“Do not lie to me!” Lemarik told him and loosened his grip slightly, allowing him to slip a bit.
Bari Caleb screamed and wrapped his arms over his head.
“All right! OK!! I’m sorry! She was just so… so…” Bari was crying in earnest now.
“So what? She was so what, my son?”
“She was so human! I expected more!” Bari cried.
“What did you expect? Aphrodite? Ruth is a good woman! A wonderful creature and she bears my love as well as that of your father. She would give her life for you as any mother would. She is your mother, human, boggan or otherwise. Omar is your father! I do not abide insolence in whelps such as yourself though you be a Djinn creature like me. I will not allow you to break her heart, nor will I tolerate ill-will toward my beautiful son!”
“I’m sorry!” Bari shouted again. “Let me up! I promise to be good.”
“I don’t believe you.” Lemarik told him and let go of his ankle.
Bari screamed a blood-chilling wail that ended in a muffled cry. He fought the purple robe, falling to the ground and rolling about in the grass. Lemarik pulled the cloth away from him and flung it over his own shoulders. Bari leaped to his feet and looked about in panic. They were back in the meadow.
“Remember this, my son,” Lemarik told him. “If you lie to me… if you deceive me… if you do anything to harm your mother or your father, there will be no more illusions for you.” The Djinni dragged the boy from the ground and stood him on his feet, dusting the grass from his clothes. “There are worse things in the Abyss than fire.”
Bari Caleb was still crying. He could barely breathe.
“Ho, Lemarik!” Lucio’s voice drifted across the meadow to them.
The Djinni turned about and waved to the Knight of the Golden Eagle.
“Remember what I have said,” he warned the boy and then swayed across the meadow toward Lucio and his son, Vanni.
Bari Caleb followed after his grandfather more slowly while Vanni remained very close to his father, keeping a wary eye on the older boy who had somehow changed his name from Joel to Bari. Vanni didn't understand this at all.
(((((((((((((
“Are you sure they were here?” Jozsef Daniel asked as he scouted around the clearing surrounded by a thick growth of palm trees.
“Quite sure, Your Eminence,” Schweikert answered from the other side of the clearing where he knelt on one knee running his hand over the dark earth.
“I should have sensed them.” Jozsef frowned. “They are gone?”
“Yes.” The General stood up. “The trail is cold as they say. Two days perhaps.”
“What did they have in mind, I wonder?” Jozsef pressed his thumb against his lower lip and then tapped his lower teeth with his thumbnail. Something that both Jozsef Daniel and John Paul had done when they had been thinking. Something that both Luke Matthew and Mark Andrew still did.
They were disturbed by the approach of a young woman walking down the jungle path with a large woven basket sitting on her shoulder. She wore a simple white dress, her feet were bare and her hair was covered by a white scarf. She froze when she saw them and then dropped the basket to the ground, spilling out two white roosters with broken necks and a number of other trinkets and bottles. She grabbed her skirt in both hands looked left and then right with wide eyes and took three running steps into the undergrowth.
Jozsef held up one hand casually as if to wave at her and she stopped in her tracks.
He walked slowly across the small clearing in the forest and circled the woman, looking her up and down as if appraising her value. She stared straight ahead, blinking slowly.
“What do you think?” Jozsef asked and raised both dark brows at his companion.
“She is very nice,” Schweikert answered though he had no idea what Jozsef Daniel meant. “Clean. Very clean.” She smelled like soap and flowers.
“She is Voodoo.” Jozsef’s smile faded.
“Sir?” The General frowned as well.
“They worship a pathetic pantheon of petty creatures. And for what? Personal gratification. They offer gifts fit for dogs. Chicken blood and feathers! They disgust me!” Jozsef leaned very close to the woman and her lower jaw began to tremble as a high-pitched, barely audible keening noise began to issue from her lips. Her large, dark eyes flashed back and forth in terror, but her head did not move, her eyelids did not blink.
Jozsef stood in front of her and looked into her eyes. She tried to look up and down and everywhere except his face. He laid two fingers on her lips and she locked eyes with him. “And for what? To be possessed for a short time by their Orishas? Their pitiful gods who would grant them good fortune, good health and good luck for a brief chance to dance about in frenzied human form? What would you give for real magick, my love?” he asked the woman and she stopped screeching. “What would you sacrifice to a real god? Would you give your soul? Your life? Your own blood?”
Her breathing slowed and she relaxed somewhat.
Jozsef reached down and picked up one of the bottles. He pulled the cork and sniffed the contents. Aguardiente. She was either coming or going to a ceremony somewhere in these woods. Her pristinely clean, white dress would indicate that she was going rather than coming. Jozsef poured most of the liquid onto the ground at her feet and then took the last bit in his mouth. He sprayed a fine mist in her face and she flinched as the cool liquid caused goosebumps to rise on her arms.
“Give me your knife, Abaddon,” he said and held out his left hand.
The woman was shaking all over as he took her left wrist in his right hand and made a slice across the meaty part of her hand below her thumb. He gave the knife back to the general and then held the neck of the bottle under the wound to catch the blood. When he had several ounces of her blood in the bottle, he spit in the bottle and then shook it in front of her face. The bottle filled with a foamy red fluid.
“There you go, my love!” he told her as he pushed the cork back in the bottle. “Use that.”
The woman took the bottle in trembling hands and then broke away from them. She gathered her spilled accouterments into her basket quickly, picked it up and ran away from them, stumbling and falling more than once before disappearing into the trees.
“Why did you do that?” the General asked him as they started back up the path to the citadel.
“They need a wake up call, my friend.” Jozsef laughed. “Let’s see who wakes up!”
(((((((((((((
Omar pushed Bari Caleb toward the living room door.
Merry and Luke Matthew were in the living room with Ruth trying to comfort her. They had managed to calm her down enough to drink a cup of hot tea. After a quick conference in Luke’s kitchen, the Mark Andrew had agreed with Lemarik that Bari should visit with her again. Luke opened the door and stepped into the foyer. Merry followed him out reluctantly as Omar shoved Bari further into the room. Ruth sat stiffly in a wingback chair near the hearth. Her face was very pale and the scratches she had inflicted on her skin were very visible though Merry had applied first aid cream to them and combed her hair. Her eyes were rimmed red from crying and her eyelids were puffy. She looked at them fearfully.
“Mother,” Bari said quietly and held out one hand in front of him. “I am sorry that I upset you. I didn’t mean to… upset you.”
Ruth said nothing, but looked at him as if he were a monster from hell.
“Ruth,” Omar said quietly. He knelt beside the chair and took her hand in his. “Please give him a chance. He is very confused right now.”
Ruth continued to stare at the boy without speaking. He dropped his hand to his side and smiled slightly at her.
“You are a very beautiful woman,” he said. “Anyone would be proud to call you Mother.”
She blinked at him and then narrowed her eyes.
“I would ask you to forgive me. I was afraid,” he said and a tear ran from his right eye. “I was afraid that you would think
I was a monster. I know that I am not like other boys. I was afraid that you would not love me.”
“Ruth. He is confused. He doesn’t understand,” Omar pleaded with her. “Until a few weeks ago, he thought he was an orphan. He thought we were dead. Surely you can understand. This is probably harder for him than us! We know things that he does not know. He simply needs some time. He needs loving care and parents who would watch over him and answer his questions. Allay his fears and let him know that they love him in spite of his differences. He is very special, Ruth! And you are very special to me. I love you, Ruth.”
“Grandfather has explained much to me,” Bari told her and knelt in front of her. “I need time as my father says. Give me a chance. Forgive me?”
Ruth bit her bottom lip and reached for his hand.
“Bari?” she frowned as she whispered his name.
“Yes.” He nodded. He had rejected this name at first, telling them that his name was Joel Isaac Grenoble.
“I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes.
“No!” Bari shook his head. “I was wrong. I should have been glad to find my parents. I don’t want to be an orphan!” He was crying now, shedding copious tears.
“Will you give him a chance?” Omar asked his wife. “We can go home now if you say so. When we have gotten to know each other better, things will be wonderful! I promise this to you on my life. We’ll go wherever you like. Do whatever you want.”
“Sicily,” she whispered. “I’d like to see Sicily this time of year.”
“Sicily it is, then!” Omar smiled. “Have you ever been to Sicily, Bari?”
“No, Father. Where is it?” he asked and brushed away his tears.
“It is my home.” His mother looked at him sadly. “It was my home a long time ago, I mean.”
“I would love to see the home of my mother’s family,” Bari told her and kissed the back of her hand. “I would be honored.”
Ruth burst into a new round of tears and the boy got up as Omar pulled her from the chair. The father, mother and son stood holding each other closely, weeping and kissing each other repeatedly. Bari looked over his mother’s shoulder at his grandfather. The mighty Djinni stood near the fireplace with his arms crossed over his chest, patting one foot in aggravation. He knew very well the insincerity in the boy's words.
(((((((((((((
“What did you do?”
Mark Andrew had pulled Lemarik aside and into the small bathroom under Luke’s staircase as soon as he’d emerged from the sitting room.
“When?” his strangely clad son asked him and looked into his eyes from first one dark eye and then the other.
“You know what I mean!” Mark Andrew snapped at him.
“Adar! You are being rude!” Lemarik shook one long finger in his father’s face. He squeezed past the Knight of Death and lifted a tiny ornate jar of colorful soap cakes shaped like leaves from one of the shelves above the toilet.
“Something is amiss with that boy and you know it.” Mark Andrew turned around in the confines of the slanted enclosure. “Now what did you do? Why did he upset his mother so badly that she would tear out her own hair?!”
“He is… confused.” Lemarik took out a purple soap flower and held it to his nose. “Oooh. Ahhhh. This is quite refreshing. What is the significance of the shape?”
“It’s nothing! Just decoration,” Mark Andrew told him in frustration.
Lemarik turned on the hot water faucet in the lavatory and held the soap under the water, allowing it to dissolve on his fingers. A flowery fragrance filled the small space.
“Wud ye stop playin’ with thot and listen to me?” Mark Andrew looked over his son’s shoulder as the soap fizzed and then ran down the drain.
“I am listening to you, Father. You are speaking directly in my ear,” Lemarik told him as he lathered the soap on his hands.
“Tell me about Bari. What is wrong with him? Has he been affected by the creature?”
“He is precocious. He has need of a strong father figure. My son, Omar, will see to his care and I will assist him.” Lemarik held up his hands and frowned at the bubbles. “Oh. I thought that they would be purple.”
“Nay! Soap is soap!” Mark Andrew shook his head and sighed.
Lemarik frowned at the lather and it turned bright purple on his hands. He waved one hand over the jar and then smiled.
“There! Now that is decorative.” He nodded to himself. The Djinni held his hands under the water and rinsed off the bubbles.
“Will he be going back to Haiti?” Mark Andrew asked him.
The Djinni’s hands came away dry from the water and he looked closely at himself in the mirror.
“I am a handsome devil, don’t you think, Father?” Lemarik smiled at his reflection in the glass.
“Ye’re bloomin’ lovely,” Mark Andrew growled at him. “Now answer me question!”
“He will not be going back any time soon.” Lemarik turned around and they were almost face to face, noses touching. “He has this distraction to keep him occupied for a time and he has business in New Babylon that cannot be put off. He will be busy for a time. It is very small in here, Adar! It reminds me of a very bad place.”
Mark reached for the door knob behind him and they emerged into the hall. The fresh scent produced by the soap followed them. Simon and Little Barry turned to look at them in surprise.
“So!” Simon smiled at them. “How are the facilities? A bit cramped?”
Mark Andrew gave him a wry smile before walking away toward the kitchen. They had missed their flight to New York. Someone would have to arrange new reservations. Great! Mark continued through the kitchen grumbling to himself. He left without speaking to anyone else in the house.
As Mark was turning Luke Andrew’s Mercedes around in the drive, he saw Luke Andrew running toward him from the garage where he had tethered one of the horses, waving frantically for him to stop. At least Omar would not be pursuing his foolhardy plan to confront Jozsef Daniel just now. It would take much more than one angry Prophet and one vengeful wife to undo that one. Even if they were superpowers in and of themselves. He put on the brakes and Luke climbed inside with him.
“Levi is here!” Luke told him breathlessly as he brushed his hair from his face.
“Ahhh.” Mark Andrew put the car in park. “Then you should go on and tell Simon and Simeon. They’ll want to know.”
“Have you seen Levi?” Luke frowned at him.
“Of course. Levi James. Simon’s…. what? Seventh or eighth son? I’ve seen them all.” Mark Andrew sighed tiredly.
“How long ago?” Luke asked him.
“I don’t know. Ye’d best get on now!” Mark told him in aggravation. “I need t’ speak t’ Konrad. We missed our plane. ’e’ll ’ave t’ make new arrangements.”
Luke got out of the car and loped off toward the house. Mark sat for a few seconds, watching him go. He seemed much calmer now. Konrad must have explained things to him very well. Probably much better than he could have done.
“Levi,” Mark repeated the name quietly.
He smiled to himself. He’d not seen him since he was a young boy when they had lived on St. Simon’s together. He’d seen more of Izzy, Philip and Zeb. He could barely tell them apart now that they were older, but they had been an inseparable trio. Barry had complained often of their propensity for practical jokes. But Levi and the younger boys had not been as visible around Scotland as their older brothers. A slight frown crinkled his brow as he wondered about Luke Andrew’s cryptic question. Have you seen Levi? Have you seen Levi? What was wrong with Levi?
He put the car in drive, pushed on the gas pedal and hurried toward home. He wanted to get a look at Levi before he was surrounded by the rest of his family and especially his grandfather, Edgard d’Brouchart. The sun was sinking beyond the meadows as he pulled Luke’s car into the space in front of his house. He was still astounded to see the changes that had taken place around his old house. The gate was s
till intact near the highway, but it was now opened at all times. There was no longer any need for guards. Their enemies would not be coming up the drive these days. The paved parking lot with designated parking spaces for each of the Knights and other utility vehicles irritated him immensely and made the house look more like a hotel or a business establishment. If time permitted him, he made a mental note to have the thing torn out and replaced with a standard drive and maybe some flowerbeds. Replace the car park with a garage somewhere out of sight, perhaps. A black Volvo compact was parked in one of the non-designated spaces reserved for what… guests? He’d never figured it all out. He parked Luke’s car in Armand’s space. Armand was very unlikely to arrive any time soon.
He got out and hurried up the steps. Levi was in the library with Konrad. Gil had brought them tea and they were sitting in the two recliners in front of the hearth. They both stood up when he opened the door.
“Levi?” Mark Andrew approached the young man cautiously.
“Sir Ramsay.” Levi held out his hand and Mark Andrew took it, resisting the urge to clasp it in both of his own. His eyes locked on the clearest, deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. Levi dwarfed his brothers by at least six inches. He was even taller than Konrad and he was built like Louis Champlain! Mark’s hand was lost in the man’s grip. His voice was very deep, smooth and tinged slightly with the vestiges of an Italian accent from his upbringing in Italy.
“By the Saints!” Mark broke into a genuine smile. “How long has it been?” He wrapped both arms around the ‘boy’ as far as he could reach.
“Ten years,” Levi told him and returned the hug. “Give or take, Uncle.”
Mark backed away from him and looked him up and down in wonder. “Looks loike ye’ve been takin’ more than givin’! I can ’ardly b’lieve ye t’ be a son of Simon d'Ornan. Did ye ’ave a gud trip down?”
Thoth, the Atlantean Page 12
