Blood To Blood

by Ifè Oshun

  “What do you think you're doing, Markus?” Mom's voice rang like a death knell.

  “I mean no disrespect, Mrs. Brown,” Little Wolf/Markus said with sincerity. “It's been a long time since I saw Angel. That was the most special gift I could give her at the moment.”

  Mom's glowing eyes looked like she was going to continue her admonishment, but Dad put a hand on her arm. “Keep it moving,” he said and gestured to my brothers to relax.

  “Yes, sir.” Little Wolf/Markus winked at me as he followed Dad’s order, and bowed to the rest of my family before disappearing into the growing crowd.

  You guys used to play together when you were kids. He had his Mahá three years ago. Cici placed an image in my mind of the nerdy kid he used to be when he’d spent summers with us before we lost contact with his family. Remembering how much fun we used to have playing together, I couldn't believe he was the same too-hip-for-the-room rap idol who’d just had the courage to kiss my hand.

  After a few hours, I started getting bored with the parade of well-dressed immortals, and my mind started to wander. Where are all these people going to sleep?

  Not all guests sleep over. Cici’s face was expressionless. Many choose to stay in nearby hotels, some teleport, or what have you. Mahá law dictates we attend the rituals and ceremonies. What we do in between is our choice.

  Finally, the procession ended and Mom and Dad stood up to address the crowd. “Welcome to the Mahá of Isis Angelica Clarissa Brown Ami-seshet,” Mom said.

  “We welcome you to our home. You honor us with your presence,” Dad said.

  As one, the crowd responded, “We welcome your authority and you honor us with your trust.”

  The band broke out with a Frank Sinatra number and people started mingling. Folks hugged each other as if they hadn't seen each other in centuries (as was likely the case with some of them), while many stood off to the sides to observe. Waiters walked around with trays laden with every edible, or potable, substance known to immortals, from mini-pizzas, to blood, to raw meat, to beer, to plants.

  Cici whisked me up the stairs again. “Good grief, girl,” I exclaimed. “Don't tell me I have to change again?”

  “You have to change again. Now that you've seen what your guests are wearing, choose something as different as possible. You'll be mingling with the visitors so it shouldn't be too formal.”

  “Just shoot me now and get it over with. Oh, wait a minute, I can't die.” I sighed in resignation. After all, picking out attractive outfits wasn't so bad. It was just the Mahá. I was already sick of it and it was nowhere near done. “How many more rituals and ceremonies are there, Cici?”

  “There's the Abilities Showcase, then the Character Gauge. And last, the Vampiric Reaction Test. Not necessarily in that order.”

  “Vampiric Reaction Test? What on earth is that?” She eyed me. “Okay, I get it, you don't really know until you're in it.”

  “All I can tell you is these ceremonies are old as the Mahá, but they've developed over time. They give insight into not only who you are, but what you are capable of. There will be times when you learn a thing or two about yourself. If anything, we’ll see for sure just how 'different' you are.”

  I picked out a pair of deep purple leather pants and a tangerine-colored blouse. The pants flared out like bell-bottoms. Green, snakeskin, pointy-toed, stiletto-heeled boots completed the bohemian look. “Is that ‘different’ enough?” I asked.

  “I would have never thought the boots would work, but they do,” she said in approval as I completed the look with gold filigree and semi-precious stone accessories. “Mingle,” she said before pushing me out the door.

  Unsure what to do, I walked woodenly to the crowded great room. Various people met my eyes, nodding politely. Everyone seemed so stiff. I figured I should engross myself in some sort of meaningful conversation. What did one talk about during one's own Mahá? “Hi, I just learned how to control my killer voice, but still can't stop freezing time. Have a nice day.”

  As I watched the band play a Duke Ellington tune, an idea began to bloom in my mind. Just then, Markus walked toward me with a glass in his hand. “You have nothing to drink. I can get you some blood,” he offered.

  “No thanks, I'm good.”

  “You enjoying all this?”

  “Not, yet,” I answered as I grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the stage. I asked the band to play an old-school R&B jam and started doing the only thing I felt comfortable doing—singing. I practiced Mr. C.’s “note infusion” method by funneling my desire for some liveliness into my voice, but was careful not to lose myself like I did the night at the Garden. Folks gathered around the stage and started dancing, clapping, and smiling. Ah, that was so much better.

  Markus bobbed his head to the smooth beat and flashed a toothy grin. His canine teeth were unusually pointy. There was no mistaking what he was now that he was all grown up. Not to mention that his stage name was kind of a give-away. He started freestyling an old-school, romantic rap. A number of the ladies in the room cheered in appreciation.

  “Now I’m beginning to enjoy my Mahá,” I said as we jumped down from the small stage to applause.

  “Maybe we can collaborate someday.”

  “I'll have to talk to my partners,” I answered, remembering what happened the last time I did my own thing without including the rest of Kat Trio. “See what they think.”

  There was a comfortable pause while we listened to the sounds of various activities around the house. There was a karaoke session happening in the north wing, a volleyball match starting in the sandpit, and a poker game going on in the mini-casino. Suddenly, it sounded like a fight was breaking out very close to us. “Hypocrite!” someone a few feet away yelled. We looked over to see Uncle Set who, as I remembered, was always angry. From his scowl and confrontational tone, nothing had changed. His body had gone rigid and the air around him started to crackle. I also remembered that he was a shape-shifter capable of changing into anything, real or imagined.

  This was bad.

  “Not in our house!” Mom's roar reverberated through the molecules of the air. She pointed to the Yah. It was glowing red, like her eyes. She looked frightening, but even scarier to me was Dad. His easygoing demeanor was replaced by a martial stance and his eyes were ice blue. His rarely-used wand, ancient with mysterious engravings, was unsheathed and in his left hand. My brothers and sisters had every exit covered.

  Oh no. It seemed as if my Mahá would be that Mahá: the one where something really, really, reaaalllly bad happened. Anxiety started kicking in.

  Set fell to his knees in front of me. “Please accept my apologies. I have dishonored your house, your authority, and your trust.”

  And then it came. The moment after which nothing would ever be remotely safe again. Uncle Set started to writhe in pain. Around the room, mortals fainted while immortals sank to the ground, some gasping for breath, some even screaming. Mom was panting. Dad walked toward her as if he was trudging through a vat of molasses. But I felt okay. Was this another power I didn't know I had?

  But it wasn't me this time.

  “They're coming,” Mom gasped. Murmurs of fear rippled through the room.

  “They?” I asked. Who were “they” and what did they have to do with what was going on?

  Cici lay immobile on the floor, but her brain worked. The signal was very weak, but I could still hear her. The Ancient Ones. They're coming.

  23. ANCIENT ONES

  As soon as Cici told me the Ancient Ones were coming, there was a deafening ripping noise.

  They travel between dimensions.

  Suddenly there were two people standing in our midst. A woman and what may have been a man. The woman looked young, but her demeanor was of someone who was old enough to make Mom seem like an infant. And that was where all the Ancient One-ness came to an end.

  I had pictured AOs in flowing, Biblical-type gear, like Menelik and Memnon, but she wore a pair of skinny jeans and black
Mano Blanik heels. A gold and platinum Rolex with diamonds peeked out from underneath a crisp, tailored shirt and avocado-colored blazer. Her companion was over seven feet tall and androgynous. S/he wore a black leather trench coat and never met anyone's eyes. Looking at her/him made my stomach feel itchy, in a queasy way.

  Dad and Mom made it across the room to stand by my side. Aurora and my brothers were still stationed around the room. Cici was leaning on a wall, and Markus was in the corner regaining consciousness. Age, Cici transmitted. The younger you are, the less strength you have in their presence. Some even lose their abilities temporarily.

  Then why am I still standing? I asked. Why do I feel the same as I did before they came?

  Our eyes met. I could hear her, but she couldn't hear me. I suddenly felt completely alone, but thank goodness, Mom and Dad each put a protective arm around me. We faced our newest guests.

  “Welcome to the Mahá of Isis Angelika Clarissa Brown Ami-seshet,” Mom said measuredly.

  “We welcome you to our home. You honor us with your presence,” Dad said in the same tone.

  The woman inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment before pinning me with her gaze. How rude. This was, after all, my house. Why not show respect to my parents?

  “Who are you, please?” I asked. “What is your name?”

  There was a collective gasp from the others in the room. Even Mom and Dad stiffened. The woman’s soft laugh sent chills down my spine.

  “You may call me Cassandra.”

  “Thank you for coming.” I said, conscious of addressing a being that just looked human. I nodded toward Trench Coat to include her/him in the welcome.

  Cassandra leveled a look at Set, who was still on his knees. He literally shook. Pointing to Set, she said, “We want to see the Character Gauge now.”

  Mom clapped her hands and people sprung into action. What was happening? I looked at Cici as subtly as I could, hoping she could give me a clue. She was one step ahead of me, struggling to think as loudly as she could. Relax and be yourself. We all have the greatest faith in you and know you'll do well.

  That was it? I had no idea what to expect or do. Obviously, thinking on my feet was to be a part of these rituals.

  Dad turned to me. “Angelika. Set disrespected the authority of this house embodied in the sacred Yah. How should he be punished?”

  Was this a test of my knowledge of Mahá tradition? “As far as I understand, that sort of behavior is punishable by death.” Everyone hung on my words, and it struck me that whatever justice I verbalized would be executed.

  Set, eyes cast down, didn't seem angry anymore, just scared. I felt sorry for him, but knew that if he wasn't dealt with properly my family would appear weak. I was almost one hundred percent sure that were it up to my parents he would have been destroyed by now. His fate was literally in my hands.

  I thought about how he seemed to be angry and negative all the time. It was almost as if he was broken. Without further hesitation, I opened my mouth and directed an A note straight at the space between his eyes. If he was broken, I would try to fix him. The sound waves sunk into his forehead and he started to cry. Then he spoke in a weird language. I stopped singing when he fell, laughing, to the ground. The sound of his laughter was almost as shocking as the sight of the smile on his face (if you could call his crazy leer a smile). The stunned gasps from the guests who knew Set confirmed my observations. Getting the attention of immortals who'd seen and done it all wasn't easy, but it looked like I'd accomplished that with my brand of justice.

  Another ripping noise, and a third AO was in our midst.

  Under a uniquely embroidered gold cape, she wore shapeless blue jeans and nondescript casual wear. Her tangled blond hair hung wildly about her shoulders and, although she looked about five-foot-two, she held herself as if she could dropkick the world.

  “Moira,” Cassandra said to the newcomer. “Did you see?”

  “I saw,” Moira replied.

  Mom and Dad stood stiff as steel while addressing Moira with the perfunctory greeting. She barely looked at them as she trained her eyes on me.

  I kept my gaze on Moira steady while thanking my lucky stars I no longer had to use the toilet in the same way since becoming immortal. If I did I would have peed my pants by now. She took a step toward me. For the first time I saw Trench Coat stir as s/he put her/his hand to her/his hip.

  “We are here to observe. Nothing more,” Cassandra said to Moira.

  “You dare tell me what to do?”

  “I dare.”

  From underneath her cape, Moira drew a sword and pointed it at Cassandra.

  Trench Coat drew out a sawed-off shotgun from under his/her coat and pointed it at Moira. The human immortals let out a collective gasp. Murmured phrases of shock in different languages met my ears. I felt like I was having a heart attack.

  Then the freezing thing happened again and the only ones capable of moving were me, Cassandra, Trench Coat, and the lovely (not) Moira, who now pointed her sword at me. “Die!!” she screamed wildly.

  A third ripping noise brought the escalating situation to a halt when two more AOs arrived. At least I thought they were AOs. One was hooded, face hidden within depths of voluminous white linen. The other one looked like a tall six-year-old with wide, liquid eyes and a soft jawline. He wore white jeans, a white linen shirt, and white boots. His skin was jet black and his short, wavy hair was white. He looked so innocent I expected to see wings.

  Both Moira and Cassandra backed away from them. Moira dropped her sword and Trench Coat handily returned the gun back to underneath her/his (its?) coat. I was too tongue-tied to ask the new arrivals their names.

  “My name is Bodiel,” the man said to me. His deep voice reverberated in my ears, and in my head, like the sound of the ocean in a seashell. The robed figure took off her hood to reveal her face. “My companion, Knowledge.” She was the exact opposite of him: pale white skin with jet-black hair.

  Cassandra and Moira both dropped to their knees. Trench Coat remained standing. This was just getting weirder and weirder.

  “Excuse me,” I croaked before clearing my throat. “But it seems as if I am the only one able to welcome you. Thank you for coming to my Mahá. You honor me, I mean, us with your presence.”

  Bodiel and Knowledge both regarded me with surprised expressions before bowing their heads and saying in unison, “We welcome your authority and you honor us with your trust.” Their piercing gazes took in all the frozen immortals within the room. I looked around the room, too, mortified.

  “Do you know why this happens to me?” I asked them. “How do I control this?”

  “This is why she must be destroyed,” Moira said from where she was still kneeling on the floor. “If she doesn't know what she's capable of, with power of this magnitude what can we expect? She may be the Dark One's twin flame. Or worse.”

  She could only be talking about Tunde. I didn't know what kind of chaos my brother had wrought, but I did know the destruction of other immortals was a grave offense. If my own family was concerned I might be a Tunde repeat, it was no surprise these beings might think so too.

  “I am not my brother,” I declared in a voice as firm as I could muster under the circumstances.

  “This same thing happened at the large human event called a concert,” Cassandra said as if I hadn’t spoken. “She sang, and everything and everyone stopped.”

  Not everyone, but this didn't seem to be a good time to mention I had a reflection who had taken on a life of her own. Perhaps I would die today after all.

  “You will not die today,” Bodiel said. He was reading my thoughts as they popped into my head. “You have a twin flame. But it is not the Dark One. And as for your reflection...” He looked pointedly at Cassandra. We all followed his gaze, and after a few seconds, Cassandra morphed into the Lady.

  For a second, I was flabbergasted. And then in a flash, I was standing in front of her, nose to nose. “How dare you come here after what
you did to me and my family?”

  With a casual flick of her hand she lifted me off the floor and I was suddenly hurtling through the air, on a collision course with one of the floor-to-ceiling picture windows through which I could see the huge, orange-tinged full moon in the distance. I braced myself and went through the glass without breaking it.

  Once outside, I briefly marveled at the beauty of the clear, inky sky and brilliant stars, before realizing I didn't know how to stop hurtling through the air. Darn that Cassandra, or whatever her name was. A flurry of wings suddenly surrounded me. It was Bodiel and Knowledge. She grabbed me and brought me gently down to land on the ground.

  “You have wings!” I exclaimed.

  “We are not what you refer to as Ancient Ones,” Bodiel said. He was still in the air, white wings fully extended into a fluffy nine-foot span. They undulated gracefully as he floated above our heads.

  “You're such a show-off,” Knowledge said, looking up at him with a loving expression on her glowing face. “Angel, we are what humanity calls archangels.”

  I exhaled wildly. I was meeting my namesake. They weren't what I expected angels to look like. But then again, nothing in my new life seemed to be what I expected, I thought giddily. My train of thought was nothing sort of mental babbling, but hey, one didn't meet angels everyday.

  Bodiel touched down as Knowledge continued. “Unlike your ancestors, the Ancient Ones, we always stayed aligned with our purpose, so yes, we have wings. But wings are just a symbol of our completeness. Your Ancient Ones lost their wings a long time ago. It simply means a part of them is gone.”

  “But some of them are trying to make up for it,” I said. “Atone—”

  “We do not judge,” Bodiel gently interrupted. “It is not our place.”