by J. R. Mabry
“Who the fuck is this?” Herrer pointed at Richard. “And this?” She pointed at Marco.
“Brian? This is Richard. Are you all right?”
Brian’s voice sounded relieved. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear from you, Dicky.”
“Listen, I have no time to explain. But everything that’s happening over here—it’s a red herring. The real action, the real danger…it’s celestial. I have it on good authority that Larch is ascending the sephirot. He’s trying to destroy them, one at a time.”
“Holy shit,” Brian said. There was a long pause. Richard could hear him breathing and could almost hear him thinking. “That explains why every couple in the world is fighting right now. He must have upset the order in Yesod.”
“It’s the seat of romantic relationships,” Richard said. “Yes, that makes sense. I had no idea that was going on. Haven’t run into many fighting spouses here. Mostly just murderous bands of roving thugs, looters, arsonists…oh, and orgies rubbed raw from lack of lube.”
“Huh. I’m gonna take your word on that.”
“We’ve got our work cut out here, but if anyone knows how to stop Larch…” Richard didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
“You want me to…what?”
“What do you think?”
“I have no idea.”
“Brian, nobody knows the Tree of Life better than you do. I don’t know anyone on earth more prepared for this particular task than you are.”
“Go after Larch.”
“Yes.”
“And stop him.”
“Right.”
“I think this is a little beyond my pay grade. I look shit up. I cook.”
“Brian, if you don’t, he’s not going to stop with marital discord. He’s going to cut the strings of the mobile one at a time until…”
“Until the whole universe comes crashing down,” Brian finished.
“Right.
“Brian, listen to me. It isn’t just this world that needs saving—it’s all of them. And you are the only person I know of who can do it. And saving people…that’s what we do.”
“But I’m not—”
“Like hell you’re not. You might not wear the cassock, but you are every bit as much a part of us as me or Dylan or Terry. We’re a team. We’ve been a team for nearly ten years. You’ve been an integral part of everything we’ve done since you came to live with us. I need you to take point on this one.”
Silence.
“Brian, just a few days ago you told me you needed to do something important with your life. If saving every world in creation isn’t important—”
Richard heard something like a resigned moan.
“What? What does that mean?”
“Okay, okay.” Brian breathed. “Just…I’ll try.”
“You will?” Richard hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out, feeling a rush of relief.
“Look…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what it’s really like up there. I don’t know what he’s doing or how to stop him, but I’ll go. I’ll…I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Richard heaved a sigh of relief. “And be careful. Larch is tricky.”
“I will, Dicky. By the way, I heard from Terry. Dylan lost an eye, but otherwise they made it, and they’re safe.”
“Thanks be to God,” Richard said. “Thank you. Listen, I’m at the Berkeley Police Department. Call me at this number if you find anything, will you?”
“Will do. Be careful. Stay safe.”
“You bet. Do you have support there?”
“Yes. Chava and Elsa. I’m not sure how I’ll explain it to them, but they’ll help. God bless you and keep you, Dicky.”
The line went dead. Richard hung up and turned to face Herrer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Who are you?”
54
“Is this what a stakeout is?” Kat asked. “’Cause it’s really boring.”
“Yep. This is a stakeout,” Mikael affirmed. They had followed Turpelo and Purderabo to a bookstore off of Larkin Street. Kat and Mikael had holed up in a coffee shop across the street and were watching through the window.
“On TV, they sit there for about 20 seconds, and then something happens,” Kat said. “We’ve been here for an hour.”
“And we might be here for hours more.”
“Jesus,” Kat said and sighed. “If I have one more latte, my bladder is going to swell up like a balloon.”
“There is a bathroom here.”
“Nah. I’ll suffer ascetically for the good of my soul.”
“You don’t have to be a fucking martyr about it.”
“I’m not a fucking martyr.”
“You’re acting like a fucking martyr.”
“Who are you to call me a fucking martyr?”
Mikael held up his hand. “Breathe,” he said. “It’s not you, not me.”
Kat nodded and blew air out through her cheeks. She pointed at the ceiling.
“Right,” Mikael agreed.
“Okay,” Kat said, centering herself. “What if Tweedledum and Tweedledee aren’t shopping at the bookstore?”
“It’s an occult specialty shop. What else would they be doing?”
“Maybe they live upstairs, over the bookstore. Maybe Larch is there. Maybe we could be here all night.”
Mikael shrugged. “So what if we are?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You could make an effort not to get pissy, you know.”
“Sorry.”
Kat’s phone pinged. A split second later, Mikael’s did as well. “Must be for the both of us,” Mikael said. “I’ll watch, you read. What do you say?”
“Okay. It’s Brian. And talk about an answered prayer…”
“What?”
“He’s offering us a place to bunk down.”
“Hot damn!”
“He says it’s small, we’ll have to share a twin bed.”
“We’ll snuggle. It’ll be fine.”
“Sounds great, actually,” Kat said.
“Well, ‘ask and you shall receive’,” Mikael lifted his empty coffee cup as a toast.
“Oh…” Kat’s face darkened.
“What?”
“I’m just checking my feed. I’m in the Bay Area Wiccan Network Group.”
“Yeah, I’m in BAWN.”
“I don’t think you’ve seen this. Posted an hour ago. ‘The State’s Attorney has opened an investigation against Bay Area Wiccan groups,’” she read.
“What? What for?”
“For inciting and instigating the violence in the East Bay.”
“That’s crazy.”
Kat stared straight ahead. Then she looked back at her phone. “There’s a link to an article from The Chronicle’s website. It says, ‘The SA’s office is investigating whether the wave of crime sweeping the East Bay might be of occult origin. Wiccan groups are being questioned in connection to the violence.’”
“Could they just be talking about us—you know, Jimmy and Luna and such?” Mikael asked.
“I think it’s way bigger than that,” Kat said, scrolling. “It says here that the leaders of the Reclaiming Community have been detained for questioning, as have leaders from the UU Pagan Alliance and the Church of All Worlds.”
“Good lord,” Mikael swore. “But what I don’t understand is that this isn’t news. They know it’s of occult origin. We told them that.”
“We told Berkeley Detectives that. This is State. This is happening in Sacramento, San Francisco, and San Jose. My guess is that the Berkeley folks never even passed that info along.”
“This is an entirely unrelated investigation?”
“Maybe. I wouldn’t call it an investigation, though. Sounds like more of a witch-hunt.”
“With real witches.”
“Right.” Kat’s fingers tightened on her phone to the point where her hand went white. She forced herself to relax. She looked back at
her phone. “There are protests outside the State Attorney’s office in San Francisco demanding their release. And there are counter protests by asshole conservative Christians demanding that all Wiccans be jailed immediately.”
“Well, that’s a little shit storm,” Mikael whistled.
“And it’s getting bigger,” Kat said. “The police are patrolling the space between the two groups of protestors, but they don’t have sufficient manpower. They’ve called in the National Guard.”
“Wow.”
“Wow.”
Mikael jumped in his seat.
“What?”
He pointed out the window. The door to the bookshop had opened, and they watched as Turpelo exited, followed by Purderabo’s lumbering frame. Purderabo wobbled as they walked down the street, side by side, in the middle of a spirited conversation. Without a word, Mikael and Kat tossed their cups, tucked their folded cassocks under their arms, and exited the coffee shop. They stayed on the opposite side of the street, following from about half a block back. Turpelo turned and looked behind them, but Kat couldn’t make out what he was looking at. They continued undetected.
“The whole, ‘Let’s blame the Wiccans thing,’ really chaps my hide,” Kat confessed.
“Me too.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Kat asked.
“We’re doing it,” Mikael said. “We’re following the people who are actually responsible. We’re doing what the police should be doing, if they had a lick of sense.”
“Why do our police not have a lick of sense?” Kat asked.
“Is that rhetorical?” Mikael asked.
“I guess it is. Yeah.”
Purderabo and Turpelo turned left, forcing Kat and Mikael to cross. “Let’s cross to over there,” he pointed to the diagonal corner.
“Why?” Kat asked.
She heard Mikael breathe, obviously trying to control his temper. “Because if we do,” he said, measuring his words out slowly, “we can stay on the opposite side of the street from them. It’s good cover.”
“Okay. Just asking for your rationale is all.”
“You don’t have to question every word out of my mouth.”
“I’m not.”
“Seems that way.”
“That’s the sky talking.”
He didn’t reply to that. They waited for a break in traffic, then ran for the far corner.
“It’s not enough,” Kat said.
“What? What do you mean? What’s not enough?”
“Just following these guys. It’s not enough.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Don’t snap at me” Kat snapped. “It just isn’t.”
“Wait,” Mikael said, and turned to look at the garage door to their right.
“Why are we looking at this garage door?” Kat asked.
“Will you stop? Just trust me for once, will you?” Mikael pretended to inspect the door. “I saw them look over here.”
“This isn’t a shop window in Union Square,” Kat noted. “This looks weird.”
“Just…” Mikael snuck a look over his shoulder.
“Okay, they’re on the move again…wait, no they’re not.”
Kat turned and looked. Purderabo and Turpelo were looking around, as if they didn’t want to be seen entering. Then they climbed the three steps to the grated door of an apartment building and rang the bell. A minute later, the grate swung inward, and they entered the porch. The door beyond swung open a moment later then closed. Mikael pulled out his phone and made a note of the address.
“You think Larch is here?”
“I don’t know,” Mikael said, looking around for another place to wait.
“There aren’t any shops here,” Kat said. “Besides, it’s getting dark.”
“Is that it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t have a stone in your shoe? You’re not getting a head cold? Planets not in alignment to suit your fancy?”
“Are you saying I’m a whiner?”
“I didn’t say that, you did.”
Kat held up her hand. Mikael’s eyes went wide and he nodded.
“This shit is hard.”
“Fucking hard,” she agreed.
“I really love you.”
“I really love you, too.”
“What do you want to do?”
“What do you think we should do?”
Mikael indicated with his chin. “I think we should wait at that bus stop over there. It’s covered. It has a wind break. One of us can walk back to the street over there for coffee, food, bathroom breaks. It’s a good stakeout spot. No one will notice us just sitting there—it’s a bus stop. People are supposed to sit there.”
“And what happens when the bus comes?” Kat asked as they started to walk toward the stop.
“Look, there’s about fifteen buses that stop here,” Mikael pointed to the kiosk as they got closer. “No one will think anything if we don’t get on a bus. They’ll think we’re just waiting for a different one.”
Kat shrugged. “Okay.” She sat down and looked over at the house. “What do you think they’re doing in there?”
“I have no idea, but knowing those two, it won’t be something my mom would be proud of.”
“Is your mom proud of what you’re doing now?”
“Ha! Hell no. Mom’s an avowed atheist. She thinks I’m crazy.”
“Why haven’t you introduced me to your mom?”
“Next time we’re in Alaska, I’ll do that.”
“Your mom’s in Alaska? Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”
“I’m telling you now. My mom lives in Juneau.”
“What does she do there?”
“She guts fish and chain smokes.”
“Huh.” Kat nodded toward the apartment building. “Why don’t we just see what they’re doing?” Kat asked.
“You mean, just knock on the door and say, ‘Hey guys, what’s up?’ Really?”
Kat’s shoulders deflated. “I hate just waiting around like this.”
“Larch may not be there. Then again he might. But if this is just a stop…they might go elsewhere. We shouldn’t give ourselves away just yet.”
“It’s getting dark. And chilly.”
“Whiner,” Mikael said.
“Asshole,” Kat responded.
“I thought you wanted to get laid?” he said.
“At Brian’s? On the twin bed?” Kat rolled her eyes. “I think I have some time to torment you and make up before we have a suitable opportunity for any serious nookie.”
“You take me entirely too much for granted.”
“Not one little bit,” she kissed his nose.
55
Brian opened the oversized text and stared at the illustration. The Tree of Life filled the page, its ten sephirot hung suspended between heaven and earth like pomegranates, each filled with splendor.
“That’s the Sephir Yetzirah,” Chava said.
“Yes. I’ve always admired this edition.”
“It was my grandfather’s.”
“It’s in beautiful condition.”
“It is,” she agreed. She looked at the text over his shoulder.
“Chava, I’m going to tell you something incredible, something you won’t want to believe.”
“Brian, how long have we known each other?”
“Still…”
“Try me.”
“You didn’t believe me when I told you I know Serah Bat Asher.”
Chava turned away. “Only because it is impossible that she would betray her people and become a…”
“A Christian?”
Chava folded her arms over her chest, but she still wouldn’t look at him.
“The Christians’ greatest and earliest theologian, Paul, said that in Jesus, God was setting up another Israel—not a better one, just a parallel community. Another community full of people who wrestle with God and love God, just as we do. A community spec
ifically set up for gentiles. Okay, we have our doctrinal disagreements, but is that notion of a parallel Israel so far-fetched? Doesn’t it sound like the kind of thing HaShem might actually do?”
Chava chewed on her lip, staring into space. “There is a tradition that says Serah was adopted by Asher. That she was goyim, brought into the family.”
“Well, that’s interesting. If she was goyim to begin with, maybe she sees her…affiliation…as more fluid than we do.”
Chava didn’t answer.
“Chava, if the Christians are right—if God did set up another community to love and save—and if Serah is goyim by birth, might she not feel at liberty to travel back and forth between the two communities?”
“I think living with Christians has poisoned your mind,” she said, a little hotly.
“Or opened it.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned into the kitchen and put on the kettle. “So what’s with the Sephir Yetzirah?”
“A black magickian is ascending the sephirot and throwing them out of balance. We think he intends to destroy them.”
There was a crash from the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” Brian called.
Chava walked back to the doorway, her eyes wide. “Are you shitting me?”
“Nope.”
“Is that why…”
“All the fighting? Yeah. It makes sense, don’t you think? If you throw Yesod out of balance—”
“You lose marital harmony.”
“Right.”
“Oh my God.” Chava wasn’t avoiding his eyes now. “Brian, what do we do?”
“I guess…I have to go after him. None of the Blackfriars know the sephirot, not like I do. And no one else—”
“No one else would believe it,” Chava breathed.
“Right. I just…” Brian sank onto the couch. “…don’t know if I’m capable of this.”
Chava sat down next to him. “I want to tell you a story. When Jacob and his sons returned to Egypt, Joseph prophesied that a redeemer would arise to save the Jewish people. He told them that they would know him by the phrase ‘pakod pakadeti.’”
“Pakod pakadeti?” Brian repeated. “I have taken note?”
“Exactly. And Asher told his daughter Serah this secret. So hundreds of years later, when Moses and Aaron were performing their wonders in the sight of our people—to prove they were really from God—the elders of Israel came to Serah and told her about them.”
