“What was that?” Thea demands.
“A protection charm. Something way more powerful than you have going on here,” Melissa declares. “I was told it would be necessary.”
She hands Bea the lighter and takes a seat gingerly in one of the pews.
Gabe takes a step forward, his eyes filled with curiosity. “How did you know we were here, Melissa? Was it that obvious?”
Melissa nods. “Once I got the message, it was fairly easy. I just followed the stench of demons. They’re starting to circle this space.”
Thea takes a seat, her gaze tightening.
“Hold up now… demons?” Mike asks, “Since when are there demons?”
Bea chuckles. “Michael, I love you to death, you silly, sweet, innocent man. There have always been demons.”
My pulse races, and I have to take a step back.
Could Melissa be our fifth?
Turning back to her I say, “Melissa, when you first got here, you said you thought we were looking for you. What made you think this?”
Her brown eyes sparkle playfully and her lips curve upward. “It’s what I do.”
“Can you be more specific?” I ask.
Bea hobbles over to one of the nearby pews nearby, shifting her cane aside and taking a seat. She takes in the interaction between all of us with such amusement.
Melissa shrugs. “I’m a prophet.”
Gabe and I exchange glances
“Are you saying you get clear messages from the gods?” Gabe asks.
“Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying,” Melissa says.
“Then maybe you can enlighten us a bit,” I begin. “We have been searching for someone, and I'm wondering if maybe…”
“I’ll tell you everything I know, Morgan. Then you can all decide for yourself. What I have to say might be a difficult pill to swallow, however.”
Both Braham and Mike take a seat.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, go on then.”
Melissa bows her head and grins. As if a light switch has been flipped on her back, her almond-shaped eyes glow with a purple iridescence, and she says, “The hour of deviation is close at hand. This specter of the world we adhere to is about to be overrun. If a plan isn't put into motion and executed properly, there will be no choice but to pull the plug on the entire creation. The decision will ultimately be made based on the success or demise of the five angelic souls. Beware. The veil will only be open from 3:02 a.m. to 3:26 a.m. tomorrow morning.”
Melissa’s eyes return to normal and flit from each one of our faces to the next.
“Hold up. You're telling us we have to come up with a plan and execute it in the next nineteen hours, and we only have twenty some odd minutes to accomplish this?” Thea demands.
Melissa tips her head. “Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.”
Thea stands up and runs her hands through her hair, tugging gently. “Talk about being under the gun. We haven’t even found the fifth, let alone any idea on how to stop the apocalypse.”
Melissa folds her hands in her lap, “If it wasn't possible, I wouldn't have been asked to come here. All I know is whatever you are up to—whatever it is you're meant to be doing—you're capable of it. You just need to get started.”
“Well that's reassuring,” Thea mutters.
“Guys, it's not as if we didn't know this was coming,” Mike offers. “We can’t possibly be here to just… I don’t know… float around like cherubs. It doesn’t make sense. There has to be a logical way to figure this out. I mean, it’s not like we’re helpless. We’ve been called here, now, for a reason, right? What if it’s to put our big, beautiful heads together and come up with a mission on our own?”
“I don’t think that’s how this works,” I say.
“Well, explain to us how you think it works then,” Thea fires back.
“Anthea, sit your ass down and listen up,” Bea commands.
Surprisingly, Thea does what she’s told.
“I don’t know what’s making this so damn difficult for you, but it’s this simple,” Bea says. “If the group of us don’t pull our collective heads out of our asses and see what’s going on around us—the reality of it, not just what you see with your eyes—then we’re all royally fucked.”
Mike’s mouth pops open at Bea’s curse, but he doesn’t retort.
“Now, that said, Mike has a point,” Bea continues.
“He does?” I say, sitting up straighter.
“I believe he does. We are all here, drawn together for a cosmic purpose bigger than one person, being, or entity alone. There’s a specific reason for it, and each of us holds a piece of the puzzle.”
“Well, sure, but I don’t follow you,” I say. “My instincts have always been to find the Final Five. That they will have an important role to play. I haven't even found all of you yet, and in order to get things started I feel like we're missing that important element.”
Bea taps the space just below her lip. “Hmmmm, what makes you think we’re missing anyone?”
I look around the room at everyone's curious faces. Braham, Thea, Mike, Bea, Gabe, and now Melissa.
They all stare back at me with wide, anticipatory eyes.
“I don't know. I guess I was just following my instincts,” I say.
“Instincts have gotten us this far, but maybe it’s time to get to know one another better?” Bea suggests.
“What, like we’re all in a spiritual AA meeting? Hi, my name is Thea and it’s been, oh, forty-two years since my last insane talk about being an angel?” Thea mutters.
Bea rolls her eyes and takes out her pill case. Without even a glass of water she pop one of them in her mouth. “Sure, Anthea. If that’s how you want to go about it.”
“I’ll start,” Mike says, raising his hand. “My full name is Michael King. I’m a Capricorn, love being out in nature and—”
“This isn’t a dating service, for crying out loud,” Thea groans, throwing her hands up in disgust. “This is ridiculous. I meant we could put our damn heads together and brainstorm what we could do next. Obviously, we still have one more—whatever you want to call us—and until that happens, everything is pretty much pointless. Maybe we just need to shake some of our cobwebs loose and brainstorm.”
“I believe she’s on to something,” Melissa says, pointing at Thea.
Bram shifts uncomfortably. “What if this is all about belief? I mean, aren’t angels and demons found in a number of religions? Plus, we’re talking about end-of-the-world stuff. How about you, Thea? What do you believe?”
Thea’s eyes open wide. “I believe people are flawed. I believe in science. I believe in the things that make reality tangible.”
Braham nods. “I’m not surprised by that at all. What about you, Mike?”
“I dunno. I guess I always kind of found validity in all the different religions so far. I mean, there’s lots of strings of truth in them when you look at them as parables or whatnot,” he says. “If I had to pick, I’d say I lean Buddhist, which is strange, I know. Most people really do love the Greek deities.”
Braham raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“What about you, Braham?” Gabe asks.
Braham chews on the side of his cheek. “You know, I’m not sure what to believe. I want to think there’s more to this universe than crazy random happenstance. But I don't know. None of the religions out there so far have resonated with my soul, you know?”
“What about you, Morgan?” Melissa asks, turning to me.
The connection I noticed before when we shook hands continues to linger on my fingertips, circling in a strange, energetic dance.
“I’m Wiccan, actually,” I say, clearing my throat. “Similar to Mike, I tend to find a lot of validity in all of the different religions. They're all cut from the same cloth, I guess. But spellcasting—working with energy and the different natural cycles—works for me.”
“And you, Bea?” Gabe asks.
Bea’s blue eyes sparkle,
and her cheeks take on a golf ball-like quality. Sighing contentedly, she finally says, “Beauty. I believe in beauty.”
“Beauty?” Thea snorts.
“Yes, Anthea. Beauty. You should open your eyes a bit more. You’d see a lot of it in the world if you could let go of some of that hard exterior of yours,” Bea retorts.
“Well, if that’s not the ramblings of an old lady, I don’t know what is,” Thea chuckles under her breath.
Bea shoots Thea a sideways glance but doesn't say another word.
However, it’s pretty obvious which of the two of them is missing the point, and I don’t think it’s Bea.
“And how about you, Gabe?” Braham asks.
Gabe chuckles. “I believe in them all.”
“All of them? How does that work?” Thea says, standing up and placing her hands on the back of the pew.
“I’ve been at this a long time—been aware of the fabric connecting the universe for a long time, by your standards. I can see the common threads,” he says. “And you, Melissa?”
“I believe there is one higher power connected to me, but I’m not under any delusion that there aren't others. I simply know the one I have to listen to,” she says, smiling
“Well okay. How does any of this help with the situation at hand?” I ask, trying to parse out a pattern.
“Well, for starters, I guess we're all sort of believers in something,” Mike offers with a little shrug.
“Yeah, except for me,” Thea reminds him.
“But you do believe in something. You believe in science,” Bea says. “Magic is just science unexplained. You've been through a helluva lot, Anthea, but I believe you still have a curious heart. Perhaps you can adjust your outlook to see the magic a bit?”
Thea makes a face. “Well, sure, curiosity is great and all, but it doesn't solve any mysteries on its own. Neither does magic.”
“Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” Braham says, standing up and walking away with his hands clasped behind his head.
“Explain,” Gabe says.
Dropping his hands, Braham spins around and takes the time to stare each one of us in the eye.
“What do you do?” he asks, tipping his chin toward Thea.
Thea’s eyes shift to me and Gabe. “I’m a psychologist.”
Braham’s eyebrows slip upward. “Can’t say I saw that coming. Well, okay.”
Bea snickers to herself, and we all turn to face her.
“Sorry, gets me every time,” she says, grinning sheepishly.
“What about you, Morgan?” Thea asks, ignoring Bea.
“In a way, I guess I'm like Melissa—a prophet of sorts. I'm not tied to the material world the same way you all are. Instead, I’m focused on my psychic abilities and harnessing the power of nature to live in this world. I get impressions, urges I have to follow up with, and somehow that bridges me between humanity—and you,” I say, trying to put into words everything I am.
“Braham?” Mike says, tipping his chin.
He squirms in his seat. “How am I meant to follow all that? What I do is pretty damn boring compared to Morgan.”
“Come on, indulge us,” Mike says, grinning broadly
“I’m a reproductive endocrinologist,” he says, splaying his hands up toward the sky. “Super-crazy important, life-altering stuff. How about you, Mike?”
“Theoretical physicist,” he says. His face is deadpan, but his dark eyes sparkle with a hint of mischievousness. He’s clearly very proud of his role.
“Come on,” Thea says, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really,” he states simply.
“Wow, okay.” She blinks, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “What about you, Bea? Don’t tell me—you’re not just a cane wielding badass; you’re actually a god.”
Bea laughs. “Oh yes, I’m definitely that. And in another life, I was a historian. But now, I suppose you could just call me retired.”
Braham grins at Bea and stands up to walk over to Gabe. “What about you?”
Gabe’s forehead wrinkles, and he tilts his head to the side.
“Well, I’m a bit more complicated.”
Thea rolls her eyes. “Please, aren’t most men?”
I bite down on my lower lip, trying not to snicker. Thea is right, but Gabe is on a whole other level.
“So, Morgan, do you think any of this is related? Do you think it’s even important?” Thea asks.
“Maybe? I don't know. It feels like the truth is hidden right in front of us, and I don't know what we’re missing,” I say.
Melissa smiles. “That's because you're a bit too close the whole situation.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
Melissa shrugs. “I think you're on the right track. Here's my two cents worth, if it's any consolation. But be advised, this will probably throw you for a loop.”
Instinctively, I take a seat.
Melissa eyes each of us again before saying, “This is a reality tangent that should never have existed. The reason the darkness is coming, the reason the demons are winning—it's all tied together. Unless the group of you can come up with a plan to merge reality back in place, to bring it back into harmony, the universe will scrub it completely from existence to stop the spread of darkness. Call it a reaping, if you will.”
“A reaping? That sounds ominous,” Mike says.
“It's meant to,” Melissa says.
“Okay, so this is new information,” Gabe says. “But it gives us a focal point. This might be why everything has felt so skewed. It could also explain why things are in a state of flux—people and things vanishing from one reality to the next. Or the simple fact darkness is winning. We all know it shouldn't be this way, so where did things go wrong?”
“I was hoping you would ask that question,” Melissa says, “because all signs point to a long time ago.”
“What do you mean it happened a long time ago?” Mike says. “Like we screwed something up a long time ago? How are we gonna fix it, then?”
“That’s precisely the dilemma,” Melissa says.
“Well thanks, Ms. Vague,” Thea says, rolling her eyes.
Melissa smiles sweetly, sweeping her silky black hair over her shoulder, “How’s this, then… The universe is missing a savior, and you need to recreate his origin story. Once you do that, your mission is accomplished.”
13
Thea
My mind whirls around, splitting into fifty billion different directions. Savior? Origin story?
What in the actual?
“Okay let me get this straight,” I begin. “You're telling us we're supposed to somehow magically conjure them up and what? Blast them with gamma radiation?”
Melissa shrugs. “Sure, if that's what the universe is telling you to do. I’m just the messenger.”
Thea runs her hand over her face, “Oh my gods.”
“I have my gifts, you have yours.” Melissa smiles sweetly.
“Whoa,” Mike mutters. “This is all trippy. Does anyone else think this is trippy?”
“Says the theoretical physicist,” I chuckle.
“Morgan, do you have any insights?” Bea asks, plucking nonchalantly at something on her pant leg.
Morgan turns her gaze to Bea and asks, “Like what?”
“Oh, I just get the feeling you're not giving yourself enough credit for all the things you know. You and Gabe have been in different realities, from what I gather. Think hard. Is there any difference between this reality and others you've been to? Maybe we’re missing something obvious,” she offers.
Morgan stands up and spins in a circle around the room. Her gaze falls to one of the paintings along the wall—the creepy one of the tortured man.
“Oh my gods, you're right. Bea, how could I have been so blind? It's been staring us right in the face. Literally,” she says whirling back around to face us.
My upper lip curls into an Elvis snarl. “Mind filling the rest of us in?”
Morgan
paces back and forth until she finally twists to face Gabe. “How could we have missed it? In everything that's going wrong—in all the religious artifacts we've collected over the years—it never occurred to me to watch for what’s missing. I mean, things go missing all the time from one reality to the next. So why would we even—”
Gabe stands up, his eyes twinkling with some sort of recognition no one else seems to catch. Except maybe Bea, because she’s a weird friggin’ anomaly.
“Do you… do you think this is where everything went wrong? Because we're missing Christianity in this reality, and that's what’s allowed the demons in?” Gabe asks, pulling his bushy, golden eyebrows inward.
I stand up, placing my hands on the back of the bench. “You guys are talking in Greek. Seriously, anyone want to fill us in on what this Christianity thing is and how it's related to what’s happening now?”
“I second that,” Braham says.
“Thank you,” I say, raising my hand in recognition.
Morgan takes a deep breath, her brown eyes sparkling in the candlelight of the sanctuary. “Christianity exists on multiple planes of existence, but evidently not this one. I’m not sure why, other than variations occur. It’s part of the infinite holographic universe, I suppose.”
“Can you get to the point?” I say, quirking a brow.
“The essence boils down to this. A little boy was born of immaculate conception, and he grew up to find out he’s the son of God. It was the beginning of a patriarchal pantheon—no longer a stage of gods, but in essence, one true God and his son. This painting,” she says, pointing to the man with a crown of thorns, “it's from another timeline, and it depicts the boy as a man. Jesus, that was his name, is in a pivotal moment here; he sacrificed himself for humanity. His origin—his story—sparked a revolution in the hearts and minds of everyone who heard it. In other realities, even now, thousands of years later, people celebrate his story. There are churches just like this one devoted to his teachings before he died.”
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