“I would never have believed it, Brother,” Lucio said as he sipped his coffee.
“What?” Omar asked abstractly. He was considering asking Lucio about the Romanian thing.
“That you and I would be sitting on the back steps like two country bumpkins, drinking coffee together, wondering what the world is coming to. I have often watched the old men in Naples who sit in the park, shaking their heads in disdain and confusion. I have often wondered what it would be like to be one of them. Now I think I know.”
“What is it like? What did they know?” Omar turned his blue eyes on the Italian.
“We are never too old to die a horrible death. Our lives go on in spite of many deaths in our hearts,” Lucio said and smiled crookedly.
“Ahh. Yes. Life does contain many strange and unexpected developments,” Omar had to agree and then chuckled. It was ironic that this one thing that was so very, very normal to humans everywhere would be the closest he had ever come to being ‘normal’ in light of everything that was going on around them. “Speaking of strange developments…”
“You mean Bari?” Lucio automatically assumed the wrong topic. “Yes. I was quite surprised to see that he had grown so. I can certainly sympathize with you, Brother. It was simply too much for Ruth. She was always a good Catholic girl. She never deserved any of this. I have always blamed myself for her troubles.”
“She lives her own life, Lucio,” Omar told him. He did not like to be reminded that Ruth had once been Lucio’s lover. That, in fact, she still loved him beyond measure. More than she had ever loved Omar, the Prophet. “You cannot hold yourself responsible for the lives of others.”
“I am glad you see it that way, but if I had not…” Lucio seemed to remember who he was talking to and abruptly changed the subject. “What do you think of sending Vanni to Barry’s Academy?”
“That would seem to be a natural progression.” Omar nodded, also glad to change the subject. “He would be well protected there.”
“Perhaps you should consider sending Bari there,” Lucio suggested. “He is one of us.”
“One of us,” Omar repeated the words as if the thought had never occurred to him. “You consider me one of you?”
“Of course. Si`.” Lucio shrugged. “We were just at odds for a while and a bit. The universe is full of cycles and circles. It has always been so.”
“Cycles and circles. Yes. I believe you are right. It is amazing how things turn and turn again.” He plucked at the front of his shirt. There were stains there from where Ruth had spilled her tea on him when she had collapsed. “Some things seem to go on and on. Such as your Grand Master’s search for vampires.”
Lucio was in the process of sipping his coffee and sprayed it back in the cup.
“Where did you learn of that?” He turned his dark eyes on the Prophet.
“I know many things.” Omar smiled at him. “That is why they call me the Prophet.”
“Ahh.” Lucio nodded. “He is not really searching for vampires. He is searching for a particular person I believe. Someone, perhaps, delving into the occult arts. Black magick… blood sacrifices. That sort of thing.”
“Now you are hedging.” Omar laughed. “Give me a bit of credit. Did you not find Aristoni and his sister, Melodia?”
“Santa Maria! You know of Aristoni and his sister? How?” Lucio blurted and had to set his cup down. He glanced at the two children near the woodpile. They were inspecting Vanni’s drum and he was apparently teaching Greta something about surface tension.
“I… looked in on you,” Omar admitted and shrugged. “I keep up with things. I was actually looking for something else when I found you and my grandfather in Romania. You were reciting something of the Hermetic mysteries I believe.”
“The Emerald Tablet. Si`!” Lucio nodded. His face drained of color. What else had the Prophet seen? How much should he say? Not say? What the fuck should he do now? Tell Mark Andrew, yes, of course.
“Mark Ramsay is searching for something as well. He did not kill the man.”
“No. He got away. He must have gotten suspicious of us,” Lucio told him. There was no use trying to hide it from him. He obviously knew much about the ‘secret’ mission.
“Why did he beat you?” Omar narrowed his eyes at the Italian.
“I don’t know.” Lucio looked away from him. “He didn’t actually beat me. He just pushed me around a bit. It was nothing unusual. We’ve always had our little fights. We don’t get along as well as some would imagine.”
“I think you do. And I think you know exactly why my grandfather broke your arm and two ribs when was just pushing you around a bit,” Omar told him almost brutally. “This man, Aristoni, he is immortal, is he not? If the Grand Master has been looking for him for centuries, it would follow that he is either very, very old or immortal and if his sister is still with him, then she, too, would be quite elderly.”
“I would not know the particulars of the two in question. I was simply invited to go along. That is all.” Lucio stood up. “I am not privy to the Grand Master’s concerns in regard to this man. His goals in that regard are not known to me. Perhaps you should take it up with him.”
“Do they really drink blood?” Omar looked up at him.
“I didn’t see them drink blood.” Lucio looked out across the yard. “Vanni! Greta! Come inside and help me with the coffee.”
Lucio turned on his heel and disappeared through the screen door, leaving his coffee on the step.
Vanni followed Greta slowly across the yard. When he drew up in front of Omar, he stopped and waited for Greta to go inside.
“You are the father of the one called Joel.” The carbon copy of the Knight of the Golden Eagle gazed at him in wonder.
“Yes. I am.” Omar nodded.
“You are a god,” Vanni told him. “I have never met a god before.”
“I am not a god,” Omar objected. He was flabbergasted.
“Joel told me that you are a god. That your father is the god of Vulcan and his father is god of Saturn and his father is god of...”
“Enough! Joel should not have told you such things. It is not true.” Omar’s face grew dark. “He was merely teasing you.”
“I do not think it so. I believe that you are what he says. Sir Ramsay is your grandfather. He is of the Abyss. King Il Dolce Mio told me this and he does not tease or lie. Your grandfather is one of the Watchers. Chief among the elder gods and King! That would make you a Prince and Joel is a Prince as well. But you and Sir Ramsay are not like Joel. I like the Mighty Djinni. I have seen him many times and he is good. Sir Ramsay is good. I have spoken with his son about him for long hours. He was a good King. He is a good man here. And you… I can see that you are good as well. But your son is not good. He is evil. You must beware of him.”
“Vanni!” Omar stood up. “That it not a very nice thing to say about my son.”
“Your son is not very nice, sir,” Vanni told him. “I am only trying to warn you. It is his fault that your woman is ill.”
Before Omar could respond, Vanni bolted up the steps beside him and the screen slammed behind him.
Omar stood staring after him in shock. What was so terrible was that he, himself, had wondered if Bari had caused his mother’s malady. The boy was pleasing to look at. He was very well mannered. He had kissed his mother’s cheeks and hugged her and even wept, but still… there was something. Omar had, again, consigned it to the strained circumstances. He could not imagine what the boy might be thinking. To have been kidnapped and stowed away as an orphan. Taken by the abominable creature, Jozsef Daniel! There was no telling what he might have suffered. He shaded his eyes with one hand even though the sky was dull and overcast, and looked out across the meadow beyond the trees as far as he could see. There was no sign of his father or his son.
“Omar?” Merry’s voice startled him. “Ruth is asking for you.”
“I’m on my way.”
Omar looked back at the meadow once more be
fore following her into the house.
Chapter Six of Twenty
There is an evil which I have seen under the sun
“We can’t possibly do that.” D’Brouchart turned on the Knight of Death. “It might be disastrous.”
“How so?” Luke Matthew put forth the question. They were standing in the foyer, speaking in low voices.
“I thought it might be a good idea, Sir,” Lucio told him again. “Simeon has his own children to worry with. Vanni will be going there. Why not Bari? He needs some training. He is one of us.”
“He is the Prophet’s son. He belongs with his father,” the Grand Master objected with barely suppressed anger in his voice.
“He is Mark Andrew’s great-grandson, Sir,” Little Barry spoke up somewhat hesitantly. “That would make him one of us.”
“That is beside the point. Omar wants to take him home. He has been deprived of him for…”
“Exactly!” Lucio blurted. “And I have been deprived of my son. Not only Vanni, but Galen as well and before him… Marco. You seem to have no problem separating fathers from sons. Even yourself from your own son though you kept him with you in ignorance for centuries. You were never his father until it suited you.”
“Mind your tongue, Golden Eagle!” d’Brouchart raised his voice.
“Your Grace,” Mark Andrew intervened. “Now is not the time to discuss this. There is the problem with the woman.”
“What do you suggest, du Morte?” Edgard turned to face him. “The Golden Eagle is responsible for her. He brought her into our midst. What do you suggest we do with her? And remember… she is also Omar’s concern, but then, Omar might be your concern as well. He is your grandson. They are both yours and the Golden Eagle’s concern!”
“I will speak to him.” Mark Andrew’s face changed slightly. “Ruth is not stable and surely you cannot hold Lucio responsible for her. She has been… he's had no influence over her for several years.”
“Perhaps she could return to the islands with us,” Simeon offered in spite of his grandfather’s protests. “It is a restful place. We have doctors there.”
“I will discuss it with him,” Mark Andrew repeated.
The door to the living room opened and Simon stepped into the foyer. He closed the door quietly behind him as they all turned to look at him expectantly.
“She has decided that the boy is not her son,” the Healer announced without preamble in a subdued voice full of pain. “No amount of fair speech is going to convince her otherwise. She is out of her mind with grief. She believes that her son is dead…” He looked at Mark Andrew. “Like Jozsef Daniel. She believes that the creature that took Jozsef Daniel has also taken over her son.”
“Could it be true?” Lucio glanced around at each of them. He was still disturbed by what Vanni had told him about Joel.
“Nonsense!” D’Brouchart slapped one hand in the other. “He has been living with Reuben in Texas. I have spoken with Reuben myself. He says the boy showed nothing out of the ordinary other than his rapid growth and development. Reuben said that Joel is a perfect model of modesty, humility and compassion. He actually suggested that he might be suited for the priesthood.”
“You spoke with Reuben?” Simon was shocked.
“Well… yes. I did.” The Grand Master’s face turned red.
“That’s wonderful, Father.” Simon clasped him in a great hug. “He must have been thrilled to hear from you.”
“It was good to speak to him again,” d’Brouchart muttered. “It is time we put an end to these grievances.”
“But what about Bari?” Lucio prompted them back to the subject at hand. “Where is he?”
“Lemarik took him for a walk.” Mark Andrew glanced toward the kitchen. “Perhaps you should go out and see about them.” Mark knew that his unlikely son might simply decide to put an end to the problem if he felt it necessary. If Bari was truly a lost cause, Lemarik might get rid of him. There were hundreds of possibilities.
Lucio was livid at what the Master had said to him about Ruth. He nodded curtly and left them, shouting for Vanni as he went.
“You promised the Golden Eagle that Vanni could go to Barry’s school? Before consulting me?” D’Brouchart caught Mark Andrew’s arm.
“I did.” Mark Andrew removed the man’s hand gently. “And that is where he is going.”
Mark Andrew tapped on the living room door and then entered without waiting for a reply.
He emerged from the room a few moments later, visibly shaken. He caught the Grand Master’s arm roughly and shoved him down the hall to the kitchen leaving the rest of them staring in surprise.
The Knight of Death closed the door to the hall and turned on the Grand Master.
“Now! Tell me why Melodia would feed blood… her own blood… to the Italian!!” He gritted his teeth. Things were spiraling out of control. He’d missed his plane. Simon was champing at the bit to go off in search of his mother. And now this startling revelation from Omar.
“It is the Holy Sacrament of the barbarians. The barbarians! The very barbarians who were by descent in line for the thrones of Israel.” D’Brouchart leaned against the table and crossed his arms over his stomach. “It is one of the very reasons why they were annihilated by the Church. Such practices are frowned upon by Rome. You know that.”
“What does it mean? She fed him her Merovingian blood. What does it mean?” Mark Andrew pressed one hand against his forehead. He should know this. He should not have to ask these questions.
“The Merovingians are the descendents of Christ. Another thing the Church has trouble accepting. How could Christ have descendents? Who was his wife? Why were they not mentioned in the Holy Scriptures? All sorts of questions are raised by the notion that Christ might have married and begotten sons and daughters. But tell me, du Morte, you know the Scriptures. Did not you ever read that Thomas was Jesus’ twin brother? You know something of twins and so-called immaculate conceptions.”
“How dare you…” Mark Andrew advanced on him and the big man held up one hand.
“You are asking the questions, du Morte. Do you not have the stomach for the answers?”
“You are speaking heresy and blasphemy.” Mark Andrew drew back a bit.
“I am speaking nothing other than the truth. Did you ride with Simon de Montfort? I dare say you did not! God is present in every conception. One has only to modify one’s definition of immaculate in order to understand the truth. God is the life force that pervades the Universe. The Universe that He created. You were present at your own conception, du Morte and you were present at the conception of your brother, Luke Matthew, who is not only your brother, but your son. One of the problems with your children, your twins, Nicole and Luke, is that they should have been one complete creature of divine nature embodying both sexes, but something was not quite right there, my friend. You didn’t quite finish the process, did you? Do you not remember the perfection of the Angels? Andrea Larmenius was simply the manifestation of what you could have been. Your other half. Your missing half. And let me remind you of another little fact that has apparently slipped your mind. Ereshkigal. Where do you suppose she came from?”
Mark Andrew shook his head slowly. He had often wondered this himself.
D’Brouchart crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I never realized that your amnesia was so very deep. You really don’t remember, do you? She is simply part of Nergal. You should know. You separated them! And where did you learn this trick? From the master of magicians himself… Marduk. Marduk, who had combed the dark lands of the beyond like the consummate fool that he has always been. Enough was never enough for him! And these people blame poor Lucifer. You not only took part of Nergal for yourself, you pursued that part of Marduk which he had created for himself… Semiramis! When she came to Ereshkigal’s realm in search of Marduk, you saw her and saw that your own creation was inferior to her beauty. Woe unto us, Mark Andrew. Woe unto us when we stand before God and He demands a
n explanation.”
Mark Andrew collapsed in one of the chairs at the table. The room spun slowly in front of his eyes.
“You have forgotten too much. It is time you begin to remember. Perhaps you are still suffering from the memory loss on an even deeper level. Surely you remember how you came to be Mark Andrew Ramsay? You were your own father. You learned the trick long ago and it was one of the reasons you were cast into the Abyss,” d’Brouchart raised his voice ominously. “Your sins were great, Adar. As were my own. But we may still redeem ourselves. Think of the covenant we made with each other and with God. There is still time to fulfill our vows. I have always regretted bringing Annah to you. It was a terrible mistake!”
“Anna, Lemarik’s grand…” Mark Andrew frowned.
“No! Annah! Cain’s granddaughter!” Edgard placed one hand on the Knight’s shoulder. “You have indeed forgotten much, my friend. I can only imagine that it was the will of God. I did not know that I was administering punishment to you in advance when I brought her to you. Only God can know these things. Time has no meaning for Him. Things of the present, the past and the future exist for Him at the same time. I would ask your forgiveness, Brother, for the wrongs I have done you. We are going to have to work together if we ever hope to win back what we have lost.”
Mark looked up at the man. It was the first overture of friendship he’d received from the Grand Master in ages and ages.
(((((((((((((
Bari Caleb screamed again and Lemarik pulled him back up.
“Why are you doing this?!” the boy shouted at the Djinni. They were standing on a narrow ledge above a mass of molten lava. The smell of brimstone and sulfur was choking and noxious.
“I told you not to trifle with my son!” Lemarik leaned toward him. “I warned you to be civil.”
“I did nothing!” Bari shouted at him stubbornly refusing to admit that he had smitten his mother with insanity. Lemarik scowled and Bari found himself dangling head down over the red hot morass hundreds of feet below. “Stop it! Please! Stop!!”
Thoth, the Atlantean Page 11
