“You don’t say,” Hamanaeus replied wryly.
“I do say. And, as for Captain Cyrus, he may be a weirdo, but he’s also one of the best damn cupids I’ve ever known. He and I have our disagreements, plenty of them, but he’s a soldier’s soldier and as loyal and brave as they come. I’ll give him that much.”
“Ah,” Hamanaeus said. “Now we’re moving. Commander, the demons know that Cyrus knows who she is too.”
“Bull,” Sett said. “How would Cyrus know such a thing? He’s a cupid like me, and as you have already admitted, no one can know who the Swerver is.”
“Perhaps ‘know’ is not the correct word,” Hamanaeus conceded. “Suspects. He suspects that she is the Swerver. That is why he continues to hesitate with the match. Unlike you, he understands that to interfere would mean disqualifying her. The point of a Swerver is true love; a love made without any assistance or interference from a cupid. The Swerver conquers his or her own fear demons. A Swerver cannot have a cupid. If Captain Cyrus interjects himself into the couple’s affair, he annuls the woman’s status as a Swerver. It could be a generation before another Swerver comes around, and by that time, it will be a generation too late.”
Sett chewed on Hamanaeus’s words. “I suppose that would explain Cyrus’s waffling,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Hamanaeus. “But hell, I just figured he was being extra cautious, making sure this match was a total clincher. He’s a perfectionist. Annoys the crap out of me, but he is who he is. He said he thought this match was some sort of test, and so I assumed he was just dotting i’s and crossing t’s.”
Hamanaeus said, “The fear demons are very near to tipping the scales to their favor, and victory is so close that they can taste it. A Swerver now would stem the flood of darkness and give the humans one last chance to wake up and save themselves. The fear demons don’t want that. They know that if Cyrus interferes in any way, the Swerver will be disqualified—no swerve—and they finish off the humans once and for all.”
“And if the humans go, we go.”
“Exactly. You may hate what Anteros stands for, but if human love is finished, so is everyone who exists on account of it. So, you see, it is in our mutual self-interest that we work together on this.”
Sett grimaced at the thought. “Surely Eros knows about the Swerver.”
Hamanaeus sensed the commander’s desperation and had to stifle a chuckle. “Since when does Commander Sett believe in Eros?”
“I don’t believe all the mystical gibberish that surrounds him,” Sett answered testily, “but I do believe in smoke and mirrors. Some Wizard of Oz-like robe is pulling the levers and strings up here. Someone is signing my paychecks, so to speak.”
“That being the case, then maybe your Mr. Oz doesn’t have the faintest idea about the true identity of Ellen Veetal.”
“Probably not,” Sett allowed, his disdain for the Academy’s judges in the forefront of his mind. “But should Cyrus do something stupid and disobey his orders, the old coots in the black robes are going to give him his shipping orders, and blast his cupid ass down to mortal moron land.”
“Right,” Hamanaeus said. “And then?”
“Replace him with someone else to finish the job.”
“And who might that be?” Hamanaeus said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Me, most likely. And then I’d be in the same lousy position Cyrus is in. Matching a Swerver.”
“Or pretending to.”
“Huh?”
“The match is the thing, Commander. With Cyrus out of the way for disobeying an order, you will finish the match by stabbing the couple with a pair of indifference arrows. It will appear like they acted on their own before you had a chance to do anything. The Academy won’t know the difference.”
“What indifference arrows?” Sett said. “There is no such thing.”
“There is now,” Hamanaeus said. He lifted his briefcase onto the commander’s desk, unlatched the case and flipped it open. A frosty mist dissipated into the air. “The Academy isn’t the only one working on new methods for defeating the fear demons.”
He spun the case around so that Sett could see inside.
“Indifference arrows,” Hamanaeus announced proudly. “Ice arrows mixed in our own secret recipe.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave them with you so that your scientists can test my veracity.”
Sett shut the case and set it beside him. “What the hell good would these things do? If Cyrus carries out his orders and she marries this guy, then we are out a Swerver, the last Swerver. If he refuses to complete his mission and gets his ass banished, then I’m the one who will be screwed, because I’ll be in the same position that he was. Also, I seem to recall that the cutoff for a Swerver is twenty-nine, so if this Veetal chick doesn’t find her soulmate by year’s end, she’ll be disqualified anyway.”
“Indifference arrows work differently than love arrows,” Hamanaeus explained. “The indifference and rejection infused into the arrows are time released. The arrows leave no marks and no residue; no fingerprints, and no revelatory signs. So, after you stick the two of them, it will look like they married on their own. The lovebirds will grow weary of one another within a week, and then fly their coop. The Swerver will get the marriage annulled, and by doing so, will veer back to swerving mode.
“As I’m sure you’re aware,” Hamanaeus continued, “a match is only considered valid after a couple has been married for at least a month. You will announce your discovery of Ms. Veetal being a Swerver, and then you are there to see that she is kept from harm’s way until her rightful match is made. You’ll be hailed as a hero—a champion and protector of a Swerver. Big stuff, you’ll agree. And of course, with Cyrus out of the way, your promotion to Supreme Commander of the Cupid Corps will be ensured.”
“How do you know that Cyrus won’t go through with the match? I told you, he’s a soldier’s soldier. He also knows that the penalty for disobedience is banishment.”
“Indeed,” Hamanaeus replied, “but the captain’s sense of righteousness will trump even his loyalty. If he believes that the Veetal woman is the Swerver, and clearly he does, he won’t risk a match. He’d rather sacrifice himself than chance losing the future of the world. You know him better than I, and you know I’m right.”
“Still,” Sett said, acknowledging that Hamanaeus had correctly judged his longtime comrade in arms and rival, “she has to find her human love without the help of a cupid. That’s the rule. So how do you know she’ll find him in time?”
“They always do, Commander. But as long as she is occupied by a false love, she won’t find the gentleman.”
“What’s to stop Cyrus from going to the judges with the news himself? Why not tell them that he found a Swerver?”
“They’d never believe him. He can’t prove it. But you can. I’ll give you the proof.”
“You have it all figured out, don’t you, Esquire?”
Hamanaeus smiled. “I’m simply looking out for the best interests of the world, Commander. We go from a lose-lose situation to a win-win-win situation. You win, the Anteros Brotherhood is no longer seen as pariahs, and the humans get another chance.”
“Why me? Why didn’t you just go to Cyrus with all this?”
“Commander, you know even better than I do what Cyrus thinks of the Anteros Brotherhood. You fought along side him in the Civil War. He blames Anteros for the death of his mentors, cupids Bauer and Varner. If I showed up at his doorstep he’d pull my spleen out through my throat.”
“Exactly what I should be doing,” Sett said.
“But you won’t because you know I’m right.”
“No, I don’t know that. I know only that time is running out fast and that something must be done.”
Hamanaeus grinned. “On that we can agree.”
“Maybe I’ll go to Cyrus myself and tell him what I know.”
“You could. But of course, then he’d get all the credit. He’ll be Supreme Commander of the Cupid Corps, and yo
u’ll be taking orders from him. Anyway, you do as you see fit, Commander. You have my card and know how to get in touch with me.” He bowed his head. “I am at your service.”
“Yeah, yeah, now beat it. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
Hamanaeus rose and headed towards the door.
Sett said, “How come you were so sure I wouldn’t lock your ass up, or better yet, just shoot you?”
“Because I know that you are smarter than that, Commander. You are aware that my people are expecting my return, and that we have ways of making sure that the next time your men go into the field they won’t return home either.”
“Are you threatening me?” Sett growled.
“No, I’m just ensuring my safe return,” Hamanaeus replied. “Good day, Commander.” He turned and walked calmly out the door.
19
Phantom Man
When Captain Cyrus plucked me from the Academy, I doubted that anyone was more shocked than I. Were there not dozens of other cadets who were far more qualified? Big, strapping, tough dudes who could squash me like a bug? I was honored, of course, as the captains were living legends. Honored, but very confused. Why me?
And, truth be told, I didn’t really want to leave. All my friends were at the Academy, and because I was going to be the captains’ sole student, I knew I would feel pretty lonely at times. I had grown inured to my friends’ noogies, Melvin’s, atomic wedgies, nipple cripples, pantsings, towel snaps, spitballs, flat tires, wet willies, and other assorted practical jokes and insults by my classmates. Bad attention was better than none at all, I supposed. And besides, I had steeled myself with the motto that that which did not kill me made me stronger.
Furthermore, the Academy was cool. It had great equipment, a state-of-the-art gym, nice classrooms, and uniforms too. I knew that after someone graduated from the Cupid Academy, he commanded great respect, especially from celestials, and so I thought that once I earned my arrows, no one would snicker at me any more. Probably. Sticks and stones might break my bones, but nothing, absolutely nothing was going to stop me from earning those arrows. But, something did stop me—the honor of becoming Captains Cyrus and Volk’s first recruit in at least a generation.
I expressed my puzzlement to Captain Cyrus at the time. He answered: “One Samuel, chapter 16, verses 6-13.”
To which I replied, “Huh?”
Only later after I had begun to study in the captains’ secret, dimensionally hidden yeshiva—the word the captains used to refer to the clandestine study hall, archives, and surrounding grounds—did I learn that he had referred me to a passage in the Book of Samuel from the Bible. The Bible was not covered or even mentioned in any Academy classes.
There I read how the Prophet Samuel was led to Jesse of Bethlehem and his sons to anoint the future king of Israel. Upon beholding the noble-looking elder brother, Eliab, Samuel said to himself, “Surely, before the Lord is His anointed.” But God taught the famed seer that even the greatest prophet of his time could not see what God sees:
“But the Lord said unto Samuel: ‘Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have rejected him; for it is not as man sees: for man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’”
After turning down seven handsome, royal-looking brothers, Samuel was taken to see the runt of the litter, David, the future king of Israel, and whose great words and deeds would live on until this very day.
Upon hearing of my recruitment and decision to accept the captains’ invitation, a bewildered Commander Sett scrunched his brow, scratched his beard, and bid me adieu with these encouraging words: “Scram, squirt, and good riddance.”
Even after I became apprenticed to the captains, I continued to stop by the Academy gymnasium to see what my fellow cadets were doing, frequently finding them in the middle of combat exercises. I would sit on the sidelines and watch them train for half an hour or so before hustling off to meet my mentors. Once I was late. Volk’s smarting slap to the back of my head made sure that wouldn’t happen again.
Month after month I observed with envy the skills my fellow cadets were being taught: strengthening exercises, speed and agility work, hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, reconnaissance, and the finer points of stealth and surprise. While the cadets grew steadily stronger and better prepared for the dangerous duties ahead, I sat sullenly on the sidelines, a glutton for punishment and the butt of their jokes and taunting. Whereas my fellow cadets grew more self-confident, I felt increasingly minuscule with each passing month, and shrank to new levels of insecurity.
Cyrus cautioned me about my obsession; saying it would only discourage me, and make me question his and Volk’s own methods. They counseled me not to compare myself to the other cadets, or to anyone for that matter. Doing so, they said, would sap my emuna, my faith, which they insisted was essential to my progress. They didn’t forbid me to go, but I could read the disappointment on their faces.
Then, something startlingly different occurred. I was at the Academy gymnasium observing the cadets like before, only this time with the Captains’ words in my head, and thoughts of emuna in my heart.
For the first time I didn’t feel envy. I wasn’t intimidated. Nor was I mocked or bullied. I miraculously achieved something that none of the other cadets would ever be able to do, and I knew it. I had infiltrated the gymnasium, observed the other cadets close up, and did so completely undetected. I had achieved invisibility.
I wasn’t quite sure how I had pulled it off. I believed I could do it, and it was so. I knew that it had to do with having redoubled my efforts in studying the holy books, more intensive prayer, and, for the first time, taking seriously the captains’ insistence on the power of emuna. These efforts were inspired by the wonders I was witnessing in my journeys through the Midrasha, something that I knew no one at the Academy could imagine in their wildest dreams.
No longer were my studies at the yeshiva merely a scholarly exercise. The words and ideas contained in the archives took on a meaning and significance that I was previously too lazy, or maybe cynical, to fathom.
Until now, I had never really understood why the captains made me study these works, as the knowledge the texts contained went against everything I was taught at the Academy. What I was learning was out-and-out blasphemy. In none of what I read did I ever come across any mention of Eros. In fact, the texts I was studying were quite explicit in their condemnation of any and all worship of such divinities. It was very confusing, for if there were no Eros, there could be no cupids. I didn’t even exist!
I wanted badly to ask the captains about what must surely have been my misunderstanding of my readings, but I was afraid they’d interpret my suspicions as either sacrilege or evidence of my stupidity.
In any case, after my experience in the gym I ran to Captain Volk to boast of my newfound ability. He was unmoved.
He said, “When you can do that without me knowing you’re there, then I’ll be impressed.” Then, noting my disappointment, he added, “This is just the beginning, Kohai. You’re getting close to something very big and important. If a little emuna could bring you invisibility, imagine what might be possible once your emuna is total and complete.”
And then he walked away.
Later that evening I tried to put into words some of what I had come to understand. I was in the Academy’s concert hall practicing the piano when Virgil tried to sneak up on me. To his chagrin, I detected his presence the moment he had entered the building. Without looking up from my playing I called out in welcome to him. He was very disappointed.
“How’d you know?” Virgil said, now standing behind me. “I scored at the top of my class in the stealth test today.”
“I know. I was there. Congratulations.”
“You were there? I didn’t see you.”
“I know.”
“Liar.”
“I was there, Virge, just a few feet away from you. I saw Commander Sett award you with an arrow made fro
m cherry wood. Cadet Hector thought he deserved the prize, not you. He whispered in your ear that he was going to stick it up your ass later.”
Virgil’s eyes widened in astonishment. That was exactly what had happened.
“Okay,” he said, “so how did you catch me sneaking up on you just now?”
“The same way, basically.”
I finished the piece I was playing with a flourish, closed the lid to the keyboard, and spun on the polished piano bench to face him.
“But you couldn’t have seen me, and you couldn’t have heard me, certainly not over your piano playing.”
“I didn’t see or hear the physical Virgil. I saw and heard the invisible Virgil, a fellow, by the way, who is much larger and noisier than you are.”
“Huh?”
“The corporeal Virgil—”
“The what?”
“The fleshy, physical Virgil is an extension and expression of the real Virgil.”
“What are you talking about, Kohai? In class we learn to monitor and be aware of everything around us so that we can pick up on the slightest vibration, inconsistency, shade or shadow. Are you telling me that your abilities are that much better than mine?”
“I’m saying that your training is fine for the physical world, but that the physical is just one expression of a much bigger world.”
“Well, duh, Kohai. In the human world it works like that, but not here. We know the ultimate reality. We see people in a way they could never comprehend. But here, what we see or hear is all there is.”
“Says who?”
“The professors at the Academy.”
“‘The professors at the Academy,’” I repeated with mock solemnity. “And tell me, how do they know such a thing? What makes them so certain? Can they prove it?”
“I don’t know. But they are professors, so…”
“Sorry, Virge, but they just regurgitate what their professors told them. Few have even been to the human plane more than once or twice, and it wasn’t to battle yetzers either. If any of your professors were to come face-to-face with an actual yetzer, they’d crap their robes. Your esteemed teachers have known nothing but classrooms their entire lives. They have never held any position other than an academic one. Having hung around only like-minded cupids, they live in an intellectual and spiritual bubble. It wasn’t always this way, you should know, but it is now.”
Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Complete Boxset: Books 1 - 3 Page 11