“She is not yet married, you know. And neither is she betrothed to anyone,” Abimelech said with a mischievous grin.
Shi’mon, being as impulsive as always, ran after her. When he caught up with them, he apologized to her mother for his rudeness and turned towards the young maiden.
“I forgot to ask your name, almah,” he said. Her smile grew even brighter.
“My name is Rania,” she replied.
A year-and-a-half later, Shi’mon and Rania got married.
Shi’mon rounded took corner by the hill. He saw the Master perched on the pier about two hundred meters away and waved. Yeshua saw him and waved back. Yeshua remembered the day he had met Shi’mon. Shi’mon had just pulled up to the shore and, together with Andrew and Shi’mon’s men, they had started unloading the boats. It had been a terrible day and only one boat had a few fish in it. Yeshua appreciated Shi’mon’s leadership skills. He was determined, focused and well-liked, personally making sure everything was done right. Yeshua had walked up to him and greeted him.
“Hello Shi’mon, you seem to be having a little trouble with the catch today.”
“It is frustrating, sir,” Shi’mon replied. “The last two days have been terrible!”
“How about you cast your nets further east? I think you will have a better catch. I know you just came from there, but if you go further inwards about a quarter of a kilometer, you will not regret it,” Yeshua said calmly.
Shi’mon did not know why but he set out with his men once again and did as the stranger had instructed. Behold, they caught so much fish that their nets almost tore open and all four boats nearly sank from the weight of the catch. As soon as they returned to shore, Shi’mon jumped out of his boat into the water, ran towards Yeshua and dropped to his knees.
“How did you know, sir?” he asked in awe and respect.
Yeshua smiled at him and asked, “How would you like to be a fisher of men?”
Shi’mon stood up, turned around and gave instructions to his next-in-command, letting him know that he would have to oversee the business for the next few days.
He then returned his attention to Yeshua and said, “Wherever you go, I go, Master!”
The Master nodded and said, “That is your brother, Andrew, correct?”
“Yes, Master,” Shi’mon replied.
Shi’mon did not even wonder how the Master knew his name, Andrew’s name or even that Andrew was his brother.
“Bid him join us!” the Master said.
From that day onwards, Shi’mon and Andrew became two of the Master’s apprentices.
Shi’mon greeted the Master and sat next to him on the pier. It was close to the eleventh hour, and the sun was already heading for its usual spot behind the hills, from their vantage point. The Master returned his greeting.
“How is Rania doing?” asked the Master. “Are you two still undecided on what name to give your baby girl?”
“So, it IS going to be a girl!” exclaimed Shi’mon. “That settles the name dispute then!” he chuckled. “We will call her Ruth, after my mother.”
“That is a very beautiful name, Shi’mon,” replied the Master. “She-,” he cut himself off as if realizing what he might say may not be welcome at this moment.
But then he changed his mind.
“She will be a very beautiful child, and her beauty will surely come from her mother.” The Master grinned broadly.
“Hey!” protested Shi’mon. “What are you trying to say, Master?” Shi’mon was also smiling, relishing the fact that he could take a joke these days without getting easily offended like he used to be.
“I am just saying,” the Master continued, “that it would be better if she does not get any of her looks from you.”
Both men roared with laughter. When the laughter died, the men dove straight to business.
“So, Master, you asked to see me. Is everything alright?” Shi’mon asked.
“Yes, Shi’mon, everything is alright. I just wanted to discuss something with you.” Yeshua had Shi’mon full attention. “Do you recall the day I asked you and your brothers who the people say I am and do you remember your answer?”
“Yes, Master, I do.”
“And do you remember what I said after that?”
“Yes, I do, Master.”
“I have strong reasons for calling you Cephas. You are a man of great impulse and strength, as well as intuition. The day I first called you and Andrew, your immediate response was to get up and follow me. You did not know who I was or whence I came. Yet, you were willing to follow me. I saw how you led your men. Leadership comes naturally to you. And in the short time I have known you, you have also evolved a lot. I see how your eyes light up at the mention of Rania and how you get serious when it is time for business. I truly admire your courage and passion. No other apprentice of mine’s leadership skills matches yours.”
“Thank you for your generous words, Master,” Shi’mon said gratefully. “I will lead the group and will not disappoint you. You will see.”
“I trust you will be a great leader, brother. But that is not why I asked you to come today. It is no secret that one of you will betray me!”
“And I will make him pay, Master!” Shi’mon spat. “By Yahweh’s name, he will pay!”
“You are also aware that the time will come when you will forsake me and run away, right?” said Yeshua, turning sideways to look at Shi’mon in the eyes. “As a matter of fact, you will deny me not once, not twice but three times.”
“I beg of you, Master,” Shi’mon said, “please do not speak as if you have been possessed by an evil spirit. I will never leave you nor forsake you, Master. I will be with you till the very end, and you know that!”
“Which brings me to the other side of you, Shi’mon,” continued the Master calmly. “Your arrogance and stubbornness are your weakest points-”
“But, Master-”
“AND confrontational,” added Yeshua, holding up a finger. “You see, brother, I am not telling you these things because I want to judge you or make you feel bad. I am bringing this to your attention now because you denying me in the near future will play a very vital role in the fate of this realm.”
He gave Shi’mon a moment to think about this.
“You see, everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, good or evil, has a purpose. There will come a time when you will have to have to use your ‘good’ traits and your ‘bad’ traits and when those times come, these traits will serve a purpose. I am not asking you change. I am asking you to understand that these traits exist for a reason and rather than fight them, you could accept them. The main thing is not to let them control you. You will have no teacher greater than yourself. You are your one and only true master. I am but an aide in your path to self-awareness. Do not fight yourself, do not resist yourself and certainly do not get attached to yourself.”
“I do not understand, Master,” Shi’mon said quietly.
“I know you do not understand, brother,” continued Yeshua in a reassuring tone. “But in due time, you will. That is part of the reason why I am here; to teach you, guide you and to prepare you for what you will go through for a long time. The fate of this realm and beyond will depend on what you do now and what you will do soon. You are a part of the whole painting, but I cannot help you fulfill this purpose unless you accept it of your own free will.”
He paused again to allow Shi’mon a moment to absorb what he, Shi’mon, had just heard. Then he placed his right hand on Shi’mon’s left shoulder and asked calmly but firmly.
“Shi’mon Cephas, will you accept this path?”
And even though there was uncertainty in Shi’mon’s heart, he did the only thing he felt was the right thing to do.
“Yes, Master,” he finally said, “I accept.”
The Master smiled and squeezed his left shoulder.
“I knew I could count on you, brother. Thank you. And now, just so you know, before you embark on this journey, there will come a time whe
n you will have to lose something really important to you.”
Shi’mon whipped his head around to face the Master. The look of horror on his face could rend a heart asunder.
“No!” he gasped. “Not my Rania! Not our child! No!”
“Calm down, brother!” Yeshua said and smiled “I was not referring to your family.”
Shi’mon let out a sigh of relief.
“What will I have to lose then?” Shi’mon asked.
Yeshua grinned before saying, “Your soul!”
CHAPTER FIVE: C. E. 1938
It was March, and outside was a drenching onslaught. The stranger walked into the tavern. Heads turned in his direction, more out of second nature than anything else. But none noticed how dry his clothes were. He was dressed in all black, which was his favorite color; from his hat, shirt, pants, boots and overcoat. He removed his hat and walked to the bar as he ran his fingers through his hair. He placed his hat on the bar, removed his overcoat and placed his overcoat on his lap as he made himself as comfortable on the wooden bar stool. As flattering as it was, he ignored the visual assaults of flirtations and jealousy aimed at him from various corners of the tavern.
“Your strongest stuff, please,” he said to the bartender.
The bartender nodded and poured the stranger a drink. He nodded his thanks at the bartender and took a sip of the blessed nectar. He held the burning heat of nature’s elixir for a few seconds. The liquor coursed down his gullet and into his gut, numbing everything in its path. Humans! He thought as he let out the liquor’s heat through his nostrils. They were getting worse by the day! Anyway, the evolution of the species was not his current prerogative at the moment. Tonight, he had bigger fish to fry, and that fish could be anything from dealing with a carcinogen to the realm, to just staying alive. He kissed his glass again and savored at its sanctifying contents as it coursed its way to his stomach walls. So far, he was doing a great job.
“What a waste!” said a young lady in her late twenties in a very distinct London accent.
She placed her right hand gently on his right shoulder and let it slide slowly across his back and down his left arm. She had short brown hair and green eyes and a voluptuous physique. On heels, she was about one-point-seven meters tall, and she smiled to expose clean, well-shaped teeth.
“Oh dear, you feel even stronger than you look,” she said, eyeing the man seductively from head to toe. “Would you like some company? I could use some company!”
“Thanks,” the man replied curtly without looking at her. “But I’m good.”
“Say, how about you be a good bloke and buy me a drink, aye?” she winked and leaned against him for support.
“I’m waiting for someone, miss,” he replied flatly.
“I’m sure your companion won’t mind if the three of us had a party, would she? Or he?” she added with an inflection.
“As appealing as it sounds, this is one party you don’t want to be of,” the man said and took another swig.
“Why not?” she whined and made a sad face. “I’m in the mood for a party… with you, mister!”
“Let’s see what she has to say,” said the man as he gestured to his right.
The drunken damsel turned her attention towards the door as a lady walked into the bar. She had on a pair of black, tight-fitting jeans, a black sleeveless blouse underneath a black leather jacket and a black pair of boots hit the floor as she strode towards the man at the bar. Long, black hair flowed down to her scapulae. She had an exquisite, athletic physique to compliment her do-not-mess-with-me look, which was enough distraction for everyone in the tavern. She, too, was as dry as a bone, despite the downpour outside. But no one noticed. The lady sat next to the stranger, ignoring the cat calls, head-turns, and jealous looks that stabbed at her from every direction. She shook her head at the bartender who was already making his way towards the lady to take the lady’s order.
“Friend of yours?” she asked the stranger rhetorically, referring to the drunken damsel
“No concern of yours!” he replied firmly, but quietly.
“My name is Amanda,” the drunken damsel said.
“Alright, Amanda, why don’t you go home now? When this private party is over, maybe you and I could have a party of our own?” the stranger offered, faking a seductive smile.
Amanda swallowed, suddenly realizing how parched her throat was.
“O- ok,” she stammered.
She turned around to leave and then stopped.
“But how will you find me?” she asked.
“I know where you live, Amanda,” he said as he turned to hold Amanda’s gaze.
A few seconds later, Amanda left the tavern and walked into the storming night, with neither a memory of where she had just come from nor what had just transpired in the last few minutes. All she could think of was going home to sleep.
“So, how do you want to do this?” he asked the woman sitting next to him in a cold tone.
“There’s a park about three kilometers from here,” she replied in a similar tone. “We can have our party over there.”
“How many of you this time?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Forty-eight,” she replied.
“Twelve more from the last time,” he said and nodded at the bartender.
The bartender refilled the stranger’s glass.
“And how many are dogs this time?” he spat out the words with disdain.
He could feel her red, hot anger and her pupils flashed.
“Stop calling us that!” she growled each word through clenched fangs only loudly enough for him to hear.
But suddenly, he smoothly grabbed her by the back of her neck and kissed her hard on the lips. She was taken aback at first and then, realizing what he was trying to do, she gave in and kissed him fiercely back; not necessarily because she wanted to. Their unexpected behavior made a few heads turn, and a few whistles erupted from various corners in the bar.
“This is not you,” he said calmly, as he let her go and finished his drink in one swig. “You shouldn’t let your anger get the better of your like that, especially in public!”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Thank you… for stopping me.”
“It’s alright,” he said, and after a few heartbeats, he looked up into her eyes and said, “Tonight the end begins?”
“Tonight, both sides win,” she replied as she slid off her seat and headed for the door.
“Sasha!” he called out to her.
She stopped without turning to face him. She knew what he was going to say next even before he said it.
“It’s okay,” she spoke quietly. “I told you already that I don’t blame you anymore. See you soon,” she added and then walked out of the tavern and disappeared into the night.
He gave Sasha a six-minute head start before stepping out into the dimly lit streets of London. It had stopped pouring, but the last of the rain clouds made it a mission to blanket out the moon. The stranger contemplated his options as he walked casually along the wet streets; to run or to teleport. He decided he would run; not that he felt like he needed to, but more like it reminded him of whatever the last aspect of humanity he had left in him. But even what he called ‘running’ was more like a zip that was too fast for a human eye to observe sometimes. He sighed audibly. Being soulless sucked, despite its many perks.
They increased the number of guests this time around. Interesting! He thought as he zipped towards his destination. It was just another night in the city. Under the cover of darkness, with blokes brawling, fancy ladies purveying erotic pleasures to paying participants in dark corners, beggars and homeless people reaching out for a coin or two amongst other things, the pickpocketing and purse snatching, everything else seemed normal and quiet. At least, THEY were human. At least THEY still had their souls, even though a good number of them lived as if they had none.
It was interesting how words came to pass, especially words spoken by someone special. Over the years, he had made man
y enemies, and his arch nemesis had even gone as far as to set up a special task force with orders to, ‘to locate and subdue him by every means necessary.’ After all, the stranger was the most wanted man in the underworld. It was a title that made him feel both good and bad at the same time. His arch nemesis had ordered that he be caught, alive though. His arch nemesis wanted the pleasure of looking at him in the eye before keeping his promise. Vengeance was the word of the lifetime and in their line of work, a lifetime so far had translated to two millennia.
However, the other group of enemies had different orders. Their leaders, The Twins, just wanted was some of his blood. His blood, in their opinion, held the key to the next phase of their evolution. And he did not have to be alive for these creatures to see their mission through. There had been several parties before and tonight would just be another party. Yes, another one! The more the number of soulless creatures, the merrier! The soulless ones had tried, and the soulless ones had failed. Tonight, in a few minutes, the stranger intended to make a repeat of history.
The stranger arrived at the party location. As if by some poetry of night, the clouds parted to let the moonlight wash across the park. Pairs of eyes glowed randomly between the dark spaces and thickets in front of him and low growls emanated from many throats. A dark silhouette zipped past him to his left and another to his right. Lupers! Creatures with lycanthropic propensities, oscillating between human and canine. Chupers maintained their human form. Lupers and chupers had similar weaknesses; silver and ultraviolet light. Decapitation also did the job and was more satisfactory. Chupers and lupers fed on blood and flesh, human or animal, were soulless creatures of the night, and were collectively called The Bright Eyes.
Sasha walked into the open to face him. She was a luper, but she maintained her human form for the moment. It was impressive how fast she had risen among their ranks to become a squadron leader. She held the stranger’s gaze as two veils of mist formed in the stranger’s hands to coalesce into double-edged daggers, with seven-inch, silver blades. The stranger had opted for a close fight instead of partying through other means. It gave him an intense rush but mostly, for every Bright Eye he beheaded, he felt a tinge closer to redemption and to reclaiming his soul. True or not, this notion was motivation enough for him. Sasha gave the attack order!
The Bright Eyes (The Soulless Ones Book 1) Page 4
