The God of Battles

by David Menefee

  Two of the running children were playing close to the hedge her neighbors maintained on their property line. That could spell trouble. She waved at them. “You kids get away from there!”

  The children ignored her. Nadia looked around for their parents, annoyed. She loved children at play, but she dreaded another confrontation with the neighbors.

  There was a crackle, followed by laughter, quickly stifled. One of the kids had fallen into the hedge and had broken several branches. The gadjo woman, Gladine, shouted, “My hedge!” Her face was twisted in an ugly grimace, and she stalked toward where the children watched her, transfixed.

  “You filthy gypsy animals! Look what you did to my hedge!”

  The children scattered. Gladine turned to her husband. “Bob, call the police. I’ve had it with these… these gypsies!”

  One of her cousins put his hands on his hips. “Hey! Who’re you calling filthy?” Several of the Romani adults had stopped what they were doing and stared in open animosity at the couple.

  The woman jumped then put her hands on her hips, her face red. She pointed at him. “I’m calling you filthy, you animal! Lazy, good-for-nothing gypsies can’t keep your filthy children out of my hedge!”

  The man stepped toward her, his fists clenched. Gladine recoiled in shock. “Bob!”

  Bob came around the car. He was not usually a fast-moving man, but he made good time. He was scowling too. “I’m calling the cops. They’ll throw all of you in jail. You set foot on my property, and I’ll shoot you dead!”

  This had gone far enough. Nadia heaved herself to her feet, cane in one hand. “You will do no such thing, Robert Strong.”

  Bob’s head snapped around, and he glared at Nadia. Before he could respond, she pointed a long, steady finger in Gladine’s direction.

  “Now, you will take back what you said about our children. They are just being kids. I know you have grandkids. Are they animals, too?”

  Gladine’s eyes bulged. “How dare you compare our grandchildren to yours? We are hard-working Americans. You are nothing but gypsies!”

  She spat the last word like a curse. Nadia placed both hands on her cane and leveled a stare at the gadjo woman. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Gladine Strong. You go to church every Sunday. What kind of Christian condemns someone like that?”

  Gladine’s mouth opened and closed, but then she rallied. “Well, you people would test the patience of the Lord himself.” She waved her hand angrily. “Look at this place! It’s always a mess. And you all stink to heaven. Not you, Nadia. The kids and the men.”

  “Well, you can hold your nose, then. These men worked hard today, Gladine. Instead of taking showers, they came straight over to help me with my messy place ‘cause I’m crippled.” She glanced at one of her cousins, who gave her a thumbs-up. “They love their kids and their wives, too, so they brought them. This is what family means, or did you forget that? And because they all came over, they brought food to share.”

  Gladine dipped her head, and her shoulders rose like a turtle.

  Nadia continued. “But we’re proud people, Gladine Strong. I’m telling you these things so you understand, not for your pity. We came from a very old race, an old part of the world, and we brought our culture with us. Since we left our original home, we have been hounded all over creation, but we have never given up who we are.” She pointed a finger at the two of them again. “And we never will! I might not have your approval, but I will have your respect for me and my family.”

  Bob Strong shook his head and walked toward the house. Gladine, deflated, turned to go in, muttering to herself. A “got a lot of nerve” floated back to where Nadia stood.

  Someone started clapping slowly as the neighbors disappeared into their house. Soon the entire Roma clan was hooting and yelling Nadia’s praise. The men stood a little taller, and the kids screeched their joy and formed an impromptu dancing circle.

  The women drifted closer as Nadia took her seat once again, their heads lifted just a little bit higher. One of them smiled at Nadia. “Cousin, that was a powerful speech. Made me proud to be Romani.”

  Nadia glanced up at her. “Every word of it is true. Never forget who you are.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Nightmare’s Cost

  And thus is eldritch artifact

  Renewed in strength, a primal pact

  Affirmed once more for cruel strife,

  To keep the realm of War intact.

  Simon opened his apartment door and went in, followed by Angela and Cassandra. He flipped on the light. “Can I get either of you something to drink? I’m nuking some water for tea.”

  “Just water,” said Cassandra.

  Angela nodded. “Same for me, thanks.”

  He rolled into the kitchen. “Water coming up.” There was an electronic beeping in the kitchen followed by the sound of a running microwave.

  Angela stepped over to the window, drew the curtain aside, and peered out at the street, feeling a nagging sense of unease. The bright afternoon sun was flimsy, as if it were a thin film that could be torn at any moment to reveal uncaring gods at war. She shook herself. That kind of thinking could lead to fatalism, and she knew life was more complicated than that.

  Cassandra stood by her side. “You think someone’s gonna throw another grenade?”

  “No. Not at all.” Angela drew the curtain shut and prowled restlessly. Suddenly Cassandra was in her arms.

  “God, I’m sorry. So glad you’re okay.” Cassandra’s voice was muffled against Angela’s shoulder. They held each other, and Cassandra was the one who trembled.

  “Me too, love.”

  They kissed. Angela heard a throat-clearing noise, and they turned to see Simon bringing in a tray with a pitcher of water, two glasses, and a cup with steam rising out of it.

  “Here you go.” He positioned himself by the couch. “So… same as last time, Doc?”

  “Yeah.” Angela and Cassandra disengaged. “Go ahead and drink your tea. I need a moment to prepare.” She scooted a chair to sit by Simon while he pulled himself onto the couch. Cassandra sat in a kitchen chair, bent forward with her elbows braced on her knees.

  While Simon sat up and sipped his tea, Angela dug into her backpack and pulled out a vitamin bottle. “I’ve been over there a lot lately, so I need to take a B-12 vitamin supplement. I suggest you do the same.” She handed Simon a capsule, took one herself, then sat back to compose herself while he finished his tea.

  “So, why’re we seeing these visions?” Cassandra rubbed her face.

  “I don’t know, and I’d like to find out,” Angela replied. “But I think the first thing to do is work with what we do know. Wouldn’t you agree, Simon?”

  He nodded. “Sure sounds like some kind of connection. Maybe I’m picking up on this war situation, and you’re seeing that?”

  “Maybe so.” She turned to Cassandra. “I didn’t tell you, but I visited George.”

  Cassandra snorted. “You did? I thought you weren’t doing that anymore. You’re gonna piss off Nadia if she hears about it.”

  “She already knows, and at this point I don’t give a tiny spherical crap.”

  Cassandra snorted then grinned.

  “Who’s George?” Simon asked.

  Angela paused. “He’s my dead grandfather’s oversoul.” He didn’t blink, so she gave him the short explanation.

  “Do I have an oversoul too?” he asked with a lifted eyebrow.

  “I’m sure you do. We all do.”

  Simon set his cup down then lay back within Angela’s reach. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Angela nodded. “Let’s go.” She reached out and touched his forehead, willing that he be allowed to accompany her if possible.

  The apartment dissolved around her to reveal the day-lit meadow she had visited before. Angela once again stood near the center, but this time Simon was with her. His stare was vacant at first, and his mouth was slightly open, but then his eyes focused and grew wide. �
��My God.” He goggled at his surroundings, at the ground, then at Angela.

  She smiled. “You came along. Good. That should help.”

  He staggered suddenly, and she got an arm under his shoulders. He looked down at his legs. “I can walk!”

  “Good. I was hoping you could. Sometimes a patient’s body image carries over to this place, wounds and all.”

  His face was a study in wonder, and his breath was coming faster. Angela felt his body quiver.

  “I’m guessing you could walk when you were out of the body, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but this is different. I feel… real.” He held his breath then let it out, and his stance became firm.

  Angela withdrew a little and looked him up and down. “Well, I’m pretty sure you’re still out of your body, but this place is different than the astral plane or whatever it is that you go to.” She bent, picked a stalk of wild grass, and showed it to him. “The plants and animals here are real and alive. But they’re also symbols.” When he shook his head, she continued. “It’s really hard to explain, so I’m not going to try. Let’s get started, okay?”

  He nodded, and they began walking toward the perimeter.

  “Over here is where I found those bodies.” She pointed at the clump by the edge of the forest. She noticed that Simon was a little behind. He probably needed some time to adjust to all of the changes. Stepping carefully over the deeper areas of standing water, he grunted and frowned but continued walking steadily. He was bearing up well under the pressure of the stagnant emotions that such pools always triggered.

  Soon they neared the two large hummocks. The sickly odor of death filled the air, and as before, Angela had to suppress her gag reflex.

  “Phew.” Simon covered his mouth and nose with one hand. “I know what that smell is.”

  Angela stopped walking. “Now, even though you’re here in person, you’re still going to react strongly to what we do. So, this time I’m going to go very slowly when I tamper with these bodies. We still need to get some information, and it’s going to be there, hidden by those mounds.”

  She continued walking, leading him over to where the hand bones protruded. “Look at this.” She glanced up at him.

  He looked at the bones, and the color went out of his face. Simon gulped. “It’s her.” His voice cracked, and he wiped angrily at his face. “I don’t know why this is so hard. I’ve seen her body in my nightmares hundreds of times.”

  “It’s because here everything is magnified. We’re getting at the root of your psyche. It’s not just a memory. In a way, this is that actual woman, at least as far as your mind is concerned. So it’s going to hit you just as hard as it did when you…”

  “Yeah.” Simon hunkered down, breathing heavily, and put his head in his hands.

  Angela discreetly covered her mouth and nose. “Take your time.”

  After a moment he nodded. He glanced up at her, and his face was open, vulnerable, in a way that she knew she would never see in the physical world.

  “Okay. I need a stick.” Angela searched the ground, kicking aside piles of leaves. “I want to try to uncover this a little bit.” Finally finding one several yards away, she returned to his side and handed it to him. He took it in one shaking hand and let the tip fall to the ground while he took several shallow breaths. Then, lifting his shirt to cover his mouth and taking a deeper lungful of air, he reached out to poke the mound.

  Simon cried out and dropped the stick. He hunched on himself, groaning and shuddering. Angela waited patiently. He was doing better than she had expected. After a moment, he reached out and picked up the stick.

  He managed to poke the matting partly off the dead arm, and then he scrambled backward. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”

  Angela followed quietly as he fetched up against a tree and curled into a fetal position.

  “There’s no hiding from the emotions here. Every time you try, though, it gets easier.” She reached out and touched his shoulder.

  Simon flinched and raised a stony, expressionless face. “It’s too hard.”

  “Okay. Let’s take an indirect approach.” She crouched next to him. “If you could talk to that woman today, what would you say?”

  “I’d tell her I wish I could take it all back,” he said, his voice flat. “Give her her life back, her children back. Give my life instead.”

  “Then do that. Talk to her body. Imagine that she can hear you. Maybe she will. The dead do come here, too.”

  He looked at her, incredulous. “You’re shitting me.”

  “I shit you not. I’ve been visiting my dead grandfather for months now.” She looked around, feeling for a moment as if she were being watched, but saw no sign of anyone else.

  “So… is she gonna show up?” His voice rose a little.

  Angela thought for a moment. Given Simon’s current state, it was probably better to reassure him. Maybe telling him about the dead was a mistake. “I doubt it. I don’t think they stay very long. My dead grandfather moved on, and he’s probably reincarnated by now.”

  “I’m just about done being wowed. Nothing’s gonna surprise me. I swear.” He got to his feet. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  They returned to the mound. He was breathing deeply and steadily despite the odor.

  “Now, kneel like you’re praying.” Angela stepped back a bit to give him room.

  Simon kneeled awkwardly then looked up at her, a question in his eyes.

  She gestured at the mound. “Tell her what you told me.”

  He looked at the mound then closed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I found out who you were, Maisa Assani. They didn’t want to tell me, but I found out anyway. I took everything away from you, that night. I took your life, and your kids’ lives.” He paused. “There’s no way I can make up for that. And if I could give mine instead, I would. But I can’t. I…” He stopped.

  “You can do it,” said Angela.

  He took a deep breath and coughed. Recovering his composure, he continued. “I am so, so sorry. I never saw what they did with your body. You should’ve been buried with honors. You were trying to get your kids to safety, and here we were, robbing you of that chance. I just wish…” He buried his face in his hands and shuddered.

  Suddenly the ground began shaking, accompanied by a low rumbling that was rhythmic and insistent, as of far-off explosions. Angela looked around for the cause. Simon appeared to be oblivious in his suffering.

  She saw a flash of movement above. She shaded her eyes, peered up into the sky, and gasped. “Simon? You need to see this.”

  He turned his face to her then to where she was pointing. “Shit. Oh, shit.”

  A scene was building in the now red-tinted clouds, depicting bloody warfare. Clearly visible, Iron Star hacked at winged soldiers, who crumpled and dissolved beneath his relentless attack. The punctuated rumbling kept time with his swinging weapon. Suddenly, Simon was on his feet. He backed away from the scene. Then his body began to fade. He looked at her hopelessly and vanished.

  “Well. That’s never happened before.” Angela felt a flutter in her belly. She looked around the quiet meadow, at the ominous mounds and dark forest eaves, and shivered. Resisting the urge to leave, she paused for a moment, thinking.

  While her grandfather had helped her to learn how to use her gift, her recovered memories of past incarnations remained the source of her deepest understanding of dream-walking. She dug into those memories of an unimaginably distant past when she used her power for healing and for learning.

  When someone came with her into a meadow, that meant that the person’s consciousness was attuned to hers. Her talent for assembling a coherent reality carried over to them, allowing them to create a body image as well as perceive the meadow and its contents. That connection had never been broken before. Somehow, the vision of war she and Simon had seen was connected to an interfering force. It was isolating Simon and preventing Angela from helping him resolve his trauma. She racked her brain, tryin
g to remember whether she had ever seen or heard of anything like this before, but she drew a blank.

  Upon Angela’s return, she found Simon on the living room floor, vomiting, while Cassandra stood helplessly nearby. Speculation on the vision of war had to wait until she got Simon settled and the mess cleaned up.

  After swabbing up the carpet and laying down an old towel on the damp area, Angela and Cassandra conferred quietly on the other side of the room while Simon dozed.

  “We tried to work through his guilt, but he withdrew into himself at a critical moment.” Angela glanced at Simon. “Then when he saw the vision of war in the sky, he just faded away without my having to bring him back. I’ve never seen that happen. Did you see anything?”

  “As soon as you guys started the session, you just disappeared.” Cassandra’s face, paler than usual, was drawn and beaded with sweat. “I blinked, and poof. It freaked me out.” Her voice shook.

  “I hate to say it, but we’ve got to go back.” Angela tried to keep her own anxiety out of her voice. “This thing’s escalating, and we’re not going to find answers here.”

  Cassandra shivered. She glanced at Simon and then looked quickly away. “I’m trying to shut him out, but I keep seeing flashes of that battle you saw in the sky.”

  Angela touched Cassandra’s hand. She had not seen her girlfriend so afflicted by the thoughts of others in months. Evidently, Simon’s distress was able to overcome Cassandra’s hard-won mental barriers.

  Then a thought occurred to her. “Cassie, what if we link up when you follow Simon into his nightmare?”

  Cassandra frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You know. Like what we do at the Rings. When you reach out with your mind, I believe you’re touching the Egregore, the group mind, of the club itself.” At Cassandra’s confused expression, Angela shrugged. “It’s something George showed me. I’m pretty sure that’s why we end up in that half-meadow together. You’re part of that, so you can come with me there. I don’t know why it’s always night, though. Maybe the group never becomes self-conscious.” As she said this, she realized that they had probably given everyone in the club a boost in libido when they had made love in the meadow. She suppressed an inappropriate grin.