The Gemini Bridge

by Shea Meadows

  The midwife helps Cynthia who is still writhing in agony, asking to see the baby and refusing fluids until she feeds it. She knows she must put it to the breast to help her womb contract, but the doctor is still cutting away the cowl as the baby shrieks. The doctor can now see it’s a boy, but the membrane still incases the baby’s hands and arms. When the doctor gets to the left hand he finds another surprise. There are no fingers on the hand. The right hand is perfect but the left is a club at the end of an arm.

  The midwife looks at the hand, scrunching her remaining eye for a better view. “Does ‘ave the Demon Hand. Would be best to let ‘im die.”

  The doctor restrains himself from striking her. “Close your mouth, woman. Will you add to this family’s worry?”

  The midwife mutters to herself, puts out her hand to the father for money and leaves without another word.

  The child is named Damion, but with the ten year old brother telling and retelling the story of his youngest brother’s birth to all his mates and anyone else who’d listen, the child acquires a new name: Demon Hand usually shortened to Demon or Hand. It started to matter to him when he was three and noticed people turning away and those who talked to him helped educate him about the cruelty of the world.

  “You’re a Demon, straight from the dark one,” someone old enough to know better told him. “That hand is a curse on you. You or your parents did something wrong,” and many statements of this nature.

  As he gets older the big boys beat on him for no particular reason, but mostly because it was difficult for him to fight back. His mother, weak from his birth tried to protect him, but his father held a grudge.

  “Hand’s” arrival had put many burdens on the family. No house cleaning income; the mother takes in some sewing but made half as much. Trips to pricey doctors manifested when the “Demon Hand” became infected and needed treatment. Often the pharmacist made a salve mixed with carbolic acid. When done wrongly, the skin on the infected stump burned, leaving scarring as the infection subsided.

  When the child was eight, old enough to help around the house, his one-handed status decreased his usefulness. He was not addled, even though he had been tortured, so found inventive ways to be helpful. He asks his mother to sew a sack out of discarded fabric and begs for commissions as he carries lumps of coal from the coal reserve at the edge of town. He walks two miles to the coal reserve, fills his sack one piece at a time until it is almost too heavy to carry, then pays for the coal with half the coins he was given by his sponsor for that trip. Then the long journey back, dragging the sack. He did this until he was twelve, earning enough to buy respect from his mother but never his father.

  He learns to read by borrowing books from a sympathetic man at the book store and promising to touch them only when his useful hand was clean. The difficulty of the skill needed to read the material accelerated at such a pace that the owner of the store thought the strange quiet boy, who always kept one hand tucked in his pocket, must be a faker and challenged him to an oral exam for every advanced text that he borrowed. The wealthy man is astounded at the depth of understanding in one so young and sees the boy’s accomplishments as something on which to capitalize.

  Mr. Jacob G Efrum offers his parents a considerable amount of money in exchange for their youngest son, even after Damion shows his patron his malformed left hand. Mr. Jacob, as he was told to call his mentor, rigs a way for Damion to hold the paper steady and watches over the boy as Damion quickly masters the ability to write. Soon, he is adorned in fine, second-hand clothing and given the task of recording all purchases and doing inventory for the store.

  Years go by in this manner. With adequate food, a warm place to sleep and pleasurable surroundings, Damion forgets the taunts of his early childhood and hasn’t been called Demon or Hand since he became Mr. Jacob’s assistant. He only need remember to keep his left hand in the pocket of his waistcoat when anyone comes into the store.

  When he is sixteen, he disobeys his patron. There is one room in the store that Mr. Jacob calls his private domain and asks Damion to keep out. Bored one day, with Jacob gone and no one coming into the shop, mischief takes over and he secures the key to the locked inner sanctum and examines its contents.

  He is startled at what he sees: more books of course, but also a pentagram drawn on the floor, strange statues on the shelves, weird instruments, some looking like objects of torture. Damion browses the tittles: “Advanced Magik” “Alchemic Spells” “Methods of Torture for Unrepentant Enemies.” He was so caught up in these and many others he barely notices when Jacob Efrum comes into the room.

  The discussion that follows surprises the curious boy. Mr. Jacob has expected this to happen one time or another, but not urged it. He was a Magician of the First Degree, a Doctor of True Spells and many other titles. Soon, Damion was learning the art of Magik from the best of the best.

  By the time he is twenty; he has eclipsed the skills of his mentor and is sent to live with Lord Roger Macomb, a renowned sorcerer. Lord Roger has ten times the wealth of Mr. Jacob but alas, none of the scruples. The first thing he does is to introduce the young man to opium. He claims that Damion’s power will increase with its use. While thick in an opium experience, Damion tells Lord Roger his deepest secrets. How ashamed he was of his hand, how he’d been rejected by his father and siblings and just about everyone until Mr. Jacob had taken him in. How he had used Magik to cause discomfort to his long-ago tortures. How he hated his Demon Hand.

  Lord Roger laughs as he hears the methods of distant torture that Damion devised, and sets about teaching him more advanced methods. He advises the boy to embrace the reality of his hand rather than rejecting it. Lord Roger creates a pair of gloves for his apprentice. The right hand is fine leather, stained a deep purple with crystals embedded in the cuff. The left hand is the same but has been created with a spell: when Damion puts it on, fingers manifest where none were before. The fingers are strong and flexible, and with his will, he can send electrical charges of varying degrees from them. Lord Roger says the one condition for this gift is that Damion must change his name to The Demon Hand.

  His life spirals down from there. It is all about the accumulation of property, women, and the subjugation of those around him. A tortured boy turns into a torturing man and stories are still told about all the mystical and horrible things The Demon Hand has done.

  He dies alone, infected with various diseases when he is barely forty. Only his servants cared about his death, and only because he would no longer be there to pay them the extreme amounts of money that it took to get them to stay.

  The holograph ended and everyone was silent until Job Franklin commented: “Ono looks like a saint compared to The Demon Hand, but I do admit to feeling sorry for him. Rough way for a kid to start his life.”

  What followed was a metaphysical discussion about karma and the need for balancing energy between lives. This had been a former incarnation of Sam Reading’s. This life, until The Demon Hand was put back in the picture, Sam had been using his abilities to teach others how to use their gifts in a constructive way. He had been a good mentor for hundreds of students. Truman told stories about Sam’s generosity in giving out scholarships to those who couldn’t afford his classes.

  After some discussion back and forth about The Demon Hand, a method to appeal to the good parts of the man’s nature was devised. Trix would play the part of his mother who loved him unconditionally until her death. Martha Free would be his maid who had sympathy for the man even when he was at his most evil. All of them would gather around out-of-body in Sam’s office to add the extra power that had worked so well when Avery and Mel were freed of their former incarnations. Some of them had broken into groups to discuss other aspects of the project.

  David turned to Ben Daniels, Mel Shank and Shri Kria Baba who were conferring in a corner and levitating gems in various combinations. “Any progress with stone grids that could protect Sam after we unlink him?”

  Shri nodded. “W
e have grids configured to use during the extractions but two of the group will have to act as Sam’s body-guards while he travels to us. Bob and Jim will carry shielding stones and Maggie will drive the van to transport him as soon as he’s entity-free.

  We can set up protection for the group as we’re neutralizing the Demon Hand persona, but with the expertise that Titian has already shown, he’ll most likely break through as soon as he detects energy changes at the Vincent property so we must do everything quickly.”

  David looked to Katera who was huddled with the Radiant Sisters and her four advanced shape-shifting students. They were examining the projections of the Primeans, with great attention as to the difference between genders.

  “We have a much better idea now how to make the patterns unique so we won’t look like an army of clones,” Katera commented. “Want to see and example?”

  Katera started shifting. Her dark hair became blue snake-like tendrils, her face and neck elongated, her eyes went from the usual slightly-Asiatic tilt to round and black, her nose traveled around her face and her ears disappeared. Her clothes transposed to the tight-elastic that seemed to be common wear among the Primeans and large muscles that looked like they were too excited to hold still were evident throughout the body. Long nails manifested from talon- like fingers and toes and her skin- tone became a light shade of green. When she spoke, the voice came from her abdomen.

  “We are not sure if all people have the same skin tone or if it is only common to this clan or that area of the reality. Titian is from another clan as we heard from the hologram, but we do not know if they adjust their skin to match those surrounding them. Titian-as-Roy easily blended in with white-Anglo-Saxon coloring. Since we have only this one possible pattern, we are taking a chance but it is all we have to go on at present.”

  Everyone whistled and applauded and wowed when they saw what Katera had done. “We all have to give it a try,” Jessica said. “Could we try it out-of-body to start with?”

  “It’s fascinating and we should work on that, but I think we’ll hold off. We’ve been working for four hours and need to recharge with a light lunch before we attempt our rescue. After we have Sam here, back to his usual self, we can shapeshift tonight. Does that sound okay to you Ricky?” David asked, looking to her for confirmation.

  “It sounds perfect,” Ricky replied. “Let’s see what Maggie put out for lunch.” She walked out with David, her hand in his and leaned toward him to whisper in his ear.

  “You’re in charge of this part of the project. You don’t have to confirm it with me. I trust your judgement completely,” she said to him.

  He squeezed her hand and whispered back, “You’re the bridge, dear heart. It all hinges on you.”

  After a quick lunch of chicken-vegetable soup, salad and rolls, the group took a little time to walk around on the property, getting back in touch with the feel of nature. Katera mentioned they’d been inside entirely too much lately. They petted the horses, played with the baby goats made noises at the pigs and chased some chickens that had gotten out of the henhouse. They then lay down on the grass for fifteen minutes, ignoring insects and enjoying the feel of a cool breeze on their bodies.

  None of them wanted to admit that they were all a bit rattled by the idea of the pivotal rescue that was about to happen. No one wanted to be the one that messed up the strategy. It was too important to have Sam Reading working for them instead of against them.

  When they returned to the meeting room they discussed timing. The first thing was to verify Sam’s presence in his office and to see if he was alone. Shri was able to put an array of stones in place on the etheric level that deflected other people or disincarnates from entering Sam’s office for about an hour.

  Those involved in the Ono layer of the exercise got ready to dive in. Julia Quintus went out-of-body and shapeshifted into Manga as they had seen her in Ono’s record. Bonta’s out-of-body form was that of Black Diamond, a stallion with a glistening reddish-brown coat and a black diamond shape on his forehead. David’s job was to transform his astral body into a clone of the teacher at the mosque who tried to protect the boys and ultimately took Ono’s life. They had located Sam in his office and the door was officially blocked until the attempt was over.

  David took a deep breath and gave the others the “go” signal, and then they were there with the two beings holding Sam Reading hostage. Ono stood next to Sam Reading, his hand on one shoulder, scolding the Sam persona that was screaming for rescue.

  Ono looked at them, his face etched in stone, his nostrils flaring like a stallion; his body scaly with the dust of the desert. His glare could have killed a thousand camels. And then he recognized who they appeared to be and a transformation took place. Some of the centuries fell away and the young warrior emerged from the stony cage that had held him since his death.

  “This cannot be. Is it you?” he asked, seeing only Julia-as-Manga. He moved from Sam’s side and put his hand on her belly and closed his eyes, tears falling freely over his face as he contemplated the movements of his son within her womb.

  She smiled and bowed her head to him. “My master, we are here to take you on a journey. See, we brought your old friend Black Diamond. He is strong enough to hold us all. Pasha will lead the way. You remember Pasha?”

  Ono patted Bonta-as-Black Diamond on the muzzle then quizzically looked to David-as-Pasha. For a moment there was confusion then he remembered. “You are my executioner. I should rip your skin from your body and break each bone and pile them up in a monument for my lover, but…..” He trembled at the memory. “You saved my son. I saw his face in the faces of the boys you protected when we came as their slaughterers. So instead, I bow before you in thanks. It is a noble way to kill and be killed.” He sank to the ground and touched David-as-Pasha’s feet with his forehead.

  “You are a just warrior, Ono of the family Borjigen, and I lead you forward to your reward in retribution for your death,” David said.

  Ono looked toward Sam who had looked up, his mouth moving soundlessly as if an internal argument was in progress. “I must stay here as the ally of Demon Hand. He is in conflict with someone named Sam Reading who plans to steal his body. He too, fights a noble war.”

  Julia-as-Manga allowed her face to break into a thousand tears. “You would again choose war over your unborn son and your lover? Do you not know that Demon Hand works for another commander who thinks nothing of enslaving children to evil beings who would take their souls and lead them into hell? So says the great Christ the Mistress Beki worships.”

  Ono’s face showed his pain. “No, I would not stay in the command of one who consigns children to hell. Where is the place we will travel?”

  David-as-Pasha pointed the etheric emerald at Ono and then led him to an energetic doorway that was opening near the ceiling of the room. Ono walked toward the bright passage, so enthralled by the light that he did not see the substitution made by the guides on the other side. Etheric figures took the place of the horse, the guide and the woman as Julia sang the notes that she had used in the past to make transitions easier for anxious disincarnates.

  The unheard argument continued between Sam and the Demon Hand. David called in the rest of the group who appeared in their spirit-form as an audience from a magik performance might have looked in the eighteen hundreds with Trix and Martha in the forms of The Demon Hand’s mother and maid.

  Trix moved toward Sam Reading, standing beside the desk. “I am searching for my son. His name is Damion Fellows. I see only a man named Samuel Reading. Can my son come out and speak to me?”

  A voice that seemed to come from the top of Sam’s head laughed a nasty laugh. “You are no more my mother than that horse that came for Ono was his horse. And don’t tell me; that other being is my loving maid Dottie. She was the one who stole coins from my pocket and trophies from my den, all the time smiling and calling me ‘best Master ever’. I kept her only because she was a rogue and I’ve always loved rogues the most.
”

  There was a gap in the proceedings, both of the characters chosen having failed to impress the Hand. What would the next ploy be?

  Katera came forward with an alternative plan when suddenly Sam’s body was surrounded by four Primean women, their hair flaying about on their elongated heads, their clawed hands attaching themselves around his neck, his back, and his arms. Hissing at him, clacking their spindly teeth, unfurling long tongues and licking him. Then the Mother of the Clan pointed an etheric emerald into the crown of Sam’s head and the other three scooped out a struggling figure with purple gloves, dark black hair and eyes, a pointed beard and satin suit.

  “This is not our bargain! You promised me full reign over this body as long as it lives! You promised to bring me into your reality,” Demon Hand protested, his face contorted with rage. He aimed his left hand at the Primeans and attempted to stun them with fatal energy but Katera-as-Clan Mother pulled the gloves off him and devoured them.

  The bare, badly scarred stump of his left hand stood out in its naked vulnerability. The Demon Hand generated such hate that those watching felt the disturbing energy accelerate until all felt some small echo of his hate within themselves.

  “Who are you?” Katera hissed.

  “I am The Demon Hand,” he screamed back at her. “I claim this body.”

  “I see only a pathetic man who has forgotten how to love. Even those of us raised in the rituals of Prime, love more effectively than you. It is time for you to disperse your energy into the Universe so it can be used for something useful,” Katera snarled at him.

  “Titian is my Master. He assigned me to this body, what right do you have to go against him?” His voice is shrill, on the verge of hysteria.

  “Is that how you play your game? I am his head advisor. I was linked to him so a smarter being could control his actions. He is worthless without me, and has been without me for the last little while. You are one of his biggest mistakes. His only consistency is in how he ignores his ancestors,” she responded as she breathed out etheric flame that scorched off Demon’s eyebrows.