by Alex Marcoux
“You’re not serious.”
“I am serious.”
“My God, West. Did you get bit?”
“Yes and no,” West’s eyes met Rachel’s. “Look, I’m not proud of this, but I haven’t been completely honest with you about something.” He stuck his leg away from the table for Rachel to view. He lifted the pants from the bottom of his left leg. An artificial limb was wedged into his shoe.
Rachel shot a questioning look at West. As if reading her mind, “This is temporary. My prosthetic is much more natural looking.”
“That’s why you left my bed so early this morning?”
He nodded, “I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t matter, West. Are you telling me the snake bit your prosthetic?”
He grinned for the first time that evening. “Yeah. Then I bashed its head with an iron statue…Unfortunately, it totaled my leg too. I fell and hit my head.”
Rachel pondered the situation. She remembered how Jessie had been warned not to see her. “I’m so sorry, but I honestly don’t know who would do this.”
West put their situation in perspective. “Someone doesn’t want me to see you, Rachel. A minute doesn’t go by when I haven’t thought of you,” his voice softened. “What are we going to do?”
Rachel felt lost. Why was this happening? She shook her head. “We shouldn’t see each other.” Her heart sank at her own suggestion.
“I don’t intimidate that easily, Rachel.”
“Until I know what’s going on, I don’t see any other choice. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt. Please, just leave.”
West knew she was right. He reached for her hand. “I have information on your names, Lukeman and Kek.”
“Are they Egyptian?” Rachel was curious.
“Very much so. The name Lukeman means a prophet. There was once a high priest of Egypt whose name was Lukeman. He was a teacher of the mysteries; apparently, he was murdered after he was caught teaching the mysteries to untouchables.”
“Untouchables?”
“The lower caste, the uninitiated…the profane.”
Rachel marveled at the coincidence. “And the name Kek?”
“Kek means the god of darkness.”
“The god of darkness?” she whispered. “Like the devil?”
West nodded. “Yes, like the devil, like Abaddon.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was around ten o’clock that morning when Jessie arrived at the cabin. She grabbed the packages from the rear seat. She hadn’t been there in weeks, and a half-foot of snow had accumulated on the front porch. With her foot, she brushed the snow away from the entry. While balancing the packages in one hand, she opened the door.
Jessie dropped the mail-order items on the table. “Brr,” she rubbed her hands together, then jacked up the thermostat. The small furnace flared to life. She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get out of here in two hours.”
She had agreed to meet Taylor that evening at the Hudson Hotel in New York City. The cabin was the only place she felt safe to transition back to her real life. Without wasting time, she gathered the packages and headed for the upstairs bedroom. She opened the parcels of women’s clothing and shoes and arranged them on the bed.
Jessie removed her jacket and tie. As she unbuttoned her shirt she spotted her reflection in the dresser mirror, and approached the glass. Brennan’s appearance was now familiar. She rubbed the facial hair—it no longer felt foreign to her. She peeled the goatee from her face, exposing her feminine skin. There was a noticeable color difference where the goatee stopped the sunrays from the rest of her bronze skin. “Nothing a little makeup can’t cure!”
Within a couple hours Jessie had transitioned back to her old self. Now, as she stood in front of the mirror, she realized that her innate feminine mannerisms were no longer natural to her. What an awkward place to be, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She packed a small bag for the weekend, and headed for Newark Airport where she had reserved a car rental in her name.
As she headed south, she listened to the news on the car radio:
In international news today, anti-U.S. protestors demonstrated in Ottawa, outside of Rideau Hall as the president met with the Canadian governor general. Some political experts believe that the president is attempting to ascertain Canada’s position regarding the Iraqi situation. This is especially critical with the recent loss of England as a U.S. ally. Most authorities believe that Canada will follow Britain’s lead. In other fronts, during UN discussions, England officially warned that if the United States takes an aggressive action against Iraq they would retaliate. That wraps up this report on Desert Disaster.
Jessie turned the radio off. “This just becomes more and more bizarre each day.”
By the time she arrived at the Hudson Hotel, it was close to seven o’clock and she was exhausted. Although she had longed for this rendezvous for two months, she had hoped it would be under different circumstances. So many thoughts ran through her mind. She wanted to be here, in her own life, but Brennan’s life kept seeping into her mind. As the elevator doors opened, she faced a mirror. Jessie approached it. There were noticeable dark circles beneath her eyes. She hadn’t been able to sleep since her last Egypt experience. Now, effects from her sleepless nights were revealed on her face.
She looked like hell and wondered what Taylor would think as she approached the hotel door. She lingered a moment, then knocked.
The door opened. Taylor smiled at Jessie, “Come in. I’m just finishing a phone call.” She raised her cell phone back to her ear and turned away from Jessie.
As Taylor continued her conversation, Jessie stood opposite the bed, in a small sitting area. Dark paneled walls offset the white curtains and linens. At a window she viewed the subtle landscape lights in a park. As she waited for Taylor to finish the call, her self-confidence waned. What would a person like Taylor Andrews see in Jessie? Taylor was beautiful and successful. Jessie felt as if she had aged twenty years since their last encounter. With each passing moment, her anxiety grew.
“Dinner after the concert would be nice…Yes, she just came in.” Taylor glanced at Jessie. “She’s looking forward to meeting you too…Good night.”
Taylor placed the handset on the cradle then turned toward Jessie.
Although they were only ten feet apart, to Jessie, it felt as if they were in different countries. Taylor’s eyes were on her, but Jessie couldn’t read them. Then, Taylor moved to her so that they were within reach of each other. Jessie needed Taylor to say something. Anything! Instead, Taylor’s expressionless eyes remained fixed on her.
Jessie waited for what seemed to be an eternity for a response. Then Taylor made her move. She stepped forward and brushed the back of her soft fingers along Jessie’s cheek. Her eyes followed the stroke until they reached Jessie’s scar beneath her eye. Taylor delicately kissed the flaw.
Jessie tilted her head, bringing their mouths to each other. Ever so gently, Jessie kissed her. The feel of her moist lips and sweet tongue awakened feelings she had cast aside when she left France. In that moment, Brennan’s life was silenced. She desired her.
Jessie needed the feel of her skin, and the safety of her arms. The wonder of her shadows always took her breath away. She craved Taylor’s hands over her body and the sweat amid their skins. She ached for Taylor’s mouth on her breasts and needed her deep inside of her. Jessie yearned to run her tongue over her skin, to taste her, to hear the subtle change in her breathing. Building. Surging. Cresting. Jessie had never wanted Taylor more.
As if sensing Jessie’s needs, Taylor thrust Jessie toward the bed where she pressed her to the mattress.
* * *
Taylor’s head had found that perfect spot on Jessie’s chest. The one that made everything feel right. Their bodies fitted seamlessly together as Jessie held Taylor closely in her arms. The rhythm of Jessie’s heartbeat, normally, would put her to sleep. Tonight, though, she savored every moment of being near J
essie. “God, I’ve missed you,” Taylor whispered.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Jessie sighed. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Taylor lifted her head to look into Jessie’s eyes. “Are you okay? You look tired. You’re not sick, are you?”
“I’m not sick. I am tired, though. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“How come?”
“I had a strange experience last weekend.” Jessie and Taylor had gone through so much together the previous year during their Salem incident. If Jessie couldn’t share it with Taylor, whom could she share it with? “I think I had a past-life memory.”
“Really? From Salem?”
“No. It was Egypt.”
“Egypt? What a coincidence. I was talking with Sidney Marcum last week…Oh, by the way, we’re having dinner with them after the concert. Is that okay?”
Jessie wasn’t sure if she wanted to meet Michael Whitman’s ex-wife now. She had sampled her old life and didn’t want anything to do with Brennan. Perhaps she didn’t need closure from her experience. Being back with Taylor was enough. Jessie knew, however, that dinner with Taylor’s personal manager was more political than social. “That’s fine, sweetheart.”
“Anyway,” Taylor continued, “Sidney and her partner, Anastasia, knew each other during an ancient Egyptian life. But what’s going on with you?”
Jessie shifted the pillows. She tugged at a bra that she had been lying on and tossed it on the floor, near the other garments that had been stripped from their bodies. “I started seeing geometric symbols that progressed into, what I believe to be, past-life visions. But anyway, since the experience, I haven’t slept real well. I keep having nightmares. I see a sword, then there’s blood everywhere.”
“Past-life memories or dreams usually occur when were faced with a similar situation. It kind of gives us a chance to do things differently. Have you been able to isolate what should be done differently?”
She must have failed in Egypt, Jessie thought. Failed at what, though? Teaching the profane the secrets to eternal life? How could that relate to this lifetime? Did her project, The Ultimate Conspiracy, foreshadow her own failure?
“No. I haven’t been able to relate it to anything in this life.”
Taylor nuzzled into Jessie’s shoulder. “How’s your project coming?”
Jessie had been hoping to avoid the subject. “This is a tough one,” she admitted. “I may need to let this one go, at least for now.”
“I can’t say I’m disappointed. The project hasn’t felt right from the beginning. I’m going home on Tuesday. Can we go back together?”
There were so many loose ends. The cabin. The apartment. The Empire. Maxwell. What about Rachel? “I’ll need a few days to wrap up things. I’ll be home next weekend. I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Up until the concert the following evening, Jessie and Taylor remained in their hotel suite. They indulged in room service, soaked in steaming hot baths, slept in each other’s arms, and made love. For Jessie, it was a wonderful initiation back into her life.
It was seven o’clock when Taylor and Jessie entered Taylor’s private dressing room at Radio City Music Hall.
“How do you feel about the tour coming to an end?” Jessie asked as Taylor opened a wardrobe bag.
“I have never been so happy to see a tour end. This was way too long.”
Jessie’s thoughts exactly! The day she had spent with Taylor only reinforced that she was ready to leave Brennan’s life. A knock sounded, disrupting her thoughts.
“Come in,” Taylor said.
A woman appeared at the door. She stopped when she saw Jessie. “Excuse me! Is this a bad time?”
“Hi Andrea, would you mind giving me a minute?”
“Sure.” Andrea smiled, and closed the door.
Jessie moved to Taylor. “You look great. I’ll leave you alone with your makeup lady.” Her gaze settled on Taylor’s lips, and she kissed them. She turned toward the door, but stopped. Something didn’t feel right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, though. Abruptly, Jessie turned back and gently wrapped her arms around Taylor.
“What’s this for?” Taylor always found comfort in her embrace.
Jessie wasn’t sure, but she had an overwhelming need to hold her.
She looked into her incredible blue eyes. “I love you, Taylor. I love sharing my life with you. Thank you for being so patient with me.”
“Are you okay, Jess?”
“I’m great.” As Jessie held her close, she marveled at the feeling. She always left her wanting more. Déjà vu? It was such a familiar feeling. She wondered where she had felt it before. Then she remembered. It was in Egypt…with Jamila.
* * *
Andrea had waited outside the dressing room. When Jessie emerged, the makeup artist smiled at her. “I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoy your stories.”
It had been a long time since she had been recognized as Jessie Mercer. “Thank you.”
With time to kill before the concert, Jessie roamed the drafty backstage halls. Taylor crossed her mind, and a smile lit up her face. Their reunion had been just what she needed.
The tall ceilings and dark walls dimmed the effect of the hallway lights. Footsteps from the opposite end of the hallway drew Jessie’s attention to an approaching woman. There was an aura of dignity about her. She projected a classy professional image with black wool pants, tan silk blouse, and a wool jacket.
As they approached each other Jessie was drawn to the woman’s necklace. It was an ankh, very similar to Taylor’s pendant. Jessie slowed, and their eyes met. Spontaneously, warmth intensified around her heart and face. A heart connection! This was a sensation she had not experienced since she had met Taylor. Suddenly, from Jessie’s third eye she glimpsed a Sphinx and pyramid. Then she saw her. It was Lukeman’s mother, Eshe. The images flashed, and then swiftly disappeared.
Jessie shook free of her trance. She stood beside this woman whose familiar brown eyes gazed upon her.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
Jessie didn’t know what to say.
A door slammed in the hallway behind her. Then, a man’s voice, “There you are! We need to talk.”
Jessie turned toward the voice. Michael Whitman stormed toward them. He slowed when his eyes met Jessie’s, and her third eye sparked to life. She glimpsed a raised hand; it struck a face—the face of Eshe, Lukeman’s mother. Then she saw him: Lukeman’s father, Oba.
Jessie closed her eyes and shook her head, clearing the images from her psyche. Lightheaded, she turned from Michael and rushed past the woman.
“Who…” Michael started.
Although the woman remained silent, Jessie felt her eyes burrow into her soul, strengthening their link. She hoped that Whitman had not recognized her as she fled. At the end of the hall, Jessie turned a doorknob, and stepped through. As she closed the door, she heard Whitman again. “Sidney, who the hell was that?”
The door shut. To say the room was spinning would have been an understatement. The spiraling in her head reflected in her walk as Jessie staggered aimlessly down another hallway. She opened another door, expelling her into the midst of stagehands preparing the stage for the evening’s event.
“Who are you?” a man asked who worked on lights.
“You shouldn’t be here,” someone said as they checked a microphone.
Without heeding their words, Jessie roamed across the stage where she exited into another hallway, and moved away from the flurry of activity.
She was entranced, That was Sidney Marcum. What the hell does this mean? Were Sidney and Whitman her parents in Egypt?
She recalled listening to Whitman’s voice at the initiation. “It was Whitman’s voice that sent me back,” she mumbled, barely able to contain herself. Jessie’s hand moved to her chest where she could still sense her heart connection with Sidney.
“I’ve only felt this with Taylor.”
Chapter Thirty
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The opening act was a blur. Although the noise in the concert hall was deafening, and she had a front row seat, Jessie was barely cognizant of it. Then Taylor went on, and Jessie’s connection to her grounded her. She was so beautiful and talented. Jessie considered herself the luckiest person alive as she admired Taylor from the foot of the stage.
About thirty minutes into Taylor’s performance, Jessie’s phone vibrated. As Jessie moved to a nearby exit, she could feel Taylor’s eyes upon her.
A guard opened the door permitting Jessie through.
“Hello.” But Jessie couldn’t hear anything. “Hold on.” She walked away from the doorway, waiting for the door to close behind her. “Hello?”
“I need your help!”
Jessie heard panic in Rachel’s voice. “Rachel?”
“God, we were so stupid.”
“Rachel, are you hurt?”
“I’m afraid something terrible has happened. Where are you?”
“I’m at Radio City Music Hall.”
“Good! You’re in Manhattan. I’ll meet you out front in twenty minutes.” Rachel disconnected the phone.
Jessie hoped that Taylor wouldn’t notice her absence. She retrieved her coat in the dressing room, then watched for Rachel in the lobby. Flashing lights from the sign on the front of the building illuminated the street. Soon, she saw the glowing Saab double-parked and she moved out into the bitter January air. She hopped into the passenger seat.
Rachel, startled by Jessie’s feminine appearance, gasped. “My God, Jessie. I was expecting Brennan.”
“Taylor is in the city for the weekend.” Jessie knew something was wrong. Rachel should have known that, after all, Taylor was the headliner tonight, her name flashing above their heads. “What’s going on?”
“We did something totally foolish.” Hastily, Rachel sped away from the curve.
“We did?”
“Not us. West and me.”
“What happened? Where are we going?” Jessie became sadder as they moved further and further away from Radio City Music Hall.