“What’s the greatest quality a human can possess? The one quality that can be the most dangerous?”
Since this witch knows my name, I suspect she knows the answer to the riddle. The wise woman had warned me that the ferryman would only ask what I needed to know . . . later.
“What does it mean?” I whisper.
“A kiss,” she says as she licks the left side of my face. “And we’ll cross the bridge together and I’ll whisper the answer in your ear.”
I hear the falsehood in her words. Worse, I smell it in her saliva.
“No!” I shout, and suddenly push her back. “You’re a liar!”
Fury grips her face and tears her wounds wide open so that I can see her sharp teeth waiting inside. The change in her is breathtaking.
“You dare to defy me? You who are already damned.”
“Maybe I am.” I pause as the answer to the riddle comes to me. “But I’d be a fool to put my faith in you.”
Faith was the answer to the riddle. Faith was the greatest human quality. It could move mountains. It allowed me to trust Krishna. It gave me the courage to trust my friends, and to seek out John and listen to his words.
But faith could also be dangerous. Faith in the wrong person. And blind faith in a sect or creed could often lead to dogma and bondage.
Faith is indeed a coin with two sides.
To know what side is right, I have to trust my heart.
She stares at me, her needle held ready. She can read my mind, she knows she has lost me. But she still wants a piece of me. I have to laugh.
“What’s the matter, witch? Black cat bite your tongue?”
She stabs at me, she’s fast. I barely escape her thrust. Yet that’s the crux of my dilemma—I have nowhere to go. But maybe life has taught me a thing or two. As she strikes again, I dodge to the left, close to the edge. A dumb move, on the surface, but I’ve finally decided that it’s time for a leap of faith.
“You’re mine!” she screams, approaching for what she’s sure will be the decisive blow.
“You’re so full of shit,” I say.
My heart, and my head, tell me a dead person can’t die.
I jump over the side of the cliff.
I don’t scream as I fall.
I don’t want to give the witch the satisfaction.
I fall a long way, in utter darkness.
Before I strike something hard and black out.
When I come to, I’m lying on my back on large gray marble tiles, staring up at the night sky between the edges of two very close-together cliffs. The stars are faint and far off and they confuse me because I wasn’t able to see any stars when I stood at the end of the tunnel. I don’t see how, in this underworld, I am able to catch even a glimpse of the heavens.
As I lie there, I hear the clink of metal hitting stone. Looking over, I’m pleased to see it’s the witch’s silver needle. For some reason the blood is gone from the tip. I wonder if it wiped off on my clothes when she tried to stab me that last time and missed. Rolling over, I sit up and grab the needle and slip it in my pocket. I might need it later.
I’m surrounded by torches. They burn in twin lines away from where I sit, held in place by gigantic metal sculptures that writhe in the flickering shadows like snakes in passion. Standing, I can make out a distant structure that bears a vague resemblance to the Greek Parthenon. It could be miles away but it’s not as if I have any other place to go. Feeling good about my escape from the witch, I set off at a brisk pace.
It takes me an hour to reach the white building.
On the steps of the structure, there’s a bustle of activity. I’m glad to discover this crowd is not brain-dead like the one back at the river. At the same time it’s not a major social scene. As I get in line, I notice how orderly the group is. The line leads straight up the steps toward the dimly lit interior but no one pushes to get to the front.
Maybe they have their reasons. I can’t see what’s going on inside but every now and then I hear two loud sounds reverberate from the heart of the Parthenon’s cousin. A beautiful melody of chimes blowing in a breeze and a despairing wailing noise.
The second sound worries me.
The wait is long. There’s no table with magazines to read and the people around me, although polite, all seem to be caught up in their own thoughts. I get the impression most have heard about the Scale. To be frank, it’s hard to imagine a more heavy place. It’s not an evil spot, but it is a crossroads of immense significance. For we’re about to be judged, our souls are, and the Scale will determine where we spend the rest of eternity.
I pick up that much from listening to the others.
Everyone seems to know it’s the Scale that makes the sounds.
The sweet chimes mean you’re going to heaven.
The screeching wail means you’re going to hell.
I look for the women I crossed over the river with but don’t see them. I wish at least one was nearby. I’m anxious; I long for companionship. Just meeting them, I could tell they were kindhearted. For sure, they didn’t have the blood of thousands on their hands.
I wish Yaksha had never turned me into a vampire.
I would have been in and out of this place centuries ago.
No sweat. I had been a good mother and wife.
I feel as if I stand there for hours. It’s difficult to gauge the passage of time. Overhead, the stars remain fixed in place. Either the earth has stopped rotating or else we’re no longer on it. I try without success to find a familiar constellation. I keep thinking about my friends and how much I love them.
I pray Matt learns to accept Teri as a vampire.
I hope he’s able to find his mother.
Umara. I would have loved to have met her.
Finally, the slow-moving line leads me inside. Two groups of characters—one in white-hooded robes, the other red—direct the traffic. Someone refers to them as Caretakers. The Caretakers in white are the good guys. The ones in red . . . I hear you don’t want to get too close to them. Both move about silently, their faces largely covered, without making a fuss.
For the first time I realize there are many rooms inside the structure. A white-hooded Caretaker places me in a small area behind a dozen people. Inside the room is a black marble table, on which sits a gold Scale as large as a desk. Numerous candles light the room but the Scale has no need of them; it possesses its own luster. Its design is simple and elegant. Two circular plates hang by three sets of chains each, which are attached to a sleek pole that sits atop a square bar. It’s the bar, welded tight in a heavy cube, that supports the whole thing.
Behind the Scale, on the right, is a doorway filled with a golden light. I can’t see any particular object in the light but it’s enough to be near it, to stare at it and feel its soothing warmth. On the left is another doorway, only the light coming from it is a terrifying red. It makes my eyes ache to look at it.
Inside the room, the line isn’t exactly straight, it’s spread out. When it comes to the final step, it appears people are given a choice of when to take it, within reason. There’s no pushing or jockeying to get ahead. But I watch, fascinated, as a young African girl approaches the Scale. She’s pretty but far too thin. It’s possible she starved to death. She announces herself when she reaches the Scale.
“My name is Batu Sangal. I am fourteen years old.”
Batu must have arrived before me and studied the proper protocol; she knows what to do. I watch as, closing her eyes, she stretches out her hands so one hangs above each of the Scale’s plates. I marvel how steady she keeps her arms, but it’s possible they’re under the control of an invisible force. Her hands seem to hover for ages. Finally, as if by magic, jewels begin to form beneath her fingers.
On the right side of the Scale, a small pile of diamonds begins to appear. On the left plate, a smaller collection of black pearls materializes. For a moment the Scale teeters, as if deciding which side is heavier. But since the amount of diamonds is so much gre
ater, I’m not surprised when the gold plate settles down on the right side.
At that instant the sound of chimes fills the room.
The enchanting melody causes everyone to sigh with relief.
Clearly the diamonds represent our virtues.
While the black pearls are symbolic of our sins.
A white-hooded Caretaker takes Batu’s hand and leads her toward the door on the right, where she disappears into the golden light. I feel happy for her and wish I was following in her footsteps. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the two doors represent.
Next up is a well-dressed woman from Los Angeles. I recognize the accent.
“My name is Sharon McCloud. I am seventy years old.”
Sharon stretches out her arms, palms up, and closes her eyes and waits. Me, I think I would keep my eyes open in case the pile of black pearls on the left starts piling up. I’m not sure how the Caretakers deal with runners and I hope I never find out. Still, I would want to see what is materializing beneath my hands. I suppose Sharon is certain she is going to paradise.
Sharon ends up with six bright diamonds on the right plate. But so many black pearls form on the left side that it quickly causes the Scale to tilt in that direction. It strikes the table beneath the plate with an audible bang, which causes her eyes to fly open.
“No,” she whispers. “There must be some mistake.”
The screeching wail seems to come out of the walls.
Everyone groans; the sound makes our heads ache.
“No!” Sharon screams. “I’m a Christian! I renounce Satan and all his works! You’re making a mistake! I didn’t do anything wrong! You can’t put me in there!”
The red-robed Caretakers are experienced. Three of them descend with amazing speed and grab Sharon by her arms and legs and lift her off the floor. They carry her toward the left door and the wicked bloody light.
“Please!” Sharon begs. “Don’t put me in the fire! I don’t want to go in the fire!”
The Caretakers go as far as the threshold of the left door, but don’t cross inside. Dark arms with burned flesh reach out and grab Sharon. The sight of the arms causes me to do a double take.
I swear I’ve seen them before.
The Caretakers let go and Sharon’s screams slowly fade away.
“Jesus,” I whisper. She’s gone but the sound of her cries haunts me. The diamonds and pearls disappear before another person steps forward.
The guy in front of me goes next. He looks like an Eskimo. He still has on a heavy seal coat and, incredibly, has a raw fish in his pocket. He must have drowned while ice fishing.
His case is maddening. He holds out his hands and closes his eyes and an equal number of bright diamonds and black pearls materialize. At least to the eye. But the gold plates, after fluctuating up and down on both sides for what seems like forever, finally settle on the right side.
The chimes fill the room.
The collective sigh of relief is loud.
The Eskimo is led off to the golden light.
Suddenly the young blond woman comes up beside me.
“How are you doing?” she asks.
“I’ve been better.”
She nods toward the Scale. “You’re going to be all right.”
“I don’t know. My history, it’s complicated.”
“But your heart is good. I can tell.”
“Do you know how far they go back?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does this Scale weigh everything you’ve done in life? Or are more recent events more important? You see what I’m asking.”
“Sure. Maybe a person got off to a bad start but then they found their path in life and became a better human being.”
“Exactly. It seems to me that where you end up should carry more weight.” I say this because my behavior improved as I went along in life, even for a vampire. Indeed, toward the end, I saved a lot of lives.
Of course, in the beginning, I took a lot of lives.
The blonde shakes her head. “I can’t say for sure how it works.”
“You look awfully optimistic. Have you gone yet?”
“I was waiting for you and that other woman.”
“That’s nice of you. Have you seen her?”
“No. But I’m not surprised. She told me when we were crossing the river with the ferryman that her case is different.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“She said her path depended on what you decided.”
“She didn’t tell me that.”
“I might have misunderstood her.”
“Besides, there’s nothing left to decide. What’s done is done.”
The blonde is distracted, excited to move on. “Hey, are you ready to give it a go?” she asks.
I hesitate. “Are you?”
“I can go first if you want.”
“Great. I’ll root for you.”
There’s a man already in front of us. He looks like a European businessman. I can tell he’s nervous. His face is intelligent but maybe that’s his problem. He might have made too many shrewd decisions in his life, ones that cost others but not himself. He introduces himself before the Scale.
“My name is Roberto Vion. I am forty-nine years old.”
I lean over and whisper to the blonde. “Why do you have to state your age?”
“I heard if you’re older, the Scale expects more of you.”
“Oh shit.”
Roberto stretches out his arms and closes his eyes. Immediately the diamonds begin to pile up at a fast rate. Then, halfway through the process, probably halfway through his life, the pearls start to pour out at high speed. It’s like he hit a bad stretch.
Near the end, the diamonds start to increase.
When it’s over, the Scale wobbles back and forth.
But it settles on the left side. Under the weight of the pearls.
The room is dead silent. Except for the Caretakers. The red-hooded and white-hooded ones whisper back and forth to each other.
The tension is unbearable. My partner and I exchange looks.
The wail finally starts. It’s so loud.
Roberto takes it like a man. He’s quiet as he’s led away.
“Damn it. There’s no mercy here,” I swear.
“There is,” a voice says at our backs. We turn to find the wise woman has found us. Her company is reassuring but my nerves are still taut.
“Glad you could make it,” I say with feeling.
She smiles as she pats me on the back. “Whose turn is it?”
“I’m going next,” the blonde says.
Neither of us tries to stop her. The small crowd parts as she makes her way up front. She nods to both colored Caretakers, and to the Scale itself.
“My name is Teresa Raine. I am nineteen years old.”
Closing her eyes, she stretches out her hands.
“It’s Teri!” I gasp. “Why didn’t I recognize her?”
“You knew her,” the other woman says.
“But what’s she doing here? She’s not dead.”
“How do you know when she died?”
“I just made her into a vampire!”
“There is no before or after here. There is only now.”
I shake my head. “This place is not natural.”
Teri holds her palms above the gold plates. Things start slow for her, I’m not sure why. A few small diamonds appear, followed by a couple of black pearls. But then the pile of diamonds begins to grow. The size and brightness of the stones increase. No more pearls appear.
Her plate comes to rest on the right side.
The chimes sing louder than ever.
The woman and I cheer. Teri calls to us as a white-hooded Caretaker takes her away. She doesn’t struggle with the guy, but tries her best to tell him that she wants to wait for us. He shakes his head. As she’s being led to the right door, she shouts to me, “I love you!”
Teri disappears into the golden light.
I discover I’m weeping.
I’m so happy for her, and so scared for myself.
The woman squeezes my hand. “It’s time,” she says.
“What happens if I fail?”
“Your path has always been difficult. Don’t falter here at the end.”
Her advice sounds like something Krishna would say.
I step up to the front and nod to the Scale and the Caretakers.
“I am Sita. I am five thousand one hundred and fifty-two years old.”
A stir fans the room. Voices murmur all around.
A tall red-hooded Caretaker orders everyone to hush.
Something about his voice sounds familiar.
I hate him. He’s not indifferent like the others. He’s evil.
Keeping my eyes open, I stretch out my arms. As I place my hands above the plates, palms upward, I feel as if something reaches out and locks them in place. The invisible grip is strong enough to hold a normal human in place. Of course, I’m not human, yet I suspect that even I could not break free. Plus I see no point in fighting the process. I mean, where am I going to run?
Diamonds begin to collect on the right side, small ones. This goes on for a while and I feel encouraged but then black pearls start to pour onto the left plate. I realize this must be a result of when Yaksha changed me into a vampire. Back in the days when we killed whoever crossed our path.
Then something miraculous happens.
A single giant diamond appears above the right plate. It drops onto it from a height of several inches and heavily weighs it down. In an instant I know the precious jewel is from the day I met Krishna and took my vow not to make any more vampires. The diamond is so large it must weigh several pounds. I suddenly feel good about my chances.
Then fate or destiny intervenes.
Pearls and diamonds begin to pour out of the thin air at an incredible speed. Since the Scale has so many years to cover, I can understand the need for haste. But this is ridiculous.
There are so many pearls and diamonds on each side, they begin to fall off the plates onto the table, and I have to ask myself how I managed to commit so many good and bad deeds. Frankly, most of my life I just kept my head down and tried to keep people from noticing that I never aged. Yet the Scale acts like I never stopped killing or saving people.
Thirst No. 4 Page 30
