“Sit, Mahmoud,” Teka said, indicating a patch of grass covered with pine needles. “You are in a very poor state.”
“Yes,” Mahmoud said, avoiding their eyes as he sank to the ground. “I am full of shame to be found this way.”
Kelile laughed. “Such dramatization! Stop wringing your hands, Mahmoud. You should rejoice. It is to your honor that Khaldun has sent us—not because he feared you would fail, but the opposite. Be glad you have not succeeded!”
“Explain,” Mahmoud said, confused by their smiles.
“Dawit’s wife and child live still?” Teka asked anxiously.
Mahmoud’s heart sank. “Yes. At the instant I—”
“Don’t explain,” Teka interrupted. “Be grateful. We must tell you something, and then you will understand. Khaldun asked us to fly here, to come quickly. After he mailed your instructions, he had a dream that so excited him it flung him from his bed.”
“Not a dream,” Kelile corrected him. “Remember? He said he was awake when he saw these things. A vision.”
“A message came to him,” Teka continued earnestly. “He was greatly changed by it, and frantic that you be stopped. He dispatched us the very same day. The message was this: Dawit’s wife and child must live. They are no threat to us.”
“Nonsense!” Mahmoud responded.
Kelile shrugged. “Yes, I know. I thought perhaps he’d had too much wine. I, too, have had many strange visions after—”
Teka shot Kelile a grave look. “Khaldun would not enjoy your ridicule.”
For a moment, Mahmoud was too awed to speak. This could not be so! Khaldun was not one to change his mind, nor one to heed dreams or visions. Khaldun, who never spoke of God, was professing a divine vision? And was so transformed by the experience that he would then send other Searchers to prevent him from finishing his work?
“My brothers, hear me,” Mahmoud said. “Dawit has broken our Covenant. I believe he is once again with his wife, and he has told her more than any mortal should know. I have heard with my own ears how he described the Ritual to her, all of our most sacred history! And I believe Dawit somehow means to give her the Living Blood. I am sure of it.”
Looking solemn, Teka and Kelile nodded. “All of these shocking things you say were also in Khaldun’s dream. We are much aggrieved,” Teka said. “We know Dawit’s intentions. But Khaldun was emphatic: Dawit’s wife must live, and the infant as well. Your work here is done. No blood will be shed. You will return with us. Not in shame, Mahmoud, but with satisfaction.”
“But … Dawit—”
“Dawit will come of his own will,” Teka said. “This is what Khaldun has told us.”
Mahmoud felt as though his breath had been stolen from him. Then the mortal woman’s mother and sister would live, and she and her child would live, and Dawit would go unpunished? Khaldun, who had taught the Life brothers to cherish the Covenant above all else, would have them sit idly by while Dawit tried to pass his Living Blood to a mortal? What purpose did the Searchers serve, then, if Life brothers were free to behave like gods?
Mahmoud pulled on Teka to stand, forgetting his pain. “I will not believe this of Khaldun. Forgive me, but he cannot know what he does.”
“Mahmoud,” Teka sighed, “we’ve all struggled to understand. It is not in keeping with our beliefs, so we must trust in Khaldun. Perhaps this knowledge is for him alone. Dawit’s wife and infant must live. Her infant is chosen, he said.”
“And he said it more than once. He repeated it many times.”
“But you see? Khaldun is mistaken. There is no infant!” Mahmoud said. “Dawit has a daughter of five years. This is the infant? Why should Khaldun be concerned with her? She is chosen for what?”
“This,” Teka said, “you must ask Khaldun.”
Kelile grasped Mahmoud’s chin with his fingers, shaking his face playfully. “Be cheerful, Mahmoud. At least now you can make peace with Dawit.”
Peace! How could that be so? Could he still love a brother who had betrayed them—even if it was Dawit? What if Dawit returned to Lalibela, not alone, but with a newly immortal wife and girl-child? And how many others might follow?
How could Khaldun fail to fathom the dangerous implications of welcoming outsiders to their fellowship? Once exposed, their race of immortals could not long live in peace. They had all witnessed mortals’ treachery to their own kind: How could Khaldun entrust the fate of the brotherhood to them?
“Think of the consequences,” Mahmoud said quietly, his voice calmed by the heaviness in his heart. “With his blood, Dawit is bringing fire to humankind. Their greedy race, when it has fire, burns everything to cinders. All of us will be in that fire’s path.”
For a moment, neither Kelile nor Teka spoke. They knew it was true.
“We’ve been instructed not to interfere with Dawit or his mortals,” Kelile said gravely. “What is left for us, then, Mahmoud? Disobedience?”
His question might not be rhetorical, Mahmoud realized. The Searchers existed only to protect the seclusion of their brotherhood, a task they had done well for hundreds of years. Khaldun himself had given them their mission, just as he had given them the Life gift. Without Khaldun, they would have been nothing but mortals themselves; left, by now, in the memories of no one. If Khaldun said they must not act, they must not. The decision was not theirs.
“No, brothers, I will heed Khaldun,” Mahmoud said. “But remember I have said this, because from this time on, all is changed: We will long regret this day. My soul tells me so.”
Teka and Kelile did not answer. The three men stood in silence. Beyond the tree line, Mahmoud heard the sounds of early-morning traffic speeding past them on the Turnpike, the mortal drivers oblivious to the extraordinary strangers hidden from their sight.
But oblivious, Mahmoud wondered, for how long?
54
ALABAMA. MISSISSIPPI. NOW, a new sign said LOUISIANA. Jessica was in a new state every time she opened her eyes.
She hadn’t realized she’d been sleeping until the car jolted to a stop in the parking lot of a strip-style, one-story motel called the I-Ten Inn. WELCOME TO LOUISANA, the red letters on the marquee read. The row of look-alike doors and windows stretched in front of her, and there were few other cars in sight. David must have picked the most out-of-the-way motel he could find.
David dangled a motel key in front of her, cutting off the car’s engine. When had he gotten out to register? She must have slept through that too. And she was still so sleepy that everything played in front of her like a dream.
Kira, ecstatic to be out of the car, was racing back and forth across the walkway, half skipping, half running. She’s going to fall and break her neck, Jessica thought, but she didn’t have the strength to lean over to call to her through the open window.
The heat. Jessica couldn’t move. She was so hot, her clothes clung to her skin. She knew Teacake was lying on the seat beside her, and she couldn’t stand to look at him. She didn’t want to deal with one more bad thing, today or ever.
“Where are we going?” she asked David in a cracked whisper.
“Nowhere right now. We’re stopping to rest.”
“I have to call my mother,” she said in the same frail voice.
“I already took care of that. I called security at Jackson and threatened to come back and finish the job I started when I pushed Alex off her balcony. And I said I’d get the old lady too. I’m sure I sounded convincing, since you’ve already made me a fugitive. They’ll have plenty of protection.”
Jessica stared at him, confused, blinking. “You pushed Alex?”
David sighed. “No,” he said patiently, as though he were speaking to Kira, keeping his voice low, “I said that so they would pay attention, Jess. You know what really happened to Alex.”
Jessica no longer knew what to believe of David. He could be claiming he’d called her mother just to placate her. All the world was a lie. Even God, apparently. Her so-called God had abandoned her. She felt
tricked. After David’s recovery at the cabin, she’d believed he was touched by holiness, and nothing could be further from the truth. So much for faith. Why had God led her to David at all in the beginning, and now led him back to her?
“I still have to call her, David. I know she’s worried …”
“Later. Not now,” David said. He got out of the car and opened her door for her. Always the gentleman. “Come on out.”
No. She couldn’t go that way. If she did, she’d have to climb past Teacake on the seat. “The cat…” she began.
David was silent, apparently examining Teacake. He sighed, and she could only imagine what he must be seeing. “The cat’s fine,” he said inexplicably.
The cat was fine? Her heart leaping, Jessica ventured a glance. Teacake’s blank eyes met hers. Jesus help. Teacake didn’t even look like a real animal anymore, he looked like something somebody had stuffed. His mouth was horrid, frozen slighdy open. She turned away, nauseated. “He’s dead, David.”
“Shhhhhh. Don’t say that. Kira will hear. I’ll take care of Teacake. Come on out. I can’t leave you in the car.”
It all felt so painfully familiar, just as when Jessica had walked into her house for what she’d known would be the last time. Inside the cramped motel room, as Jessica dropped her purse on top of the plain bureau, she thought of their countless family vacations that had begun this way. The room was bare and smelled clean in the way motels could, a smell that was foreign and new and full of promise.
Her eyes shot toward the nightstand between the double beds right away, looking for the telephone. Nothing there except a brass banker-style lamp. Not even a Bible.
“No phone. Sorry, this isn’t exactly the Fontainebleau. We get what we pay for,” David said evenly, following her gaze. He clapped his hands together once, turning toward Kira. “But there’s a TV. Let’s see if we can find any afternoon cartoons.”
“It’s time for Muppet Babies, Daddy. The clock says two!”
“They might have different cartoons in Louisiana, Duchess.”
“Lew-see-ANNA …” Kira repeated, bouncing on one of the beds.
While David fumbled with the television knobs to try to clear up the reception, Kira scooted off of the bed and began to creep toward the closet. “No, Kira,” Jessica said, speaking for the first time since they’d walked into the room.
Kira looked back at her, sticking out her lip. “I want to play with Teacake.”
“Teacake’s still sleeping,” David said, walking over to lift Kira up and carry her back to the bed. “You stay put. You can play with him in a few hours. Maybe when it gets dark.”
Jessica glared at David, feeling a fluttering across the back of her neck. He was insane. If she’d ever doubted it, she knew it now. Why the hell had he carried a dead cat into the room and hidden him behind the mirrored closet doors? He should have left Teacake in the car, then gotten rid of him and told Kira he ran away. Anything would be better than such a gruesome lie. Teacake must have been dead for at least two hours. What if the carcass started to smell? And what if Kira snuck into the closet? The poor child would be hysterical.
And that would make two of them, because Jessica was about to be hysterical herself. She couldn’t hold it in much longer.
Jessica realized she could barely keep her balance. She shuffled to the bed where Kira sat and collapsed beside her, swaddling her like they were two fetuses in a womb. Could she protect her daughter now? And would someone protect her?
My God, my God, she thought, remembering the Book of Psalms from Sunday school, why hast thou forsaken me?
There is one way, at least, they cannot harm you or Kira.
Why art thou so far from helping me?
Tell me about the Ritual, David.
O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not.
It’s miracle blood.
Jessica couldn’t move. Her thoughts were running wild, zipping circles in her head. And she was so, so sleepy. She wanted to touch Kira’s face, but her limbs felt like they were a dozen times their normal weight. Jessica gazed across the room, and she found David staring at her. Behind him, she could see her own reflection, and Kira’s, in the bureau mirror.
“You put something in my drink,” she said, knowing for the first time as she said it, “the one from the burger place.”
“It was just a Sprite, Jess.” His lies never ended.
“Why do you want me to sleep?”
David didn’t answer. He was leaning against the bureau, his arms folded in front of him. He was still beautiful, and his beauty made him more terrible to her. Jessica’s eyelids fought until they closed, but she forced them open again. “Not Kira, David. Don’t give her anything. Promise me,” she said.
“Don’t give me what?” Kira broke in, pulling her attention away from the crashes and frenzied classical music playing on the cartoon. It sounded like Bugs Bunny. Kira nudged against Jessica. “Don’t give me what, Mommy?”
“Promise me, David.”
“Will you stay with me?” David asked Jessica. A soft plea.
Tears came to Jessica’s eyes. She hoped Kira wouldn’t look at her face and see the tears, since Kira’s happy oblivion was the only joy Jessica had. What was David asking of her? And what was she agreeing to by not running from him?
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” David said slowly. “And nothing is going to happen to Kira. Trust in that.”
“What’s going to happen, Daddy?” Kira asked, bouncing impatiently. She hated it when they talked around her.
“Nothing, Duchess,” David said.
Jessica’s eyelids won. Again, she slept.
She didn’t know how much time had passed. The TV was still on when her mind woke up, but it was playing a news program. Something about a deadly flood in India. Armageddon knocking, her mother always said. She didn’t open her eyes at first, but she stirred because she smelled pizza in the room and heard paper bags crinkling as Kira and David unpacked food he must have had delivered. She was hungry, too, but she was more sleepy than hungry. She wouldn’t get up yet. Just a little more rest.
Something heavy landed with a thump on Jessica’s chest, and her startled eyes flew open.
There, in her face, were Teacake’s green eyes. He meowed.
Jessica screamed. And then she screamed again, watching her dead cat scamper across the floor in a blur of bushy orange fur. Once her mouth was open, her screams couldn’t stop.
“Baby? Honey? Listen to me. Please be calm and listen. I gave Teacake some of my blood. Do you understand? I never told you, but he’s undergone the Ritual. That’s why he woke up after he died. The same thing happened with me, remember? It takes a few hours. Just like at the cabin. Okay, Jessica? Tranquilo, sweetheart. Please?”
In an instant, the muddy cloudiness gave way to clarity.
David had been repeating the same words again and again, breathing fast. They were scuffing the motel’s cheap plastic bathtub, where Jessica had tried to hide herself behind the smudged curtain. David was wrapped around her, nearly on top of her, smoothing her hair back with his palm. The top of her forehead, by now, felt raw and irritated from his touch. She shook her head away from him, resting her cheek against the plastic shower wall.
“When did you do that?” she said, barely loud enough to hear.
“Just before we went to the Everglades. That same morning, in the shed. I wanted to be certain I could do it.”
“You just … gave him your blood?”
“That’s why you found the syringe. I injected it.”
“And that’s all? That’s all you did?”
When David didn’t answer, Jessica could hear the muffled sound of Kira’s sobs in the next room. She must be standing in front of the closed bathroom door, reeling in terrified confusion. She’d just seen her mother acting like a nut, flinging the lamp to the floor, hiding in the bathroom. Lord have mercy.
“Kira …” Jessica whimpered.
“I know. I
’ll go to her in a minute.” He squeezed her shoulder tight, pulling her toward him, not letting go. “I want to make sure you’re all right. I never intended any of this to happen this way, Jessica. I planned to tell you. I wasn’t thinking when I opened the closet to let him out. Kira heard him crying …”
Jessica blinked, swallowing. She would never forget the sight of Teacake’s eyes so close to her face. Remembering, her body trembled. She swallowed back a new sob.
“And it worked just like that? Just by injecting the blood?”
David sighed. He stroked her forehead again, and she couldn’t move to escape his touch. “Basically.”
“But you said something before about … how you had to eat poisoned bread. You told me that.”
“Yes.”
“You did something to Teacake? Something to poison him?”
“That’s not the important thing. You saw the result.”
“But you …”—she could barely speak, so she struggled to swallow again—”… you want to do that to me? And Kira?”
“I want you and Kira to be safe, Jess. Always.”
“You want to kill us?” Jessica whispered.
“No,” David said. He looked so big this way, staring down at her like some demigod out of Greek mythology, his voice reverberating against the stall. “I want to give you life.”
When they opened the bathroom door, Kira wrapped her arms around Jessica’s legs, still crying, like she wanted to touch her and prove she was real, still Mommy. The sound of her child’s cries tore holes inside Jessica. It reminded her of the strangled cries the night of Kira’s worst asthma attack, when she couldn’t breathe. And the morning Princess died. Jessica, dazed and nearly losing her balance, clutched the top of Kira’s head with her hand and struggled to think of how to make the crying stop.
“Don’t worry, Duchess. You poor creature. Mommy is fine,” David was saying, reaching into the Walgreen’s bag he’d left beside the sink. “It’s all better now. Mommy had a bad dream.”
Yes, Jessica thought, and this is it. It hasn’t ended.
My Soul to Keep (African Immortals) Page 39