Lilith: Eden's Planetary Princess (The Michael Archives Book 1)

by Robinson, C. E.

  “Yes it is. Much nicer than I remembered from Emerald Isle,” Pegasus answered, scratching her scalp through her short white hair. She tenderly took Josephine’s hand as both of them stretched out their arms and legs into two X shapes.

  “You’ve never been here before?” Josephine quietly asked, almost absent-mindedly, as if she did not want to speak too loudly just in case she might scare the blue moon.

  “I didn’t recognize the name, so at first I thought no. But along the way, I kept seeing features of the reef and a few boulders here and there on the sand that looked familiar.”

  The red moon hung motionless as if suspending time. Josephine floated upright, retrieved an elastic band from a pouch, and straightened out her hair into a single long rope. Pegasus took the hair band. She separated Josephine’s hair into three equal-sized cords and braided them back together, securing the end with the hair band. Josephine slowly turned in the water and gazed at Pegasus. She thanked her with a quick kiss.

  “I haven’t seen a single jellyfish. Have you?” Josephine asked.

  Pegasus reflected for a couple seconds and then shook her head no.

  “Good.” Josephine stripped down. She stuffed everything — her fins, rash guard, and swimsuit — into her collection bag and rebuckled her belt.

  Pegasus continued to tread water for a moment. What the heck, she said to herself. She rested her hand on Josephine’s shoulders and took off everything.

  They floated in front of each other, giving their feet an occasional flick to stay afloat, the warm water caressing their bodies. Josephine noticed what looked like tears in Pegasus’ eyes. She wrapped her arms around Pegasus, squeezing her body against her — soft creamy skin against hard white muscles. And just like earlier that morning, she cuddled up so closely to Pegasus that once again Josephine felt warm and safe.

  Pegasus’s chest shook as she tried to suck in air.

  “It’s okay, good friend. You know I love you. What is it?” Josephine asked, wrapping her legs around her.

  For a moment, Pegasus could not speak. Finally, she choked out some words. “Josie, I just don’t know if you can understand how it feels to have someone like you…actually trust me...” Pegasus’ powerful body shook. “…It’s been so hard…with my face…my looks…the whole thing with Kuko. I get so many questioning stares.

  “Josie, as long as I exist you will always have a way out of this mess called Satania. I would single-handedly march headlong into a million demons to save you.” Pegasus buried her eyes in Josephine’s shoulder.

  “Yes, dear friend. I know. I know.”

  Josephine let go of her friend’s back with one of her hands and lifted Pegasus’ face. Her eyes were red. Josephine gave her a tender kiss on the lips and then allowed that powerful face to again rest on her shoulder. Josephine gently stroked her head for a moment, and then wrapped herself back around Pegasus, using her arms and legs to hold her tightly.

  “Peg. There’s something else you need to know. I hadn’t planned to tell you…”

  Her voice trailed off. It’s inevitable that Peg will run into Aniel when we get back to Oceania. As soon as these two old pals see each other, Pegasus will figure out what Kuko’s black heart just did to her.

  “What is it Josie? You know you can tell me anything. Is this something about the Collin thing? Or about busting me because of the Kuko thing? You know I don’t hold anything against you.”

  “No. No...well, yeah. The Kuko thing...I mean. Another Kuko thing.”

  “What is it? Are you going to bust me again? Did your spies see us when we were…”

  Josie’s face fell. How do you tell someone you love that someone they are in love with has betrayed them? I’m afraid what Kuko feels for Peg is no more than a love of convenience. No way around this but to just say it.

  “Peg. Kuko tricked you into leaving behind the Lanonandek transport. Evidently, she was able to separate you from the keys. They made copies. And now they have completely stripped the transport down and are replicating it.”

  Finally, after so many long years of holding back her torn feelings for the duplicitous Kuko, Pegasus broke down and sobbed.

  Chapter 44

  Marije’s Vision Clears

  What’s the difference between living with the Overlords and living with the Angels? When you live with the Overlords, your vision becomes polluted, until you eventually fall into deception. When you live with the Angels, your vision clears, until you finally see Truth.

  —Glimarije

  Oceania

  "What’s your name?” the drunken beach bum asked again, as he slouched on a barstool. Finally, she smiled back. He straightened himself as if coming to attention, a smile spreading across his scruffy face.

  “Wow,” the beach bum said. “How much beer and Soma did that take?”

  “Well, maybe I’m unaccustomed to hanging around beach bums with questionable intentions. Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep your hands off me before I smiled at you.”

  “Did I look desperate or something?”

  “Desperate? Am I so unattractive that a male has to be desperate to buy me a beer?”

  “Well, to be truthful,” the beach bum started. “I actually have no recollection of saying that.”

  “What did you mean then?” the little tan-skinned Yukta Yogi asked. She was starting to enjoy his company. He had a soothing influence. He certainly was not someone Karolita would have picked out for her. But, after she got a good look at him, underneath the stubble on his face, he looked quite strong, even handsome with his rich blue eyes and rugged square jaw. There was something in the way his arm muscles rippled when he handed her beers that excited her.

  Karolita’s gorgeous guy friends, the ones Karolita sent to the little tan-skinned Yukta Yogi’s bedroom as a special reward, were skinny, scrawny twigs with a mean-streak just as wide as Karolita’s. After pleasuring themselves, they would spend their time nitpicking her. ‘You should use blue makeup to hide your ugly dirty-brown moleskin. You need breast implants. Your butt’s too narrow. Your butt’s too big. Your teeth are dingy, your nose is crooked, your eyes are boring, your legs are too skinny, your legs are too fat, you’re thick, dull-witted, poor, uneducated, unrefined, uninteresting,’ and on and on.

  And as soon as Karolita appeared, they would ooh and ahh about how beautiful and sexy she was — how clever and knowledgeable she was, how luxurious her blue skin was, how perfectly proportioned her body was, how she had such refined taste in clothes, jewelry, automobiles, private jets, and men of course. Karolita sucked up every drop of praise while smirking at the ordinary tan-skinned girl with uninteresting light green eyes.

  It’s probably true, she thought to herself, her face falling as she looked at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I have no more appeal beyond the desires of a desperate beach bum.

  A powerful hand reached over and delicately stroked her long blond hair, and then gently reached under her chin and raised her face. “What I meant…” She looked at him. There was no judgment, only acceptance. She thought she could see a touch of sadness in his soft blue eyes. “…is that I am not in such a desperate hurry to get laid that I could possibly risk offending a beautiful little Angel like you.”

  His powerful hand touched her delicately, his voice soft and caring. She had not expected that. It was shocking for someone to extend to her such comfort, especially the enemy.

  Panic set in again. She had no friends on Oceania. She and the beach bum had been drinking and smoking all afternoon and into the evening. The strain of Soma was high quality, which meant expensive. There was no way this beach bum could afford all this. Why the tall barmaid with rich black skin continued to serve him was a mystery. The little Yukta Yogi certainly could not pay for the tab. Karolita always controlled the money.

  No doubt, Karolita knew the little Yukta Yogi had abandoned her. If she had given Karolita only the slightest hint of disloyalty, she would have been kicked to the street. It had happene
d more than once in the past. And on the street was where she would remain until Karolita was ready to take her back.

  One day on Glamoria, Goddess Lakshmi’s Celestial heaven above Eden’s Material realm, Karolita banished the little Yukta Yogi for months. Karolita walked past with her regular pack of girlfriends, the pack that the tan-skinned Yukta Yogi herself had been part of. They emerged from Wezynna’s, Karolita’s favorite, exclusive clothing store. Her servants humbly walked the proper distance behind carrying an endless line of brightly colored bags and boxes. They had probably just spent millions of Rupees in one day in one store.

  The destitute tan-skinned Yukta Yogi was soaked, freezing, starving, and sick, but they did not give her a single glance, not even a pittance to buy food. When Karolita decided she wanted the little tan-skinned Yukta Yogi back, she would send Eros to find her. But before Eros delivered her back to Karolita, she would have to do penitence by satisfying Eros’ deviant appetites with acts so disgusting that they could be far worse than any of the self-demeaning activities she had to perform to stay alive on Glamoria’s harsh streets.

  Considering that the panicked tan-skinned Yukta Yogi had just abandoned Karolita while in real danger and surrounded by the enemy, there was little doubt that Karolita would disown her forever. She was on her own. She started to realize this beach bum might be her only life vest in the middle of a deadly storm quickly brewing around her.

  Strange things had been happening throughout the afternoon and evening. Periodically someone would stop by and give the beach bum a good hard slap on the back. Several individuals were in uniform, but most were dressed in casual clothes. This bar was in the resident’s area of the island, which Karolita had repeatedly warned them not to go anywhere near. If they did, their lives would be in danger if identified by one of the ever-vigilant watchers.

  She surmised that those who were in uniform were the watchers. They were not the Silly Little Seraphifs frolicking on the beach. They were not the little Seraphifs who were shopping for bright shiny objects or slurping down syrupy drinks with indelible white-toothed grins plastered on their faces while nattering to their friends.

  No, the creatures wearing uniforms on the resident’s side of Oceania were something completely different. From their insignia and sky blue uniforms, they had to be Valkyrie — high-ranking Valkyrie. To the frightened little Yukta Yogi, seeing these high-ranking Valkyrie should have been terrifying. But for some reason, it was not.

  Before this trip, she had never seen a Valkyrie up close. Karolita had given her pictures to show her what to avoid, but all the pictures showed distorted caricatures that made the Valkyrie seem twisted and horrible. Their eyes were always red or black, their faces locked into a bloodthirsty glare.

  The real Valkyrie did not match Karolita’s description. The real Valkyrie had eyes as sparkling and intense as a hawk — unblinking stares even when in casual conversations — precise focused speech — never any uhhs or ahhs — always straight and to the point.

  As she watched everyone, she noticed they did not talk over each other. In Pharisee families, those loyal to Karolita’s mother, the Goddess Lakshmi, everyone talked over each other — children and parents shouting at each other in competition to be heard. But here, one individual would speak, while the others listened, and then another person would speak and the others would listen. This seemed to be true irrespective of civilian or military — irrespective of whether the first was a colonel and the second was a private — and it continued to be true even if the private was respectfully disagreeing with a senior officer.

  This would never happen on the Material or Celestial realms of Eden. If a subordinate disagreed with a Pharisee priest, especially in public, the subordinate would be ejected from the temple and never allowed to return.

  Stranger still, when these Valkyrie slapped her beach bum on the back, and then looked at her, they seemed to recognize her — not in the way of ‘Ha. Yukta Yogi spy. Now I’ve got you’. Rather, it was in a friendly way, as if they might really know her. After that initial recognition, they seemed to realize they had made a mistake and she was not really who they thought she was. They would give her a polite smile and say hello — sometimes shaking her hand and introducing themself — more frequently not. It certainly resembled nothing like the endless interrogations an unfamiliar face could expect from a Pharisee priest.

  A new barmaid was coming on duty. Unlike Wrenn, the new barmaid had a petite body and a simple, cute face, but nothing akin to what Karolita would ever consider beautiful. Interestingly enough, except for her attractive shade of light blue skin, a color that was almost identical to the Valkyrie uniforms, the new barmaid reminded the little Yukta Yogi of herself. More interesting than that, she was finding the new petite barmaid deeply attractive.

  The barmaids and servers wore simple uniforms — modest and functional. Sewn into the right breast was the word ‘Staff’ and on the left, ‘Bill’s Clear Creek Grill’. All the staff wore the same uniforms, identical except for a male-cut vs. a female-cut. The first barmaid, Wrenn, wore an elegant multi-colored sapphire necklace. The new barmaid wore no jewelry. None of them wore any nameplates. She only knew their names — Wrenn, Ed, Bill –because they had introduced themselves. The strangest part was that Bill, the owner of the Grill, wore the exact same uniform, also with the same word ‘Staff’. He took orders, cleaned tables, and talked to his patrons and his staff as if they were equals.

  In the bars and restaurants on Glamoria, owners dripped with jewels and dressed in tuxedos or elaborate pretentious garments. A bar or restaurant owner spoke in elite, snobbish voices to his patrons and in condescending voices to his staff. Of course, all restaurant and bar owners were men. As for taking orders, serving food, or cleaning a table or a spill, owners would never, ever do it.

  All waiters were men, all cooks were men, and all bussers were women. In a prestigious restaurant, all bartenders were men. However, in bars where there was little food and lots of dancing, all the employees were women.

  But not just any women. These barmaids were beautiful. The higher class of bar, the more beautiful the barmaids. Instead of uniforms, they wore lingerie. The most beautiful face plus the most beautiful body plus the most enticing lingerie equaled the highest pay. If a wealthy male patron approached a beautiful barmaid and made the proper advance, using the proper words, she would insist he take her to his place where she would service him until he had his fill.

  The next day, she would act as if they had been married forever and demand he take her shopping at the most expensive stores in Glamoria and bought absolutely anything she wanted. That evening, she would return to the bar and do it all over again.

  If a male patron approached the most beautiful barmaid and it turned out he was not wealthy enough to satisfy all her needs the next day, he would face ridicule everlasting. She would complain and rant to the bar’s manager until the manager either killed the patron or at least ensured he never entered that bar again.

  On the other hand, if a wealthy male patron was shunned or was not completely satisfied, he and his pals would humiliate the barmaid and get her fired. If a lower-caste barmaid from a Sadducee family were to shun a wealthy male Pharisee patron openly, he would destroy her and her family, even if it took the remainder of his life.

  As she watched the dynamics at Bill’s, the ordinary looking, tan-skinned Yukta Yogi was having a difficult time processing the deeply strange and foreign environment she now found herself in.

  The new petite barmaid with the light blue skin eventually made her way to their end of the table. She gave the beach bum a slap on his muscular upper arm. “Hey big guy. Drunk again?”

  The beach bum just grinned. “Hi Skillit. Not quite. But with inspiration from my pretty little Angel here, I’m off to a good start.”

  “Hi,” the barmaid said as she stuck out her hand. “I’m Skillit.”

  The scared, ordinary-looking tan-skinned Yukta Yogi took her hand and gave a slight, gentl
e squeeze.

  “That’s an interesting name,” the Yukta Yogi replied. “I initially thought it was a private name between my guy here and you.” Why did I say ‘my guy’?

  “You must be kidding,” Skillit replied, grabbing their empty mugs and quickly refilling them, pouring herself one while she was at it. “There ain’t nothing remotely private between me and this bag-of-bricks.”

  “I love you too, Skillit,” the beach bum said as they both held up their mugs, but waited to clink them together until the tan-skinned Yukta Yogi lifted hers.

  “My name is Marije,” she said shyly.

  “Skillit. How do you do that?” the beach bum asked. “She’s refused to tell me her name, and it took all evening just to get one little smile out of her.”

  “That’s a very pretty name. Marije,” Skillit replied, keeping her bright blue eyes fixed on her.

  “Oh,” Skillit said, giving the beach bum another hard smack on the arm. “This big guy here is Aniel.”

  The beach bum turned, sat up straight, and smiled. “Hi Marije,” he said, offering his hand. “That is a beautiful name. And my name is, in fact, Aniel.”

  Marije took Aniel’s hand. It was hard and firm though he held hers gently. In Marije’s mind, she saw a flash of Aniel standing in front of her with the same tender smile on his face. He was clean-shaven, wearing a beautiful sky-blue uniform, and…and then it faded.

  “Well, now that I finally know your name, maybe it’s finally safe for me to take a piss. I’ve been holding it all night. Ya see, if I didn’t know your name and you sprinted, I would’ve had no idea how to track you down.” Then he stood and headed toward the back door.

  “Ahhh, such a charmer,” Skillit said as he walked away.

  When Skillit turned back, she noticed Marije had turned white. “Are you sick?” Skillit asked. Marije nodded as Skillit helped her up. They quickly walked arm-in-arm to the women’s room, cutting in front of the queue and into a stall that had suddenly become empty.