Simantov

by Asaf Ashery

  A woman with black hair and charcoal eyes took advantage of the commotion by drawing the green hospital curtain and creating a private nook for her daughter and herself.

  Rachel examined Mazzy carefully, squeezing herself into the space between the bed and the wall. Standing near Mazzy’s head, she put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. She stared at her in silence, her eyes expressing comfort and reassurance.

  “Mom?” Mazzy managed a whisper.

  “I’m here.”

  Mazzy tried again to lift herself, but the pain made her lie back again. Rachel wrapped her arms around her; she had found her little girl, and she wouldn’t allow her to get lost again. Mazzy could not hold back her tears.

  “Enough, sweetie.”

  “It hurts so much, Mom. Deep in my bones. The pain…”

  “Enough. Mommy will give you a kiss and make it go away.”

  Rachel kissed her daughter’s brow. A wave of sweetness washed over Mazzy, filling her with a strange cloying sensation, as if she had been injected with a viscous substance, like a donut being filled with jelly.

  Calmness was being restored throughout her damaged body. From her toes to the end of her hair, serenity and elation took the place of aches and pains. The dizziness and the blurred vision were gone, her neck relaxed, her spine straightened. She took the deepest breath and held it. The pain was all gone; nothing hurt.

  “What did you do?”

  “What nobody else had the guts to. I killed a Naphil.”

  Mazzy hugged her mother tightly. Rachel surrendered to the embrace, and when she finally tore herself away, she said quietly, “We have no time now. Nobody knows what happened to you or how. I must convince them that you are much tougher than you really are, or than you’ve been until now.”

  Mazzy nodded. This was not the time for mother-daughter games. They reverted to being Mazzy and Rachel.

  “I have to give you something, and then go.”

  Something kicked Mazzy in the stomach, from the inside. She didn’t hear herself ask, “Why?” but she must have blurted out the question.

  “Because such things come at a price,” Rachel said, stuffing a crumpled note in Mazzy’s hand, and patting her clenched fist.

  “Names. Six of them. I hope it’s enough.”

  The realization that Rachel wouldn’t be there for long sharpened Mazzy’s attention.

  “Enough for what?”

  “For your ‘Soothsayer’. There are very few people who can extract the other names from this little list. I’ll try some of the people I know who may have a chance. It’s time I cashed in some markers.”

  “Why can’t we work together? Put our heads together?”

  A slight smile creased Rachel’s lips, “Because we’ve never been able to.”

  “If you know what to think and how to listen, maybe you shouldn’t go. Maybe there is a way.”

  “This isn’t the time.”

  “Then go! We’ll manage. Even if we don’t, it won’t matter.”

  “You needn’t be so dramatic.”

  Rachel had no patience for drama; she needed to stay focused. Black angels were descending from the sky, which may have been a good excuse to fall to pieces, but right now she couldn’t afford to.

  “Someone told me once that there are two kinds of people, those who run and those who fight,” Mazzy persisted.

  “I said this about men,” Rachel corrected her.

  “And what about you? It doesn’t apply to you?”

  “I’m a woman. I don’t think only about myself.”

  “You’re also a mother.”

  This barb hit right on target, and Rachel could not ignore it.

  “This cannot always take precedence.”

  “We’ve heard that before.”

  “Don’t take being a mother lightly. You must listen to your daughter. Don’t be afraid to give all of yourself, no matter what the price.”

  This was the closest Rachel could come to parting words. It sounded as if she really cared how her last sentence came across. She knew what kind of mother her own had been, and the kind of mother Mazzy was. Right now Mazzy needed her to stay, but years of estrangement stood in the way. And a considerable amount of pride.

  It was goodbye. They embraced and Mazzy, despite herself, gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. She held her for a long moment.

  “When will I hear from you?”

  “When I have something to say. You have enough on your plate right now without waiting for me.”

  Rachel kissed her one more time and then, without another word, turned and walked out of the room, her head held high.

  As she watched her leave, Mazzy felt the weight lifting from her shoulders. She was alone, without a mother, without a father: an orphan. She was the responsible adult now.

  Gaby was back and announcing the doctor was on her way. Mazzy wanted to jump up and hug him, seeking comfort in his arms. She rose from the bed, trying to control the dizziness that overcame her.

  “What are you doing, dummy? Lie down,” Gaby ordered.

  Not exactly the reaction she was looking for, but understandable, given the circumstances. Still, Rachel had cured her, though it wasn’t clear exactly how.

  No time to think, no time to feel pain; time to go.

  Lowering the metal bedside barrier, she dropped her feet to the floor. It was a short distance, but for Mazzy it was a leap, and the room began to swim. Black and white spots danced before her, her legs trembled and her knees nearly buckled. Gaby, who stood slack-jawed at the change in her condition, recovered just in time to jump to her side and catch her before she lost her balance.

  Two women stepped into the curtained cubicle: one was dark-skinned and wore a surgical gown; the other was tall and imposing. The latter scrutinized Mazzy intently while the doctor, with Gaby’s help, eased her back into bed.

  “Ms Simantov, in your condition, you’re not supposed to move,” she said.

  Mazzy noted the charming, lilting accent. In contrast, the tall, silent woman made her uncomfortable.

  The doctor checked her quickly and expertly. She shone a thin long flashlight into her pupils and moved her head to check eye movement. She tested Mazzy’s ability to wrap her fist around her index finger, then asked her to wiggle her toes, one foot at a time, which made Mazzy giggle like a little girl.

  The doctor moved on to a memory test. Mazzy noticed her glancing at the tall woman, whose gaze was still fixed on Mazzy.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “There was an earthquake. The news says the epicenter was right at the police station…”

  “Doctor Aikapido,” the imposing woman cut her short, “right now the emphasis should be on treatment. I will fill in Ms Simantov on details that are not related to her recovery. In the meantime, please inform Mr Simantov about further procedures and the forms he needs to complete…”

  “Actually it’s Doctor Simantov, and I’m…” Gaby started to correct her, but Dr Aikapido had his elbow and was ushering him out of the room.

  As soon as they were alone, four shadowy figures materialized as if from nowhere, four young women who moved about like lazy, lethal felines.

  “What you just heard from the doctor is what they’re selling to the press. The police cannot explain what happened at your place of work. With all the mess surrounding the injuries and abduction, they don’t want a slew of unanswerable questions coming their way. People tend to ignore scary phenomena they find unsettling.”

  “What happened to the people at the precinct?”

  “There was another abduction, carried out with a lot of force. Surprisingly, nobody from your side was killed.”

  “Is Yariv OK?”

  “Your partner? Yes, he’s all right. A couple of cracked ribs, and a few new scars. They fixed his dislocated shoulders. Your mother vanished from the scene, but she was not among the injured. Libby Blackish, on the other hand, is gone, probably abducted like the others.”

 
; Was this work of the Athaliah? The woman Libby was so afraid of? Libby! Libby was gone! The last thing Libby had told her was that The Order of the Athaliah was finally confronting the Nephilim, but had been powerless to prevent a sixth abduction. Nobody, including Libby, knew the next move of the Nephilim. But perhaps the Athaliah was lying, trying to get something out of her. Mazzy kept quiet, playing for time, filing away information.

  “Libby said you needed our help.”

  “So she managed to talk to you? Wow, Libby was young and not so tough. She could not assess the situation correctly.”

  “What is the situation?”

  “Not good.”

  “She mentioned some procedure, some operation, she thought…”

  “You have no idea how wrong Libby was to approach you.”

  “Why? Don’t we have the right to know? If we’re about to go to war, then…”

  “No. You will remain in the dark, as usual. You can’t begin to understand what roils us. We will confront them by ourselves, as the women of The Order have always done. We’ll fight our war and you will sit on the sidelines.”

  “We have people who know about war.”

  “What you’ve had until now were not wars, just operations that got complicated. Your blood and our blood seeps only to the upper levels, while their blood seeps all the way to the bottom.”

  “What you’re describing isn’t war either.”

  Mazzy saw that she had succeeded in jolting the Athaliah. The head of The Order was curious enough to ask, if disdainfully, “Why?”

  “Because wars end.”

  A ghost of a smile hovered around the Athaliah’s lips.

  “You really are her daughter.”

  Mazzy tried to rise from her bed to grab the Athaliah by the collar, imitating Rachel’s methods of inquiry, but one of the guards darted from behind the curtain and positioned herself between them.

  She was quite young, with an unremarkable face framed by straight, black hair. She fixed her eyes on Mazzy who was quite overwhelmed by the swiftness of her motions. The guard was about to push the rebellious policewoman back into the hospital mattress, but the Athaliah pointed a restraining finger at her, and the disappointed guardswoman retreated.

  “Istahar is only doing her job. But I like you. You don’t give up.”

  Mazzy did not respond to the taunt.

  “You go places where you have no chance of coming out unscathed. You think you understand the rules, but the Nephilim will not play by the rules. So let me tell you something, gratis. When they arrive, you’ll smell them. A Naphil gives off a soothing odor, evoking the most pleasurable childhood memory you have. For the most part, it is connected to a favorite childhood food. This sweet, consoling smell pacifies the person confronting them and instills confidence in them.”

  “When I get to them, how do I confront them? Gabriel, you’re it?”

  “You need to know their names. The power of the Nephilim resides in their names. In any event, you’ll have to get very close to them for it to work. The state you’re in now makes that prospect unlikely.”

  They scrutinized each other for the longest time; then Mazzy broke the silence.

  “So this is how it’s going to be?”

  “More or less, with small variations.”

  Mazzy got out of bed, this time erect and sure-footed enough to walk to the door. The Athaliah and her watchwomen tensed up.

  “Your recuperation is indeed astounding. Who treated you?”

  “It’s all in the genes. Some families just won’t stay broken.”

  The Athaliah was quick to grasp Mazzy’s meaning. For a moment she seemed to have lost her equanimity.

  “She was here?”

  Mazzy did not answer; she simply stepped carefully out of the room. She wondered if she should turn around and mouth off a parting shot at the Athaliah, like a movie heroine. But she decided against it, chiefly because she had nothing to say. From the corner of her eye she saw Gaby by the nurses’ station, arguing with a female member of staff. As soon as he saw her, he ran over and blocked her way.

  “Is this normal? You shouldn’t be walking around…”

  “Nothing here is normal. In fact, I must get out of here.”

  “You mustn’t move at all, in your condition.”

  The last phrase was particularly galling. She had hated it for eight months, and every time he uttered it, it reminded her of her pregnancy, the nausea, and the infuriating bodily changes. She found herself now in a similar situation. Another non-verbal memory took hold. Something was taking shape inside her, something bigger and more important that was using her as a hotel, as a surrogate womb. She was experiencing the same sensations, except that now Noga was not inside to give her strength and hope, to convince her that all the suffering was worth it. For a moment she felt no love, just anger, uncontainable anger.

  “First of all, you know nothing about my condition, OK? Second, things are happening right now that are more important than you or me. So, listen to me, and listen good. Rachel visited me. She did something that healed me. Don’t ask me how, I have no time to explain.”

  “Are you in such a hurry to die?”

  As Mazzy digested the question, her anger dissipated. She slapped his face, as one would a hysterical child. He held his cheek, driving back the tears. She herself was amazed at what she had done, as if she were merely a witness, not the main actor. Hugging him, she whispered sweetly in his ear, trying to explain what had happened and how, while acknowledging that all the explanations were inadequate and logically deficient. Then she broke off the embrace and withdrew into herself.

  A strange serenity settled over her, a wave of natural calm, so different from the turbulent wave engendered by Rachel. Gaby hugged her again, and this time Mazzy was grateful for his love. They stood there for a long moment, united and isolated from their surroundings. But Mazzy knew their time for affection was short.

  “I’ve got to get home.”

  “Stop by my mother’s to see Noga…”

  “That would sound like I’m saying goodbye. I can’t afford to feel that way right now. I must know that I’m coming back.”

  Gaby’s habit of clamming up at key moments was one of his most annoying traits. She’d rather he fought for his stance. But at this moment, his silence bespoke strength, proof that words were not always needed for communication.

  “If you’re going to die, I’ll kill you.”

  Mazzy strode out of the ward.

  At the entrance, Dr Aikapido and a patient were arguing loudly.

  “You can’t just walk out,” the doctor was telling the man, “you have cracked ribs, and we just fixed your dislocated shoulders.”

  “So what will you do? Call the police?”

  Yariv’s sarcasm toward Dr Aikapido was underscored by his tattered, charred police uniform. The thick bandage peeking through his torn shirt was less convincing.

  “You realize that this is against doctor’s orders.”

  “I got it the first three times you explained it to me. Don’t worry, Doctor, I won’t sue you for malpractice. I just need to get out of here as soon as possible. Somebody just blew up my police station, and they’re still at large. Being here doesn’t work for me right now.”

  Dr Aikapido gave him a compassionate look before launching into a disquisition on patients’ rights and men’s resistance to women’s authority.

  Yariv was about to respond, but something stopped him in his tracks.

  Mazzy passed quickly by him, in all her glory, looking in the pink of health. This could not be explained even by the legendary regenerative powers of the Simantov family. To Yariv’s amazement, Mazzy dragged him along, ignoring Dr Aikapido’s exhortations.

  A moment later, the two were in a cab on their way to the ruins of the precinct.

  “You look all right, considering what went on in the station,” said Mazzy.

  “You too. More than all right.”

  “It’s a long story
.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “Rachel cured me.”

  “Not that long.”

  “That’s just the beginning. Do you want to hear stories, or do you want to help me nab those who put us in the hospital?”

  “Any more rhetorical questions before we get there?”

  “No rhetorical questions. But lots of questions in need of answers. I also need to know that we can set aside our own private stuff, at least until this business is over.”

  “How does ‘this business’ work then?”

  “No change as far as I’m concerned. Soothsayer will continue to do its work. The fact that on the other side are Nephilim who have a score to settle with the women’s Order which thinks it runs the world, does not concern me in the least. There are six women who nobody seems to give a damn about, and it’s time somebody did.”

  “That sounds simple enough.”

  “My life is complicated enough, Biton. At least this part should be simple.”

  THE SEVENTH GATE

  FOUNDATION

  THE THIRTY-NINTH DAY

  FIVE WEEKS AND FOUR DAYS OF THE COUNTING OF THE OMER.

  “How much more those who live in houses of clay, whose foundations are in the dust, who are crushed more readily than a moth! Between dawn and dusk they are broken to pieces; unnoticed, they perish forever.”

  JOB 4:18-21

  Beyond the fact that here, too, she was a rookie, Libby was first and foremost a policewoman. Her job, embedded as she was in the elaborate system of the Israeli police, was precisely defined.

  All her masks and disguises were those of a daughter of Eve. But here she could drop her cover story and return to her roots.

  They treated her few wounds. Despite the massive attack, her injuries were minor. The whole situation was bizarre. The last time she had been surrounded by Lilith’s Daughters was when she was Doula Ashtribu’s disciple, but here everyone was equal and she even addressed the Doula by her first name, Anat.