by Lori Darnell
"Boy, you are strong... Marcus... I can't breathe too good…" James sputtered. I released him and he dropped to the ground, laughing and taking dramatic deep breaths . We were family. We could forgive. "Marcus, I have to say - while not trying to make fun of anyone here," James began, hands held defensively in the air, “that Dean and I just about came off the bed when we heard a woman scream your name. I should have known that would be the key." He shook his head. Unexpectedly, Jill spoke again.
"Well, a girl can only take so much. Besides, it was quite... encouraging - you know, the response." Jill said softly, with a little too much pride. I looked at Jill and again was set aflame in shades of red. But she was right. Her voice, especially when saying my name, had been heady. Even now, her voice was sultry and created sensations in my body that were instantaneous. I shivered all over. James shot me a look of shock.
"Marcus, are you okay? Do you need a minute to compose yourself?" He inquired, smiling knowingly. Apparently, my reactions were transparent to them, too – what, did I have a glass face or something? Jill adjusted herself to torment me further, but James called the meeting to order by rapping a pile of folders he had just picked up onto the tabletop, startling all of us.
"While it would be nice to clown around all day, we have work to do. It looks like you’re thinking with only one part of your body at the moment – and we need you firing on all cylinders. Let’s get some focus, hm?" He shook his head as he sat back down next to Dean, flipping through the pages in the folder.
"We will be leaving tomorrow for London. The body needs to be examined, and we need to make our first report. I have made the travel arrangements.” He shuffled further through the papers, selecting one in particular from the stack.
“I was fortunate enough that someone has called the Church and made threats against our lives. They were most adamant about extinguishing your life." I froze. Who could hate me that badly? James continued his explanation, amidst the perplexed looks on everyone’s faces. “A death threat for either you or Jill is being taken seriously, because of your value.
“I’m not a prized cow!” Jill exclaimed.
“It seems in this instance, being a prized cow would be a good thing – it’s keeping you alive,” Dean stated, receiving Jill’s exasperated look in response.
I ignored them both. "Jacob? Was it him?" I asked James, knowing of only one person who would be looking for me. After all, though he wasn’t the same person I knew before, he had promised he would find me when he was finished training.
"I don't know, Marcus, but the Church is taking it seriously. They have told me to hire a bodyguard to travel with us." He looked at Dean, and turning back to us said, "meet your new bodyguard. Dean is actually very good with a gun and hand to hand. Hopefully, we won't need to find out. But I can't tell you how happy I am that he is able to come with us without arousing suspicion. Please say you don't mind?" That caught me off guard. James was asking my permission?
"James, I would never ask you to leave him behind. It would be like me leaving Jill." I turned to look deep into those piercing eyes. "I am never going to let her go – I would never ask that of you."
James positively beamed with joy. How could I deny him that happiness now, especially when we had so much to do that would be dangerous to us all? We didn't know what the future held, or at least we didn't know the details. Dean certainly looked the part of a good bodyguard; thick through the shoulder, well muscled, a fighter stance – plus, he appeared to have excellent observation skills – if it weren’t for him, we’d never have discovered Jill’s ethereal voice. Suddenly, I had other things on my mind that had nothing to do with death threats. If we were going to have to leave this house, and pretend to be just friends, it was going to be a hard transition.
Chapter 17
Visions of my dream with Isis had been flooding back to me all day. I knew I had to share the experience with James, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell him so that he would understand. In the event, I decided to just come out with it, and let the chips fall where the may.
"James, there is a lot I need to tell you, but I don't know where to begin… or if you’ll even believe me once I’ve told you…" I faltered, then went silent. I was very concerned that he would not understand the importance of what Isis shared with me, or if he could even comprehend what the experience was like. James placed a hand on mine.
"Don't worry, I have an open mind. Anything you say will not leave this room. You can trust us." Whether I could or not, I felt I had to. We were all in this together; we all needed to know what was coming.
"I had this dream last night. Not really a dream, but a vision. No that isn't quite right, either..." I stammered, frustrated. I didn't know what happened exactly, or how, only that it had happened.
"Just start at the beginning of this dream-like experience," James said as comfortingly as possible.
"Okay, well, it started out that I was searching for Jill and I was terrified I couldn't find her. She was silent. I was at our meeting place, but it was empty. I saw several blacked robed figures cross the ally entrance. It was terrifying. It felt like Jill was in danger. I couldn't breathe, and then... well..." I hesitated, glancing at Dean and wondering how much he was already aware of. In the middle of this pause in the story, a voice sounded in my mind in a low whisper.
"Go on, it's okay. He should know about this. He is involved now, too. He may even be able to help, if he knows." It was her, the god, Isis. Jill looked at me in shock. She could hear it too. She was listening in. I felt a little pale – she was choosing now to speak to me?
"Marcus? Are you okay?" James inquired, seeing the looks on both of our faces.
"No, I'm not, but apparently you are supposed to know this too so..." I began, but again hesitated. Jill grabbed my other hand quietly.
"Marcus, it's alright. She told you to tell them; I heard it.” Jill spoke softly, but her voice made James and Dean react as though she had screamed bloody murder. They leaned forward, marveling at how she had heard what they could not.
"Marcus, what is it?" James demanded, barely containing his growing concern.
"What do you know about a god called Isis?"
"Only that she was one of many gods worshiped in Egypt. The religion has been dead for centuries. I know a couple of old stories. There was one where she killed the sun god Ra with a snake, an Asp. In another legend, her husband, who was also her brother, was dismembered by his brother, and dispersed along the bottom of the Nile River. She was so heartbroken that she retrieved him and pieced him back together, bringing him back to life with her power." I was stunned. This was the woman who had been guiding me for years? Once again, her voice flooded my mind.
"I told you I understood loss. I know love makes you do all kinds of things. Things that no one knew you capable of, that you maybe would never do otherwise. You will see." Isis was sad, and suddenly I felt as though she was no longer there.
"James, the dream was with the god Isis. She brought me into a room with other gods. They were arguing about the fact that they couldn't stay. They said they had to ‘leave him behind,’ whoever ‘he’ was. Then she said something else, that ‘my plans are too important to ever give in. If you stay with her, I will use the situation to my best advantage.' It has something to do with Jill, I believe. There was a path we were on, but I think it has shifted. She said she would help when she could, but she can only influence. That is all."
"Not quite all," Jill stated precisely, glaring at me.
"Okay, as she left me she leaned in and kissed me, but that isn't important." I looked at Jill and rolled my eyes. "How could you be jealous? Not even a god can turn my head away from you." I reached down to seal this promise with a kiss. It started out a simple brush of the lips, but then she went all soft and willing, parting her lips. I heard her soft moan and deepened the kiss. She ran her tongue against mine, and my knees buckled. Ending the kiss, she backed away a few steps.
"You remember tha
t, the next time she tries to kiss you." She declared triumphantly. James cleared his throat.
"Marcus, do you really believe that she was really Isis? I don't believe you’re lying about what happened, but could have it been a false prophecy?" He looked hopeful.
“No.” Jill and I answered in unison.
“I heard her too,” Jill stated flatly.
"I wonder if this has anything to do with the girl, Jenna?" Dean looked over at James, waiting for his recognition to kick in. I had no idea what they were talking about.
"It could be,” James said, a light dawning in his eyes.
"I don't understand," I insisted. I didn't understand a whole lot of what was going on around me, a fact I found more and more agitating.
"Marcus, her father is a Hermetic priest. It is a religion based on the teachings of the Egyptian version of the god, Hermes." Dean shook his head in agreement, and both were satisfied this must be the reason why Isis had taken an interest. I didn’t disagree openly, but I knew this was the wrong conclusion. I had no way of confirming, but I knew it deep inside my bones. It had nothing to do with the girl. It had everything to do with Jill and me. But I wasn't ready to share that yet.
"Just be careful,” James warned. “It isn't a good idea to go around insulting a god. No matter how fond she is of you." He had a sly smile planted firmly on his face as he turned to Jill. She growled in response. I looked at her like she was insane.
"Jill, enough. Besides I remember waking up to a much more motivating, interesting, and pleasurable environment." I leaned in closely to brush my lips down the side of her neck. She was so intoxicating. It was so easy to get lost in her scent, her taste. I was only vaguely aware of a repetitive throat clearing in the room.
"Um, Marcus... back to the point." James reminded me.
"Right. Well, Isis has a plan. However, she isn't clear on exactly what that plan is. The only thing I think we can do is continue as we have been.”
"Well, that is what we will do. In the meantime, we have to be ready to go tomorrow. We will be traveling by train, so please pack your bags and be ready to leave in the morning. It is important that we get to London as soon as we can. The train leaves at 9:00AM, arriving in London before dark. The plan is to meet up with a Reverend there; he will take us to the body. As soon as you’re done reading it, I plan on leaving - I have no intentions of staying any longer than I have to." He looked at Dean for a long moment, who nodded then began to speak.
"The girl Jenna is still alive, as far as we can tell. Our sources have been looking for her since James told me about your having seen her; as soon as we had a name, we were able to intensify our search. We are trying to save as many religious refugees as we can. Her father is the last religious leader of the old Egyptian religions. He has books, records and stories that must be preserved. As far as we can tell, the girl Jenna is not with her father, but it is likely she knows where he is. The Church is counting on it, hoping she can lead us to her father, who is considered to be a treasonous heretic." Dean glanced back at James, and they both lowered their heads in a defeated manner.
"I don't like the idea of using this girl just to get to her father. What does the Church want with her? And what are we supposed to do with her once we find her?" This plan made me uneasy. I directed my question to either of them, but both seemed to hesitate before answering. With decision, James broke the silence first.
"Marcus, the Church plans to place the girl in a Hotel once they have the information on her father. They have little actual interest in her, dead or alive. If we can get there first, we can say we found her dead. You two give me a false read on her father, saying he is dead as well, then we hide the girl in plain sight." He nodded, as though assuring himself this plan would work.
"Okay, so I need to know what a Hotel really is,” I demanded. Jill’s face lit up with attention as well – apparently, she didn’t know, either. “I have heard boys talk about it at the compound, but it was all cryptic and speculative." James exchanged a disturbing look with Dean, who indicated he should proceed. James closed his eyes and rubbed his face hard, as though to wash the thought from his face, then took a deep breath and exhaled strongly through his nose before speaking.
"I never wanted you to have know, either of you, but I suppose it’s past the time for you to know, particularly given the risks you are required to take for the Church. Hotels are... well, let's just say the sinners are punished there." The disgust washed over him as he shuddered in his own thoughts.
"James, it is no time to try to protect the Marcus, or Jill,” Dean interrupted. “They both are sharing in that possible danger now, and need to know what they are facing. They need to know what we all are fighting for." Dean looked over at James, running his hand down the length of his jaw, trying to wipe the worry from his face. James closed his eyes in defeat, nodding once to Dean he continued.
"Marcus, Hotels are the places where Priests, Reverends and other members of the Church take the accused 'sinners' and issue their punishments. But... well, ‘punishment’ is a loose term. They like to torture them. The Church believes that sinners have already lost their souls, and that casting their evil out, refusing their very existence in every way – mentally, physically, even sexually – is what God calls them to do, in order to keep the world safe from their destruction." His face paled and went a strange sort of green at the memory, looking as sick as I suddenly felt. Something seemed to be stuck in my throat; I sat in silence as the full meaning of his words sunk in.
James took Dean's hand holding it close to his heart; he looked in our direction, not at us, but at some point in the distance. I could almost see the demons of his past haunting us all. After a long pause, Dean continued where James left off. "They abuse the men, the women, even the children. Often the abuse leads to their deaths. However, the Church treats these abusers and killers as saints if they do this. They call it doing God's work, as though God demanded their sacrifice in return for our lives. They believe every act of violence and degradation they push on to these sinners, these victims, is their duty. The fact that most of the priests enjoy themselves beyond measure... “ Dean paused, unable to continue.
“Well, that is what is so disgusting. How can anyone say an act of God leads to torment, destruction, ruin?" James had finished the explanation. Dean dropped his head. James wrapped his arms around him, comforting him. Suddenly, I realized this was not the whole story.
"Have either of you ever been to a Hotel?" I asked hesitantly, though I was sure I already knew the answer.
"We both have,” James replied, eyes lowered. “It is part of the normal training, for other callings outside of becoming witnesses. I hid both of you from anything to do with Hotels. I would hide you both forever, if I could. But there are a lot of things you will see on the outside of the compound that are very different than anything you have experienced. Dean is right; it is better that you are prepared." James replied. Despite this speech, I could tell he was still hiding something from me.
"James, please we need to know," I urged.
Dean answered instead, holding James protectively. "Marcus, I met James at a Hotel. We were both there; we were very young. You have to understand. For most kids, there were no choices. That is how they breed these deviants - they try to get them very young, and turn them as children." I felt the bile rising as I tried not to envision what it must have been like for both Dean and James.
"I don't understand," I stated, trying to show concern. The fact that I didn’t understand was an understatement. A more unlikely place for these two men to have encountered one another, I could not have imagined.
"Marcus, we were placed in the Hotel, with those accused of being sinners. We had to serve the Church when they came in. That is how they desensitize people. They abuse them young, trying to make them see what they do as normal. That way, when it is their turn to lead, lacking alternatives and pushed by the Church, they follow the same path that their predecessors did." Dean spoke in a
tone that suggested his long ago pain was once again bubbling to the surface.
"I met Dean there. We knew right away we were meant for each other. We were required to watch and participate in some of the most awful, tormenting things… we tried to run away together twice, but we were dragged back. You have to understand, the punishment for running away was severe; others have run before and since – your friend Jacob ran. The punishment and torture wasn't something that you wanted to live through. But we did. Twice." He smiled weakly at Dean, squeezing his hand as if to provide evidence to himself that they really were there, and had survived. James turned his eyes back to mine and continued, pain surfacing in them.
"The summer I was called back to the Church to finish my training, Dean was dismissed. They said he wasn't fit to serve the Church. There was only one place for him to return – this time, as a sinner – the Hotels. We were both horrified. Dean told me he was running away again; I tried to tell him that it was too dangerous. You see, if he wasn't going back to serve the Church, they wouldn't show any restraint. I knew for sure they would kill him." James’ voice shook, and he took a deep breath to steady himself.
"I was so scared. I already loved him, needed him, much like you need Jill. But I understood what had compelled him to escape. He ran two days after I left. I was so afraid for him, but he told me he was okay. He had found a safe place, and he begged me for years to come to him." Dean leaned into James, caressing his cheek.
"What do you mean, he told you? How did they not know where Dean was?" I asked. They both laughed and Dean nodded toward James. Was James actually blushing?
"We had secret ways to communicate. You see, much like you, I was wanted because of my abilities." James smiled wickedly at us.
"I am able to project my thoughts, but I was never able to read someone else's. Except for Dean’s. That is how we knew we must soul mates – he could always communicate with me. I could always find him.” Dean grinned widely, hugging James tighter and planting a kiss on his forehead.