The Mark of Chaos

by Susan D. Kalior

  I twisted my head back and gave a weak little wave with a weak little smile.

  We passed more rooms with sad women, girls, and boys inside. I slowed. A surge of light was bursting up in me. “johnny, it’s happening again!”

  He edged me over to the corner in the hall. He stood a few feet in front of me, like a guard. “Let it happen. Send it to the victims.”

  See? We were good. Weren’t we?

  johnny moved to my side. Light rays shot out of my heart, infinitely stronger than the light I shined yesterday at the debate.

  johnny jerked, and moved further away. “Leave me out of this. Envision the light going directly to the victims.”

  I pictured the light rays soaking into every victim there, penetrating their spirits, filling them with compassion and enlightenment. When I was finished, I slid down to the floor and sighed hard, overcome by the experience.

  johnny came over and slid down beside me, our shoulders touching. His head turned to me. He gazed into my eyes with a glimmer of awe in his own. “You are a high-level Shen.” He nodded his head lightly, as if discovering something for the first time. “You are exquisite.”

  I shook my head, embarrassed.

  He said, “I have discovered a new feeling. I think it might be—wonderment. Oh Jen, how you crack my stale world.”

  I liked him calling me, Jen. It was more endearing.

  He curved his head to my lips, and started kissing me right there in the hall. His lips were warm and embracing, sensual and tigerish. I joined in the kiss, wanting more.

  A staff member rounded the corner. She half mumbled to herself, “Something weird is happening. Everyone’s crying, hugging, or kissing.”

  I withdrew my head from johnny’s face. I know he didn’t want to stop kissing. Geez, I didn’t either. But I felt awkward kissing in front of the lady in a rape center.

  As the lady passed us, johnny said with a wry smile, “Maybe there’s an Angel in here.”

  “Maybe,” the woman said, smiling back, as if johnny had made a joke. Hah, hah.

  When she disappeared around the corner, johnny took my hand and rose to his feet, pulling me up with him. The air around us seemed charged. johnny looked uncomfortable and appeared to have trouble breathing. He hurried us out of the building and into a taxi, giving the driver the address for home. He started breathing normal again and relaxed.

  When the taxi stopped and let us out, we went up to his condo, glancing warmly at each other. When we walked through the door, he sighed wearily, “I need sleep.”

  I wasn’t ready for him to sleep. I had questions building in me, mountain high. I needed to shave them down a bit. The curiosity was killing me.

  “johnny? What’s it like to be over nine hundred years old?”

  “Tiring.” He headed for the cushions.

  I followed him. “But why? There’s so much to do and see in the world. Isn’t there?”

  “Not for me.”

  “But you lived in the days of knights and castles. You’ve seen so much.”

  “The world changes. I don’t.” He laid down.

  I sat in the black chair, hesitant to ask my next question, but hey, I was on a roll. “You don’t need to physically attack someone to hurt them, do you?”

  “No,” he said.

  “But you have, why?”

  “I like to fight. Studied it for centuries, every technique. It’s one of the few things that still invigorates me.” He sighed, almost drifting off, “and I do it that way for you. I think it makes you less afraid of me, handling situations as other men would.”

  “Did you make that rude businessman bump into that guy yesterday?”

  “Yes,” he said closing his eyes.

  I wanted to ask him about the bar deaths, but I just didn’t have the courage. Instead, I asked, “How do you answer the call for chaos?” Still a daring question, but still safer than the other one.

  However, he didn’t answer. He was asleep.

  I had so many more questions. What exactly had johnny’s mother meant when she said, Tazmarks are the Mark of Chaos? And once he let me go back to Randa’s, what then? He said he’d protect me forever. Did he plan to return to Arizona with me? Or were his plans to keep me in New York? Most of all, the question of all questions. Would he mend his evil ways?

  No. It was right that he fell asleep. I could only handle so much truth in one swallow. I curled up in the black chair, drowsy and worn from the day, and I joined my dear evil johnny in sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  I awoke in the dark from a cramped sleep in the big black chair. johnny's face was pushed down to mine. Shadow and light played upon his features from a lit candle on the end table. His gloved hands were planted on the chair’s arms. His arms were close, but not touching me. I wanted them to touch me. He kissed my forehead. “I must go.”

  “No johnny. Stay. I can help you work through this.”

  “There’s nothing to work through.”

  “But you upset people at night.”

  “It’s my way.”

  “Let’s try something new. Stay here with me and let me comfort you.”

  “No,” he said, standing upright. “Resisting my nature, sickens me and endangers you.”

  “Endangers me? From you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He stepped back and sighed. “You don’t know what it’s like. I’m compelled. It’s my nature to answer the call. It is my nature to—take.”

  “Take . . . what?”

  He said, “Confidence, hope, innocence, energy.”

  “Okay.” I inhaled deeply, “Tell me more.” I felt courageous. Radiating Divine Light at the Rape Center had empowered me somehow.

  He moved towards the door. “You are not ready to hear more.”

  “I can handle it.”

  He stopped for a moment and rolled his head back like a wolf readying to howl to the moon. His voice deepened, “You have only seen my gentlest side.”

  “I don't fear you will hurt me anymore. I feel your care.”

  He ignored me and made haste toward the kitchen to go out into the night. Red sparked around his body. I leapt up from my chair and raced after him. “johnny, wait.”

  He did not wait.

  I dashed in front of him to prove I wasn’t afraid. I backed up a few feet until my back hit the door, blocking his escape. “I love you, johnny.”

  His eyes glowed crimson. “I am not a thing to be loved.”

  “Yes, you are.” I said quietly with expressive eyes.

  My palms went to his chest. The heat of him startled me. He was hotter than a heating pad set on high. I sent the purest love I could deep into his heart.

  His hand shot like lightning against the side of my ribcage, hurling me across the kitchen floor. My shoulder smacked the pantry. Shrill pain splashed down my arm. I slid down into a heap.

  He came over, clearly struggling to repress what was trying to emerge. He squatted, his breathing deep and anguished. “Are you all right?”

  I pressed my body harder against the cabinet, wishing I could dissolve right into it.

  “Now, you fear me.” He brushed the wayward hair from my eyes. “Tell me, did I injure you?”

  “You should know.” My lips trembled. My feelings were bruised more than my body. I gave him love. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want my love.

  “I can only read your mind,” he said, “and it tells me nothing of your body.”

  “My body is all right. It’s my heart that is broken. I can’t believe you’d hurt me, especially when I was only giving you love.”

  His voice seemed strained. “You must remain clear of me these times.” He moaned. “I can’t stop what must occur. It’s my nature.”

  A tear slid over my cheek.

  I barely blinked and his back was all but flying out the door.

  “Oh johnny,” I whimpered.

  The door closed magically. He was going out to upset people. But he
didn’t seem to want to. Oh, maybe he used to not care. But for me, I almost thought he’d stop, if he could.

  I had to find a way to help him. I closed my eyes and called out to the truth, truth beyond all belief systems, as I had when I found the parchment in johnny’s room. The crown of my head started tingling, and then if felt like it was opening, and I went into a trance. I had an odd sensation of flying inward into a vast inner universe, into the core of something. From there, I screamed voicelessly to realms even deeper within. I open to truth. I open to wisdom. I open to all that is pure. Come through my mind, my heart, my body. I fill myself with truth. I give all that I am to truth. Concentrating intensely, my body vibrated. Oh, help me do what I must for johnny, his victims, and his victims-to-be. And help me do what I must—for me. Hot tears of sincerity baptized my face—my faith. Praying to an idea of a God in the sky suddenly seemed so infantile compared to the width and breadth of this invocation that summoned the powers of life itself.

  I rose from the kitchen floor. My head sizzled with energy. My hands too. The room was dark, but I moved easily, seeing the surroundings in my mind. I made my way to the black armchair, and sat, removing my boots and socks. I curled into the chair, like a kitten, comfy and sated. Pleasantly tired, I fell asleep.

  When I awoke, the room was light. Where was johnny? I rose and looked about the room, taking my hand to my aching shoulder, still sore from being slammed against the pantry.

  johnny emerged from the kitchen, walking toward me. I returned to my seat demurely, feeling cautious.

  He was wearing a soft black button-down shirt, neatly tucked into black pants that had a cool leather belt with a silver insignia. His long black hair was clean and combed. He arrived in front of me as if nothing had ever been wrong. He held out a paper bag.

  I took the bag gently and looked inside. “Plump strawberries, and a big pink muffin.”

  “Shen food.” He reclaimed the bag and set it down on the end table. His gloved hand circled my wrist pulling me out of the chair. He plopped on the black cushions, landing me on top of him. I noticed he’d taken care not to aggravate my bruised shoulder.

  I was stiff upon him, but my bare feet against his boots elicited a pang of sexual want.

  “Do not fear me, ma chérie.” His hand slid to my waist, fondling gently. Then he pulled my black shirt up a bit, touching skin. “As long as you don’t interfere with my nightly ritual, you are safe.”

  I remained stiff, afraid still.

  “Have you withdrawn from me, what you call—love?”

  My ear rested over his beating heart. Even without seeing his face, I felt his penetrating eyes command my complete attention. “No,” I said meekly, “I still care for you.”

  “Prove it.”

  I lifted my head to speak to him directly. “I’m going to stick with you, and help you not upset people anymore.”

  “That’s not what I had in mind.” He showered my face lightly with kisses. Each kiss was like a small charge that shot down to my hips. I wanted him to kiss my lips. He was taunting my mouth to take his. I could feel it.

  “Oh,” I said, gasping for breath, “you mean—”

  “Yes,” he said, “I mean—”

  Animal urges rose in me. “I would view it as marriage,” I said. “And we’d have to work together to curb your violent tendencies.”

  “Shen,” he said, “take me as I am. Or not at all.”

  I didn’t want to say not at all. But I had to. I couldn’t make love to a man who took people’s confidence, hope, innocence, and energy, and maybe left them empty inside until they welcomed death.

  I didn’t have to say a word. johnny knew my answer. He rose slowly, eyes staring down at me like a man forced to go on a diet.

  I sat up, feeling unsettled, probably even more so than johnny. Denying his body caused pain in mine.

  The phone rang. Without answering it, he said, “It’s for you.”

  I had been left hanging in this sexually aroused state. Rising to my knees was hard. I reached over to the cordless phone and put the receiver to my ear.

  “Hello,” I said, sitting back down on the black cushions. It was Randa.

  “Hi there. I have a couple of messages for you. Susan Randall from the National Organization for Women wants to know if you’ll speak at a convention in Chelsea, next week.”

  johnny blurted, “No.”

  I trusted him, so I replied, “If she calls again, tell her, no.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Randa.

  “Yes.”

  “All right,” Randa said, sounding dismayed. “Also calling was a lady from the Rape Center. She wanted to know if you’d be willing to volunteer some time there to help some girl who was attacked.”

  “No,” blurted johnny again.

  I looked at him confused. He set me up to help these people and then he tells me, no?

  I shrugged my shoulders. “No,” I told Randa.

  “Okay,” she said, “it’s your life. I think it would be good for you socially, however.”

  johnny motioned for me to hang up.

  “Goodbye Randa.”

  “Well, goodbye,” she said uneasy.

  I hung up and addressed johnny, “Why did you say, no?”

  “You are not to let others take your power. They will drain you to death. You must give Divine Light spontaneously on your terms. Deny all offers that would draw you into the fold of others. That way, you’ll retain your power. When your light rises within you, you will know it is your time to speak or act.”

  “You’re right,” I told him. “I can feel that you are. But then, why did you give that reporter my name?”

  “To smoke out your rapist and to get your paintings sold, so that we could bring out the dark collection.”

  My eyes flew open. “Are you crazy? No one will ever see those paintings. Not even you.”

  “I am watching you live them,” he said, “I do not need to see them.”

  “I’m planning to burn them!”

  “No,” he said, eyes whirling, “you will not.”

  Suddenly, I didn’t want to burn them, even though I could never expose them. What was wrong with me? I glared at him stubbornly, an attempt to kibosh his idea to bring them out.

  He helped me stand and handed me the bag of food. “Wash up and eat.”

  I snatched the bag from him. “I do not want to go through anything traumatic today. I want to work on you.”

  “Just being with you is work for me,” he declared, steering me across the room with his hand on my back, “work enough. Can’t you be pleased that I protect you even though you call? That is a great change for me. Must you always ask for more?”

  I cast him a sad glance over my shoulder as he maneuvered me into the bathroom, closing the door, so that I could no longer pester him. There on the counter was another new outfit. Everything was red. Dress, pumps, half-slip, French cut underwear, bra, rouge, and a tube of lipstick. Geez. How embarrassing. Would he provide for me when my time of the month came too?

  He knew women though, I’d grant him that. Maybe too well. No doubt he’d taken dozens, slept with thousands, and fathered a few hundred little half-breed Tazmarkians. I shook the thought away. It upset me too much.

  I drank a goblet of water poured from the black pitcher. Then, I put my hair up with a red banana clip and ran a bath. When I took off the black clothes, I noticed the purple bruise sprawled over my shoulder. It still hurt. I stared at the dragon medallion flat on my skin, near my heart. I stared into the red eyes again. I gasped, when they seemed to stare back. I turned abruptly to the big black tub and crawled in.

  I soaked myself in berry-scented bubbles—stalling, eating my muffin and sweet strawberries with pleasure. What did he have planned for me today? An experience in a red motif? My fourth painting was a picture of a wounded heart with blood splashed all over the canvas. I gasped. I hoped today wasn’t about blood.

  I popped another strawberry in my mouth. A red str
awberry, hah! I sank lower in the tub, dropping the bag on the floor. I wasn’t going to put one more red thing in my mouth. The bubbles caved in around my throat as I contemplated escape from the day.

  I contemplated so long, my waterlogged skin withered, and I had to climb out of the tub. I donned the crimson garments, ever . . . so . . . slowly. The three-quarter sleeve red dress hugged my upper body with a scoop neck and tight bodice, loosening only with the knee length skirt. The low-heeled pumps fit great. I rather felt as if Randa had just dressed me. Of this outfit, she’d approve. I took the clip out my hair and tried to fluff the downy strands. But they never fluffed no matter how hard I tried. Straight as an arrow, just like me. I rolled the red lipstick on my lips and stared in the mirror. I looked pretty good, for once.

  I came out of the bathroom. johnny was sitting in the black chair, smoking. I walked over to him, reluctantly, still fearing the day’s events. I nestled on the black cushions. He stared at me from the corner of his eye for a long while in silence until he finished his cigarette.

  I was nervous and kept tossing my head right, then left, as if there were something in the apartment that merited my attention. He snuffed his cigarette in the black ashtray, then sat up in his chair, leaning his body toward me.

  “Stand,” he said.

  I stood.

  He looked me up and down and licked his bottom lip.

  I lowered my head shyly and averted my eyes, searching for any focus other than the desire on his face.

  I hugged my stomach, blushing. “Don’t look at me that way. I’m not a thing.”

  “You are a thing,” he said, rising from the chair. “And oh, what a thing you are.”

  He took my hand in his with a wanton look. He sighed hard. “Let’s go.” He led me toward the kitchen that would give passage to the outside world, and I knew hell was somewhere beyond that door. “Let’s have beauty in this day, johnny. Please.”

  He didn’t answer. He just led me out of his lair into the network of Lower East Side streets amongst the predators. Well, there were good people too, struggling to survive, and immigrants who had made fine lives here for generations. However, my reality was not with them, for it was darkness I attracted, just as johnny had said. I was meat for the predacious. And these streets harbored many such types. Call a spade a spade. This was real.