Transit of Ishtar, Paranormal Erotic Romance / Urban Fantasy (Book 2 of Sinnis)

by Natalie Gibson

  “I know what you mean. I've been having the most vivid dreams. I'd be sure they were true sights, if it weren't for the subject matter.” Jolie was the sisterhood's Animaverto Primo and had recently begun the study of waking prophesy, but none ever felt as sure as those she had in an unconscious state. “They're mostly about Nathalia, so they can't be the future.”

  Her husband, DJ, insisted on writing them down, even though she told him they couldn't be important. He'd gotten quite good at interpreting her symbolical dreams, but as her pregnancy progressed her ability was changing. It was becoming more exact, more detailed. It was getting so that she didn't need an interpreter, just a person to catalog them.

  Maeve didn't have prophetic dreams, but pregnancy certainly did something to the unconscious mind. Her dreams were so vivid that she could feel and smell things. It was becoming harder to separate them from reality. She had spent one entire morning recently, so angry about an argument she'd with Aaron, that it was several hours before she realized the argument wasn't real but only a dream. In the end she'd only figured it out, because during the argument the two of them were wearing bathing suits. It was February and even in Texas, that was still winter. There was no way Aaron or her Guardian would let Maeve outside in a bathing suit right now.

  Maeve caught sight of her Guardian, standing off to the side, trying to keep her in his sights, while staying out of her view. He was never far from her and it seemed to be getting worse with each passing day. He tried not to be obvious about it, but he worried about the baby constantly. He believed the unborn child was special, a savior of mankind, whose birth was foretold ages ago and it was his responsibility to make sure she survived. He always seemed especially nervous when Jolie was around and Maeve could not understand his apprehension. Since Nathalia's death, Jolie had become Maeve's best friend. They were both in a similar situation, with matched mates and unborn babies. Maeve often found her Guardian glaring at Jolie's belly with fear and anger, exactly opposite of how he stared at her own belly, with love and devotion.

  “Have you had any dreams about our little ones?” Maeve, now the acting Abbess in Nathalia's absence, and Vinculum Primo in her own right, had asked Jolie to try to focus on getting some image of their children. She hoped to use it to ease her own mind and the worries of the Guardian. If he got any more protective of her, Maeve might be forced to flee.

  “I try to focus on them, but I keep coming up with dreams about Nathalia. How sure are we that she's really dead?”

  Maeve didn't have to think before she answered, “Very sure”. She couldn't tell her best friend how she was so certain. She had seen Nathalia's bloody body for a second, before her Guardian had placed himself between them. He could not risk the shock or trauma to the One she carried. He had railed at Aaron for not having better control over her. Maeve had been thrilled to hear Aaron rail back at him, “Maeve's her own person. I don't control her. I love her.”

  There would be no memorial service for Nathalia. They couldn't risk an investigation; there were too many secrets here. The Guardian had assured her that Nathalia had received the greatest honor and was now laid to rest in their most holy place. He had taken care of the cleanup and bodies. Michael, Nathalia's teenage abuser, had also died that night in her private quarters.

  Michael had been stalking and killing couples in Maeve's matchmaking record book. Those murders had brought an unknown evil, a black magic, to gather in their white energy storage room. It had done damage to anyone who tried to use the communal power, and it had hurt the capacitors every second that it remained. The capacitors were women who had made the ultimate sacrifice to store energy made by Maeve's couples. Power that all Primos could pull from. Michael's connection to and power over Nathalia had enabled him to do this and she chose to end her own life rather than permit this blasphemy to continue.

  Jolie had seen it all coming in one of her prophetic dreams, but at the time, they were so symbolic that no one saw the clear and present danger until it was too late. Nathalia had known her death was coming, but not the reasoning behind it. She had tried to ensure Maeve was happy and would lead the Daughters after her demise by allowing her to date Aaron. Maeve owed her oldest friend, now gone from the world, for her greatest joy.

  Jolie reached over and placed her hand over Maeve's. “Sorry. I know you're not allowed to talk about it.”

  Maeve smiled at Jolie, “Don't worry about it. I always thought she and I would share this motherhood experience. You're a good friend; I'm lucky to be going through this with you, Jolie. It's just that I really miss her.” They sat for a moment, holding hands and thinking about their former Abbess Primo, before Maeve went on. “Is it the dreams that make you ask?”

  Jolie shook her head yes, “Even though I know it can't be true, I feel like I'm seeing Nathalia's future.”

  “Like what? Tell me about the most recent dream.” Jolie was clearly upset by these dreams and so it was Maeve's duty to minister to her needs. But more than that, Maeve was curious. If she hadn't seen all that blood and Nathalia's pale limp body, her own dream would have her convinced Nathalia still lived.

  Jolie told her an abridged version version. She could get the details anytime she wanted from Jolie's accomplishment books. “I see Nathalia working and worshiping Inanna in a great ziggurat complex. It's definitely ancient times. There are dancing and celebrations of the seasons and of various phases of the moon and of Venus. She seems happy. She talks to one woman a lot, in a language I don't understand. The woman is tiny and I get the feeling that she is the high priestess or maybe even Inanna herself.”

  “It sounds like Nathalia's version of heaven.”

  “But Nathalia didn't believe in the afterlife.” Jolie argued. Most of the Daughters of Women knew that this one life was all they had. There were very few that still believed in any sort of afterlife, after studying the origins of the major religions. The idea of the afterlife came from fear and that fear made people tow the line, act right to stay in good graces with god. The Daughters acted on their own code of morals, not for the rewards of the afterlife, but for the betterment of the world and humankind.

  Maeve reasoned, “Sometimes a dream is just a dream. Maybe it is just your subconscious mind's way of dealing with her death. You imagine her happy and eternal in a sisterhood like this one with a goddess that she actually could respect.”

  It wasn't a bad image when Maeve thought about it. She had been raised Southern Baptist and had a hard time giving up the idea that the people she loved were not gone, but only gone to a better place. She knew it wasn't the truth, but she understood the need to imagine one's loved ones happy in an afterlife. “Is that the only one or are there more about her?”

  “Most of the time I dream that I'm watching, but lately I've been having a dream where I am Nathalia. It's weird to actually see through someone else's eyes. I'm deep underground, resting on a bed of marble, in some sort of maze of hallways and round rooms carved out of the stone. I think I'm alone but then I find a man of stone. I want him, like want him want him. I want him to come alive and ravage me. I'm just filled with thoughts of what he could do to my naked body. Well, her naked body. The desire to have sex with him drives out every other thought when I touch the statue. It's like being drunk or high.”

  Maeve thought about it for a second. That strong of an attraction to a male didn't sound like Nathalia, who cringed at the thought of having men near her. It might have been alien for Nathalia, but not for Maeve. Her desire to be with Aaron was inexplicable and inextinguishable. The feelings seemed to be multiplied by the pregnancy. Some men desired their spouses less, once they were mother to their children. Not Aaron. If anything, the thought that he had penetrated her defenses and impregnated her on their first night together invigorated him. They couldn't get enough of each other. Maeve felt a warm rush in her secret places just thinking about it, as Jolie continued relaying her dream.

  “But when the statue comes to life and reaches out for me, I get scare
d and run away. I trip and fall on the edge of an underground lake. After the ripples from the rocks I disrupted die down, my reflection comes into focus. I am definitely Nathalia; I can see her face staring back up at me, but there's something wrong with my eyes. Her eyes, I mean. They're sparkley and multicolored, like opals. They're beautiful and I can't look away, but as Nathalia, I think, I'm one of them now. Then I wake up very upset, but I'm not sure why.”

  Multicolored opal-like eyes sounded vaguely familiar, like Maeve had seen someone like that or thought that same description. Try as she might she couldn't remember the circumstances. She didn't have long to think about it before the cell phone in her pocket buzzed. When Nathalia was Abbess, she used her telepathy to call other sisters or give instructions and orders to groups, but Maeve was a matchmaker, not telepathic and had to rely on technology to keep her in touch with other members. She was glad she remembered to put the cell phone on mute because some of the Sophomore's were really focused by now. The ripples in the 'sea' of sand and tiny gravel were almost perfect and complete.

  She took the tiny phone out of her sweater pocket and saw that it was Camilla. Camilla was their Panacea, a rare type healer of the highest level: Primo. Her skill lie solely in the ability to remove that which did not belong, the alien body attacking or feeding off a person. It made her especially good at curing cancer, but it also made her dangerous for anyone with child. Her ability could not differentiate between a wanted pregnancy and a parasite. Any close proximity to a pregnant woman would lead to an accidental abortion, and they were fairly certain she herself could never carry a baby to term. It was a heavy burden to bear, but one she took very seriously. It was her magical specialty that allowed the capacitors to last longer than any other sect's under the strain of constant white energy. Camilla had been banished to the storage room since the day they found out Maeve and Jolie were pregnant.

  Maeve put up her pointer finger to Jolie, signaling 'one minute', and answered the call. She and Camilla had never been close, and though they shared no animosity towards each other, Maeve knew that she would only call if there was good reason. With Camilla, that reason would concern the capacitors. Camilla didn't speak much, and when she did, it was all business.

  Maeve didn't even get a chance for a greeting. ...“No, I didn't order any work but I haven't put a ban on using communal power since I lifted it after Nathalia removed all the black energy.”...”No, nothing big.”...”I don't know, but I'll get them some more right now. Start calling Primos and have them put a hold on any pulls. Don't worry about Jolie; she's here. I'll tell her.”

  Maeve stood as she closed her phone and she gestured that Jolie follow her. They left the pictorial peace of the zen garden and headed back across the green grass slope up to the main building where they each had living quarters. She explained on the way, “Camilla says that the capacitors are almost completely drained of power. Without that power to sustain them, the capacitors won't last long. There is an official ban on pulls from stored power starting immediately. Meanwhile, you and I and any other matched couples we run into, have to work on charging them back up.”

  There was only one way to do that. Sex. Not just sex, but gratifying, knee weakening, multi-orgasmic ecstasy. Their mates were probably still in bed and would be thrilled for a morning roll in the hay. Sometimes being a Daughter of Women had some really big perks.

  ***

  Maeve sat at the desk typing away at the computer. Twenty-two emails, just this morning. She scanned them absentmindedly, sorting them. She had never realized how many mundane chores were involved with being Abbess until they were her responsibility. She thought Nathalia had sat locked in this room for hours on end because she'd wanted to escape from the outside world. In here she said she was in control. Here she was safe. Maeve felt exactly the opposite; here everyone else had a say in how she spent her time. Here she was a prisoner.

  She discarded a dozen of the emails immediately. They were all from a social network she was a member of, informing her that this or that friend had commented on her post. She jotted down a note to remind herself to have Aaron turn off all those notices. Her in-box was full of them every day and she had enough to do without the nuisance.

  The midmorning sun streamed in from the windows to her right. She could hear Aaron snoring lightly from the adjoining room, even though the door was closed. She smiled at the sound. She didn't begrudge his rest. After the performance he had just given in their bedroom, he deserved a nap. Aaron was the rarest breed of man. He was a Levitus, the only recorded one ever, capable of supercharging the capacitors. The pleasure a Levitus could give a woman was unparalleled. He was such a sensitive and attentive partner that when he and Maeve made love, the white energy generated was equal to ten couples. They had more than done their duty today and the capacitors were clear of the dangerously low power levels they had reached this morning.

  Maeve still had no idea why the power had been drained so quickly. No Primo, the only level of Daughter that had access to the communal pool, would ever be so greedy or careless. The capacitors were their holy ones and had to be protected at all times. She worried that someone outside the inner circle must have gained the knowledge and was rakishly using. Just a few months ago, Michael had gained some knowledge of their inner magic workings and had devised a way to bring pain and evil to their holy sisters. He was dead, thanks to Nathalia, but Maeve wondered if this could be round two.

  Just before she deleted it, something grabbed her attention in the subject line of the last email. It said, 'Your Guardian's no angel'. That statement came as no surprise to Maeve. She knew he had a temper, an ego and more than a few notches on his bedpost. What struck her was that whoever wrote this had called him her Guardian. Guardian was an inside term the Daughters used to describe these few men who devoted their lives to the Council of Esteemed Elders. In exchange for their devotion, the Council gave them access to power when normally no man would be allowed. She had only met two guardians.

  Maeve double clicked. The email was short. Just a couple of sentences. She glanced at the bottom and saw it was from a doctor, or at least someone who called himself Dr. Paion.

  He hides everything about himself from you, but will take everything from you. Do you even know his name? He is a demon posing as an angel, waiting for the one he can drink from and end his immortal thirst. Once your child is born he will do anything to possess and consume it.

  Now there are only two Akhkharu with you, but soon they will start pouring in. Each after a child bride to claim. They will say they're there for your safety, but what are they really after? Bodyguards do not look with hunger at their principals. Watch and see what I say is true.

  We will contact you soon.

  Maeve jotted down 'email about guardians', 'Akhkharu' and 'Dr. Paion' in her little notebook. She slipped the notebook where she kept her daily thoughts into the only drawer of her desk equipped with a lock. Things that involved the guardians had a way of slipping her mind or disappearing all together. Nathalia had been involved with researching them secretly and now it was up to Maeve. She locked the drawer with a little key and slipped it into a tiny pocket of her skirt.

  A knock on the window startled her, but when she saw it was Billy, she smiled and crossed over to open it. It was a double doored window that opened in and featured a low window seat that bridged the gap between two floor to ceiling bookshelves. Maeve loved it right here. She opened the doors to find Billy on his knees outside. She got onto her knees and rested her elbows on the narrow window seat. Billy mirrored her and they sat grinning stupidly at each other with their faces very close.

  “Rumor has it you'd like a window box out here.” Billy had lived here since his birth and had served as their grounds keeper, among other things, for the last 10. He was 28 years old, but had the perpetual look of a teenager. He was thin and very tall with the tan to match his occupation. The rest of him, no matter how tall he grew, would never catch up to his hands, feet and ears. His
face was pleasant with an easy smile and brown eyes that sparkled and was framed by perpetually messy 'devil may care' light brown hair. He sometimes joked that the sun was forcing his hair and skin to the same shade of brown, but did it by lightening one while darkening the other. He was usually smudged with soil and today was no different. He had a carefree laugh and contagious positive attitude. Everyone loved Billy, and Maeve was no different.

  “Rumor has it right, but no flowers with big fancy blooms. I was thinking a tiny smell garden.”

  Billy let out a soft chuckle, “And just what exactly is a 'smell' garden?”

  “I want it to be about the scent, not sight. I want it to smell different at different times of the day. I want the breeze to catch it and bring the fragrance of outside in.”

  Billy raised one eyebrow in a fake suggestive manner, “So you want a perfumed garden of sensual delights? Don't we all.”

  Maeve laughed at his reference to Arabic sex manual. Billy was as well versed in the common studies of the sisters as most of the sisters. His mother, Libby, who served as the librarian here, had always made sure he kept up with the studies of the girls his same age. Like the devoted mothers of ages past, Libby never allowed her child to fall behind just because of gender. He was not allowed to study the greater mysteries, but Maeve got the feeling that he knew more than he should. Secrets couldn't be kept forever in such close quarters. Billy had lived here 3 times as long as Maeve.

  “You know, I've never been inside the Abbess' office?” The Abbess before Nathalia had been even more prejudiced against men than her. She had never forgiven Billy's mother for refusing to have more children after Billy. The Abbess had thought that providing a female heir was the duty of every Daughter, but Libby had stood her ground defending her right as a woman to determine her own reproductive choice. She had done it to ensure Billy never felt like a second class citizen, but it had earned her that very classification.