by Elana Brooks
She was beautiful and beloved. He knew her intimately and dearly. He tried to open himself, to form the necessary intention to take her into himself and enter into her. But his soul rebelled as profoundly as his body always had.
He didn’t want her. The thought of joining with her, which should have been holy and beautiful, instead felt horrifying, disgusting. A desecration, a invasion, a sacrilege. Like trying to force together creatures of two different species. The closer he tried to draw to her, the worse it became. Discordant noise crashed in his ears, his skin crawled, his stomach heaved, his teeth ground together.
This was wrong. He knew it. Every fiber of his being resisted what he was attempting to do. Once, long ago, he’d experienced what it felt like to look into another’s soul and long to become a part of it, and it had been nothing like this.
Hard as he tried to smother it, the memory refused to die. The image of that other soul rose to overlay Tirajeh’s, the contrast stark and undeniable. It drew him. Tirajeh’s soul repelled him.
Farid clenched his jaw and threw all his strength into burning the ghost from his mind. It was lost to him, a universe away in space and time, an impossible dream that had evaporated upon waking. He must not allow the ancient, rotten dregs of a bitter cup to poison him. He must not let the foolish, repented sins of his youth prevent him from doing what was necessary here and now to save Earth and humanity from its enemies.
With a tremendous effort of will, he banished the intrusive memory. Once again, Tirajeh’s soul was before him, the path to her clear. He ignored the sensations that grew more horrible with every step, the instincts that screamed at him to flee, and advanced toward her.
She held as the resistance built to an unbearable level, a wailing hurricane of chaos. Farid fought it with all his strength. Another step. Another. He was nearly there.
She broke. Her soul shrank from him. From an enormous distance, words reached him. No. I don’t want this. It’s wrong. Please, you have to stop.
He couldn’t. There was no other way. Despair numbed the mounting pain. He would accomplish this thing or die trying.
No! Tirajeh’s voice penetrated the cacophony. I refuse. Get out!
She threw all the force of her will against his. Coupled with the raging storm, it overwhelmed him. Farid flew back, hurled with violent force. He slammed into a stone wall and blacked out.
“Farid, please. Wake up.” Fury and terror warred in Tirajeh’s shaking voice. Hands gripped his shoulders and shook him fiercely.
Farid blinked. His eyes felt as if they were choked with sand. Gradually his vision cleared, revealing Tirajeh’s scowling, tear-streaked face. He raised a hand that felt as heavy as a boulder to bat her away.
She released him, sobbing. “Thank Allah. I was certain you were dead.” The fear retreated from her features, leaving the anger behind. “What were you thinking?” she spat. “Do you realize how close you came to killing us both?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He drew a long, shuddering breath and released it, dull gray depression settling over his heart like a heavy woolen blanket. “I didn’t mean… Thank you for stopping me.”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”
He shook his head and rubbed his face. “You did. I should have listened.”
“Yes. You should have.” Her voice didn’t soften, but her breathing slowed a little.
Farid closed his eyes and lay limp against the cushions, too bleak and empty to summon the energy to rise. “You were right. It’s impossible for me to soul bond. Tomorrow I’ll tell Solomon that I have to resign from the Eight.”
She made an exasperated noise deep in her throat. “Are you blind, Farid, or do you think I am? I saw what happened. You can’t soul bond with me, but that doesn’t mean you can’t with someone else. If it’s the right person.”
Farid’s pulse pounded in his ears. He swallowed hard, trying to loosen his suddenly tight throat. “I don’t understand,” he whispered.
She snorted. “Of course you understand. You know exactly what the problem is. But I’ll spell it out for you if you insist. You’ve never stopped loving Arman.”
He hadn’t heard the name spoken aloud for more than twenty years. It smote him like blow to the belly. “I… I…”
Her voice gentled, and she stroked his hair with the same gesture she used to calm and comfort their daughters. “We’re in America now, not Iran. It’s safe to talk about it. There are no morality police here to arrest you if they find out you love another man.”
He shook his head. He knew she was right, and yet her frankness terrified him. He tried to say something, but his voice refused to form words. After so many years of silence, of hiding, of fear and shame, he couldn’t bring himself to speak of it, even to her who knew all his secrets, who had helped shield him from the consequences that would have followed if the truth about who and what he was had been exposed.
Tirajeh grasped his hands and pulled him to a sitting position. She arranged the pillows behind his back until they supported him comfortably. He let her minister to him while he disciplined his breath into the measured cadences he used to induce a meditative state. It took far longer than usual, but eventually his heartbeat slowed and his agitation began to settle.
Beside him, Tirajeh’s breath rose and fell in the same patterns. For a long time they both were silent.
Finally she spoke again, her voice soft and certain. “It seems clear to me what you have to do.”
Farid was able to laugh, though it came out more incredulous than amused. “Please, tell me. Because nothing is clear to me.”
She hesitated a moment, studying him, then took a deep breath. “You have to find him.”
Farid’s heart leapt and raced, undoing his efforts to calm himself, but this time he managed to choke out words. “How? I have no idea where he is, or if he’s even still alive.” Although surely he would have felt it if Arman had died, no matter how many thousands of kilometers separated them. “And even if I could, what good would it do? He hates me. I betrayed him.”
“Wherever he is in the world, he’s undoubtedly seen yesterday’s press conference by now. He knows he has strong psychic powers. Eventually he’ll attend one of the Covenant’s screening sessions and be identified as a candidate. You just have to monitor the reports of new trainees until his name shows up.”
Farid stared at her, horror and terrified hope flooding him in equal measure. Now that she pointed it out, her conclusion seemed obvious and irrefutable. He didn’t understand how he hadn’t realized it before. The Covenant was small enough, even as fast as its ranks were growing, that their paths would inevitably cross if Arman were to become a member.
A new thought struck him. His face went cold, then hot. “He must have seen me at the press conference. He would recognize my name, even if my face has changed too much.”
Would he recognize Arman, if he saw him without knowing who he was? Time must have wrought its effects on his beautiful young face, just as it had on Farid’s. Yet no matter how many wrinkles or gray hairs he might now sport, surely Farid’s soul would know his, even among a thousand others.
Tirajeh nodded. “The two of you need to talk. If nothing else, it will give you the closure you never had. Things ended so badly between you, it’s hardly surprising he still haunts you. Probably you’ll find out he settled down with someone else long ago. Then you’ll be able to let his memory go.” She flashed him a smile, genuine despite the pain behind it. “And find someone with whom you can share a real, complete relationship. I doubt it will be difficult—you’re very easy to love. Then you can do as Solomon asks before the Seraphim get here.”
It took him a moment to grasp what she was saying. When he did, his heart stuttered and his breath grew ragged. “Tirajeh… you can’t mean…”
She nodded, fierce determination in the movement. “I’m telling you to take a lover.”
Maybe he was dreaming. None of t
his seemed real. He shook his head and spread his hands. “I could never be unfaithful to you.”
“How is it being unfaithful when it’s what I want? I’m not selfish enough to consider my husband’s sexual fidelity more important than the lives of half the people on Earth. Even if we did have a true marriage.”
“We have a true marriage,” he insisted.
Her expression softened, but only a little. “It’s served its purpose well. It’s let me have the status of a married woman, and companionship, and children, without having to endure sex I don’t want. And it’s given you a safe haven from Iran’s laws.”
“And companionship, and children,” he reminded her.
“And those things.” She smiled sadly at him. “But I’ve always known you’re not like me. Sex matters to you. I know it hasn’t been easy, living all these years without it. I won’t stand in the way of you finding the happiness I can’t give you, now that you have the chance and the need.”
He hated that her offer tempted him. He loved Tirajeh and would never hurt her. And…. “I will never do anything to hurt our children. Or to take me away from them, or them away from you. They need us both.” Iranian law gave the father custody of children over seven in the event of a divorce. He didn’t know what American law decreed, or which would govern if he and Tirajeh chose to end their marriage while they were here.
“Neither will I. No matter what else happens, we’re their parents, and we put their welfare first.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Which is why you have to do this. They deserve a future. They deserve an Earth free from the Seraphim. Nothing we do can hurt them as much as they’ll suffer if the Flood comes and civilization collapses.”
The truth of her words sank into Farid’s bones. He pictured the storms of the second Memory raging over the sky and ocean, New York drowning beneath rising waves, panicked multitudes cramming the streets and crowding into inadequate boats, trampling each other in their desperate attempts to flee. He imagined Leila and Maryam clinging to each other in the midst of the chaos, terrified and sobbing and doomed.
His fists clenched. His jaw tightened. His heart hardened into stone.
He would do whatever it took to prevent that vision from becoming reality. He would face his deepest fears, his most humiliating shame. He would break his heart, and Tirajeh’s, and anyone else’s who stood in his way. He would submit his body to any pain or pleasure, prostitute himself to any degradation. He would bare his soul and surrender his spirit to damnation. He would sacrifice his marriage, his home, his faith, his future, his honor, his life if necessary.
As long as Leila and Maryam remained alive and whole and happy, it would be worth it.
A Yellow Wood, Book Three of The Covenant of the Rainbow, will be available in the fall of 2018. Subscribe to my newsletter, Heat and Heart, to be notified when it’s published.
Copyright ©2018 Elana Brooks
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Cover art Copyright ©2017 Deranged Doctor Design
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