He who is for the One had no recourse. Lamashti was right: his Sinnis was not born. He nodded his acquiescence to her, “I will provide but you must promise never to take from this woman or her child.”
He was disappointed when she made no move to promise. He had no way to force it. Maeve had offered. He would just have to keep them apart, at least until the One was born. He turned to face a very confused Maeve. He looked deep into her eyes and sang his song. He could not change her memory since she was a woman of power, but he could block it.
He spoke in that mesmerizing tone he had and his voice filled her thoughts, “I must go. I have an errand but will be back shortly.”
***
Maeve stared blankly at the empty library. What had she been doing, just standing there? Leonard's voice had woken her up from some kind of daydream. When she tried to remember what it was about, her head hurt, but only a little.
Maeve made an effort not to waddle as she crossed the library. She was doing her best, but she was never going to be one of those beautifully pregnant women. Oh, Aaron said she was one of those, but his was a bias opinion. After all he loved her. And this was his baby growing in her belly making the simplest things impossible. And she was only 22 weeks (that's 5 and a half months to non pregos). Maeve had decided to maintain a graceful walk for at least 2 more weeks.
She could hear the television going in Libby and Leonard's private quarters, which was odd. They were book worms, not couch potatoes. She crossed the threshold to find both halves of the middle age couple fixated on the idiot box. Their son, Billy, was seated beside them. He had been eating lunch in their living/dinning room, as he did every weekday, when something seized his attention. His mouth was hanging open, sandwich caught in mid-chew. Libby was white as a ghost. Only Leonard, in his ever present bow tie and sweater vest, showed any cognizance at her arrival.
He stood, making an effort not to groan with the movement, and offered Maeve his chair. She would have rather taken a less soft cushy seat. A dining room chair would have been easier to get up from, but she took what was offered, making her own effort not to grunt.
Their place was comfortable. It was the most homey of any here on the compound. It made sense; they had been here longer than anyone else. Billy had been born here in the bathtub of the private privy.
It was the little things that made it so comfortable. None of the furniture went together, except for the fact that it was all greatly dated. The couch was covered in a large rainbow colored throw that Libby had done when she took up knitting while she was pregnant. Crocheted doilies were on every table and every shelf in Libby's curio cabinet.
The curio was very, well, curious. There was no obvious theme, not a Hummel or Precious Moments collection nor a glass menagerie. Though there were examples of each of those, the collection consisted of mostly random items. Rocks and pieces of rusted and decayed metal, that might have once been gardening or kitchen tools, made up most of the assemblage. There were spoons and bells, bits of fabric and locks of hair, tea pots and motor parts. It was filled with seemingly random items, all part of Libby's nicknack's.
Seemingly. Unless you knew Libby's ability. Libby was the Renuntio Primo of this branch of the Daughters of Women. Each of these items held one or more pleasant memories that Libby could access by touching them. She had collected them from all over the world, getting odd looks and questions when purchasing them. No one but a psychometrist could 'see' their value.
The one thing not represented was a book. Libby was the sisterhood's librarian too. She kept the achievement records for them. She loved books. It so odd that Maeve had felt compelled on her first visit to ask Libby why. Libby had explained that her ability didn't work on books because they were unique in the world. Books led every person who read them, on almost the same journey. People were not as unique as they think. Books lead thoughts and each reader has a very similar experience while reading the same words. That was why she loved them so much. Holding them she knew she was wholly human, connected to the world's inhabitants by mutual experience.
Leonard hit rewind and then play on the TiVo. The documentary was about a major archaeological find in the desert somewhere between Saudi Arabia and Iraq. They had unearthed an entire ancient city there in the cradle of civilization. The Discovery Channel was showing images of the greatest discoveries. There was a mammoth ziggurat buried in the sand, the most intact ever found. It would take them years of careful study to unlock it's secrets.
Leonard fast forwarded to a segment where a man in gloves was holding up pottery and other household items, preserved by the desert. Leonard hit the pause button as the man held a particularly detailed vase up for close inspection by the film crew. It showed a collection of bearded and winged men standing in a cluster in front of a slain man lying gutted and bleeding before them. They were all looking in horror at the woman standing over him, holding a bloody knife.
Leonard advanced the show frame by frame as the archaeologist turned the piece in his hands. Maeve mirrored Libby and Billy's expressions. Her mouth fell open. The woman so carefully carved on this 7000 year old pot was Nathalia.
***
“Everyone needs to calm down.”
Maeve had called a meeting of the Primos. Everyone was there except Camilla, of course. She listened on the phone that lay off the hook. Maeve's private chamber was crowded. Her guardian stood behind her taking up more than his fair share of the space in the crowd. By now most of them had heard the rumors and the tension was thick. The gossip had reached a ridiculous level almost instantly.
“Nathalia's disappearance is not as mysterious as some of you think. There was no time traveling worm hole opened up because of the twisted way she used her magic. I would love to believe such an outrageous story. I mean, love comic books more than any person here.”
“Ahem,” Jolie was standing close to Maeve and gestured to a tattoo of Witchblade on her leg. Jolie was covered in tattoos, Maeve had never noticed that one. She twisted her head and took a closer look.
“Ok, more than any person save Jolie. I'm just saying that it would be nice to believe that Nathalia was out there somewhere, but she isn't. It's better to know the truth than believe a lie, no matter how comforting. I didn't tell you all before, because it was too horrible to say, but I think you should know what happened. She killed a man by the name of Michael that night. He was the man who'd been killing my matches. He was the man threatening our beloved holy Capacitors. I don't know why she did it the way she did, but she ended his rein of terror. Now, we'll never know why or how.” Maeve was leaning back on the front of her desk. She had been talking fast, but now she slowed down and said, in a very deliberate unmistakable tone, “Nathalia is dead.”
“How do you know?”
Maeve didn't need to look to know who was questioning her so contemptuously on such a sensitive subject. Alisha was older than Maeve, had been with the sisterhood longer, had living children and a more fitting ability for Abbess. Alisha had thought that in the absence of another Vinco Primo, she would be chosen to replace Nathalia. Since she hadn't been, Alisha was making life difficult for Maeve.
“Because I saw her. Her throat was cut.” Maeve fought back her own bile as Jolie threw up into a wastebasket. “She wasn't breathing and her blood covered this room. She isn't out there living out her life in the past by some freak accident. I loved her and I wish she was, but she's not.”
“Then why did you tell the cops that she'd left without telling you where?” Alisha was not giving up her challenge.
“You know good and well why we couldn't tell them the truth. How do you think a murder investigation on Daughter grounds would have gone? Do you think they would have respected our privacy or would they want unrestricted access? I think the highly guarded room behind the Ishtar statue would have interested them, don't you? What about the fact that every one of the murdered couples would have been found in my achievement book?”
“So you lied to protect yoursel
f. And to speed up the process of taking over her place.”
“Oh, shut up, Alisha!” Everyone stared at Jolie, so normally quiet, who had the outburst. “Maeve isn't confirmed Abbess yet. We all elected her to act as interim.”
“How can you just follow her blindly?! What about your dreams, your seeings?” When Jolie didn't respond, Alisha turned to the other Primos. “Where is the evidence? Are we just supposed to take Maeve's word on it? It's a little too convenient that she's the only person who saw Nathalia's body and the only one who benefits from her death.”
“I saw it too. Your leader was without life.” The voice was deep and soothing. Most of them had never heard the Guardian speak. Most never would again. Maeve studied him for a moment. He looked different now, sedated maybe. Whatever his errand had been, it had done him some good. He was in a room filled to the brim with women, something he normally shied away from, including pregnant Jolie, who he disliked or distrusted or maybe both. Instead of uncomfortable, he seemed happy. Almost.
“She's telling the truth.” Elle's hand slipped from Maeve's arm as she made the announcement. Maeve hadn't stopped her when Elle rose to make a reading. As the Iudex Primo, she would know better than anyone if Maeve was lying.
Alisha made a sound like, hump! They were supposed to take their word for it, the man who worshiped the very ground on which Maeve walked and the girl who'd been Maeve's shadow for years?!
Libby separated herself from the crowd and spoke to Alisha in a very low menacing tone. “I will remember that your bullheadedness is what forced me to do this. You will never be Abbess as long as I breathe.” And then louder, “Maeve, where did it happen?”
Maeve silently pointed at a section of the stone floor that used to lie in front of Nathalia's bed. Maeve had worried it would come to this, but would never have asked Libby for this sacrifice. If she did a reading on the stones where Nathalia had died, it was going to be very unpleasant. Libby crossed to the area Maeve had indicated, never taking her heated glare from Alisha's face. Libby squatted down and placed her palm on the cold gray floor.
They all stood quiet while Libby worked her magic. When she was finished, the pallor of her skin and the weakness in her legs left no doubt as to what she had seen, but she shared anyway. “Nathalia didn't just die here. She killed herself. She cut her own throat. I could see her magic in the last moments and it was so dark. She used the corrupted power from the capacitors to force the man to kill himself too. She forced all that black power back inside him where it came from.”
Libby paused for a moment to let that sink in while she sank into a chair a younger girl had offered her. Seeing that kind of violence was always exhausting for Libby. Last time she had done a reading like that it had been last year when Marcie, an ex-sister, had been abducted. Touching that piece of jewelry, with a tiny piece of Marcie's nipple still attached, was the worst reading she'd ever experienced, until now. That had taken her 3 days to recover from. What would this cost her?
Maeve's head was reeling. She had seen Nathalia's body for only a second before her Guardian had forced her away. He was afraid of what the shock might do to her unborn baby, the supposed One. This shock was much worse. Maeve knew Michael. She had assumed that he had killed Nathalia, but this was much worse. Taking her life would have been bad enough, but somehow forcing her to end it herself? That was really evil.
The Guardian must have felt Maeve's distress, because he moved to place his hand on her belly. Since her pregnancy, his touch always eased her and her baby, though before, she had abhorred it, and even barred him from touching her uninvited. She barely noticed him now, but his movement triggered a memory in Libby.
“Then, when they were both dead, a Guardian came. I did not recognize him, but I could tell he was one. He had their magic and he used it. I couldn't see everything he did, but he cleaned up. He took first the man's, and then Nathalia's body away.”
“Maybe the magic you felt was a healing. Maybe Nathalia is alive.” Seizing any thread she could find, Alisha argued on. “Maeve,” she said the name not title, “grant me permission to use collective power. I can search for Nathalia. If she is alive anywhere in this world, I can find her.” And prove my worth to this Sisterhood, maybe enough to gain favor and the Abbess position. She thought the last to herself as Maeve nodded in agreement giving that permission.
***
“Wake up, my love.”
Are we there yet? Nathalia yawned and stretched as best she could without tumbling to her death. How she had managed to fall asleep lying on Eiran's back while he flew was a mystery even to her. He was using his wings to fly so he couldn't hammock her in those. Even so she had found his body very comfortable. His legs supported hers. Her butt fit perfectly in the small of his back. His shoulders, even after deducting the space the wings took up, were more than adequately wide for her thin body.
“Not quite. I need to stop in the nearest city.” Eiran hesitated. The wind whipped his words away as they descended, so he switched to their more intimate way of speaking. New moon is tonight. With the fresh violence that a new prisoner represents, I will need extra strength to keep the nearly reformed ones sedate.
Nathalia knew he didn't mean reformed, improved personalities, but as in regenerated bodies. You need to feed.
Yes. You too will need extra prana when you go to meet the Igigi. He knew she did not relish the thought of drinking blood again, though it had pleased her to do so when she felt the full force of the hunger. She would need extra strength when she crossed the gisig and stepped into their presence. The Igigi were more tempting than any creature on the earth. They weren't just alive, they were life. Called the shining ones, they were pure prana.
Can we not take prana from each other?
You know that taking another Nephilim's blood is not only banned, but dangerous.
You said that there was another ... fluid that held more prana than blood. Nathalia knew he couldn't see her face, but she blushed deeply. She couldn't help it. She was She felt the muscles of his back tighten when she sent him an image of them in the 69 position, one she had used many times with her past female lovers.
I am eager to give and take with you in this way, but I found your feelings very bias against such conduct not so long ago.
Except when you let me feel the hunger. It helped me not be grossed out when I drank blood, maybe it could help me with ... this too.
I am not certain allowing you access to that very sensitive area with the full force of the hunger upon you would prove a pleasant experience for either of us, my love.
Maybe you could just let me feel a little of the hunger. Just enough to help me, but not enough to effect my control. It's weird to feel this way, and even weirder to say it, but I want you, Eiran. Ever since you said that you were only for me and called me Ereshkigal, having sex with you is all I can think about.
Eiran contorted in midair. Reaching around his side, he pulled Nathalia off his back. He cradled her in his arms like a baby. “You are still a maiden and we have not the necklace. You do not wear my birthmark and so the law stands. I will not be able to penetrate you no matter what we wish. It will take great levels of control, but we can try the exchange orally if you wish.”
I do. Good thing you've had centuries to practice control. Being held as she was in his arms, she could feel his excitement at her willingness to try. It was pressing into her backside.
He looked into her beautiful face and she could see his eyes dancing like flames. “Not centuries, millennia, my love.” But none of of those years had involved her. All the practice in the world might not help him resist such a temptation as she represented. Annu help him if she used that husky needy voice. Or begged. That might be the end of his resolve.
But not in the tomb. I've had enough dirt. I need a shower and a bed with clean sheets. Find us a hotel.
“Hoe-tay-el?” he asked, inadvertently mocking her accent.
She still had her twang and draw even in her thoughts.
Apparently you can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the girl. A hotel is a building with bedrooms for rent for weary travelers. Where are we anyway?
Then, over the horizon came the answer. The Great Pyramids of Giza grew step by step out of the sand. Nathalia had never been to Egypt. She'd never been anywhere really. She grew up in a small town in East Texas then went down to Austin for college. Even when the last things holding her to that state, her parents, were murdered, she couldn't bring herself to leave.
Eiran was flying faster than Nathalia had realized. The pyramids were beneath them and a great city was blooming on the horizon now. It must be Cairo. There, shining golden in the sun, was just what she wanted. The Four Seasons. She pointed to it and Eiran landed them on the roof. He set her down gingerly on her feet.
They had been flying for hours. She stretched and he shook out his wings. He folded them tightly against his back, but they were still very visible. He caught her looking at them.
“After we are done, I will fly us the rest of the way. I cannot tabalu and hold the prana. I hope they will not bother you. I must keep my wings ready during our short stay here. I cannot put them away.”
It's fine. Come on. She pulled him by the hand across the roof to a door. Aren't you afraid that people will see you. You're not exactly incognito you know. She tried the knob, but it was locked. Can you open this?
“Of course, my love.” He closed his eyes and she could sense he was broadcasting to someone.
A young Egyptian man dressed in what must have been hotel uniform opened the door. Nathalia had almost gotten used to her constant nude state, but having a new set of eyes made her awareness snap back. The bellhop stared right through them. Putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the high sun, he looked off into the distance then turned and walked back inside, leaving the door open in Eiran's hands.
“People see and feel what we want them too. Women are harder to fool than men. Women with power such as yours are near impossible.”
Transit of Ishtar, Paranormal Erotic Romance / Urban Fantasy (Book 2 of Sinnis) Page 12
