Sanctuary: The Sorcerers' Scourge: Book Two
Page 7
That came out of left field. “How do you mean?”
He rolled his eyes. “Meditation. Didn’t Diana teach you anything?”
I’d already spent endless hours counting my breaths and staring at candle flames, so I fought a groan.
“See that birdbath?”
It was less than twenty feet away, hard to miss. “Sure.”
“Focus on the ripples the raindrops make until I tell you to stop. Every time something else pops into your mind, ignore it. Return your attention to the pool of water.”
When Tess and Diana had harangued me into doing the same sort of thing, I’d figured it was a form of hazing the newbie, like making new recruits dig latrine trenches in basic training. But this guy was supposed to be one of the brightest stars in the Holar universe. He deserved the benefit of the doubt.
For what seemed like an eternity, he sat next to me reading a French paperback, the cover of which featured a guy running with a pistol in his hand. I watched raindrops plop into the birdbath. This time, I didn’t allow myself the luxury of bitching to myself. I didn’t know if it was helping to hone my mental powers, but it did seem to be getting slightly easier to concentrate.
When he got up to do something in the house, I sneaked a look at my watch. It was after 3 p.m.
He returned with two beers. “Enough of that. Let’s go fishing.”
He drove us to an area where the shoreline was rocky. We stood in the rain holding heavy-duty fishing rods, and we actually caught several Atlantic bass. Then, during a particularly quiet moment, I sensed something nearby. I looked around but didn’t see anyone.
“I feel it, too,” Gill said. “Is that the first animal you’ve noticed?”
I’d obviously missed plenty of other critters. I nodded.
“This one is something huge. A basking shark? They can get to be thirty feet long, but they feed on plankton. No danger.”
Gill wasn’t the attaboy type, far from it, but at least I’d sensed the damned thing. Even more important, I now knew what an animal’s aura felt like. It seemed like progress.
Chapter 6
Saturday, November 2nd
Gillian Carmichael’s home, near Ploubalay, Brittany
GILL CONTINUED HIS HISTORY lesson, and he’d finally gotten to the interesting part.
“So, we waited off the Normandy Beach for the dawn, and it finally hit me that I was going into the thick of the war. I’d known it for months, of course, but I didn’t really understand that my life might end in few minutes. When we loaded into the landing craft, I suffered a massive panic attack, and I wasn’t the only one. Plenty of us had ashen faces and trembling hands, but we went anyway. I followed the others, not because I was brave, but because I knew I had no choice. Even more important, I wasn’t going to humiliate myself in front of all my buddies.”
“That’s true bravery. Being terrified and going anyway.”
“Or true stupidity. Within an hour, I caught a bullet in my arm.” He showed me a scar where the bullet had torn through his right bicep. “The devil himself marched up and down that beach, spewing hatred and pain. Jesus was nowhere to be found that day.”
Maybe he was there, but he couldn’t stop the carnage.
Gill shuddered. “That night was the worst of my life. I lay in agony in a cold tent on the beach, surrounded by hundreds of other wounded GIs. Lots of them were hurt much worse than me, and all of us screamed for our mamas. I lost my Christian faith that day.”
My chest tightened as I imagined the agony those soldiers must’ve gone through.
Gill cleared his throat. “Luckily, within a few days, things turned around. I got shipped to an overcrowded hospital in a newly liberated part of Normandy. French people poured in to help us as much as they could. I met a nurse a few years younger than me, and when she came up close, she realized I was magical without even touching me.”
“You had something in common.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know that then. Marie came from an ancient family of magicians, and even in her teens, she was a very skilled healer. Even better, she had huge tits and a bewitching smile.”
I burst out laughing. In all my days in Brittany, that was the first lewd comment he’d made.
“Oh, it gets much worse,” he snorted. “I’d lost faith in God, my country, and our generals. She became my goddess, my country, and my queen.” Tears came to his eyes.
“The Lord or Brigid sent you an angel.”
“Like I said, I’d lost my faith in higher powers back then, but Marie turned me into a druid. She was a big fan of the Celtic gods, and I became a pagan, too. I stayed in that hospital for ten days, and she paid as much attention to me as she could, given the hundreds of more seriously wounded soldiers who needed her help. I lusted after her, day and night.”
“Did she know?” I asked with a frown.
“Of course, but I couldn’t do anything about it while I was lying in a cot surrounded by fifty GIs. I was hopelessly in love from minute one, and all she could do was whisper to me about magic and make sure I kept my powers secret.”
“Did you know the Army would send you back into battle?”
“Hell, yes. They needed every soldier with a heartbeat, and my wound was relatively light. In the early days of the invasion, we could’ve still lost that damned war. Anyway, the day I had to ship out, I took her to an unused room with a desk in it for what I thought would be some lovely kissing. She sat on the desk and lifted her dress. I didn’t need to be asked twice, so I pulled down her underwear. In her broken English, she told me she was mine. I swore eternal love for my goddess while we were taking each other to heaven.”
He paused as though to give me a chance to comment, but I had no idea what to say.
“After we finished, we kissed for another few minutes, until someone looking for me banged on the door. I had to leave, so I did, knowing the odds were good that I wouldn’t live long enough to see her again.”
“She trusted you to come back.”
“I guess so.” He grinned. “That probably wasn’t playing the odds, but she gave me the best few minutes of my life.” He stared at me with unrepentant delight in his eyes. “The only thing I can say on my behalf is that I knew by then that if I survived the war, I’d do anything to find her again, and I mean anything.”
“What happened to you next?”
“This is tough country to fight in, one fucking hedgerow after another. We battled the Germans for every field and town. I turned into a fanatic killer. The faster we slaughtered the enemy, the faster I’d get back to her. The straightest path to Marie went through Berlin.”
“Did she know how you felt?”
“We wrote each other almost every day. Her parents hated me at first, but she was a headstrong woman, so she did as she pleased.” He smiled while recollecting some memory. “By now, you know I may be a great witch, but I’m not a nice guy. I would have killed anyone who stood between me and her, even one of my buddies. I did kill plenty of Germans, thinking about what they would do to her if they could. I forgot about fighting for God, my country, or the folks back home. I only fought for her, to become worthy of her love. We rolled across France, and I earned a slew of battle commendations. I even got shot again, in the left leg right below my ass, but nothing kept me from marching onward.”
“She kept writing?”
“Exactly, but after the war ended, the Army shipped me back to Texas instead of letting me head to Brittany. Apparently, a lot of GI’s had picked up French lovers, to the detriment of their wives back home. The Army didn’t want to piss off the ladies. So, I began working in Dallas, selling life insurance in an agency owned by one of the generals I’d served under. I saved every dime I could, and, after a few months, I sent Marie the money she needed to come. She arrived almost two years after I’d first met her. Needless to say, we took up where we’d left off in the hospital.” His voice thickened. “Damn, she was fantastic.”
“Well, it sounds like things worked out great for you and her.”
He put his hand to his chest and took several deep breaths. “Yup, but no kids. Don’t misunderstand, we had a stormy marriage. We both were stubborn as hell, but we stayed together for eighty years. She died last January, and ever since…I’ve been undone.” He broke down, sobbing, his body shuddering.
I put an arm around him and rocked him like a child.
We stayed indoors all day, and he told me dozens of stories about his life with Marie. Some of them were funny, others vividly pornographic, and still others embarrassing for him or her. Periodically, he stopped to have another good cry.
For a change of pace, he showed a wooden chest where he stored his dozen medals. They all rested on a bed of padded white silk. I asked about each of them, and he answered nonchalantly, telling me how he’d barely deserved a couple. Then I asked about a gold pentagram surrounded by a circle. Above the five-sided star, an eagle held a banner that simply said VALOR.
“Got that at the Battle of the Bulge. Patton whipped us like dogs to get to the fight in time, and we did. Then we kicked the Germans’ asses hard.”
“What’s the medal’s name?”
He looked at me with his head tilted sideways like I’d asked what an eagle is. Then he said, “I keep forgetting that most folks these days don’t know military ways. Medal of Honor. Received it from Roosevelt himself, right before he died.”
Of all his commendations, that was the only one I’d heard of before. “Wow! You really did bring home the glory.”
“It always sounds better in the telling than being stuck in muck up to my knees and crying for my mama. I did a lot of that.”
Then he donned a robe and showed me his altar for worshipping the Celtic gods. I’d participated in plenty of druid ceremonies with my dad’s side of the family, so I prayed with Gill for peace of mind from Brigid.
-o-o-o-
Sunday, November 3rd
THE NEXT MORNING, GILL appeared to be over his wild emotions, and after breakfast, he suggested we walk on the beach early, before a storm was due to come in. Swirling winds tossed dry sand around us, and every so often I had to close my eyes to keep the grit out.
While we were rambling, he probed my mind freely. I put up a ward to hide my secrets, but he passed through it as though it didn’t exist. I also moved farther away from him, but he was so powerful that the distance didn’t affect his snooping one bit.
“Getting plenty of exercise indoors, I see,” he snorted. “Tell me about your gal.”
“You’d like her. She’s a lot more disciplined and knows more about magic. Great healer.”
“You bring up a good point.” He stared out to sea for a moment. “We have to find a way for me to connect with your magic, or I’ll have to regretfully send you back to Boulder. I have a lot of stuff I need to pass on to someone who can use it, and if I can’t understand you, I can’t help you. I may die tomorrow. I surely don’t know.”
We plopped down on the dry sand.
“Can you communicate telepathically?” Gill asked.
“I can with animals, but I’ve never tried with a person. I can sense feelings, that’s all.”
“Let’s try; it’s an important skill. Set your hand on the sand, and I’m going to put my hand on top of it. Okay, now read my thoughts.”
I felt his confusion about what to do with me.
“That’s a start. Relax and let my memories in.”
I did relax, and his feelings came through clearer. Then I began seeing wispy images in my mind, such as a battle on a beach much like the one we were on. I could smell smoke and gunpowder.
“There you go,” he said. “Make a strong connection, and then I’m going to gently lift my hand. I want you to maintain the mental connection after I do. If I lose you, I’ll put my hand down again for a few seconds, and we’ll try again.”
I concentrated on his memories of the war, and he lifted his hand. I lost the connection, and he put his hand down again. After a few seconds, I could see the images again. He lifted his hand slowly. This time, I maintained the connection for about fifteen seconds before losing it.
“You like the ocean, right?” Gill asked.
“Absolutely.”
“I’m going to think about a sailing trip I took last summer along the coast near here. It was spectacularly scenic. Maybe that’ll be interesting enough to help maintain the link.”
He dropped his hand onto mine for a moment and thought about the trip. The sailboat was about fifty feet long, and it’d sailed close enough to the coast for him to see spectacular waves crashing onto the rocks. When he lifted his hand, I held on to the images of the rocky cliffs and clouds of bursting seawater. I kept a mental connection with him for five minutes as he thought of more mundane things, like shopping in town.
Finally, he said, “Terrific. That’s the way we’ll communicate in front of Julienne if we need to be secretive. That’s also one step toward improving your magic, but we need to move higher still.”
“I feel like someone who’s color blind, trying to understand why you’re so excited about rainbows.”
“Maybe if I can open my mind to you, it’ll help you recognize what you’re looking for.” He crossed his legs and faced me. “Look into my mind now. I’ve opened it completely.”
I did, and I was immediately struck by his feelings of depression, anger, and loneliness. He even seemed suicidal. I hung on for a few minutes before I had to separate to control my own sadness.
“Okay, you survived my bitter thoughts. That may be the key. What I do better than most magicians is plowing ahead no matter how hopeless the cause. After I set a goal, the only thing that will stop me is death.”
That was probably the biggest difference between us. I tried my best to accomplish my goals, but he gave himself no options. Total commitment.
While we were driving back to his house, he remained silent.
I said, “You know, I’m pretty good at sucking up despair. I can probably get rid of those awful feelings you have. Then you could show me what you’re trying to teach me without all that junk getting in the way. I don’t want to miss out on this opportunity.”
He shook his head. “I’m supposed to have these feelings. I just lost the love of my life, and my own death is close around the corner. Only a crazy person wouldn’t be depressed.”
“You’re about to meet the gods, and that should be a thrilling experience, not a frightening one.”
“Long ago, I made my peace with my Maker. I’ve learned to live with disappointments.”
“Why live your last days feeling so sad? I can probably restore your peace of mind, and you’ll make me stronger in the process.”
He thought for a few minutes, then he said, “Okay, I’m willing to try. You did help me the day you shocked the shit out of me.”
After we returned to his house, we ate lunch in silence, as always. Then we went to his bedroom and locked the door. I asked him to lie down on his bed. Then I sat next to him and said, “Close your eyes.”
I braced myself for the onslaught and pressed the tip of an index finger to his forehead. At the same instant, I thought, Mendile, soothe his mind.
A flood of feelings almost overcame me, but I interrupted my connection to him after a few seconds. It took me a minute to process those feelings and let them go. Then I touched him again. This time, the pain wasn’t as intense, and I hung on longer.
It took me the better part of an hour to get to the point where I could touch him constantly with his mind open.
When I’d taken all his anguish from him, I said, “Stay here, as relaxed as possible, until I tell you to move.”
I meditated on Wakonda, the Osage path to magic.
My composure returned, and I asked, “How do you feel?”
“Amazingly good. If you could bottle that shit, you’d be a billionaire.”
“You’ve grieved for a generous amount of time, even though Marie was so special. You’ll still feel a strong connection to her for the rest of your life, but it won’t burden you like it has. Because of her healings over your lifetime, you may live to be a hundred and thirty.”
“I’m beginning to feel hope rising again. Maybe one last magnificent tumble with a gorgeous young wench before I pass into oblivion.”
“Well, I hate to crush an old man’s dream, particularly when he’s been feeling so miserable, but your days chasing wenches are over.”
We laughed for a minute. “Tomorrow morning,” he said, “let’s do a bit more soothing, after we’ve both rested up. Then I’ll show you the world again in living color.”
-o-o-o-
Monday, November 4th
AFTER BREAKFAST, I SOOTHED him again, and then we drove to a beach I hadn’t seen before. The tide was in, and we walked for an hour along the water’s edge. I savored the salty fresh air, and the wind whipped my hair around despite my baseball cap. Gill stood close by, and I could feel his incredible inner drive for the first time. Compared to this old fogey, Diana was as easygoing as Santa Claus. Intense should’ve been Gill’s middle name.
His mind was no longer an emotional firestorm, and that made it easier for me to sense subtle changes in his feelings.
He said, “Let’s focus only on seagulls. When they approach us, or we approach them, watch the change in my mind. It feels like a tiny tinge of excitement. It’s something new for you to perceive, and extremely subtle.”
“That makes no sense, but I remember how that basking shark felt.”
I lost track of time as gulls came and went. At first, I couldn’t sense any difference in Gill’s feelings, but then one swooped particularly close. That was when I felt a tiny zing, almost like a faint note played on a violin.
“It registered, didn’t it?” he asked.
I faced the ocean, raised both arms over my head, and prayed, “Great Mystery Spirit, I thank You. Open my mind further to this wonderful world so that I may better know Your magnificence.”