by Justin Bloch
“You know that I did not mean to harm you when I gave you this position. I thought it would be something you liked, something to give you a purpose.” After a moment, he added, “And to save your life.”
Bertha sighed. “A thousand years will give anyone a proper perspective,” she said, taking his hand in her own and squeezing it lightly. “I would be lying if I said that I did not wish I had more of a hand in deciding my own fate, but I see the way things must be now. You gave me a gift, Sol. And now, I will return the favor. I will repay you for what you have done. All things balance. Ask for anything you desire. If it is mine to give, it shall be yours.”
The karma policeman’s mind whirled with possibilities. He both wished and didn’t wish that she would take her hand away from his; her touch made it almost impossible for him to think, but it felt so spectacularly right to have her skin against his. She said that he could ask anything of her, and he believed the words and gave each of his thoughts careful consideration. The pair sat in silence for several moments, during which Bertha’s hand never moved and her gaze never wavered. At last, Sol arrived at a decision, marveling over the fact that he could have given an instant’s thought to any other option.
“A song,” he whispered. “I would ask you to sing a song for me.”
The Gatekeeper smiled.
She went behind the rock and out of his sight, but he could hear her warming her voice, humming and singing her way softly through the scale, and even that was gorgeous, even just that little bit would have satisfied his request. The karma policeman sat where he had been since she tackled him, his knees pulled up to his chest and his scarf folded neatly on the ground beside him. He closed his eyes and listened as best he could to the subdued sounds of her voice.
After a few minutes she emerged from behind the stone, moving with the swift grace of a swallow. She had put her hair up, and stray locks curled about her face. She smiled at him, stood before the entrance that she guarded so relentlessly, and gave a deep curtsey, her dress pooling on the ground around her.
“What would you have me sing, detective?” she asked. “I know thousands of songs of many cultures, even songs of the angels.”
He considered this. He knew only a handful of songs, and none of them were possessed of a beauty worthy of the Gatekeeper’s ability. “I would like to hear a song of your people,” he answered. “A song of the Sirens.”
She delighted him with a smile, then curtsied once more. She tilted her head toward the sky and her face grew thoughtful, and after a moment she turned back to him and clasped her hands in front of her. “This is one of our oldest songs,” she said. “It is sung in celebration, most often at births. It was always one of my favorites as a child.”
She took a step forward, shortening the distance between the two of them. She paused, closed her eyes, did not begin singing. Sol felt as if he were about to die. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the waiting, and at last the Siren spread her arms, parted her lips, and he amazed himself by interrupting.
“Bertha?”
She bit her lip and looked annoyed, but when she spoke it was with sweetness. “What is it, detective?”
“Would you…what I mean is…” he stammered. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so tongue-tied, but he could see her impatience growing and he resolved to plunge ahead with his request. He knew that singing was her greatest joy and he would not deny her that pleasure if he could help it. “Would you reveal your wings? While you sing, I mean.”
The Gatekeeper’s irritation evaporated from her face, and she grinned and nodded. She dropped her arms to her side and closed her eyes. After a moment, her entire body shivered like a sparrow bathing in the shallows of a pond. Her wings extended on either side of her, dark and lustrous in the midday sun. She spread them to their full span then folded them behind her. The contrast of her fair skin against the black feathers made her body seem to glow.
She reopened her eyes and focused on Sol. She was smiling, and the karma policeman found it easy to return her grin. He nodded at her and motioned for her to go on, and Bertha the Gatekeeper took a breath and began to sing.
His skin, his muscles, his bones vibrated with the pleasure of it, and he felt the trance of her voice slip down upon him again. The world dimmed until only she remained standing before him, and he was hers, he was solely hers. Even the notes she had sung when she had revealed to him that she was a Siren paled in comparison to this masterpiece. She sang in a language he didn’t understand, but he felt the story of the song all the same in the perfect clarity of her melody, in the way she formed the notes and brought them to life. There were entire worlds in the song, planets circling the star of her voice. It was a beauty unlike any he had ever experienced and his mind trembled with the enormity of it all, nearly unable to bear such splendor. She sang an opera, a hymn, a symphony. She sang perfection, and when he could stand it no longer, and without being aware that he was doing so, he silenced her song by covering her mouth with his own.
They kissed for hours on the warm grass of the ring valley of Limbo. They kissed away the remains of the evening and spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms, dreaming in song.
“You look different, Sol.”
He gave his sister a warm smile and this surprised her even more. They sat together on the pier, facing the Shimmering Sea. Far down, the Pearly Gates chimed and opened, admitting another soul to the Silver City. A chill breeze blew in off the water, and both of them were bundled up in scarves and hats and gloves. Nova’s were a bright, cheerful azure, and there was a puffy pom-pom perched on the top of her hat. Snow fell in fat, heavy flakes from the dull, tin gray sky, speckling their jackets and making the world seem as if it was wrapped in mist, blurring the edges of things. The sea was rough with the weather, the water a dark cobalt, choppy and loud. Waves capped with frothy white licks of foam churned and crashed against the beach, broke heavily against the pilings of the pier.
“I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean,” he said. His attempt to suppress his smile only widened it further.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Come on, policeman. Something is going on. Something has made you happy. Let me in on it.”
He pursed his lips and tried to hold out. He looked away, out over the sea, where the sun shone dimly through the snow like a flashlight pressed against a thick quilt. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Just peachy. Don’t try to change the subject,” she answered. “You disappear from the worlds, scare me silly. Then, you just pop up on the Library. Do you send word about what happened to your poor, worried, gorgeous sister? Hmm?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“Mhmm, not exactly,” she said, nodding as if she wanted to stay in practice. “Then, and this is really the best part, so pay attention, you show up in the Silver City, ask me to come down to the pier with you, and, are you ready for this, Sol?” She paused, waited for him to open his mouth to answer, then soldiered on. “You want to talk about the weather!”
The karma policeman shrugged happily. “You have to admit it’s a pretty nice day.”
“No, I most certainly do not have to admit that.”
He looked at her from the corners of his eyes. “All right, I’ll tell you,” he acquiesced, then fell silent.
She gave him a moment. Then another. “Come on, Sol. You’re killing me.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile. “I’m in love.”
“What? You’re in what?”
“Love,” he repeated. “I have found love and I’m happy.”
Nova looked at him, dumbfounded. The wind gusted, and on the pier in front of them, snow spun about in a tiny whirlwind. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s why you haven’t seen me. I’ve been spending any free time I have away from policing with her. And I’m in love, Nova.” He took her hands in his. “I’m happy,” he stressed.
She regarded him with curiosity for a moment, this brother who wa
s so different than the one she had last seen. This brother, this twin, who smiled and laughed and had a light in his eyes, a light she had worried she would never see. This brother who finally seemed alive. She grabbed him and hugged him tightly. “Oh Sol, I’m so happy for you! Tell me all about her! Who is she?”
“Bertha the Gatekeeper,” he said, returning her embrace with equal, joyful force.
Nova froze.
“She watches over Limbo now, of course, but she’s still…” He hesitated, noticing how stiff his sister’s body had grown against his own. “Nova, what’s wrong?”
His sister broke their hug and sat back. “She’s a Siren.”
“Yes, I know,” he said, and some of the warmth slipped from his soft voice. “What of it?”
“A Siren, Sol. She’s dangerous. Her kind was the only threat to the Silver City.”
“But there aren’t any more of her kind now, are there?” he snapped, his cheeks flushed with heat despite the frigid air. “What does it matter what she is? I love her, Nova, that’s what’s important. I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“I am happy for you. I’m happy you’ve found love and I’m happy you’ve found happiness, but Sol…you can’t ignore what she is. The Sirens were not a peaceful race. They were removed for a reason.”
The karma policeman rose to his feet and spun on his sister. “Removed? They were massacred, Nova. Benign words won’t change the fact that they were slaughtered.”
“Sol, I didn’t mean—”
He cut her off with the slash of one hand and went on. “And Bertha isn’t like them anyway. She served the Silver City faithfully for eons and didn’t waver once. You don’t even know her, who are you to condemn her?” He turned and stalked down the pier and back to the Silver City, his arms scissoring back and forth by his sides.
Nova sat stunned for several moments, watching him go. When she had recovered, she leapt to her feet and chased after him. Her feet kicked up clouds of powdery snow. “Sol, I’m sorry, wait! Please!”
She thought at first that he wouldn’t stop, that he would simply keep up his frantic pace, losing her in the twisted alleys and passages of the city. Indeed, at the sound of her voice, he seemed to increase his speed. But he halted after a few seconds, kept his back to her. The wind blew the tails of his scarf out to his left, and eddies of snow spun and danced between them.
She reached him and came around in front of him. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stared straight ahead, resolute. Because of the height difference, she could not make him meet her eye.
“Sol, I’m sorry. I was just surprised. I didn’t mean to be so horrid, but you have to understand that the Sirens do have a reputation here. I shouldn’t have judged her so quickly, it was wrong and I will get to know her, if you’ll let me, but…you have to understand that not everyone will be open to it. There will be talk, Sol, especially among the Emerald.” She paused and took a breath, but before she could go on, her brother spoke.
“They aren’t important to me, Nova. I couldn’t care less about what Luna and the Emerald think, or what anyone else says,” he said, at last dropping his eyes and looking at her. “You, you are important to me.”
“I know,” she said, and put her arms around him. “I’m sorry about the way I reacted. And I am happy for you, I’m happy to see life in you again. I would like to meet her, I don’t think I exchanged more than a handful of words with her in all the time she watched the Gates.”
After a moment, the karma policeman encircled her with his own arms, linked his hands at the small of her back. “It would be nice if you could meet her.” He was quiet for a heartbeat’s time. “This is important to me, Nova. I’ve never felt like this before. She fills my life, she makes me feel whole. She has entranced me.”
His sister hugged him tighter. “Let’s sit back down,” she said. “You can tell me all about her.”
They walked hand in hand back to the bench they had started from, and there they sat as he related his story, two seraphim awash in the hushed winter sunlight and snowfall of Heaven.
Chapter XVIII
Love grew between Sol and Bertha like ivy, sent tendrils into every part of their life, up and over walls, down craggy, forgotten cliff faces. They were not inseparable, for she lived confined to her small valley and his duties called him away often, but he spent as much time with her as he could, and Bertha proved herself more powerful than even the karma policeman could have guessed. They were bound by love, connected at all times, and she was able to use this thread of emotion to send songs to him, to summon him to her side. It proved an invaluable tool, because whenever Bertha felt herself on the brink, when the solitude threatened to crush her, she could have his presence to take solace in.
The voices of the Silver City did indeed whisper and speculate as news of the relationship between the seraph and the Siren spread throughout the metropolis. The Emerald mounted a special investigation, but it was soon disbanded and Luna reprimanded. Angels watched the growing love with avid interest, waiting for it to burst into flame and provide them with hours of saucy gossip. However as time went by, the pair proved increasingly normal and boring, and the nosy angels turned their attention toward the much more captivating captain of the Emerald, who now seemed constantly at odds with the Citizens of the Silver City.
Time passed, more quickly for Sol, who was often in Heaven, but not so slowly for Bertha either, now that she had someone to share her life with, someone who was assured to visit her. Nova met the Gatekeeper and the three of them had a fine picnic on a warm spring afternoon in the shade of one of the weeping willow trees at the crest of the hill. It had been awkward, but it was a start. And when the siblings returned to Paradise later that evening, Nova pronounced the Gatekeeper and the karma policeman a natural couple, obviously very much in love.
Sol and Bertha each learned the rhythms of the other, and they fell into an easy, comfortable love. They gave and took and shared. On the world they both served, life grew more and more complicated, people forgot more and more of the message of the Son; perverted, in fact, what they did remember and used it to justify violence. A new land that had been there all along was discovered across the ocean, and the world slowly became a sphere instead of a disk. And still the love of the karma policeman and the Gatekeeper grew and deepened.
Time passed, and on Earth civilizations rose and fell, artistic movements were born and spread, machines of war were developed and improved. And in the valley which held the entrance to Limbo at its center, a wedding took place.
On the day of their marriage, Bertha had never looked more beautiful. Her usual gown had been lengthened and made more elegant, and flowers were woven into her hair. She glowed on that day in the summer sun.
The wedding was a small affair, attended by Nova, History, some of the angels who Sol was on regular speaking terms with, and the chief of the karma police, who officiated. Bertha had no guests of her own, but she was not bothered by the fact, for in Sol she had found someone to call family. She would once more have a sister, and the karma policeman’s friends would become hers. She did not seem the least bit perturbed that there were no familiar faces present other than the one of her betrothed and his sister.
Afterward, sitting on red and white checked blankets spread over the ground and snacking on hors d’oeuvres, the guests all agreed that the wedding had been simple but beautiful, and that the bride and groom couldn’t have looked more content with each other. There were no whispers about Bertha’s lineage, and if later, after the angels had returned to the Silver City, tongues thickened and loosened by the champagne began to wag, then Sol did not hear them and did not care anyway. He had found and won his darling. She loved him and he was happy and that was enough for him.
So time, as it has developed the habit of doing, passed. When the child came, it was unexpected, but it was also the most joyful moment in the karma policeman’s long, long life.
The baby was a girl, as all the children of
Sirens were; there were no lords of the sea, only maidens. She was born on a brisk, late autumn day, when the bright sunlight offered no warmth to the Elysian Fields. She came to the world in the usual way and voiced her opinion about it with a shriek that caused the few present to clamp their hands over their ears; she was, after all, part Siren. Only when she was given to Bertha did she quiet, her cries subsiding to a more normal decibel range. She was pink and wriggly and perfect, and the Gatekeeper was delighted to see that two tiny, gosling-gray wings extended from between her shoulder blades. The karma policeman climbed out of the valley and sat beneath a weeping willow, crying silent tears. The fledgling parents named the child Stella.
Sol was granted leave from his work so that he might spend time with his new daughter. There had been only a few past incidences of angels bearing children and their partners had never been anything so scandalous as a Siren, so the couple once more became dinner table fare in the Silver City.
The karma policeman was given five days off, the equivalent of five years in Elysium. He watched his child grow, watched her first steps, heard her first words. He taught her the alphabet, played games with her, entertained her with stories. He loved Stella and it was the deepest he had ever felt for another, even deeper than what he felt for his wife. For the first time, his world shifted away from karma and the will of the Source to this tiny piece of himself that ran and danced and sang with a voice as sweet as her mother’s. As his love for his daughter blossomed, so too did his feelings for Bertha grow, for this was the most uninterrupted time he had ever spent with her, and he continued to become more and more spellbound. Bertha watched her husband and daughter play, saw the deep, encompassing love that the karma policeman held within himself for the girl. She saw it and rejoiced in it.
