Sacred Fire

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Sacred Fire Page 19

by Tanai Walker


  “That covers the backstage visit as well,” she told him. “And my employer has brought a gift for the star: a vintage tequila.”

  The man smacked his lips. “I’ll have to have a toast.”

  “My employer would not be pleased,” Bobby told him.

  He chuckled. “You not from ’round here, are you?”

  The car pulled up then, a sleek four-door sedan. She checked the street and opened the door. Tinsley Swan eased out of the car and straightened. Though she leaned on a cane, she still stood as tall as most men. Her silver-white hair was perfectly coifed. She carried a blue velvet bag.

  How thrilled Bobby had been a few evenings before when Tinsley announced she would only need one of the Sisterhood for the night of the sixth. It was evident then that Bobby was to be her protégé. A leader among the Sisterhood.

  “This way,” she said quietly.

  They followed the man through a narrow alleyway heavy with shadows. Bobby walked with caution, her eyes on Tinsley, who moved with her usual slow and deliberate grace. The music got louder as they approached the old warehouse. Guards at the entrance flashed a pink light at them. The man in the top hat announced himself, and the guards let them pass.

  The space inside writhed with the masses of hundreds of people. As they crossed, a fight broke out. Through it all, Tinsley kept pace with them, as calm as ever. Several girls caught Bobby’s eyes. They either waved or reached out to touch her as she passed. Her masculine dress openly displayed her preference. The air seemed charged with sexual energy, all generated by The Star, a local pop singer.

  The Star danced on the main stage. She wore a dress that covered her breasts and genital area, but not much else. Her hair had been teased to an astounding height and adorned with glowing lights. She sang a raunchy song and moved in sync with her backup dancers. Bobby watched her stalk across the stage, her eyes intent on the audience below her.

  A waitress passed by with a tray of drinks. Bobby was surprised to see Tinsley remove cash from her pocket and hand it to her.

  “You do know these aren’t your martinis,” she shouted over the music. “This stuff is probably cut with battery acid.”

  Tinsley winked and nodded in reply. She turned her attention to the stage. Bobby gave the waitress the money and took two drinks from the tray. Bobby placed one drink in Tinsley’s hands and watched her sip. Tinsley watched The Star dance onstage.

  After the last song, The Star disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke. Bobby and Tinsley moved to the area behind the stage, crowded by fans hoping to be a part of The Star’s court for the night. Top Hat guided them through to a door.

  “I go first,” Bobby told him. Tinsley handed her the bag and nodded.

  Bobby pushed open the door and felt her heart quicken in her chest. The Star sat on a red cushioned chair, naked except for a very flimsy robe. An attendant was busy picking the lights from her hair. She still had the same presence she had onstage.

  She sucked on a plastic tube, the other end attached to a lamp-like structure of clear glass that held a tempest of smoke.

  “I was expecting an old man,” she said.

  “My employer is waiting outside,” Bobby informed her. “She’s very nervous about meeting you, about this place.”

  The Star raised her eyebrows. “She?”

  “Yes,” Bobby said, glancing around the room.

  “And you are?”

  “I watch over her.”

  She grinned in response. “Such a young thing. Seems you can barely watch over yourself.”

  Bobby stared at her openly for a moment, then remembered the blue sack. She presented it to The Star and removed the bottle nestled inside.

  “My employer wishes to gift you this,” Bobby said. “It’s tequila.”

  The Star laughed. “Real tequila?”

  “Yes,” Bobby said and handed over the bottle.

  “Your employer must be rich,” The Star said, taking it. “Such things are hard to come by. Glasses,” she announced. “Three.”

  The attendant picking lights abandoned her task to bring a four-legged tray and three glasses. She left the room.

  The Star was too preoccupied with the tequila to notice. She poured tequila into two of the glasses but hesitated at the third. “Your employer will be joining us?”

  “Give her a minute or so,” Bobby said. “She’s very excited to meet you.”

  “Then sit and we will talk, you and I.”

  Bobby found a white iron chair and scooted it over. She sat.

  “Drink,” The Star insisted.

  Bobby did. The Star downed one glass and poured another.

  “That is real stuff.”

  “Yes,” Bobby said. “The label on it was very interesting.”

  The Star finished up her second glass. “You are very lovely. What is your name?”

  Bobby shifted in her seat and gave her name in a mumble.

  The Star flashed a brilliant smile, let out a long, hearty chuckle, and poured herself another glass.

  “So your employer, she gave my manager quite a bit of cash. She wants to fuck me?”

  Bobby startled at her straightforwardness. “She hasn’t told me.”

  The Star shrugged and caught hold of the neck of the bottle. Her wrists were slim and pale, like any other woman’s. “What was so interesting about this label?”

  “Your picture was on it, and it read Bacchanista.”

  She looked up at Bobby. “And this brought your employer to me?”

  The door opened behind her. Bobby didn’t have to turn to know that it was Tinsley. The Star’s face went from cool apathy to alarm. She half stood in the chair and called out for someone named Tom.

  “Calm yourself,” Tinsley said in the old language.

  The Star stopped screaming and sat angrily. “You. You’re a fucking ghost.”

  “I’m very much alive, Leda.”

  “I’m The Star,” she said indignantly.

  Tinsley went up to her and reached out her hand. Leda took it and stood from the chair and into her embrace. She pulled away and asked sadly, “So you’ve come for me?”

  Tinsley nodded gravely.

  The Star walked away from her. “It took a while for the memories to come to me this time. I woke up in a drainage ditch with horrible dreams of beasts, and burning alive, and women in robes.”

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Tinsley said.

  The Star chuckled bitterly. “Look at you. How fucking old are you?”

  Tinsley grinned. “One hundred and twelve.”

  “And your Sandra?”

  “She died some time ago. We had a full life together. We traveled the world. We ended up in what was once ancient Sumer. There we found the wisdom that would free you, no sacred fire, no way for the gates of the underworld to open.”

  The Star narrowed her eyes. “You lie to me.”

  “No, Leda,” Tinsley said. “May I call you Leda?”

  She nodded, still in disbelief. “You would free me?”

  “I’ve devoted my life to it.”

  “What must I do?”

  Tinsley motioned to the bottle. “You’ve already done it. Mixed in with that tequila are the fabled waters of death. Now sleep.”

  At that, The Star collapsed to the floor. Tinsley dropped her cane to catch her. They both fell to the floor, Tinsley cradling the goddess in her lap. Bobby barred the door with a metal table.

  She went to Tinsley and saw tears on her face. The goddess trembled in her arms. She spoke what Bobby knew to be the language of the Gods as her violet eyes melted into shimmering pools that dripped and then spilled from the corners of her eyes, over her ridiculous blue hair in twin rivulets that flowed across the floor and faded until they disappeared. Her lids fell over the empty cavities. She was gone.

  Tinsley kissed her lips and looked up to Bobby. She reached out her hand. Bobby fetched the cane and helped her to her feet.

  “Take me home,” she said weakly. “Leave and
do not return until morning. This is my last night in the world.”

  Bobby felt her entire body go numb. “You’re tired―”

  “No,” Tinsley said sternly. “My time has come. The Sisterhood is yours to make what you will of it, Bobby.”

  Bobby nodded numbly and guided Tinsley out the other door and into an alley lit by garish red neon that made the wetness on the pavement look like blood. The car met them at the end.

  “Tinsley is tired,” Bobby said, trying to cover the emotion in her voice. “Let’s get her home quickly so that she can rest.”

  They said nothing until the car coasted past the gates of Tinsley’s home. The old church. It was fitting she would want to die there in the home where she shared so many years with her beloved Sandra. Together, they had traveled the world seeking out the ancient myths and finding the waters of death. Along the way, they found enough mysteries to keep the Sisterhood busy for many years to come.

  “I’ll go alone,” she said when Bobby tried to follow. She clasped Bobby’s hand, and the sudden strength nearly took Bobby’s breath away.

  “What you have admired in me for so long is now yours to protect,” she said and went inside.

  Bobby wished she could say something but found she could not. She watched Tinsley go inside and told the driver to take her back to the hotel. There would be much planning to do, in a little time. Tomorrow would come the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year.

  About the Author

  Tanai started writing strange little novels at the age of fourteen and dreamed of becoming a published author. She is a hard-core musicphile and enjoys everything from bluegrass to rap to metal. She has an extensive collection of digital music files, CDs, and vinyl. She lives with her hilarious, wonderful girlfriend, Janette, and their three dogs, Zeus, Zoey, and Beto.

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