by Maya Daniels
My eyes snap open. A hand with olive skin like mine comes out of the cloak and touches the top of my head. When she puts her hand on me, a drumbeat starts, moving my body without my permission. Her mouth movies, but I can’t hear what she is saying because the drums get louder, a million voices chanting with the beat while I sway like a snake coming out of a basket at the sight of a flute master. Heat moves up my spine, crawling in a spiral like it’s wrapping every vertebrae. The way my hips swing opposite my shoulders and back makes me sway like I’m boneless. My thighs tremble. I have no control over my body, and that scares me.
When the energy inching up my spine reaches the top of my head where the hand still holds me like she’s the puppet master to my puppet self, it exits through the top of my scalp, leaving me writhing with an orgasm like nothing I’ve experienced before. I almost think I’m having a seizure. Even that doesn’t stop my body as it continues undulating to the rhythm of the drums and chanting.
My wetness runs down my thighs, puddling on the floor as waves of pleasure assault me. I think my heart might stop from the pleasure thrumming through me. It’s ultimate bliss and a never-ending ecstasy.
I don’t know how long it lasts. Time seems to move different here. Everything is like a second or an eternity, yet both are one and the same. As I’m thinking this, the hand moves away from me and everything stops. The drums and the chanting are gone, the orgasm is over, and I collapse in a heap at her feet. My pants are stuck to my thighs, my whole body is covered in sweat, and my nipples could poke holes in the marble floor, but that doesn’t stop the slow, long moan from escaping my lips. I should care that all these people witness this, but I feel so relaxed and whole for the first time in my life that I couldn’t care less.
My heavy-lidded eyes raise to her face as I think, Who is this woman and what did she do to me? The lions stare at me with interest, one moving closer to lick my face while nudging me with its big head. I can only keep breathing. It’s all I can focus on right now.
Reaching for me, I automatically take her hand, allowing her to help me to my feet. I mean, what else is she going to do? Give me another orgasm? I laugh at myself and hear her laughing too.
“It’s rude to pry into peoples’ thoughts without permission, you know,” I say, a lot louder than I intend., My voice echoes through the temple.
The collective, sharp intake of breath tells me I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Like that’s something new. She laughs again next to me and the sound of her voice makes me want to rub myself on her like a cat in heat. Yes, there is definitely something wrong with me. “It’s not just you, love, don’t fret,” she says, and I lower my eyes in embarrassment.
She turns towards the crowd and I follow her with my eyes, only to see all the cloaks are off now and I’m staring at a sea of women in every shape, size, and color, all dressed exactly like me only in all black.
Well, I guess I was the entertainment, I think grimly.
No wonder Remi made me wear this color. She wanted me to separate myself from the women here.
“That’s enough!” the priestess’s snaps, her voice like a whip. There is no trace of the humor or amusement there and I straighten up like a soldier at boot camp. I don’t think she appreciates my last comment, even if it is only in my head.
Turning, she addresses the sea of women, their wide eyes beaming at me. “It has been a very long time, millennia in fact, since they have made us bow our backs, bend our knees to them, and submit!” she spits the last word like something vile. “In that time, we were their punching bags, their whores—undeserving creatures that were left at their mercy so they could keep us scared and under their control. They succeeded, for millennia they did. They turned sister against sister, and we let them. No more!”
Every woman in the room hangs on every word she speak, her voice echoing and bouncing off the walls. It seeps through our flesh like healing balm, washing away any feelings of unworthiness, guilt, pain, and suffering that have built up over our many lifetimes.
“You stand witness. I have had enough. You all stand as witness. I am taking back what they took from us. You stand witness to the rebirth of the Divine Feminine! You stand witness to my vessel!”
Facing me, she grins, the excitement in the temple a palpable, tangible thing. But then it hits me.
“Wait, what?” But it’s too late for me, and it’s a fact I know—knew even before I entered the temple.
Throwing her cloak from her back, my mouth parts as I suck in a breath. I’m staring into a mirror. I am her and she is me. As I look at her eyes, I can picture the billions of years she has lived. In that moment, I’m witness to the birth of worlds and civilizations made and destroyed. She has seen it all. She has lived it all. The pain is there, the suffering of every single one of us … she carries it in her like it is her own—and it is her own because, vessel or not, she lives in every single one of us.
Dropping to my knees in front of her, placing my hands and forehead on her feet, I can hear the reverent whispers of the women in the temple who are kneeling again, too. “Mother of Heaven, Inanna, the Goddess...” I lean on her feet while tears run down my face and I repeat, “Mother, Mother, Mother …”
“Stand! You don’t need to kneel to me anymore, Alexia,” she says, and I gape at her.
She is blurry from the tears still soaking my cheeks, but I do as she says, raising up on my legs that can barely hold my weight at the moment.
She angles her head at me. “Have you spoken to anyone else but your sisters here?”
I open my mouth to tell her I haven’t, only Remi, but an image slaps into me so hard I can’t say a word. Is this real or is this another one of the visions I used to have as a child? I really don’t know.
Her hand touches my forehead, and I close my eyes as her soft laughter fills the space. “I see my sister beat me to the gift bearing.” The shock on my face must be plain to see because she laughs harder. “Venus never was one with great patience, I assure you. Come, we need to finish this. There is much to be done. I have changed the rules of the game by pulling you here like this, but I have been patient enough. Every time you are reincarnated, they find a way to get to you before I do. Well, not anymore.”
When she takes me to the altar, she points at it, as if she wants me to hop up there. I narrow my eyes and raise my eyebrows, thinking it will bite me if I touch it.
“Come now, love, you are very important to me. Do you think I would hurt you in any way? You are my child. I only wish to protect you.”
Her eyes shine with love and so much more. The strength of a warrior is mixed with something primal, something wild. Chills envelop my body as we continue to stare at each other, but after another couple moments, I step towards the altar, jumping on it.
“Lay down, it’ll be easier. You might get dizzy if you’re sitting,” she says as she taps the cold slab of marble.
I do as she says, and her chanting brings the drums back. I hope I don’t have another orgasm, although …
When she places her hands on me—one on my stomach and one on my heart, the years of her existence flood me. Battle training, pleasure training, languages, history, geography, astronomy, and astrology. The information rushes through me, like I have spent lifetimes learning and practicing it. My head spins, black spots sprinkling my vision as my stomach lurches. I want to tell her to stop, that I don’t feel well, but I’m paralyzed. All I can do is look at her serene face, her eyes closed as she continues to chant, and tears run down my cheeks. The darkness tries to swallow me, but before it can, her eyes open and find mine.
“Be sure you make us both proud, love. Remember I am always with you.” After her last word, she smiles so bright it’s like the sun is shining on me, but then the darkness comes back, carrying me into oblivion.
Chapter 6
“Nurse, get someone! She’s waking up!” a familiar voice shouts.
The constant beeping grates on my nerves, faint at first but growing louder with e
very passing minute. I want to cover my ears, but when I try, I can’t move my arms. When I open my eyes, I slap them closed a moment later because it’s much too bright, like I’m staring directly at the sun. I try to speak, but my dry throat makes my words come out as a gurgle. Did I drink an entire bottle of wine and sing karaoke last night? What has happened to me? I’m coming up blank.
And can anyone stop that damn beeping? I scream in my throbbing head while moaning out loud.
“Quick, get the doctor!”
The faint sound of someone talking makes me stop struggling to move my arms. Where on Earth am I? Squinting so maybe I can see something, I almost vomit from the brightness. Cold hands attempt to pry my eyelids open, and when the person succeeds and pulls one up, another stabbing pain takes over. My mouth opens to scream, but again I can only gurgle, and even that hurts like a bitch.
“Oh, she’s awake. Quick, we need to get her off life support!” an urgent voice exclaims. T
Hands prop me on my side, pulling wires, tubes, and who knows what else off me while all I can do is observe. A tube is removed from my mouth—no wonder I couldn’t talk—and I am finally able to take a long, deep breath, so like I’ve been underwater too long I gasp for air.
“Turn the lights off; it’s too bright!” I rasp. A second later, a wonderful shade comes over my face, allowing me to peek at the faces examining me from above.
“How are you feeling, Ms. Semiramis? Can you see me well? Can you hear me?” asks someone, and I assume it’s a doctor.
“Yes, I see and hear you perfectly fine, and as for how I feel … I feel like I’m two seconds from dying. Everything hurts, and I can’t move my arms or legs.”
“You were not far from death, to be honest, and I can’t believe we’re actually having a conversation,” he replies while checking my vitals.
“You flat-lined twice in the last twenty-four hours.”
Now he has my full attention. “What do you mean by twenty-four hours? I’ve been here for an entire day?”
He pauses, his concern-filled eyes falling to me. “Do you remember what happened? How you ended up here?”
“Not really, no. But you didn’t answer my question. Have I been here an entire day?”
“Ms. Semiramis, you’ve been here an entire week,” he says in a slow voice, almost like he’s speaking to a child.
He says it like he’s talking to a child.
My mind spins. A week? How did I end up here? A nightmare woke me up and I went to work. Lidia had been her usual self, all sunshine and rainbows. Philip …
Oh. It all comes crashing into me with the speed of a train. The business meeting. The car crash.
“Where is the man I was with? Is he okay? Is he alive?”
“Yes, Mr. Stamelos is okay. Quite lucky, actually. He only had a few bruises and a concussion. The paramedics said you covered his body with your own, so you took most of the beating when the car flipped over from the impact. He is very grateful, hasn’t left your side for longer than ten or fifteen minutes, and even then, only when we forced him to eat or take a shower,” says the doctor.
At his words, like the doctor has summoned him, Philip walks in and I can’t help but stare. He looks like he’s aged ten years. His clean-shaven face is covered with a beard and he looks like he hasn’t slept for ages. When my eyes meet his, I can see he’s fighting tears, but he looks down quickly so I can’t see anything else. While the doctor and nurses are making sure everything is okay, taking away the machines and other things, he sits and waits on the chair in the corner of the room, and since I can’t do anything else, I observe him. He gives me quick glances but otherwise looks at his hands in his lap.
“I’ll be back to check on you shortly,” says the doctor as he steps out of the room, leaving the two of us staring at each other without a word.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and he shakes his head with a humorless laugh.
“You saved my life and almost died. Actually, you did die, many times over this past week. I watched all of it, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” He stares at me with such anguish a lump forms in my throat that is almost impossible to swallow down.
“We’re both alive, aren’t we? So, everything is good, right?” I try to make light of the situation.
“No, Al, everything is not good. You know, I’ve been replaying the scenario in my head all week, trying to figure out what I would say when you woke up. How I’d express my gratitude for what you did, but now … Now I don’t know what to say because there’s nothing that will tell you how I …” his words trail off like he’s talking to himself, not to me.
“Well, you’re welcome. You would’ve done the same, I’m sure. It’s what people do,” I say matter–of-factly. Then he laughs, and I gape at him.
“No, actually, I wouldn’t have done the same, Al. That’s the problem. I’ve been a selfish bastard my whole life. I would’ve made sure I was okay and not you, to be honest.” He grips the sides of the chair he’s sitting on as if he is bracing for impact.
I’m tired and sore and have no desire to argue, so I just shake my head at him sadly. “Well, I guess we are lucky I’m not you.” I add the last part more for myself than for him. “I need to get up.”
I know I’m not allowed to move, but I can’t stave off this unexplainable need to stand up. Fidgeting, I start pulling off the attached monitors, telling Philip what to switch off so the alarms don’t alert the nurses that I’m going against their orders. As everything is turned off, I try standing up and Philip is instantly next to me to help. I want to object, but I let him help as long as he lets me be. We don’t talk much in the next couple of days. The hospital staff performs test after test, their comments about what a miracle I am and how I seemed to heal overnight ringing in my head, but I ignore it all. I want to get out of here. Philip doesn’t talk anymore but he’s a permanent fixture next to my hospital bed, even after I ask him to leave many times. At least he looks a little better now. Plus it looks like while I slept he shaved, so that’s a good thing.
“So, can I go home now?” I look at the doctor hopefully.
“Hmmmm. Well, I can’t see why not. I have no explanation how this recovery is possible, but I have no reason to keep you here,” he says as if he regrets that I’m not going to be his lab rat anymore. Actually, I’m sure he does.
“Wonderful. Then I’ll be out of your hair in the next hour or so,” I say, smiling.
“Not so fast, Ms. Semiramis. I’ll sign the release papers, but a nurse is coming with you until I’m sure you are good to be left alone—miracle recovery or not.” He frowns at me. My mouth falls open to argue when the door opens and a woman walks in, smiling from ear to ear.
“This is the patient, Doctor?” She speaks to him, but I’m the one who can’t stop staring at her. She looks so familiar, but I can’t place where I have seen her before.
“Yes. Ms. Semiramis, this will be your live-in nurse for a while. Remi, this is Ms. Semiramis.”
At her name, another set of memories hits me and everything comes together. Glancing at her, she winks.
“Nice to meet you, Miss …”
“You can call me Al,” I cut her off.
“Al,” she repeats, and her eyes crinkle in the corners as she tries not to laugh. I smile at her, too, until I realize the doctor and Philip are looking at both of us like we’ve lost our minds.
“Right. I’m out of here,” I say as I get off the bed to start dressing.
“I need to finish a couple of things here,” Remi says. “I’ll meet you at your apartment shortly. It’s the address we have on file, correct?”
“Yes,” I answer from behind the bathroom door.
“I’ll take her home,” Philip tells the doctor, and then the room goes silent. When I walk out of the bathroom dressed in sweats and a t-shirt Philip got from the gift shop downstairs earlier, he jumps up off the chair.
“Oh, I thought you’d left to go outside.”
He doesn’t an
swer, just grabs the plastic bag and my purse and starts walking out. I follow. Who cares about his attitude as long as I get out of here and get home? I don’t have to deal with him anymore after that.
The drive takes longer. He’s driving like he thinks I might jump out of the car if we move faster than five miles an hour. I keep my mouth shut. I just need to get home and I’ll be fine. We park and both walk out of the car. I’m looking at him warily, hoping he doesn’t plan on hanging around, but I say nothing. I’m grateful my neighbor Mark doesn’t come out to give his two cents, but then again, he wouldn’t when he sees a man. He’s tough but only when women are around.
I unlock the door, walk in, and as I turn around to tell Philip thank you and good bye, he takes the door handle, makes me take a step back, walks in, and closes it behind him. I don’t have time to react. He wraps his arms around me, crushing me to his chest and holding me like that for a second. I’m shocked by the action and just stare at him like a deer in headlights. He leans his head forward and his lips touch mine softly, tenderly at first, and since I didn’t object(I was in shock by all this, remember)he takes this as encouragement to part my lips with his tongue and his kiss turns from gentle to urgent. Turning around, he has me pinned to the door. His energy changes from caring and worry into something primal. I can’t just sense it, I can taste it, too. His left hand is in my hair, controlling the movement of my head while he is holding my hip with his right. I can feel his erection pressing on my belly, pulsing even through his pants and the sweats I wear. My mind is reeling from what’s happening so I stupidly go along with it until he moves away and starts kissing down my neck. His hand goes under my shirt, grabbing my breast and pinching my nipple. He is moaning like a man dying of thirst after his first sip of water. I can finally take a proper breath.
When I can finally take a proper breath, I shout, “Stop!” Nothing stops; his thigh lodges between mine and he starts moving it in rhythm with his hips.
“Philip! Stop! Right now!” I snap at him and grab his shoulders to push him away. He doesn’t let go but lifts his head and looks at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
