Sirens of DemiMonde

by N. Godwin

  “She is the Messiah’s mother and yet too much of her history has been hidden from us and buried over time by edict or the torching of churches and their original doctrine. For the mother of the most famous man in all history, we know too little about her. The Bible has contradictory accounts and can’t even agree whether or not she had other children or was still a virgin at her death? They’re not even certain when and where she died, or where she took the Magdalene after Jesus’ crucifixion? How is this possible?”

  “Maybe she had to be a mystery to survive,” I offer with a shrug.

  “Perhaps.”

  Rawly moves us over to another of his priceless artifact. “This is Krishna. Krishna is naughty. He plays practical jokes and pranks on the innocent. Women are his favorite sport. He loves dallying with milkmaids. And he dallies prolifically. There is tale after tale of mortal men waging war against Krishna to get back the women they loved.”

  “And they lost, of course.”

  “Actually, Krishna met his match on numerous occasions and was continually killed by a mortal, sometimes even by a woman who found Krishna’s vulnerability. Fascinating stuff, the Hubris of the gods, I mean,” he whispers in my ear. “Krishna liked to tease his virgins before forcing them to succumb. He was known to play with them for years, sometimes leaving her erotic pictures of positions that pleased him most. He liked his virgins educated,” he tells me as he steps back slightly and watches me while I study Krishna’s insatiable expression.

  “The Radha-Krishna explains in written verse how to employ a sexual liaison with the gods. Its ancient dialect is sensually stunning. It teaches certain women the ancient secrets to pleasing the gods. Krishna likes to bathe and anoint his woman, then dress her before seducing her.”

  “You don’t find your present tense the least bit blasphemous?” I ask with disgust.

  “History is often blasphemous, Helen. The Shamans in the eastern Chou region of China took their chosen virgins, bathed and oiled them down to each and every orifice, dressed them in silken costumes, then took them to their temples where they were made to dance and sing in an elaborate courtship ritual, inviting the gods to descend into erotic sexual intercourse.

  “The rites described in the Nine Songs are ripe with verse upon verse of mortal women claimed by the gods. Its poetry is exquisite and exceptionally sensual.”

  “But this, all this,” I say pointing to his relics as I turn and face him, “is all fiction, mere myth.”

  Rawly tilts his head and studies my eyes. “And what is myth? It’s the stories passed down from father to son around the campfire, long before there was the written word, throughout the generations; edited, elaborated, and edified throughout posterity. We all have our favorites. Would you like to hear one of mine?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw the daughters were beautiful and they took them as wives such as they chose.”

  “What is that?” I ask because it’s familiar to me, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.

  “The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterwards, and that is when the sons of God came into the daughters of man, and they conceived and bare the giants of old, warriors of great stature and renown. Genesis 6:1-4,” Rawly says and looks at me oddly as he waits for my reaction.

  There is a sudden chill tickling down my back and I hug my arms into my chest and take a step backwards. “You’re purposefully misconstruing the Bible. That was in reference to what was purged by the great flood. The Bible is showing--”

  “It isn’t only in the Bible, Helen. Tales of this mythical race exist in virtually every ancient religion on the face of the earth. Marriages of the gods to mortal women frequently occurred and abounded in ancient literature.”

  “Will you please just come out and tell me what you’re trying to say.”

  “I’m telling you you’re being stalked. That’s always a shared common denominator.”

  “Me, stalked? Who could ever do such a thing?”

  “You should also know that your God has been meticulously hidden from you behind a smoke screen. You have been duped into believing one thing when it’s really altogether another. You can also thank your church for that one.

  “Oh, God may want to communicate with you, but you’re not being stalked by Him. You’re being stalked by something else altogether different, something that is purposefully interfering with your connection. You’re battling against a most fundamental evil, a very primal force that requires keeping you submissive.”

  “Whatever!” I groan and rub my temples against the blinding glare in my eyes.

  “Listen to me!” he suddenly roars. He is still as he covers his face with his palms and wipes down his face. “At the very least just consider what if.”

  I can’t seem to stop my head from spinning because his words are ricocheting around in my mind. I can’t get them out of my head and they begin to take root no matter how hard I try to clear my mind.

  What if, he said? What if it isn’t my God who torments me, after all? What if it’s something else; something dark and evil and all dressed up in sheep’s clothing, just like Rawly? He said I’ve been duped, tricked into believing something by my church that wasn’t true…

  Well, duh! I learned that long ago, but I’d assumed that was what kept the evil at bay… Rawly said God is being blocked by an evil and primal force trying to trick me into believing it’s my God. And, God help me, but what if…what if he’s right? What if it isn’t really God who wants me to do all this nonsense? Why would God need me to kill anyone? It just isn’t logical to me! So, there, I’ve thought it!

  What if?

  Am I really listening to this madness? Yes, but it’s the fact that I’m seriously considering it that proves I’m utterly daft. How can I entertain anything this demon says? He’s the one trying to trick me because he wants to put his hands all over me!

  And yet, thinking back now, haven’t I been suspicious and confused, frightened by that unspeakable lingering dread; wasn’t that what the icky feeling in the pit of my gut has been trying to whisper in my ear? But I refuse to listen…

  STOP! This is dangerous!

  But what if I’ve been lied to and mislead from that dreaded night even more than I’d realized? I am gullible, after all, and naïve, and not the sharpest tool in the shed, I reason counting down my cons on my fingers.

  “Go on,” I finally whisper, biting my bottom lip until I wince.

  “You’re being hunted by something all together different, Helen, and I’m here to show you the way out. I need to clear the path to where you need to go. But, don’t worry, I’ve got your six covered, Helen,” he leans down to speak in my ear, “and, baby-girl, you’re in dire need of my services. See, I believe one of the gods might have handpicked you to dally with, in various and sundry ways.”

  “Aw, sweet Jesus,” I sigh and cover my face in my hands. “Of course you do.”

  “Understand that he needs to keep you silent and subservient, like he always has, to keep you distracted from your true objective,” Rawly allows staring carefully at my face.

  “My true objective?”

  “Ooh yes, baby-girl, the one you probably haven’t even realized yet yourself because you’re so busy putting out fires. Remember, you’re being duped by a master. But he’s made a huge miscalculation this time around. You see, he wasn’t planning on me.”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m not going to listen to you!” I shout instead and cover my ears again and begin humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic.

  None of this is true, I tell myself. None of this is true! Rawly is cunning and crafty and will stop at nothing to win his true objective! None of this is true! I hum louder as he rambles on more of his nonsense.

  “Get thee behind me, Satan!” I point at him and shout. “I am not a total weirdo!” I declare as I stomp my
foot and hum even louder, but my insistence ends on a whine because I realize I am stomping and humming and covering my ears, wondering how in the world I could ever kill this horny beast if I have to, especially dressed in a cheeky red Speedo, in the middle of nowhere, headed nowhere, with a demon who claims to be my guardian angel; so, yes, yes, I am an absolute weirdo. And this beast or nut-job, I haven’t decided which yet, or both, knows this and is using it to his advantage, and this makes me furious!

  “I know you’ve dreamed up this whole elaborate scheme just to seduce me! You are willing to go the distance, I’ll give you that, but all this for me is a-- No-- wait; this is always your M.O., isn’t it! My God, how many women have fallen victim to these lies before?”

  “The tribal Indians believe God comes in splinters, like the wind, the rain, the ripple of leaves,” he says. “Isn’t it fascinating how modern man’s concept of their god is one dimensional, monolithic and childlike, especially when God is forever multi-faceted and infinite, brother to the universe itself?”

  “You’re saying there are multiple gods, not just one? That’s blasphemous and immoral and I won’t listen!” I start humming again.

  “First you must identify your correct enemy because the gods are tricky creatures capable of evolving into many different shapes,” he shouts above me. “Remember when Jesus first met Mary Magdalene? He had to cast seven demons off her, not out of her, but off her.”

  “You’re saying all this to try and trick me!”

  He forces my hands down from my ears and earnestly meets my eyes. “Trust me, baby; I’ve been places you can’t imagine. Seen things not meant for the human consumption. I’ve study this phenomena and seen the unbelievable firsthand. You need to hear about them.” I turn my back on him. “It fits, all of it fits, the singing, the beauty, the fear of being touched by human hands. Every period in history has case after case of these women ghosted by the gods; women capable of great things, women history has silenced and jealously hidden away behind ivory towers veiled in subterfuge and lies. Women just like you, Helen.

  “You see, men are organically incapable of sharing their beautiful treasures. We’re selfish that way,” he muses. “You need to face your enemy, Babygirl. You need to take the helm and change course.”

  “How would you suggest?” I ask skeptically.

  “There are several options I’d recommend first. Getting out of plain sight is one; working on your strategy is another. Educate yourself on which demon or demigod it is is another obvious choice, too, then find his weakness, although I’m closing in on that one.” He catches my eyes on his face and he continues with a serious nod while the corner of his mouth curls into a dark smile, “Of course, I’d seriously entertain dealing with your pesky virginity ASAP, that might help temper his mood and buy us time,” Rawly stops and laughs to himself lost in thought, “and I know just the man crazy enough to take that one on,” he allows with a chuckle and a wink. He notices my expression and laughs harder. “I know you think that sounds expedient on my part but there are a lot of hidden dangers you know not--”

  “You know what’s even creepier than you being really good at this charade?” I ask him as I begin to chuckle. “I think what’s even scariest is that you might actually believe this.”

  “I think I’m the least scary option you’ve got, baby.”

  “I think you were born a few thousand years too late!”

  “Perhaps,” he muses with a cold smile as he narrows his eyes. “Even a hundred years ago I simply would have bedded you and not given a good damn about your opinion.”

  “There is only one God!”

  “Fine, have it your way, Helen. Then God has sexual designs on you.”

  “That’s blasphemy!”

  “Yes,” he says with a careless smile. “But I believe that’s been your secret fear all along, hasn’t it?”

  I grow quiet in sober reflection, amazed and angered over how much detail he seems to know about me! How could he know about the secret dread imbedded so deeply inside me I’ve even feared naming it? There is no humanly possible way. Unless—

  You told me to be still and listen for 6. You told me, of this much I am sure… Why? Is this what You want me to hear? What if, Rawly’s is somehow not completely full of it and trying to trick me? What if he’s right and this has all played out before, over and over? I steal a sideways glance at Rawly and wonder what if--

  Then, the obvious hits me like a sledgehammer.

  “Oh my God!” I say taking a giant step back away from him. “That’s what all this nonsense is about? This is the real reason why you want me so desperately! You think I’m a milkmaid! You think I’m a part of your stupid art collection!”

  “No,” he says shaking his head firmly, “you’re not a milkmaid, I think you’re a saint in training, baby.”

  “Shut up!” I scream and take another step back, and stumble roughly against a chair. As I fall, Rawly swoops down and catches me by my shoulders, picking me up off the ground and suspending me in the air before him. We are eye to eye and his black eyes look angry.

  “Did you really think it was by chance that we can here to train and field test new equipment, Helen? Hardly, I’d heard the rumors about Jimmy-Sue Maddox, and I went to your church just as I have gone to hundreds of different religious rituals. But from that very first moment I didn’t see a milkmaid, I saw Helen, I saw you and I knew I’d found one of history’s precious miracles and it was about to be entrusted to me.” He shakes me gently but resolutely. “I’m ready, baby, was, in fact, taught to breathe and ingest this.”

  “Oh my God!” I say then gasp as the depth of his sin dawns over me. “You think you’re God’s equal. That’s your sin! Oh my God. Put me down!” I say as I forget all my training, and like a rookie begin to pointlessly kick and struggle against him, which I can tell by his expression frustrates him to the point he relents and sets me on my feet. “Either that or else you think you are a god,” I say as I step back holding my spinning head as he begins to pace before me.

  “I intended to only follow the drill, stick to the basics, but I broke the cardinal rule and I don’t break cardinal rules, Helen, so this fascinated me even more. See, protecting you from afar is one thing, but physically loving you at the same time is going to take a little magic and divine intervention.”

  I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or himself as I watch him pace in front of his collection while his lights dim and brighten by his lead. I can see the muscles on his arm and shoulders tense from beneath his black t-shirt as he rakes his hand over his head to comb back his hair. I watch when he studies the face of his watch.

  “You’re really are good at this,” I finally allow as he stops pacing and turns to face me.

  “Yes, I am,” he chuckles intentionally misreading my insult. “I guess by now you’ve realized I intend to fight for you, to the death if need be, and I intend to win,” he declares leaning down to take my chin in his hand as he turns my eyes up to see the sincerity level in his. “No matter whom my foe turns out to be.”

  I slap his hand away from me. “The vanity in you is beyond comprehension!”

  “I figure that’s one of my strongest traits,” he shrugs.

  “You can’t wage war with a god!”

  “Trust me, you can.”

  “There aren’t multiple gods!”

  “Prove it.”

  “This is insanity!”

  “History is packed with precedents, baby. Time after time, an individual action can alter a set course. The gods can be outsmarted. There are even certain ways to kill--”

  “Don’t say that! You can’t kill God!”

  “Many believe God must die and be recreated, reborn every few cycles, the Mayans did, even your own version of Christianity shows this, so that the cycle can begin anew. This is not innovative thought, Helen, it goes back to our first recorded history.

  “There are plenty of recorded strategies for battle and I’ve studied them well. Remem
ber, I’ve been taught by the best of the best. The earth is primed for a rebirth; and I intend to take full advantage of its cycle.”

  “I don’t believe a word you say.”

  “Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

  I slide down onto the coffee table and bury my face in my hands. “You’re only telling me this because you assume I’ll fall in your arms and beg for help.”

  Rawly bends down on one knee in front of me and smiles. “I’ve learned never to assume with you, Helen.”

  “Uh huh, and if by some wild stretch of the imagination all this nonsense is true… if I did ask for your help, what would you want from me in return?”

  Rawly lays his head in my lap and inhales. “I want everything. I want… I want to lay down my weapons and turn my back on you,” he sighs. “I have to, don’t you see?”

  “But, Rawly, you’re the devil and I’m not going to hell for all eternity just for making a deal with you!” I say earnestly, trying to reason with him. “Everybody knows that’s the basic rule.”

  “We both know what the road to hell really looks like, Helen, and this isn’t that road,” he says into my lap. “And, I swear to you before God that you can trust me, cross my heart.”

  I listen to him breathe and to his purposeful music as it changes into my favorite song. I sigh long and hard, realizing his knowledge of me is overwhelming and frightening, and insightful and downright scary, and I look down at my hands and fight the weird compulsion to run my fingers through his hair, and this confuses me even more.

  “I’m telling you you’ve got to trust me,” he insists as he sits up and looks me square in my eyes.

  “I can’t!”

  “Why not, baby?”

  “Because you’re even crazier than I am!”

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

  “Take me home, Rawly. Please, for once, do what I want and take me home.”

  “Alright,” he offers as he stands, “but only on one condition.” He smiles at my raised eyebrow.

  “What part of I’m not making a deal with you are you not getting?”