by Tony C. Skye
“Let's head out of the city,” Martha points towards an exit ramp. The girl nods and turns on her blinker.
“Your stereo works like the library,” Martha explains, Frank had all the cars loaded with your music. I've been recording our conversations so the cars could understand your voice. Sorry for the intrusion, dear. But telling you would have ruined the surprise.”
“It' okay. I understand.”
“It's not a habit, Julia,” Martha continues, “I'm very strict when it comes to someone's privacy.”
“Grams,” Julianna glances over to her right, “Don't worry about it.” Her eyes quickly refocus upon the road in front of her.
“Well I do,” Martha reiterates, “But it won't happen again. There's no need for it.”
“Load Robbie,” Julianna ignores her grams and tries out her stereo system.
“Robbie is loaded, Julianna. Would you have me turn up the volume?”, the car speaks like a real woman. It lacks the robotic voice she is accustomed to hearing at the library.
“It knows my name,” Julianna's bewilderment causes Martha to grin approvingly.
“Sorry, Julianna,” the car speaks again, “But that is a command I do not understand.”
“Radio off,” Julianna would rather concentrate on her driving.
“As you wish, Julianna,” the car complies, “Radio off.”
“Can I shut her up?”, Julianna questions her grams.
“I believe Frank said you had to command the auto-voice function,” Martha replies.
“Auto-voice function off,” Julianna makes her attempt.
“Auto-voice function is off, Julianna,” the car complies obediently.
“I love this car,” Julianna smiles.
“The snails will start passing us if you don't speed it up, dear,” Martha refers to all of the traffic passing them up on the highway.
Julianna glances at her speedometer. She's only driving forty miles per hour. She accelerates the vehicle to fifty-five. The car reaches the speed in less than a couple of seconds. The sudden rush of power excites her. Her grams, on the other hand, is somewhat nervous. But she plays it off by changing the subject.
“We need to have a discussion about your heritage, Julia,” Martha opens the floor.
“Shoot,” Julianna notifies her grams that she's all ears.
“Your mother,” Martha begins, “As you probably already know, left the library.”
“Yeah. I read it in her dia...”, Julianna catches her slip up, “I mean, it's in the prophecy.”
“Whenever she did that,” Martha continues while ignoring the small hiccup from her granddaughter, “She walked away from everything the library stood for. Part of that is the wealth which surrounds our bloodline.”
“Okay...”, Julianna draws the word out to convey she is ready to hear more.
“You understand Lilith was the first woman, right?”, Martha probes. When Julianna nods, the woman continues.
“She had to endure some terrible things. But she was strong willed, intelligent, and highly motivated.”
“She's very smart,” Julianna recollects her encounters with the beautiful woman.
Martha continues towards her point, “Lilith had to learn to survive in a very hostile place. And being the smart woman she is, she surrounded herself with the most powerful people she could find.”
Martha notices a confused expression upon her granddaughter's face.
“The God of Heaven didn't create just two people, dear,” the woman explains, “The story about the garden is nothing more than a controlled experiment. The outcome of which carried consequences for everyone else that was, also, alive.”
Julianna nods, “That does sound like something that sick bastard would do.” The girl's venomous tone slightly unnerves Martha. Until now, she hadn't realized just how deeply Julianna despised Him.
Martha explains further, “What history has lost – or only found in our library – is the fact that Lilith became hunted. But because of people like Lady Lanecia, Lilith not only survived, but she was able to ensure her heirs did as well.”
“Lady Lanecia?”, Julianna questions the relevance.
“Yes,” Martha confirms, “Her bloodline is not of Lilith. But her family has always protected Lilith's bloodline.”
“So Lilith isn't some kind of voodoo woman?”
“No,” Martha answers, “And she's not a witch or anything else. She is who she is. That's all there is to her.”
“Voodooists is of Lady Lanecia's bloodline. Sorcery and witchcraft are all branches off of Lilith's beliefs. But unlike these so-called experts will try to explain, voodoo and hoodoo has been around as long as Lilith, herself, walked the earth. Lady Lanecia's people were some of those powerful people Lilith surrounded herself with. They were from Africa. Same place Lilith comes from.”
“Why isn't Lilith black?”, Julianna objects to her gram's story.
“Let's not be racists, dear,” Martha instructs.
“I'm not. I just figured it should be the case.”
“The God of Heaven likes variety,” Martha speaks an obvious truth.
“And He, also, enjoys slavery, rape, and torture,” Julianna bitterly counters.
Martha decides to approach from a different angle.
“Devia,” Martha speaks, “Is another piece of the complicated network started by Lilith. She isn't part of Lady Lanecia's bloodline or ours. There are others just like her. Over time, you will come to know some of them. They exist to serve the Mother of Darkwaters.”
“I kinda got that from Devia,” Julianna confesses, “But I'm not so sure I'm good with it. It's a lot of pressure. What if I let everyone down?”
Martha laughs.
“I'm serious, grams.”
“Julia, that's the beauty of who you are, you can't let them down. You are the Mother of Darkwaters. You're not trying to be her. You are her. Every decision you make. Every thought. Every word. Every action. It all comes from the Mother of Darkwaters. You.”
Martha waves her right hand towards the car's dashboard, “If you choose this car, then the Mother of Darkwaters has chosen this car. You do not choose it because you may wonder what kind of car the Mother of Darkwaters would want. It's about what you want and desire. You are her.”
“Okay, grams. Let me see if I get this,” Julianna answers, “From what you're saying, it's impossible for me to mess anything up. And this is because everything I say or do is coming from the Mother of Darkwaters. I'm not trying to be her. I am her.”
Martha smiles, “One-hundred percent correct.”
“So what about money for this car?”, Julianna directs her grams to the point of this conversation, “How much do we...I mean...how much do you have?”
“Jules, dear,” Martha waves both hands outward as though she is presenting the highway in front of the car; “You have the world's money.”
“The what?”, Julianna nearly chokes on the thought.
Martha reaches over and pats her granddaughter on her right leg.
“Julia. The entire world belongs to your child. You're the richest woman on the planet.”
“My what?”, Julianna panics at the thought of becoming pregnant.
“Don't worry,” Martha soothes her tensions, “You are the one who will decide the when and where of childbirth. It's your life. Right now, all you need to decide is whether or not you want this pretty car.”
“Car. Yes” Julianna gives her response, “Child. No freakin’ way.”
Martha laughs, “Car it is. No need to rush into anything else. I don't agree with babies having babies. That's part of the problem with this world. Immaturity raising immaturity.”
“Agreed,” Julianna nods with finality.
Martha pats her granddaughter's leg before removing her hand, “That's what is so great about being you, Julia. There are no time limits or time frames. You make the calls concerning your life. You don't need to worry about wearing some holier than thou penguin suit or sittin
g on a throne somewhere raining down blessings. All you need is what you, yourself, choose to do each and every day. And for the record, anyone who attempts to sway you has committed a fatal crime. It is a punishment that carries a death sentence.”
“I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I'm not killing someone because they have their own opinions,” Julianna objects to the idea.
“Sorry, dear. Interference with Lilith's bloodline is a death sentence. It may sound harsh, but it's necessary. If it were not in place, none of us would be here today. But you don't need to worry about such things. If the God of Heaven doesn't do it, then the Network will.”
“The Network?”
“That's enough for today,” Martha counters the question, “Just know that people like Devia who are outside of our bloodline is considered part of the Network.”
“I can live with that,” Julia concedes to her gram's wishes. She looks over at Martha, “For today.”
Martha smiles, “Of course, dear.”
Julianna returns her eyes to the road, “So where we headed?”
“When you get to BB Highway, you'll be making a left.”
“Gotcha.”
* * *
About an hour later, Julianna sees the road. She turns left and drives about two miles before Martha points with her right hand.
“Make a right here,” Martha indicates an out of place asphalt driveway when compared to the other branching gravel roads.
Julianna turns and stops at a large iron gate. Her grams instructs her to wait while she gets out, walks up to a keypad posted by the gate, pushes on it a few times, and then watches the double-gate swing inward. The woman returns to the vehicle and closes the door.
“Follow it to the end,” Martha instructs.
“Who lives here?”, Julianna questions while accelerating the car forward.
“You'll see,” Martha gives her answer.
Julianna drives along the winding asphalt driveway. About five minutes later, the thick surrounding forestry opens up into a beautiful bush garden maze off the road's right side.
“Don't go in there by yourself,” Martha warns, “We'll never find you.”
“It's huge,” Julianna's mind tries to comprehend the amount of work something like this would take.
“Park right there” Martha points to the top side of the enormous two-hundred foot circle drive up ahead. The girl obeys and turns off her engine. She stares at a mansion bigger than anything she has ever seen in real life. It makes her gram's place look like a poor man's shack.
The stone porch leading to the house matches the arching semi-circle shape of the driveway. However, the stone patio's u-shape is inverted. Julianna, immediately, recognizes the opposing u-shape design as belonging to the language of Lilith. In this particular arrangement, the symbols refer to the balances between life and death.
Julianna looks at a thick masculine man standing on the white and black stone porch. He wears a butler uniform. The man turns and yells into an open double-entryway leading into the castle-like mansion.
“Gariatu Estidium Merné!”, his deep voice booms.
Julianna pops her door. Her grams does the same.
“Don't get out, dear,” Martha warns.
Julianna follows her grams blue eyes towards the double-entryway. She watches as a parade of sixteen women come streaming out of the house. They hop and skip as if they are performing at a theater. Each wearing a maid's uniform, they stop as they near the u-shape patio's end. Eight women align to the right of the thirty-foot high double-door entryway. The other eight align themselves equally to the left. In perfect synchronization, all sixteen women drop to their knees with their foreheads placed against the stone. Their arms hang off of the patio's edge.
Julianna's brows furrow lines in her forehead as she watches two more very large men exit the tall entryway. Unlike the man wearing the black uniform, they each wear a white butler uniform. Each one carries a large wicker basket. They remind Julianna of those baskets she has seen in the movies that snake charmers use.
Behind the two men, four women with matching blond hair dashes out of the house onto the patio. They are all barefooted and wear light blue silky dresses which drape down to their ankles. Two women stand on the outside of each man, respectively. The two men in the center walk in sync with their escorts down the sixteen large stone stairs. Whenever they all reach the asphalt's surface, they divide themselves – two women and one man centers in front of the bowing eight women on the left. The other three does the same in front of the women to the right.
Julianna listens as the sixteen women bowing their heads against the patio's surface begins chanting.
“Praise be to our Mother of Darkwaters.
Her black hair colors raven's wings.
Praise be to our Mother of Darkwaters.
Her green eyes paint the grass and the trees.
Praise be to our Mother of Darkwaters.
Her mane causes the beasts to obey.
Her lips drink the waters of Death.
Her words are full of all power and authority.
Her body is more precious than fine jewels.
Praise be to our Mother of Darkwaters.”
Julianna stares with her lips partly open. The scene floods mixed feelings within her. On one hand, she doesn't like the unwarranted attention. But at the same time, she does. There's something deeply desirable about the women singing praises to her. Yet, it also makes her feel quite uncomfortable.
She watches as the women finish their first round of the chant. As they begin their second round, the four women wearing light blue all raise their arms above their heads. Their bodies begin dancing in practiced rhythm of one another. When they begin twirling, they each stop briefly to dip both hands into the wicker baskets.
Two of the women turn and sway their way over to Julianna's side of the car. The other two women do the same on Martha's side. Julianna watches in awe as the two women on her side both kneel and touch the asphalt with their red painted lips. As they lift their faces from the black surface, their hands sprinkle rose petals where their reverent kiss had just touched. The women stand and dance their way back over to the baskets. They repeat the arduous process until a path of red petals leads all the way up to the mansion's entryway from both sides of the car.
When the petal path is finished, the two men wearing white butler uniforms leave their baskets and walk up the stairs to stand on each side of the entryway. Facing each other, both men kneel. Their foreheads touch the stone's surface. The four women wearing blue do the same – one across from the other. As the next cycle of chanting begins, the six most recent worshipers join in.
“This is crazy,” Julianna nudges her gram's elbow.
“It is something,” Martha wonders after the scene, “It's the first time I've ever seen this myself. I have only heard about it.”
“What do you mean?”, Julianna questions, “You've never been here before?”
Martha smiles, “Not with you, I haven't.”
“Who's place is this?”, Julianna begins imaging some prince dude walking out and proposing marriage.
“It's yours, dear,” Martha pats her worrisome granddaughter on the leg.
“No fuc...”
“Bridle that tongue, young lady,” Martha interrupts Julianna's excitement.
“You may be the Mother of Darkwaters,” Martha speaks sternly, “But you are still my granddaughter. And I will not have my granddaughter speaking like trailer trash.”
The hard stare on Martha's face surprises Julianna. She's never heard her grams talk like this before. And if she has anything to do with it, she won't ever hear it again.
“Sorry, grams. You're right. I have no business talking like that. I can make better usage of language than using the lazy foul stuff.”
Martha takes her granddaughter's right hand, “I don't expect you to be something you're not. But I do expect you to try and do your best in everything you choose to do. That include
s using that tongue of yours.”
“You're right, grams,” Julianna concedes with a pausing smile, “Like always.”
Martha glances over to the porch before finding her granddaughter's green eyes again.
“You ready?”
Julianna exhales a nervous breath. She nods. Martha turns to the exit the vehicle.
“Wait,” Julianna hollers out.
“What?”, Martha turns in a panic.
“Can I walk on those barefooted?”, the girl curiously asks. Martha sees her granddaughter pointing towards the rose petals. She throws her head back and laughs.
“You sure can,” Martha gives permission, “They're yours.”
Julianna slips off her open-toed shoes. She steps out onto the soft red path and awkwardly grins at her grams who looks at her from the other side of the car. Martha smiles back and moves her stare towards the petals in front of the vehicle. Julianna understands her meaning and soon joins her at the rendezvous. Together, they ascend the stone stairs and approach the large entryway. As they near the butler wearing black, the chanters cease their praise. The butler notices what seems to be disappointment upon Julianna's face. However, what he is witnessing is just a lot of nerves.
“They can continue if you would like, Mother,” the strong male's deep voice speaks.
Julianna glances around at the others. They are no longer pressing their foreheads against the patio. Instead, they are each on all fours with their heads staring down at the stone before them.
“Um,” Julianna is faced with her first official decision, “No. That's fine. Besides, it's too addictive.”
She notices the four women wearing the blue silk dresses are looking at each other with knowing smiles of self-approval. One of them sees her staring and acts scared as she forces her forehead back to the patio in an apologetic reverence. Her three friends immediately follow her lead and do the same.
“Hmm,” Julianna contemplates her feelings about such things, “That's what I mean. Too addictive.”
One of the four women snickers.
“You!”, the butler wearing black yells out, “Look at me!”
Julianna watches the woman on the left side of the entryway – nearest to the male basket holder – raise her head from the stone. Her eyes are full of terror. Her lips tremble as she looks into the butler's fierce stare.
