He takes a step back with his hand held high.
Bea sets her cane down and reaches an arm out, “Anthea, can you help me down?”
“Of course,” Thea says, grabbing hold of Bea’s arm and helping her kneel.
“Thank you, dear,” Bea says with a smile.
“Uh, sure. No problem?” Thea says, casting me a concerned look.
I widen my eyes and tip my lips downward in surprise.
Thea splays her hands out to the scene on the floor and mouths to me, “What’s this all about?”
I shrug in response and take a deep breath.
Gods, I hope Bea knows what she’s doing. Otherwise, we’re wasting valuable time.
Bea leans in, placing her ear on Jesus’s chest. Her head bobs up and down in shallow bursts.
“You’re right, Anthea. He doesn’t have much time,” Bea warns, lifting her gaze to the rest of us. “We’ll need to take drastic measures.”
“Can you do anything?” Braham asks, desperation clinging to his every mannerism.
A sly smirk slides across Bea’s lips. “Of course I can, Abraham. It’s why I’m here.”
Braham’s shoulders relax slightly, and Bea turns back to Jesus. Placing her hands above his torso, a bright green light bursts from the palms of her hands and radiates into Jesus’s body. She hovers there, her eyes closed and head tilted ever so slightly to the side, as if listening for something. Maybe she is, but I have no idea what.
“Whoa,” Thea mutters, her eyes wide.
Before our eyes, Jesus’s wounds begin to heal—the cuts on his head, the slice on his abdomen, everything visible. His skin heals quickly, leaving nothing but faint scars. A few seconds later, his breathing picks up and his inhalations get deeper.
“Are you seeing this?” Thea says, nudging Braham in the shoulder.
“I—I think I am,” he says in awe.
Finally, the green light begins to dwindle, and Bea pulls her arms back. Her eyes remain closed for a moment longer, and her body sways slightly as if she’s soaking up the last few notes of a music we can’t hear.
“Alrighty, someone be a doll and help me back up,” she says, abruptly opening her eyes and reaching for Braham.
He bends in, accepting her outstretched hand, and gently lifts her to a stand.
“How did you…?” he whispers. “Is he…?”
“He’ll be just fine. Give him a few minutes to wake up,” Bea says, patting Braham on the arm.
“How did you do this?” he asks, blinking rapidly.
“It’s my gift, Abraham,” she grins. “Just like each of you, I just had to wait for the opportune moment to use it.”
“Thank you. You can’t imagine how much it means to me,” Braham says, wrapping his arms around her.
Bea chuckles, returning his embrace and patting his back. “I didn’t do it for you, but thank you, dear.”
“Whoa, everyone’s back already?” Mike says, his mouth agape as he enters the room. “Uh, who’s that?”
“This is Jesus,” Thea says, sweeping her hand out over his body.
“Wow, okay,” Mike says. “And here I thought you’d all be gone longer. I mean, I don’t know why. Time is fluid, after all.”
Braham shoots Mike a look of surprise. “How long were we gone for you?”
Mike pops an eyebrow and looks between the two of them.
“Well, long enough for me to pop into the kitchen for tea,” he says, raising the cup in the air. “That was about it.”
Jesus groans softly and we all turn to face him. Raising a hand to his head, his eyes roll a bit before finally opening.
“Are you all right?” Braham asks, switching to ancient Aramaic and dropping to his knees.
Jesus blinks rapidly, taking in the new location. His eyes widen and he moves to sit up. Braham wraps his arms around his back, letting Jesus grab hold of his neck in an effort to sit.
“Yes, I believe I am,” Jesus says, his voice strained. “You, you I remember. But everyone else…?”
His eyes flit around the room and rest briefly on each one of us.
“There’s a lot we’ll have to explain. But for now, you need to take things lightly. You’ve been through a great ordeal,” Braham says.
“Uhm, I’m pretty sure everyone just spoke a different language, but I understood him. How in the heck is that possible? Anyone else think that was a bit weird?” Mike says, his eyes wide.
“You’ll get used to it,” Thea says, shooting him a wink and grinning broadly.
Mike flicks his eyebrows toward the ceiling, but he turns to Bea and hands her the cup of tea.
“Thank you, Michael,” she says, taking his offering and bringing the cup to her lips. “Mmmm—perfect temperature, too. You are so good to me.”
Mike grins broadly and takes a seat beside her.
Jesus bends a knee, pushing himself up to a stand with Braham’s help.
“Don’t move too quickly. You’re still healing,” Braham says.
“I am fine,” Jesus says, brushing away the concern.
He takes a tentative step away from Braham, frowning and narrowing his gaze. Following his line of sight, his eyes rest on the painting of a man with a crown of thorns hanging from a cross. His painting.
“How can this be… Is this—?” he asks quietly. His dark eyes flit from the painting to each of our wide eyes.
I nod. It’s all I can think to do. My brain is reeling from all of the strange energy and the idea that we have Jesus—the Jesus here in the sanctuary with us. We have pulled him from his time and brought him here with us to save his life. Talk about craziness.
“But it doesn’t even look like me,” he says, confusion clear across his darker features.
“You’ll have to forgive humanity, my dear,” Bea says, smiling sweetly. “There’s a tendency to morph stories so they fit the ideas of how they think things should be. Even if it’s the opposite of what’s true.”
He raises his eyebrows and he takes a seat in the nearest pew.
“How are you feeling?” Braham asks, walking up and taking a seat. “Are you dizzy?”
“I am all right. A bit…disoriented. But I am certain it will pass,” Jesus says.
“A lot has changed. It may be more disorienting than you even expect right now,” Thea says, her tone soft. “Take things slowly.”
Jesus nods, his dark hair tumbling off his shoulders.
Thea’s eyes widen, and she mouths to me, “He looks so much like Braham…”
I smile, breathing a sigh of relief.
The resemblance is uncanny. She’s not wrong there. If Braham had long hair, they could pass as brothers.
My eyes flit from the two of them to the light streaming in from up above. As I look around, I practically do a double-take, and my mouth drops open. The stained glass windows I’ve gotten so used to no longer depict scenes of only Greek gods and myths but, instead, images of all of the religions are represented.
I have never seen something so symbolically meshed before. In my original reality, Christianity was the predominant religion, so it wasn’t uncommon to see stained glass scenes of Jesus’s story. The original version of this sanctuary, the one in my reality, was like that. However, the more we traveled, the more I fell in love with this version. It lacked the oppression from the one in my world.
And I loved the myth’s depictions.
But this? This is even better…
My heart swells at the meaning behind it—instinctively, I know it means somewhere along the way, the various religions have found a way to coexist. Somehow, some way, this reality is different from the one I left.
I carried objects with me, little pieces of history into this place as a way to remember this for myself. But somehow, the universe around me has morphed into an outward representation.
“Guys, do you see this?” I say, pointing upward.
One by one, everyone follows my outstretched finger, taking in the various scenes cut in colored glass.
“Were these…?” Thea begins, tugging her eyebrows inward.
I shake my head. “This is all new.”
“Wow—look, the Buddha,” Mike says, pointing at the window with his depiction.
“What’s happened?” Gabe asks, walking into the middle aisle of the sanctuary and spinning around.
“I don’t know, but we must have done something,” I say, biting my lip.
“Whatever we did—so far, I approve,” Mike adds.
“Well, there’s one way to tell for sure if everything is copacetic,” Thea says, pointing toward the front door.
My eyes flit from the door back to Gabe, who tips his chin in return. Together, we make our way to the door to see how our actions have changed reality. Will we still be in purgatory? Or will the sanctuary be back in its proper place in time?
As I reach the monolithic piece of wood, I reach out for the handle and hold my breath.
“Everything okay?” Gabe asks, pressing his hand to the small of my back.
“Yes, I’m just a bit apprehensive,” I say.
“Understandable. But I have a good feeling about this,” he says.
Inhaling another deep breath, I swallow hard.
“Okay, here goes nothing.”
I press my thumb down on the latch and fling back the door. The ordinary sounds of the city instantly greet us. Car horns honk, vehicles drive past or can be heard starting up, children are playing and squealing—the sounds all filter to the inside of the sanctuary, and it’s like music to my ears.
Walking out onto the pavement, I look up. The building itself has been transformed from the old, nearly dilapidated structure to one in pristine condition. Like it’s been taken care of all these years.
“This is absolutely astounding,” Gabe says, reaching his arm around me. “Look at this, Morgan. Look at what you and the others did.”
“It was a group effort. None of this would have been possible without every single one of us,” I say, awe lingering in my tone.
“Well, whatever it was—I am so thrilled with the results.”
“I am too. I couldn’t have imagined anything more beautiful,” I say, watching a group of children ride by on their bicycles. They laugh as they continue on, the sunlight sparkling in their hair as it flitters in the air.
Behind us, Thea, Mike, and Bea edge out of the sanctuary’s main doors and make their way for the stone steps.
“Whoa,” Mike says. “Wasn’t this a bad part of town?”
I nod. “Well, it certainly wasn’t the better part. Can you believe how it’s changed?”
Bea leans against the stone railing, setting her cane off to the side. She closes her eyes, tilting her head upward toward the sky.
“Mmmm, can you smell that?” she asks.
“Smell what?” I ask, lifting my nose to the air.
“Dusk. I love the smell of dusk. And, oh—the apple blossoms,” she says, smiling.
She’s right. The evening air smells beautiful.
“I don’t remember the last time it smelled so—” Mike begins.
“Clean,” Bea finishes.
In the doorway, Braham stands side by side with Jesus.
“This place—what has happened?” Jesus asks.
“There is so much I want to show you, so much you need to see. There’s someone I want you to meet. She’s going to be so thrilled you’re here,” Braham says, patting Jesus on the back and leading him out into the world. “But first, let’s make sure your disciples see you alive. You’ll need time to convince them of everything you’re capable of. Besides, once I’m home, I’m not going to want to leave ever again.”
Chapter 23
Cassidy
A shift in the breeze sends a chill racing down my spine. I glance up, half expecting to see another wave of strange occurrences taking place.
It’s been a week since I lost Braham to… whatever took him. A week since the others vanished. A week since my life was flipped upside down completely. I’m still not used to it.
I close my eyes, listening to the sound of the wind as it pushes its way through the tree branches in the yard beyond. It’s all that I know now. The silence of loneliness. I made it to our destination in Canada, but I don’t even feel like I can celebrate properly. It’s not the same without the one thing in this world that made it whole. Maybe I’ll feel differently once the baby is born.
Sighing to myself, I prop my feet up on the deck’s railing and wish I could fall asleep. But even then, sleep is uneasy for me. My dreams are all jumbled, and my anxiety bleeds through into everything. How am I going to do this all alone? Why should I have to?
What if there is no choice?
How is any of this fair? I had a plan—we had a plan. And after all we’ve been through, and how long we tried to have a child, Braham won’t be a part of their life.
In the distance, I can hear the sounds of afternoon settling. The frogs and other bug noises begin to elevate while the bird calls have started to settle. Without the constant barrage of work and deadlines, life is surprisingly peaceful. I could get used to it, if only it weren’t so lonely.
Cradling my stomach, I sigh. It won’t always be lonely. At least I have this gift to look forward to.
“Hey there, beautiful,” a voice says nearby, jolting me from my thoughts. My eyes pop open, and I sit up straight to see Braham—and another man standing feet away in the middle of the yard.
The other man is dressed strangely for anything but an ancient history reenactment, I can’t help but stare at them both. Did I fall asleep after all? I stand up, clutching at the railing and trying to find solid ground for these apparitions. Is he here? Really here?
Who is the man Braham is with?
Suddenly my senses kick in, and I race down the front steps and into Braham’s arms.
“Braham, oh thank God—you’re safe. Please tell me you’re back. Tell me you’re not going away again. I don’t think I could handle you leaving. I don’t want you to go… I don’t want to be a single parent. What—what’s been happening? There are…” I say, suddenly woozy. Must be pregnancy brain kicking in already.
Braham stands in front of me, a look of gentle serenity permeating each of his features. Somehow he looks older—calmer. Different. Stepping forward, he smiles, holding the tops of my arms, but not saying a word.
“What?” I finally ask, my eyebrows tipping upward in the middle.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he says, placing a hand along my face and stroking my cheek.
I wrap my arms around him again and hold on tight. He melts into me, taking me in his arms like he hasn’t seen me in years.
“I—I’ve missed you, too,” I say, trying to shake off the confusion that’s crept into my brain. It’s like a fog has rolled in, and the clarity of my thoughts can no longer make their way out into the light. “You’ve been gone?”
“It’s okay, Cass. Ease into it. There’s a lot your mind is trying to sort out right now,” Braham whispers into my ear. “It will all be over soon.”
“My mind?” I say, trying to hold onto his words, but it’s like trying to hold onto the morning fog.
“Yes, but it’s okay if you don’t understand right now. Everything will make sense soon,” Braham says, turning his attention to my abdomen. “How is the baby?”
“Oh, we’re both doing well,” I say, smiling. At least that I remember. I step back, placing my right hand on my abdomen, and glancing up at Braham. He smiles broadly, that sweet, beautiful smile I know and love.
The other man steps forward, and his dark eyes watch me curiously, though he doesn’t say a word.
“Braham, I think you’ve forgotten to introduce me to your new… friend,” I say, turning to him.
Braham looks over his shoulder, then opens an arm and ushers the stranger closer.
“Cass, this is…” he pauses for a moment, the space between his eyebrows bunching together. “…this is Jesus.”
“Jesus,” I repeat, trying to place where I’ve heard the name before. It’s there on the edge of my memory, but for some reason, just out of reach.
Jesus nods, a beautiful smile beaming across his face. It’s not all that different from the smile Braham just gave me. “Yes.”
There is something oddly familiar about the way he smiles.
A bolt of insight flashes through me, and I shake my head. How could I forget the name Jesus?
“Are your parents religious?” I ask, watching him closely.
Jesus shoots Braham a sideways glance and returns his gaze to me. “Yes, you could say that.”
“I’ve never been much of a religious person myself, but I understand why others are. It’s a lovely name, though. Certainly suits you,” I say, patting his arm. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Thank you,” he says, beaming.
“Uhm…” I stop, looking around the small deck. “Why don’t we head inside? Are you thirsty? Come in, come in. Let’s get something for everyone to drink. Jesus, do you like tea or coffee?”
Jesus’s expression is blank as he turns to Braham.
“We’re both parched. How about some water?” Braham says, pulling the screen door open and splaying an arm out in front of him, suggesting we go inside.
Jesus tips his head and follows Braham’s command, but I hold back, trying to shake the lingering sense of deja vu.
“How did you say you met Jesus again? Did you meet him on your—where did you go?” I say, trying to remember. “I’m sorry, my mind’s a little groggy right now. I think it’s all the pregnancy hormones.”
“You’re probably right,” Braham says, nodding. He watches me for a moment, his eyebrows knitted together in their usual way. “And… uh, yes, I met him on my trip. I can’t wait for you to get to know him, Cassidy. I think you’re really going to love him.”
“Well with an introduction like that, now I need to know more,” I say, laughing. “Come on, love. Let’s get you boys something to drink. Are you hungry?”
“Not quite yet. But how about I cook. You should rest,” he offers.
I throw him a surprised gaze, but smile, “I’d like that. Thank you, handsome.”
The Chronicles of the 8th Dimension - Limited Edition Box Set (4 Books): A Supernatural Thriller Box Set Page 49