Discovering Normal

by Cynthia Henry

  Beth nodded. Her hair had been pulled back with a satin ribbon and she felt like decadent icing on a cake. “I understand.”

  “Be in as constant communication as you can, but don’t be foolish or take a risk. We’ll be listening and if we lose you, we move closer. We’re here.”

  “I know.” And because she had to, Beth leaned up and covered George’s mouth with hers. “Thank you.”

  Deej crossed from the other side of the military van and extended a photo “It’s time, sweetie. Our guy is using the name, Tomma-Tofa. His real name is Andy Marsh--reddish hair, green eyes, real Irish boy.”

  Beth nodded and sucked in a breath. She turned to George, squeezed his hand one last time and gave Deej a quick hug before she climbed out of the vehicle onto a dusty path. She could hear waves of the Baltic fiercely slapping in the distance.

  The door slid closed and the vehicle moved on down the road, leaving Beth alone on a deserted path. The fortress walls rose in the distance. The vehicle had disappeared now in its own dust and Beth began her journey up the walk which led to the gate a mile away.

  The sun had nearly disappeared and bats swooped overhead. She shuddered, but continued up the path, shivering at the eerie wind and the sound of the sea.

  She didn’t think as she walked; couldn’t think of Noah and Audrey, safe at home in the house she’d grown in--probably missing their parents but equally excited about Halloween. She navigated through brambles and around the occasional booby trap of spiky wire and twine. She’d been alerted to its presence and calculated that every ten feet another appeared. Beth hoisted her wrap from the ground and trudged on.

  The microphone vibrated against her breast. “Yes?” she whispered as she moved.

  “How are you?”

  “I’m close. I can see the walls.”

  “All right.” And it was quiet again.

  The sun dropped to no more than a line in the west beyond her and the illumination of a sole light shown from a stone window in the enormous stockade. Beth continued on, taking care not to stumble until she finally reached the barricaded gate.

  “Hello!” she called out to no answer. “Hello!” she said again into the descending night.

  “Tell them who you are,” Deej breathed into the microphone.

  “It is I, Farley-Fauna, returning to this place which is to be my home.”

  “Good,” Deej breathed.

  Beth squinted to see, but there was nothing. No movement, no sound, just quiet.

  “Hello!” she called again.

  ”Go!” came a voice into the night.

  Beth’s heart rammed against her chest, but she remained glued to her spot. “It is I. It is I.”

  A man appeared, wearing what looked to be colonial military garb, but holding a pretty impressive M-4 carbine. “Who are you who dares disturb us?”

  “It is I, Farley-Fauna the Divine.”

  The man raised the weapon and studied her briefly before he turned and ran toward the fortress behind him.

  Beth folded her hands in front of her because it seemed like something a submissive deity would do, and waited with her heart still thundering. She swallowed and seconds later at least twenty men appeared holding guns and surveying her.

  If she could only tell Deej that she was pretty sure she’d stumbled upon his missing weapons.

  Beth cleared her throat. “Surely you will not need force. I have returned. The truth has coaxed me to return.”

  The gate swung open and instantly two soldiers were at her side, guiding her through the maze. Beth bit her lip when the gate swung closed and a harsh lock sounded with her on the other side of it.

  Chapter 18

  The Most Masterful pulled flesh from a fat turkey leg and then took a hearty swallow of cider. Truly he was a King.

  Dara-Dawn peeked around the doorway. “Master?”

  “Have you no respect, Dara-Dawn? A knock is most necessary.”

  “I did knock, your excellency. Apparently not hard enough and I digress.” She curtsied and kept her head lowered as she’d learned to.

  “Enough,” he muttered and went back to feasting.

  “We have a most interesting development this night.”

  Bored, he took a hearty gulp of cider.

  “Sir.”

  “What is it, Dara-Dawn? A punishment shall bestow you for the interruptions you’ve given me as of late. If you weren’t with my child, I believe it would’ve already commenced.”

  She curtsied again. “I do apologize, but this night is the night of lore. She has returned to us.”

  And then she had his attention.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She is back. The guards have brought her to the outer fortress and await your instruction.”

  And that part of him that had seen a few episodes of CSI was skeptical. “Just wandered in? Wandered to the gate of Flora-Sky?”

  Dara-Dawn nodded. “It appears so, though I wonder myself how she located the mighty Kingdom.”

  He stood and the tray fell with a clatter. “It is not for you to wonder! Only she would know. Only the true Divine one would know! Send her forward! Send her now!”

  Dara-Dawn disappeared, but The Most Masterful scarcely noticed.

  So the time had come.

  He calculated in his head. Not a divine date to be sure. He’d always been certain that when the day came, it would be riddled with significance and poignancy--perhaps the anniversary of his mortal birth or the exact date when the Flora-Sky had once been eliminated only to rise again.

  But, no--perhaps The Master had more in store for him than that, because even he, The Most Masterful, needed an occasional element of surprise.

  He twisted his hands and stared at the fire crackling in the hearth. It snapped. Embers danced and disappeared.

  She was back.

  There was no fear for he was far too great a Master to be tricked. The foolish ones who called themselves agents of the government had no idea that Flora-Sky was now beyond defeat; they had no idea that Flora-Sky had persevered and ultimately won.

  To their antiquated knowledge, Christopher Stoddard was simply a broken ex-agent who had taken his own life and the men who called themselves law enforcement were foolish enough to believe it to be true.

  He turned to the mirror and puffed his chest. How did he look?

  Foolish that he cared, but it had been twelve long years since he’d seen her in the flesh, though the few photos he’d gathered from an excellent source confirmed that she was still lithe and lovely.

  He grabbed the gold robe--his favorite--and replaced his older more comfortable model with it. He looked about his sanctuary filled with the common items of a lesser man--food, discarded clothing, a deck of cards--and decided he would wait no more. He flew down the stairs and didn’t look toward the turret staircase where Stoddard was now housed.

  Time would come soon enough.

  As The Most Masterful reached the bottom step, the outer door opened and she entered light as a breeze.

  She met his eyes, didn’t flinch and curtsied, as all good girls--divine or otherwise--must learn to do. “It is I. Humbled and changed. I have returned.”

  “Who leads you to me?”

  She raised her eyes. There was a sincerity there that he felt as well as saw.

  “Only the need for my own redemption.”

  He stepped toward her. She was still luminous, and if he didn’t know better, he would’ve declared untouched.

  “And from where has this need of yours sprung?”

  “From the truth,” she said without pause.

  He tilted his head, took it all in and decided it was true.

  “Dara-Dawn, take her to the Pristine Quarters. I shall visit later.”

  Dara-Dawn curtsied and Farley-Fauna did as well before she followed her down the dim corridor.

  ***

  “I’m inside,” Beth whispered. “I’m sure it was Joanna King who brought me to my room.”

 
“Any indication that they’re on to us?” George whispered into the mike.

  Beth held hers close to her mouth. The girl was just on the other side of the door. “I don’t think so, but of course I’m not sure.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “From what I could tell I’m in the back of the building. I think the water is just on the other side of my window, but it’s too high off the ground for me to see.”

  “Do you know what’s happening next?”

  “I think she’s supposed to help me dress so I have to remove this. I’ll be in touch when I know where I’m going so leave yours on.”

  “All right” And the line was still.

  Beth pried the tape off and did a once over of the room. Damn, she’d forgotten to mention the guns, but it was too late now. She saw a small cabinet and opened the door a crack. It looked to be linens. She wound the wires around the tiny mike and slid it between the two bottom sheets, then closed it again.

  “I am ready,” she called when she’d adjusted her wrap. Thank goodness the Flora-Sky believed some things should be private.

  The door slid open and Joanna King, or Dara-Dawn, stepped in. She was a pretty girl--more cute than stunning--but she wore a distant look that though Beth couldn’t remember, she recalled. Luckily for her, the father had moved slower than the son and she hadn’t had to deal with carrying a psychotic’s child.

  “Undress,” the girl said and Beth did as she was told.

  She was grateful that Joanna King didn’t seem too interested in aiding her. She handed over a porous sponge and some floral scented oil. Beth set to work washing in a large metal tub as she watched the girl from the corner of her eye.

  “Have you been here long?”

  Dara-Dawn turned. “For always and ever.”

  “I am returning.”

  “I am aware.” Dara-Dawn adjusted the wick of the lamp.

  “Do you recall where you were before you came here?”

  She turned then and her eyes were slit. “I was born here in this chamber.”

  Beth squeezed water from the sponge and listened to the drops hit the bath. “I as well.”

  “But you left. You stopped believing and I don’t feel that you should return now.”

  Aha. A bit of the green eyed monster even in the submissive.

  “But I am Farley-Fauna the Divine and this is my place.”

  The girl thrust her abdomen. “I carry his child--the first, the divine.”

  Beth stood up and snatched a towel that Dara-Dawn handed her. “But it will be one of many.” A headache was brewing. She wanted it to be fast, and swift and over. But she couldn’t just ask the girl where Chris was, how she could find her husband and bring down this sick empire.

  Dara-Dawn curtsied. “I must bow to you, but I do not wish you for my friend.”

  “I am not in need of friends.”

  Dara-Dawn capped the oil and raised the wick of light. “If you require nothing further from me, I shall go.”

  “Go then,” Beth said and watched her scurry from the room.

  ***

  Beth rung her hands and waited. She’d laced the microphone back into place after she’d dressed, but didn’t dare convey much. Holden could saunter in at any moment. And what then? Could she stop him from touching her? Deej had implied that that might happen, but she’d been hoping that it wouldn’t come to that. But would she have a choice if it meant pulling this off? Would she have any choice at all?

  The night grew thick and her eyes heavy and still he didn’t come. When she guessed it was about midnight, she spoke softly into the receiver. “What time is it?”

  “Late,” a weary Deej said.

  “I don’t think he’s coming, but I don’t dare sleep.”

  “He won’t touch you if you’re sleeping. He wants you awake and aware.”

  And with that, Beth laid down, resting her head on her hands as she drifted. Maybe her dreams would lead her to that place where she’d find him--healthy and safe and waiting.

  ***

  Chris sprung up as far as his restraints would allow when he felt the sharp blow to his foot. Another kick and then another and he wondered if the beatings that had all but stopped during the last block of time were going to resume.

  He tried to focus in the darkness of the cell. It was him--the little guy who was the worst of them all.

  “What do you recall, Manish-Mannen?”

  Chris just stared, his eyes never working well enough now to help him with anything.

  “Do you recall love?”

  Chris felt his head fall back, his neck all but useless, but the guy whisked behind him and pushed it forward once again. “Do you recall love?”

  But he couldn’t answer. Didn’t know the answer.

  “Omish-Ogden!”

  The big guy appeared and started to pummel. It was less effort on his part now because this was just the shell of a man without any feeling or memory.

  It finished and it was over and Chris laid back in a pool of blood, grateful for sleep.

  ***

  The Most Masterful patted a yawn that he detested the weakness of and glanced out to the crashing sea.

  The Divine One had returned.

  But so uncharacteristically, he couldn’t seem to decipher the signs The Master was sending along with her. If he could only speak to him--his father--and hear for certain that this was true--not a trick--simply the reality that was always known to be. It was obvious that Farley-Fauna belonged here in the fold. It was the only way The Most Masterful could ensure her safety. Those such as Farley-Fauna--such as himself--could not be left to the devices or absurdities of the mortal world.

  He kneaded his hands--a habit he’d tried desperately to shed, but alas, simply couldn’t. He only displayed the weakness here, alone, in his most private of moments. He remembered all too well what happened when The Divine attempted to blend with the mortal. The results were never pretty--footballs that couldn’t be kicked or caught and bicycles that could never be pedaled fast enough.

  He felt the long forgotten, but still too familiar anxiety rise and he beat it back as only The Divine could do.

  What had led Farley-Fauna here? What whisper in the night had she heard and heeded as opposed to ignoring? Was it a call of the wind, informing her that The Evil One who had tricked her had finally been halted? Was the message that the children she’d foolishly created with him would prove weak and harmful to her in the future?

  Or was it simply that now--for whatever reason--was the time?

  The sea crashed to the shore below.

  The Most Masterful was not unintelligent or easily vexed. He’d researched--sent his sovereign army to survey the grounds for signs of others who may have followed her or, worse case scenario, sent her here--but none had been detected. Farley-Fauna had apparently appeared all by herself.

  He’d even gone so far as to check in with the one who’d helped him in a fashion--the older man who’d watched and divulged when the need came for an informant. But he’d assured The Most Masterful that he hadn’t seen Farley-Fauna the Divine since she’d left the provincial Canadian town weeks before--naively thinking that she was leaving a husband and only later understanding that a force far greater had moved her to leave a life.

  Still, something seemed rotten in the state of Denmark.

  And then The Most Masterful laughed--loud and sure--for Denmark had been the birth of it all--the beginning. Jaelyn was the alpha and now, here in a quiet land of spirituality, Flora-Sky was the omega--the culmination.

  And how very elementary of him it would be not to question her loyalty. Of course at times it was necessary to simply believe, but was it not also necessary for even The Divine to prove beyond a shadow of doubt that she was worth her salt?

  The Most Masterful closed the pearl cufflinks at his sleeve. Which course of action would be best?

  Swiftest?

  Slyest?

  And then he smiled.

  He knew
the woman who called herself Beth Williams-Stoddard loved the lesser--the furry creatures of the field and wood and home. He’d heard from his soldier of information that she’d doctored mangy dogs and found homes for kittens. Helped birth foals and stroked the coats of the useless rabbits that her very mortal son had asked to raise.

  But, Farley-Fauna the Divine hadn’t much cared for Xedius, the beloved pet of The Master. Though she’d taken immediately to the mare in the gated yard that he’d given her, Farley-Fauna always shunned the timid animal known as a ferret to those who were too unworthy to realize that the creature possessed inherent knowledge of the truth.

  The Most Masterful recalled his father telling of Farley-Fauna’s lack of interest--the only issue that had concerned him regarding her suitability to transcend time and space and matter. And The Most Masterful himself had noted it too when, as a child, he’d raised the small creature to her view when she wandered the courtyard. She’d smile and nod and touch her silky hair without ever touching poor Xedius.

  The creature had been slain with The Master--crushed by his body that fell from the Evil One’s strike as he still clutched Xedius close. It seemed fitting and poignant that they’d disappear together in a blaze of redemption and sacrifice.

  And how brilliant Xedius’ very existence had been.

  The Most Masterful snatched a receiver and pushed just one button, for the device knew whom he needed most at what time. “Find a descendant of the Majestic Xedius.”

  There was a pause and then grunt of affirmation.

  “And it will soon be necessary to move the Evil One to the dark chamber. When I send forth the signal, move him without hesitation and with much speed.” He disconnected and yawned once again.

  A guy couldn’t be too cautious.

  ***

  Morning broke through and Beth opened her eyes at the high beam of light sneaking in. She had slept and she hadn’t come even close to finding her husband.