by Dean Kutzler
Jack was starting to understand why Father Alazar was here and it wasn’t to bring back the book. He was here to tie up loose ends, as the cliché goes. The priest was right. The world wasn’t safe as long as the Bene Elohim could get their hands on his DNA and whatever entrails they wanted to yank out. But he wasn’t ready to leave this life.
“I am very sorry about this, Jack. You will never understand how sorry. Dear Father, thou art in heaven, please have mercy on this soul.”
He made the sign of the cross, then reached inside his jacket.
Jack started to rise from the table.
“Please Jack,” shaking his head, “do not make this any harder. You know it has to be done. It is the only way.”
Jack sprinted towards the dining room, heading for the front door.
“Jack stop!” Father Alazar screamed, as he jumped up from the table, pulled the concealed revolver from his jacket pocket and trained the gun on the back of Jack’s head. “You are only making this harder!” He brought his other hand up and grasped the gun in both.
Jack’s shoes squeaked as he tore through the room, past the basement door.
He looked down a second too late to see the bundled lineage book kiss the tip of his toe.
A shot rang out.
The front door flew open.
“NYPD! Drop the weapon! Now! Put your hands on your head!” Detective Scanlin was positioned in the doorframe in a squatted stance, gun held in both hands, the barrel aimed at Father Alazar.
The shot from the priest’s gun had missed Jack’s head by an angel’s hair and splintered the doorframe next to Detective Scanlin. Father Alazar’s face was wrenched in a fretted snarl as the scene unfolded before him in slow motion. He saw his shot miss Jack and he saw the inevitability of the situation in the detective’s eyes. He believed in God with all his will, but couldn’t deny the signs. The very second he pulled the trigger, Jack had tripped and the bullet sailed past him.
Was this the sign from God he’d been looking for?
The slow motion in Father Alazar’s head was ticking back tides of emotion. The clock was picking up pace.
He needed to make a decision.
Was God stepping in and keeping Jack safe or was he testing Father Alazar’s commitment?
Father Alazar had been staring at the detective who was saying something, but for some reason, he couldn’t hear him even though he was just across the room. He tightened his fingers on the handle and prepared to finish the job God set him out to do. Then a vision popped into his head of his home country, Spain and his people. They were toiling in a field of olive trees. There were smiles on their faces and he could feel the warmth of the sun.
The detective was shouting now, but Father Alazar heard not one syllable. He only saw the resolution in the man’s eyes.
The priest’s eyes slowly dropped from the detective, to Jack, as he scrambled to get up.
Time resumed its course.
The last shot rang out.
November 13, 2:50 P.M., EST
The Brownstone basement, Upper East Side
HE FINISHED MIXING a fresh batch and grabbed the handle on the bucket. He was almost done. The pail bounced solidly on each stair as he made his way down the steps. He knelt down, made himself comfortable and got back to work.
The work of hope.
Father Alazar never made it.
Despite the detective’s seasoned aim, the wound proved to be too fatal. There wasn’t enough time for life-saving precision, in that split-second life-saving decision. The decision that determined the loss of hope. The loss of hope, in mankind, reflected in the poor priest’s eyes and all within a breath of life. The decision that ended Father Alazar’s life and saved Jack’s.
Forensics had found Jack’s obsolete video rental card in the wreckage at the church and Detective Scanlin, Gary Scanlin, was coming for the third time that day to question Jack as a suspect in the arson investigation of the church. Thanks to the broken door, the detective overheard the entire conversation, proving Jack’s innocence. He’d also overheard talk of Jack’s mother and the Bene Elohim.
Jack had explained the entire situation to the detective, or at least a modified version, leaving out the supernatural details, which didn’t leave much. That version had his mother involved in some whacky satanic cult called the Bene Elohim that was bent on hellfire, murder and destruction. Not too far from the truth. The detective seemed skeptical that one of New York City's famous socialites could have been involved in such a fantastical story, but in a follow-up he did elude to the fact that Jack’s mother had booked a one-way ticket to Rome that very same night. Being that there was no murderer to put behind bars, he overlooked Jack’s omission of facts and the break-in at the church. Technically, the churches doors are always open, the detective had said to Jack, with a wink. He must have figured Jack had suffered enough misfortune.
Jack put the tool back in the bucket and hefted another one in place, laying it in snug with a healthy squish. Picking the tool back up, he smoothed off the extra and applied a healthy amount on top before he reached for another. There were only a couple left.
All his life, Jack had never been a true believer, far from it. But he’d never been entirely a disbeliever either, just not in the traditional sense. After finding the tree and the book, he still wasn’t quite sure in what he believed.
Except for hope.
As the poem by Alexander Pope went: Hope springs eternal.
Mustn’t it?
Without hope, the world would be lost to the perversion of senselessness. And that, was exactly for which the true Bible stood. It was never meant to be in man’s hands. It was the thing of Pandora’s box and Jack was making sure it stayed locked away. He would have burned the book, so that there would never have been a temptation, he even tried. But like hope—it couldn’t be destroyed. Because it was hope. Hope from redemption.
In the end, Terry had realized this and kept the book hidden in the altar so the Bene Elohim would never get their hands on it. Who knows? Maybe that was his uncle’s or rather his father’s intentions all along, from the beginning.
Jack could only hope—it seemed to be a trend.
All that really mattered was that in that end, Terrance Elliot did the right thing. Nobody was perfect, not even God.
One thing Jack knew for sure: The world was not ready to learn the ugly truths in that book, nor would it be ready, if ever, for the unknown power it wielded. That would remain a mystery, too. Because without hope and faith in a better tomorrow, today had no chance at ever shining.
He was about to put the last brick in place, sealing the temple with the book back in the altar, when he heard a text message ring out from his phone. He knew it was Calvin from the personalized text sound. Earlier that day, Jack had called him to tell him all that had happened. He also told him to pack his things, that he wanted him to come stay in New York. There was a lot they had to discuss and Jack wanted that to be in person. After all, same-sex marriage was legal in New York, too.
Jack was down to the last brick. He wiped his hands on his pants and pulled out his phone. Calvin had sent a picture of himself and Clavis standing outside JFK airport. The sun was shining on their faces and both couldn’t have looked happier.
He was about to put the phone back in his pocket when he noticed the twinkle underneath Clavis's chin. He’s worn the same collar with that funny circular charm ever since the day Terry gifted him to Jack before he’d left for Montreal.
The collar and charm are never to be taken off, he’d told Jack, so hope in finding him will never be lost. Jack had always thought the charm was a tracking device and the funny little prongs were antennae. He’d worn it so long that it was invisible to Jack. He tapped the picture to enlarge the photo and nearly dropped the phone in the bucket of mortar.
Even though it was a strange name his clever father had picked out, Jack had always liked the exotic ring Clavis had when he called for him. Terry had ruffled his hair
that day and said it was Latin. He’d always assumed it was just a Latin name, like Keagan was Irish.
Jack didn’t need to look up the English translation.
He stared at the last brick in his hand, for a long time, then carefully slathered it with extra mortar and firmly placed it in the last hole in the wall.
THANK YOU…
Thank you, for saddling up alongside Jack on his very first adventure. I do hope you enjoyed reading Brownstone as much as I have enjoyed writing it. There are many more exciting adventures in store for Jack Elliot, and if you loved the book, I would really appreciate a short review on the site at which you bought Brownstone. Your help in spreading the word, about the Jack Elliot series, would be immensely helpful to new readers in finding the adventures.
Thank you!
Don’t miss the Author’s Note section following the next page. It’s where I divide fact from fiction, and quite honestly…it’s an eye opener! Also, be sure to signup for my newsletter on the next page so that you don’t miss out on new book releases and special discounts. Thanks again for taking part in the adventure!
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DON’T MISS THE AUTHOR’S NOTE - NEXT PAGE––>
Author’s Note to the Reader
Fact or Fiction
The time has come for all good facts to be divided from fancy fiction. Clearly, most of what has been written in this book is pure fantasy pulled from the influences in my mind, but there are a few facts I’ve found interesting enough to bring to light here in my note to you, the reader.
There have been, many translations and interpretations of the Bible over the years. It gets quite confusing and I’m certainly no scholar thereof. But in researching this novel I have to admit, it was quite fascinating, and the joys of research definitely fueled the fire of my imagination. Many nights were lost among the passages, as I’d start out researching one verse and find myself researching four or more. The time researching had to be limited because I could spend all day delving into the facts.
Life is truly more interesting than fiction.
The mystery of what truly happened at the beginning of our existence has fascinated me since I’ve been able to construct solid thoughts. We may never know how we’ve come to exist on this planet, in this galaxy in space that is said to have no end and is ever-expanding. My only hope is that one day, alive or through passing, we are enchanted with the kernel of existential knowledge. But until then, I will continue to speculate.
I’ll start out with the fact at the core inspiration for this novel: Who was the first woman of the world? Scholars have fought for centuries over the interpretations of Genesis in its ambiguity over the creation of man. Some side literal, some side interpretational. So far, there is no solid evidence to prove the stories in Genesis outside the fact of our existence.
As part of my initial research, I randomly asked friends, neighbors and even strangers in the supermarket, who they thought the first woman of the world had been, and they all answered with Eve. During the time when the Bible was written—written by several authors and gathered together by men that had decided what canons should be included in modern scripture—it was a different world than we know it to be today. Women were highly oppressed, especially women that defied men, as in the story of Lilith and Adam. Holding such high positions at the time, these men sought to form the world how they saw fit, leaving equality out of the equation.
What do we know of facts? The oldest surviving Hebrew manuscript of the Bible, telling of Eve, including the Dead Sea Scrolls, was found around the 2nd century BCE (200 BCE to 101 BCE)1. Moses, who started the Bible supposedly from the word of God, lived roughly between 1500 BCE to 1300 BCE; therefore, the Bible had been started somewhere in between that timeframe. To keep things straight, let me explain that BCE, Before Common Era or better known as Before Christ, refers to the years counting up to the time before Jesus Christ’s birth or existence. In other words, 1500 BCE is farther back in time, or older than 1300 BCE. This explains why 200 BCE to 101 BCE is more current on the timeline than 1500 BCE to 1300 BCE.
After the birth of Christ, the timeline changed to AD or Anno Domini Nostri Iesu (Jesu) Christi, translating from Latin to In the Year of Our Lord Jesus Christ. From then on, the timeline moved forward as we know it today. Therefore, the year AD 100 is older than AD 200. Following suit, any year in Anno Domini Nostri Iesu Christi, or AD, is more current on the timeline than any year in BCE. The first mention of Eve, in the Bible, is dated as old as 1500 BCE.
The figure of Lilith first appeared in a class of wind and storm demons or spirits as Lilitu, in Sumer, circa 4000 BC2.
The earliest surviving mention of Lilith appears in an epic Sumerian poem of Gilgamesh and the Huluppu-Tree, dating from approximately 2000 BCE3 (500 years before the mention of Eve), found on a cuneiform tablet at the ruins in Ur, an ancient city in Mesopotamia somewhere between Baghdad, Iraq and the head of the Persian Gulf.
Lilith is also mentioned in Songs of the Sage4 in the Dead Sea Scrolls, roughly dating back to around 33 AD, a Hebrew manuscript of magical text of incantations and exorcisms for the purpose of protection against a list of demons.
The clay relief (upraised picture) of Lilith hanging on the wall in the chamber beneath the brownstone is real. Obviously it isn’t under the brownstone because that is fiction. But it does really exist and it is called the Burney Relief, also known as The Queen of the Night relief, named after the antique dealer Sidney Burney. It currently resides, at the time of this publication, at the British Museum and can be viewed via this link: http://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/me/t/queen_of_the_night_relief.aspx. Take special note of the date they determined the relief was created: 1800-1750 BCE.
While neither the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Burney Relief, or the Sumerian poem mentioning Lilith aren’t solid proof that Lilith was the first woman, it begs the question. Especially since Lilith is mentioned by uncapitalized name (remember the oppression) only once, in the Darby Translation of the biblical passage of Isaiah 34:145 in the Bible: And there shall the beasts of the desert meet with the jackals, and the wild goat shall cry to his fellow; the lilith also shall settle there, and find for herself a place of rest. In the Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition, the passage Isaiah 34:14 translates to: And demons and monsters shall meet, and the hairy ones shall cry out one to another, there hath the lamia lain down, and found rest for herself. We’ll get to Lamia in a minute.
These facts, coupled with the ambiguity in Genesis 1:27, So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them, versus a later passage, Genesis 2:22, And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man, surely present an arguable case for Lilith. Wasn’t Eve (for textual reference to her name, see Genesis 4:1) already created in Genesis 1:27 as a female?
Then we have the Alphabet of Ben Sira, which is the core kernel for the idea of my novel. The Alphabet of Ben Sira is an anonymous medieval text inspired by the Wisdom of Sira found in Cairo, Geniza by a man named 6Solomon7 Schechter8. The text is dated to anywhere between A.D. 700 and 1000. While this doesn’t even come close to pre-dating the Bible, it does tell of Lilith being Adam’s first wife and her unwillingness to stand for inequality. Note that the author is anonymous. What did they know during those ancient times? Really? What common knowledge was lost through the eras? Do we not know that a Q-Tip is what we call the thing we use to clean our ears? I’ll bet any of us would get that answer if we asked a teenager. But some of us older folks remember that Q-Tip is merely a brand for cotton swabs. Just like Kleenex is a brand name for tissues. It may be clever branding, but isn’t that also part of comm
on knowledge?
As I mentioned earlier, Lamia was the Greek version of Lilith. Many cultures have their own stories very similar to the story of Lilith—a woman viewed in an unfortunate and nasty light mostly revolving around her detriment to children. She is named Ishtar in Babylonian culture, Lilitu the handmaiden of Inanna in the Sumerian culture, Labar-tu in the Assyrian culture, Ardat-Lili in the Akkadian culture, Kali in the Hindu culture and Karina in the Arabic culture, to name a few.
The most astonishing, if not my most definitive proof of the possibility of Lilith’s existence, and of being Adam’s first wife, is a book in the class of encyclopedia entitled The Century Book of Facts, published by King-Richardson in 1902. My partner and I frequent library book sales as we’re avid readers and he’d come across this interesting looking book. It’s a book of relevant facts on a wide variety of topics for the century. It states verbatim: His (Adam) first wife was Lilith. It also states that when God created Adam he was so large that he reached the heavens. Only by removing a piece of every limb did he come down enough in stature. Was this the giants the bible spoke of in those days? One thing is clear. Lilith being Adam’s first wife was common knowledge in 1902.9
So, have I proven beyond a doubt that Lilith was the first woman of the world? Factually, probably not, but in my opinion, yes. There have been too many cases of men in church manipulating the facts for their own selfish purposes in the name of betterment for man. One thing is certain. Archeological proof exists that Lilith did exist in some form. Hopefully, one day a digger will uncover irrefutable proof that she was the first woman, non-subservient to Adam.
