Smigyl stared at Pegasus, as if looking at her would help him solve some internal debate. “Rahu said the strangest thing. He felt that Indra would block his re-inauguration as Eden’s Planetary Prince. I know Rahu can get paranoid, but this seemed more like an intuition than paranoia.”
Pegasus felt like Smigyl was a friend, a parent with kid problems. She knew Lord Smigyl had extended a personal invitation to Lord Indra to help him defeat the forces loyal to King Joshua. But Pegasus had worked in the Satania theatre long enough to know the local politics. On paper, Smigyl and Indra were allies. But, the battlefield was a different matter. Indra’s Nazz were splendid warriors — splendid, fanatical, and ruthless.
Rahu’s paranoia was well justified on any planet other than Eden. From Pegasus’ understanding of Satania’s planetary politics, Rahu’s re-inauguration was not a good reason for his worry; the moment Rahu’s feet hit the soil on Eden’s Mansion World I, he was the Planetary Prince and was called Ishmael.
Ishmael on Eden or Rahu anywhere else, he was exactly the same jerk. Considering the SAS’s presence in the Eden theatre, it was highly unlikely a dozen Indra’s could push the Valkyrie beyond Mansion World II space. His dad might be trying to be nice, but Pegasus knew this was just Rahu being a cowardly, stupid little bitch again.
It was not until much later she realized just how deeply she had been sucked into Smigyl’s story.
“And since I have learned to trust my son Rahu’s intuition, I sent word to your King that I would like to change my itinerary and reach Salvington by way of Eden. And then, when Patanjali found out that Rahu and I were going to Eden, he threw a fit until I agreed to allow him to join us. After I agreed to that, their cousin, Chismael, started throwing fits because she felt left out. She’s quite opinionated and argued that if our plans to vanquish the Valkyrie were to succeed, then she, too must be on Eden.”
Smigyl fed Pegasus certain tidbits of a bigger agenda. She might be an Omniaphim, yet to Lord Smigyl, she was just a dull-witted pigeon who was too naïve to not suck up every scrap he fed her. “Anyway, so now we have all of Patanjali’s and Chismael’s crap. I wanted to help them out and I still wanted to get to Salvington in a reasonable amount of time so I asked for a full-size Lanonandek transport. And by the way, neither Rahu, Chismael, nor Patanjali know I’m here right now. They still think we’re meeting on Jerusem.”
Pegasus felt him give her hand a quick parting squeeze. She had not noticed he had gently grasped her hand as her fingers grasped the windowpane. He seemed to smile to himself as he walked back and studied the transport some more. He walked in front of her, several paces back, carefully looking up and down and examining the craft’s external sensors and control surfaces. He came back to her right-hand window, grasping his chin with his left hand, supporting his left elbow with his right forearm as it lay across his solar plexus.
“I know there is a waitlist for traveling in the larger Lanonandeks, but still, why would Mac send you in an experimental craft still in testing phase? This thing has never been below the Ashti and now we’re going to take off directly into the Rasa?” He studied her for a moment. “Is he still mad at you about that Kuko matter on Panoptia and sacrificing you to kill me in a crash?”
Lord Smigyl turned and walked toward the door, shaking his head. He stopped abruptly, turning to stare at her. “Or is it your job to wait until we’re all on board and then push the red button?”
Chapter 11
Too Many Taken to the Heart, Too Many Taken to the Head
The Sisters of Mercy conspired to save me. They conspired to save one such as me. Why?
—Strophaeos, former servant of Ishmael
Oceania
Mansion World III Celestial Sphere in high orthogonal orbit around Eden’s Solar Orb, Pollux
29 17…
Collin looked toward the quarterback. He watched the unblinking, calm, brown eyes as the quarterback reevaluated the defense. He readjusted the offensive line. Collin focused all his attention, wanting to make sure he could hear his last second instructions over the roaring din of the crowd.
92…
Those cool, calm, unblinking brown eyes looked past him. The pass was now going to be a post.
17…
15… then the brown eyes looked straight at him. He was now the fake.
I remember those eyes. Was his name Phil? Bill? Something like that.
29…
Hut.
A reflexive knee rose and fell.
Hut.
Collin dropped back and ran past the quarterback holding an imaginary ball. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ball fly like a bullet.
A long pass.
#92, what was his name, caught it a mere five yards from the goal but was smashed to the ground a split second later by a massive linebacker.
The crowd roared with frenzy. Collin looked to see if #92 was injured. Just seeing #92 crushed like that made Collin’s body curl in on itself. He forced himself to stretch out straight, making himself breathe.
There was a refreshing cool breeze blowing on him. His foggy mind sensed smooth sheets.
The quarterback quickly regrouped his team. In a fog, Collin tried to listen to hurried instructions. “It’s up to you Collin. You will take it in this time.” Piercing blue eyes stared at him — intimidating eyes.
Were those Frank’s eyes? What happened to Phil? Bill?
With a clap of the hands, the huddle broke. They rushed back to the line for one last play as the clock ticked the last seconds to end the game.
Collin tried to breathe, but his chest felt constricted. Of course it’s constricted. I’m lying on my stomach.
50…
Frank had reevaluated the defensive line — #50 needed to open the gap.
15… hearing his number made Collin come to the moment.
I’m number 15 this time. Yes, I’m going to run the ball. I’m doing this for Frank. I have to make Frank proud.
The quarterback straightened.
92...
The shout grabbed his attention.
Hut. The snap came. Collin’s cleated shoes dug deep into the rich organic turf as he fell back a split second after the fake on the other side of the field made his move.
Collin grabbed the ball from the quarterback and cradled it with his muscular arms. The crease opened as linemen grunted. Cleated shoes crushed the grass, producing an earthy, primal smell. His ears filled with the sounds of body armor and Kevlar helmets colliding. It was a symphony to his ears — his symphony — the symphony of sport — the symphony of battle. He slipped through the crease.
Keen-Ta!
Keen-Ta!
Keen-Ta!
“Touchdown. Keenta has scored again.”
Why were they chanting that? Is my name Keenta? No, I’m Collin Striker.
His eyes were having a hard time focusing, as he looked up at large, white, puffy clouds floating against a rich blue sky. There was a ceiling fan in the blue sky, lazily waving back and forth.
He could not hold on to wakefulness — he did not want to hold onto wakefulness. He wanted to re-enter his symphony. Slowly the stadium melted back into existence. The cacophony of noise and color overwhelmed him. The chants of five hundred thousand voices vibrated through his body.
Keen-Ta!
Keen-Ta!
Keen-Ta!
Yeah, that’s right. They all love me. I’m a hero.
You’re not a hero. You’re an idiot. What were you thinking? How could you do that to Josephine?
He looked around but did not see Josephine. That was a good thing. There were other girls though, lots of girls, pretty girls bouncing, waving pompoms in the air. Cheerleaders. That’s what we called them. He remembered now. Of all the things he loved, he loved cheerleaders the best. In Collin’s mind, the existence of cheerleaders was the ultimate proof of El Elyon’s goodness. They cheered for him irrespective of win or loss. Not like Wrenn. Wrenn didn’t cheer for me.
Then luck
blew good fortune upon him. Wrenn’s angry face melted away and was replaced by the happy faces that rushed over to kiss their hero. They grabbed him, wrapping their arms around him. He recognized those happy faces — Allia, Gena, and Breena. They were triplets, right? No no no. That’s not right. Their names are Amber, Jessica, and Brittany.
Their costumes were all but nonexistent — loose-fitting tops that barely covered the bottom of athletic breasts — bouncy skirts that with just the right motion presented tantalizing views. It was a sign of the times on Eden — the boys wearing full body armor, the girls wearing next to nothing.
Just as long as they carry that enthusiasm into the bedroom with them, who really cares what their names are anyway?
Desperate hands pulled off his helmet. Eager lips planted kisses on his face. They think I’m pretty too — they love kissing my pretty face. Then he felt his hands caressing firm buttocks.
Yes, it’s desperate times for the pretty girls of Eden. Their only currency of worth is their sexual currency. Good for me.
He heard breath sucked in and out of a wide-open mouth, her passionate air moving in rhythm with his powerful thrusts. He gazed at a face in rapture. Collin ran his fingers through long blond hair, lost in passion, lost in that perfect, pearly white face…
…a face so beautiful that he remembered thinking that only an Angel could be this lovely.
I know that face. It is the face of an Angel. Yes, that’s right. Her name is Britt. I remember. I live with the Angels on Oceania. It’s THEY who are in charge. Not me.
Collin opened his eyes. The ceiling fan was still waving. A soft light began to fill his bedroom. The breeze was warm.
His eyes wandered around the room, confirming he was no longer on Eden’s Material world or the Resurrection Halls of Carolina Isle. He really was in his own cottage on Oceania. He looked over with a start, expecting someone in bed with him.
No one here. What a relief.
He slid his feet out of bed and to the floor. For a moment, he leaned forward and held his dizzy head in his hands — his stomach was woozy. Last night returned. He remembered thinking that it would be a good idea to throw up and get it over with. He hated throwing up, so he did not. Right now, he wished he had.
Someone was drinking with me last night. It was I getting her drunk, not the other way around this time. I was getting her drunk to wash away her sadness. The thought seemed strange. Through the fog, he could not remember any more, and he really did not want to. He was alone. That was good enough. There was no need to remember anything else.
With a bursting bladder, he stumbled to the bathroom and relieved himself. He looked down at his penis as it drained, admiring it. He liked having a penis.
Why is that? he wondered sleepily. His knees felt weak as an unexpected memory crashed through the hangover and hit him all at once. It was frequently like that when a past-life memory invaded — especially an intense one from a recent incarnation into Eden. The vision of being a helpless, brown-skinned girl from a poor family in a defeated country, being raped by vicious, victorious yellow-skinned men, hit Collin with a powerful slap.
“That’s a good enough reason, I guess. It’s better being a male, especially on Eden,” he mumbled to himself.
He sat down on his bed and glanced at the large, easy-to-read calendar on his wall — numbers so large they could easily penetrate through the dullness of any hangover. This was one thing he made himself do regularly — cross off the days.
Nope. Not a day off. It’s Saturday morning. Too bad it’s a workday. Least I’m off by noon. Saturday mornings are usually busy. Some work for Dustin and me this morning. Tonight, another ship full of Angels. He looked out the window and saw the ocean was still a deep gray and the horizon was only starting to become a vague shade of rich green. It was still quite early. He guessed around 05:30 or 06:00 by the light, so he could still…
Three light taps hit his bedroom door, followed by a weak, shaky voice. “Collin, are you awake? Can I come in and use your bathroom?”
Jessica. It was Jessica I was drinking with last night. But why was she in the other room? Then he remembered.
He looked down to make sure he had at least underwear on.
“Sure, Jess. I’m awake. Come on in,” he said with a voice that sounded much weaker and croakier than he had expected.
The door slowly opened. The otherwise quite attractive Jessica came in wearing a face that was weathering an emotional storm. Her pajamas were so disheveled it looked like she had slept twisted in a knot.
“Thanks,” she said meekly, avoiding eye contact. She shuffled to the bathroom and quickly shut the door. From hearing the intensity of flow, it was obvious she had been holding a full bladder for a long time, probably waiting for him to wake.
Why didn’t she just come in and use the toilet? She knew I was alone last night. Or just pee outside? There are plenty of bushes… Like anyone around here really cares anyway.
There were a few blows of a nose, then the sound of running water. She slowly emerged from the bathroom, walking like a convicted criminal shuffling toward the gallows.
“Collin, I’m really sorry to mess up your weekend like this, but is there any chance I can stay with you awhile longer? I just don’t want to be alone. I’ll try not to get in your way. I’ll sleep on the sofa if that’s…” She could not finish her sentence. She could not look at him. She just kept staring at the floor.
“Sure Jess. You can stay as long as you like. You’re not messing up any…”
“I’ve ruined everything. What was I thinking? What kind of demon am I?” Her pent-up words burst out as she collapsed on the floor right in front of him. “I betrayed my best friend. I’ve destroyed our friendship.” She looked at him, her face twisted in anguish, tears streamed down her cheeks. “It’s all ruined, it’s all…” Then she started sobbing uncontrollably.
Ohhh fuck, Collin thought to himself. He had already heard all this last night, over and over again, until he wanted to scream. He had finally been able to get enough ethanol and depressant Soma bud in her to make her pass out. He had not known what to say then. He did not know what to say now.
Me trying to patch up relationships between Angels. What are the chances?
There was always a full staff of excellent counselors on Oceania, even plenty available on the ships that transported Angels to Oceania. As Collin well knew, loving and concerned counselors were always there to greet an Angel after they spent a physical life on a mission for King Joshua and first awoke in the resurrection halls of Mansion World II spheres such as Carolina Isle.
Usually, long before Collin ran into anyone, the Angels had already completed ample counseling and were now ready for some fun. There were, of course exceptions, and certainly, this was not the first time he had seen an Angel cry. In his dreams of only moments ago, he had seen an Angel crying. Every time, it hit him hard, right in the center of his chest. An Angel crying. What could be worse?
He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head in the hopelessness of it all, wishing he could be absolutely anywhere else right now.
Okay, Sipheria. Tell me what to do, he said to himself as he stared toward the heavens.
I could incarnate into one of Daligastia’s work camps. He was starting to seriously consider this as an option.
Or maybe one of Indra’s nice dungeons. Anything to get away from this mess.
Then, without thinking about it, he stood up, and pulled on an undershirt and some pajama bottoms. He knelt down and scooped up the crying pile of misery in his arms.
He walked to the sofa in the next room and sat down with her on his lap. He propped his feet up on the sofa, squeezing her securely between his upper legs and chest and then stroked his fingers through her brown, matted hair. He kissed her gently on the top of the head, and for several minutes just held her tightly without saying a word. He breathed deeply in a slow, rhythmical pace. Then he heard her breath slow.
He looked up at the heavens
again. “Thanks,” he said softly.
Yes Collin. You are good to take care of one of my sisters when she is in real need. The words flowed through his mind so clearly that it startled him. Before he could dissect this internal conversation, he found himself speaking.
“It’s not ruined Jessica. It really isn’t. I know you made a mistake. But I promise you that you are not the fir…”
“I seduced my best friend’s husband, manipulated him into divorcing her and marrying me. Then I lived in luxury while she died in the street. You call that a mistake?”
For a moment he considered telling her what terrible thing he had done to Britt in a lifetime not that long ago, but then decided it would only make her feel worse. Collin let out a chuckle. “What a nightmare.”
“I’m sorry to do this to you, Collin. Really, I am. It’s just that I didn’t know where else to go. I’m having panic attacks at the idea of being alone, and if I run into Britt right now, I know I’ll just die.”
I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with me, Collin thought. Instead, he said, “I was being honest. You can stay here just as long as you want. I’ll keep you company.”
“You’re a saint,” she said, squeezing his strong arms.
“Oh, no no no. I promise you, whoever came up with that name was not thinking of me.”
A moment of silence passed. Then a disturbing thought hit him. “I wasn’t the husband you seduced, was I?”
She shook her head. “No. I at least had enough where-with-all to check that with Florence. It was Rickey Reinhardt.”
“Really? One of Indra’s captains incarnated? What a prick. You really were confused, weren’t you?”
Jess said nothing.
“Then look on the bright side. You saved Britt from living with one of the biggest ass-holes in the universe. And besides, doesn’t he prefer males anyway?”
“I don’t know,” she said meekly. “And besides, it really doesn’t matter anyway, does it? It still doesn’t change the fact I betrayed my best friend.”
Lilith: Eden's Planetary Princess (The Michael Archives Book 1) Page 7