’re only half joking.”

  “That would make you only half right,” Gideon said wryly. “Out of ten scumbags, nine will be back on the street in less than forty-eight hours, regardless of their previous records. Their next victims—and there are always next victims—have a hard time understanding this, oddly enough.”

  “When does your contract finish?”

  “At the end of next month.”

  “Then what?”

  “Well, there are a number of police forces around the Americas that want to hire me. My specialties are in big demand these days.”

  “Around the Americas? As in another Federation?” Malkah said in a poor attempt to hide her disappointment.

  Gideon nodded. “I pretty much have my pick. New York, Atlanta, Dallas, Houston, Phoenix, Portland, San Diego, St. Louis…it’s a good time to be a bounty hunter. Things are falling apart all over the place. People are scared—crime, terrorism, the economy. Have you noticed?”

  “I try not to. I don’t read the papers and I don’t own a TV, but yeah, I’ve noticed.”

  Beverly returned with their beers and set them on the table.

  “Bev,” Malkah asked, “how many times have you been mugged?”

  Beverly raised a fist and began counting fingers. Upon reaching her middle finger she said, “This year, or in total?”

  Malkah noted Gideon’s I-told-you-so smirk. “Never mind,” she said.

  “Okay,” Beverly chirped. “Ready to order?”

  Malkah gave her their order and Beverly strolled off, but not before slipping Malkah another enthusiastic thumbs-up look of approval.

  Malkah said, “I’m guessing you think you know why the world is going to hell in a hand basket. You have a theory for everything, don’t you?”