by Gary Starta
“And…”
“And he invited me to share a meal with him. We talked, long into the night. Eventually, he learned that I sang. I told him I wanted to write a song for…I mean…about him.”
“I imagine that’s when he invited you to honor the Ennead.” Her pause on the phone told me that was probably the moment he chose to kiss her. Okay, I’ll give her a pass on this one. She wasn’t just a teen in love with a boy. She was a teen in love with a boy king.
“Oh, yes. He told me the people of Egypt always honored their gods. But probably not with rhythm and blues.” While she continued babbling and gushing I tried to imagine if this Tut really was the actual Egyptian from three thousand years ago. How could this be? He’d died. Okay. Everyone knew Egyptians believed in resurrection, I mean I’m sure he had a mummy and coffin equal in brilliance to that of my world. So how did this all work? Was he revived? Was the pharaoh’s promise to return to Earth one day truth—or, was this Tut most likely just a copy of the long-dead boy king?
I’d use the concert to my advantage. I’d be free to observe them in a social occasion where they would be in their element—with few humans in their presence. I didn’t know which side of the fence I stood on—part human, part goddess. But because I was considered to be Isis incarnate, I’d have a front row and center seat to the event.
* * * *
I tried to resume my investigation before showtime but it ended in dismal failure. Officer Mullins was found dead in his shower, an apparent victim of electrocution earlier in the morning. His death was so sudden that even Nelson couldn’t have trumped up a story. I’m sure Seals would have liked to believe Nelson passed off the blame to Mullins knowing the man couldn’t defend himself. But what concerned me most was that if the Ennead were behind the president’s murder, they’d realized Mullins was a loose end that needed to be cut. I encouraged the boys and girls in forensics to give Mullins an extra thorough autopsy without coming right out and saying his death might have been staged. Though I was sure if his death was murder, the trail would be a cold one. It would be hard if not impossible to prove. Investigators already noted a water pump was not properly grounded and there was no reason to believe it had been tampered with in any fashion.
I settled into my plush, velvety seat about two hours after the disheartening news, fresh from a shower, hair pinned up off of my shoulders and a brooch fashioned in the design of an Anhk on my chest.
I kept my focus on Charlize for her first two numbers, both jazz-influenced. I don’t know much about music but I think it was smooth jazz. A fellow in dreadlocks played an upright bass, a heavy-set man plucked ivories and a thin, redhead provided a beat. It was really smooth how the Ennead assembled this band in such haste. They didn’t look like they were Egyptian or part of the Entourage, more likely just a group of professional hires who were quick studies. My admiration only grew from then on—the band switched styles, segueing from jazz into reggae and then to blues and something sounding quite Moroccan. It was at this point in the concert that I tuned into the audience empathically.
I found the cow goddess, Hathor, seated one row away from me to the left. I stole a glance at her from the corner of my eye. She appeared as emotionally distant as when I’d met her. But when the overhead view screen zoomed into the audience for reaction, I found something different in her appearance. I couldn’t discern it right away, but before the number ended I realized what the change was. She had an emerald glint to her eyes, whereas yesterday, it was orange. I don’t know if it was just due to human aesthetics—she could have been wearing colored contacts, but I doubted it.
I focused my attention back to the stage where Charlize’s repertoire amazed not only me but the Ennead. From what I could gather by visual observation, The Ennead’s applause was heartfelt, genuine.
It wasn’t until the encores that I felt the curtain the Ennead had been hiding behind had finally been lifted.
A wave of emotion descended upon me with such force I grew nauseous. I had trouble focusing on the stage. But I forced myself to analyze the situation, to try to learn what was causing the change. Charlize had something in her hand, akin to a rattle. She shook it to the beat of the song. At first I thought it to be nothing more than a percussion instrument, but when I looked closer it had a head on it. In the very resemblance of Hathor! In a row to my right, I could discern muffled weeping. It was emanating from Thoth, the same god who’d frightened me with his menacing stature the day before. Now he was bawling. I didn’t know if gods and goddesses were supposed to cry or even if they were capable of it. But I did find all their emotions, their cries, whimpers of joy and raucous whooping—by one god in particular called Apophis—to be unsettling and out of character. Especially, after the concert ended, they all seemed ashamed of their behavior, almost apologetic, except for Thoth who appeared to be in denial. Their gazes shifted from one to another, almost as if they were speaking non-verbally. But now that the music had ended I couldn’t get a grip on their internal emotions. I had to analyze them as a normal FBI agent. As a trained people-observer, I imagined they were upset with their displays of emotion, angry at whatever solicited them. I didn’t have to be investigator to know that answer. Just as Charlize had an effect on demons, she had an effect upon the divine. But it didn’t appear this effect was a welcome one.
Fearing for her safety, I shuffled away from the Egyptian deities as best I could. All wanted to shake hands with the person who shared the body of their beloved Isis. I promised them we’d dine together in the near future. By the time I reached the backstage area, I found Charlize to be nowhere in sight. Frantic, I scurried to the dressing rooms where a human in a tux informed me the singer and Tut had just been whisked away in a limo.
Chapter 12
Blink
Briana was trying so hard to keep the dam in force but I could see behind it and it was in great danger of breaking.
Professionally, she was my Wiccan partner. Personally, she was my new best friend in my new alternate universe. I could read her just as much as she could read me. That wasn’t always as comforting as it sounds. She told me when we first met that the incubi Justin Manners had quite a thing for her. But she spurned his romantic advances, not because she was against inter-species dating, but for a more banal reason—he simply didn’t do it for her. Obsessed with Briana, the incubi Manners went off world via portal—actually to my old world—where he found her alternate and began a romance. Remember what I said about sharing thoughts between friends. Not always comfortable. I shuddered internally each time I imagined Manners with any woman. He was an incubus after all and this species of demon drained the life force from people. But I learned that his sexual encounters were consensual and that he always stopped before bringing his partners to the brink of death. Somehow he didn’t need to kill women to sustain himself. I began to trust him, in slow incremental steps. Finally, I warmed up to the man who’d somehow become a father with the other Briana. And yes, I now refer to him as a man—not a demon. He’s not my best bud in this world but he aided me in helping me save Charlize from her soul-stealing brother. I do care about him, just not as much as my Briana does.
Her rapid blinking and wavering lips told me how much she really cared about Manners. I guess they were very close platonic friends. We both wondered in silence. The obvious question nagging us—was that relationship gone?
Had he blinked out of existence along with every other demon from this universe? We didn’t know because Manners had been in my world during the disappearance. He could still be there safe and sound, doing the wild thing with the alternate Briana. Or, we pondered—again without words—was he put out of existence while en route to my new world? With the ability to fashion portals at will, Manners was free to travel between worlds without tickets, passports or those annoying airport security checks. I was unable to travel with him however. For some reason, humans couldn’t survive his mode of teleporting between worlds. He could teleport me along with him in-worl
d, however. But other than saving gas money, I wasn’t keen on beaming around my new planet in this style. It made me quite nauseous not to mention it wreaked havoc on my hairdo.
Now I was the one fighting the urge. I resisted taking Briana’s hand in mine knowing full well the consequences She would break down. Neither of us needed a breakdown right now. We had too much to do.
Briana had spent the last few days contacting fellow Wiccans, namely fellow water witches she’d avoided since her high school days. I just could imagine the youngsters gathered around a cauldron in the woods the way normal teens might congregate over a keg. I could also imagine the dangers of their powers. A human teen might get behind a wheel drunk from alcohol. He or she could possibly kill or maim a few people. But a Wiccan, especially one practiced in elemental magic, might take out a whole town, if not an entire zip code if she wasn’t careful. I could understand Briana’s apprehension about using elemental magic. I hedged to ask her about her sojourn. I tapped my finger against my tea cup for a while before dumping a few heavy-handed spoonfuls of artificial sweetener into it.
That did the trick. “Whoa,” Briana said, resting a hand on my wrist. “Remember you’ve got to keep your body pure, especially now.” I nodded my head in compliance but inside I burned. For all intents I was already infected with a presence, be it goddess or demon. I hadn’t swallowed complete acceptance of her holistic mindset. If anything, I believed keeping my body pure only gave Isis a better chance to inhabit me. But I wanted her talking so I zipped my lips.
“I found that even a team of the most powerful and experienced Wiccans would not have the ability to remove a species from our reality. In other words, Caitlin, we might unite to remove all life from the planet via spells but couldn’t target certain species. And if we were to attempt such concentrated magic, we might throw the whole ecosystem into chaos, thus making our planet uninhabitable in the process.”
I stared into my tea. “So, what you’re saying is that magic didn’t do this. Should we side with Chuck and Brahms on this, Briana? Is it correct to assume science is behind all this?”
“We would need proof positive of scientific intervention, so to speak,” Briana answered, a wry smile masking her inner sadness.
“I think Brahms can help us explain this. Although, I don’t feel compelled to believe science could do all they accomplished. The Ennead arrived via comet and then proceeded to land in bubbles. But they couldn’t come to land without the aid of your magic. How is that science?”
“But remember Caitlin, the Entourage, including non-gods like Tut, traveled in the form of a ship. I believe that falls under the category of science.”
“I’m not sure. Where were those ships for the last three thousand years? I think they appeared just as suddenly as our demons disappeared. I’ll hear Brahms out, mostly from desperation, but my gut tells me I need to find how magic is responsible. I also need to learn how to profile gods and goddesses.”
Briana curled a finger around her strawberry-blonde locks. “If anyone can do it, you can Caitlin.” Then she grabbed my arm, “I’m sorry, Caitlin. I wasn’t implying you were only capable because of your connection to Isis.”
I offered a full smile. “Don’t worry partner, I know you didn’t.”
Briana began to postulate. “If the Egyptian deities had motives to kill the president and abduct our demons, would they also be capable of altering evidence, not only on a scientific scale but on a magical one?” She sighed. “I wonder if my locator spell was tampered with. I believed it led me to water for my investigation but we all know how that turned out. The Ennead used me. And your vision about water, we all know The Ennead via Isis could have tampered with that.”
“So are you concluding that there might be other suspects, Briana? The president’s killer might not be a god or goddess, but something else. It’s intriguing. Yet I still have a hard time pinning President Fleming’s murder on Security Officer Nelson.”
“We have to keep an open mind, Caitlin, to all options.”
“That said we might also have to consider if there could be alternates of not only ourselves in other universes, but could there be alternates of the Egyptian gods and goddesses out there?”
“If they are even truly gods and goddesses,” Briana added, waving a dismissive hand. “Magic is powerful. I still think it trumps science no matter what our dear scientist Brahms says.”
“Are you suggesting we need to do an identity check?” Briana let the query ring in rhetorical silence while I pondered the idea. Gods don’t carry passports and even if we were to employ biometrics what could we compare The Ennead’s fingerprints with? There was no criminal database for wayward deities. And for that matter, I was living proof of how they could conceal their identity within other beings. Everyone was so trusting of the Ennead I doubted I could ever get approval to do such a thing. Although, ironically, every other being considered a visitor to our countries is predisposed to thorough and repeated identity checks. I would chew on this. Maybe Brahms with his expertise about the human genome might be able to figure what makes The Ennead tick. They’re gods but they’re obviously compatible with human physiology. Again, I’m living proof of that. I had to conclude we needed to borrow from both magic and science to continue our investigation.
Briana’s snooping threw me off track and off guard. She’d been eyeing a half-folded letter perched atop my kitchen table. I couldn’t blame her inquisition. She was an FBI agent.
“Are you considering a career as an author, Caitlin? Imogen Press is a very successful publishing house. Although many scholars like our Brahms might find their bestsellers to be more commercial than literary. Anyway, that seems to be true in any universe, doesn’t it?”
“I agree, wholeheartedly.” I laughed, knowing full well I hadn’t deflected her inquiry.
“I won’t judge you. Come now, what are you writing about?”
“I haven’t written anything and Imogen approached me.” I raised an eyebrow, expecting Briana to fill in the blanks.
“Oh, so they’re out to exploit your relationship, Caitlin, I get it now. It makes perfect sense.”
“You know I’ve managed to stave off the media by taking cabs and such. But they’re sneaky as spies. Imogen wants me to sign an exclusive deal with them, write a tell-all book about my experiences as Isis. They want to know what it’s like to wake up and brush my teeth in the morning, knowing full well that I cohabitate with a major deity. It’s all in their proposal.”
She squinted at the letter. “Yes, I can make out some of their groveling. It looks like they want to give you the world for doing it too. Are you considering?”
“You’re right about the world.” I fashioned my hands to resemble parentheses. “I don’t even need to write, just tell my story to a ghost writer who’ll pen it.”
“Ooh, ghost writer. Sounds so paranormal…”
“Kidding aside, we both know it actually is. I can’t give a tell-all story without compromising my true identity. I don’t know if everyone buys the story that Nephthys chose me out of all this world’s billion people to represent her beloved sister. It doesn’t sound plausible—even to me. I’ve wondered why everyone’s so trusting of the Ennead. Maybe they do believe her simple touch transformed me into Isis. But we both know there’s a lot more history behind it.”
“Caitlin, now that you mention it. I can’t tell you why I volunteered to assist them. I performed magic I swore off using ever again. If so, it means I’m infected.”
“Do you think they enthralled everyone, Briana? It makes sense to a point. I don’t seem to be a total believer.”
“That would make sense because of your Isis connection. You might be immune.”
“Okay,” I said, squaring my shoulders against my chair, “if that’s true, it might buy me time with Chuck. But I’m not sure how much.”
“What’s happened? Has he questioned your identity?”
“No, not yet at least; but he’s an investigator.
He’s got to believe there’s a source for my connection with Isis. And you and I both know that source exists in another world.”
“But even if the assistant director questioned you, you could deny it. He would never find the crystal. It rests at the bottom of the ocean, back in your old world.”
I ran my fingers through my already disheveled hair. “That isn’t comforting. Not to my soul it isn’t. I am an investigator at heart. I live to uncover the truth. How can I conceal it from the man, I…”
“Oh. You love him, do you?” She laughed and waved a dismissive hand. “It’s pretty obvious, Caitlin. Even if I wasn’t a Wiccan FBI agent, I could have sensed it.”
“So how do I deal with the lying?”
“You have reasons and they’re ethical ones. You need to keep your job as FBI agent, especially if we’re to find if the Ennead are truly responsible for the demon disappearance. You know the case would all be but closed if it wasn’t for you. We can all read Deputy Director Seals like a novel.”
I nodded in agreement, staring into my cold tea. “I will never accept those reasons. But I will abide by them, for now. This would be easier if I hated who I had become, you know.”
“Do you mean this world’s Agent Diggs or Isis, my dear?”
“Neither. I had a rough time finding myself in my childhood. Eventually, I found my calling. It gave me direction, purpose and respect for myself. It seems just when I was comfortable being who I was—an agent of the law—the universe challenged me. Now I again have to question my identity, my self esteem. This lying will tear me apart, the fabric of the existence I’ve come to know.” I paused a second to wipe a tear from my cheek. “I have to wonder why Isis would test me like this. Out of all the Ennead, I trust her. She decided to remain with humanity when the other gods cut and ran. I just don’t know what my purpose is…now.” Well, so much for not breaking the dam.
