The Stolen Karma Of Nathaniel Valentine (The Books Of Balance Book 1)

by Justin Bloch

  A heavy silence stretched out between them. Nova stared at her brother as he gazed at the children, breathing hard. After a moment, moving with such eerie speed that her hand blurred, she drew her pearl-handled straight razor from her pocket and flicked it open as it made its way to Sol’s neck. She stopped it just short of the thin skin of his throat.

  “Now you listen to me, policeman, because if I were anyone else, you would be sentenced.” He started to interrupt and she touched the flat of the blade to his Adam’s apple. “And don’t argue with me, either. You are sworn to protect the Residents, Sol, no matter what you may think of them, and speaking out like you just did is disobedience to the Source.”

  He said nothing, only looked straight ahead and sat with perfect posture. Turmoil surged inside of him, but Nova was right. He could no more turn his back on the Residents than he could make an assault on the Glass Palace. In the eyes of the Source, both acts would amount to the same: defiance. And there were none so weightily punished as the angels.

  A group of virtues sped by carrying a large banner. A blue jay sitting in the tree above them sang a joyful tune. A child went down the slide, giggling madly. Nova took the razor away from his neck and replaced it in her pocket. She sighed and slumped a little on the bench. She began to speak, but Sol raised a hand to stop her.

  “You see all of these children here, playing?” he asked. “And the adults helping them up the slide or pushing them on the swings? Every one of them lived a good life, and when their time was up, they came here, having paid their karmic debt and ended with a clean, blank slate. All things balance, and they were able to. They made it here without any personal direction from the Source.” He paused for a moment, once more motioning his sister to remain still when she began to speak. “There are very few Residents here. Very few. This hurt the Source, and so it went down to the Earth and tried to teach them how to reach Heaven. And they killed the Son. Their solution to the message that he brought was to murder him. And I know that this was all part of the Source’s plan, but it never should have needed a plan in the first place, Nova. If one of them can get here, all of them should be able to get here. No human lives with less temptation than any other.” He paused and looked at his hands in his lap. “I worry that they are a lost cause.”

  His sister put an arm around him, and he gave her a sad smile. He had been brooding over the subject since the Son had been killed, and he had felt the blackness inside of him growing. His outburst, as Nova had rightly said, could have had him brought up for judgment before the Source. But it had been the eruption of all the ire and spite pent up within him. As always, though, talking with Nova had brought him clarity, allowed him to see beneath the surface to the true feelings below. It wasn’t that he hated the Residents for what they had done. It was their nature to be weak, after all. It was the apparent impossibility of their salvation that angered him. When they failed, he felt himself failing as well.

  “Sol,” whispered Nova, “they are not a hopeless people. Look around you.” She gestured around them, at everyone in the park. “They all made it here, just as you said, and none of them had any help. The Source went to Earth to impart a message that it thinks will touch off an entirely new way of thinking, and the number of Residents here will grow.”

  The karma policeman said nothing, but nodded.

  “Do you feel better now?” she asked.

  He considered the question. “Yes,” he said. He took her hand in his and squeezed it, looked into her Maya blue eyes. “Thank you.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. Next time don’t wait so long.”

  He smiled and nodded his assent. Nova, he knew, worried about her quiet, sullen brother a great deal, and he appreciated that he could set her fears to rest. She was a karma policewoman and had enough that she was responsible for already. Although Inhabitants hadn’t vexed the Residents too much while the Son had been present on Earth, they were by no means quiet and withdrawn, and there was still plenty to do to protect the karmic balance. The Shine, for instance, feared no retribution from the Source and were up to their usual antics as if it were any normal day. Taking on the guise of a demon calling itself Legion, they had taken possession of a man and been cast into a herd of pigs by the Son himself. They weren’t even bothered by the fact that the Son had guided the pigs off of a cliff, because they had departed mid-fall, leaving the entire group of swine to wonder how they had come to be flying toward the ground in the brief moments before they actually struck it. It had been a rather messy affair, which meant, Sol had no doubt, that the Shine were absolutely tickled by it.

  “Come on,” Nova said. “Let’s go to the pier. I want to watch the sunset.”

  “All right,” he responded, standing. He brushed his hands down his dark jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. The perfect breeze whistled by his temples, and his blood, so stirred by thoughts of the murdered Son, finished cooling. Beside him, his sister buttoned her coat at the waist. He remembered how fast she had moved when he had spoken his rebellious words and looked at her from the corner of his eye. It was said that none could stand against a member of the karma police in battle save another angel, for the knights of the choirs were created for combat and protection. Nova had moved with such uncanny speed that before he’d even had an opportunity to reach for his own weapon, hers was against his throat. She could not have killed him as she had so many meddlesome Inhabitants over the ages, but she could have taken his voice and hurt him badly. And unlike those others she had dispatched with her blade, he would have bled. Profusely.

  They made their way out of the park. All around them, Citizens busied themselves with the city, preparing the celebration. The buildings twinkled in the light as the sun made its way toward the other side of the world above this one. The arc of the sky was a spectrum, red at one horizon and deep violet at the other. The clouds hanging in front of the sun seemed touched by Midas. Shadows lengthened and, throughout the city, streetlamps began to glow with mellow, muted light. Shops closed up and exhausted children were carried home from playgrounds and fountains and zoos. The Silver City readied itself for night, for slumber and for dreams.

  Sol and Nova made their way west to the Shimmering Sea. Most of the sailboats were now safely tucked away in their stalls, though a few still skimmed across the waves. The seraphim left the bounds of the city and walked onto the long, wooden pier that stretched over the water on a diagonal toward a thick patch of mist far out to sea. At the pier’s end, where Sol and Nova stood to watch the sunset, was one of the four entrances to the Silver City.

  Each of the entryways was at one of the cardinal directions. Three were portals in the wall surrounding the city. The fourth entrance, which faced west and was the only one accessible from other worlds, was the Pearly Gates, at the end of the long pier. New souls to Heaven came forth from the ever-present mist in individual sailboats that piloted themselves to the Gates. The sailboats were always the same color, a bright blue sail and a gleaming white hull. Occasionally a boat would carry more than one person, but this was rare, and generally only a single soul would disembark at the steps leading up to Paradise. The Pearly Gates themselves were gorgeous, another masterwork of the Source. They were thirty-five feet tall and made of metal that glimmered in the light as if it was covered with millions of tiny diamond chips. The bars of the Gates were scrolled, curving and twisting in intricate, delicate designs. Roses bloomed in its curls, waterfalls rushed in its coils. The longer they were looked at, the more shapes the eye picked out. A forest became fluttering butterflies, a sand castle became a bed of tulips. Some Citizens came to the pier merely to gaze at the Pearly Gates, as if cloud-watching.

  Sol and Nova stood a bit away from the Gates, leaning on the pier’s railing. The bottom curve of the scarlet sun had dropped below the horizon now, painting the waves deep red capped with licks of gold. The sky looked as if it were on fire, and the clouds glowed pink and purple among the flames of the setting sun. It fell quickly, a trail of gilded
light following its descent beneath the water as the sapphire night began to close in. Citizens began to filter back to the Silver City as the first stars peeked into existence above them. The two karma police remained after everyone else had gone, staring out over the moonlit water, the waves now gleaming peaks of mercury. At some point, Nova stood up on tiptoe and kissed her brother’s cheek, then left him alone on the pier, sensing his need for solitude. She made her way quietly back to the metropolis, the hem of her dark jacket fluttering around her feet. At the edge of the pier she turned back once to look at him, stoic and motionless, his pale hair shining in the silver light of the moon. A brief flicker of worry crossed her face and was gone. He was fragile, she knew, and too affected by the failings of humanity, but he was also a karma policeman, and that made him strong. She turned and disappeared into the overlapping shadows of the city.

  Sol watched the heavens come alive with stars and imagined himself as the nadir upon which the whole of the sky spun. He picked out the constellations, and when he had identified them all, searched for other shapes hidden in the sea of light above him. He knew he had been right to turn to Nova for help, but now he needed time by himself. He had begun to doubt his position as a member of the karma police, and this frightened him, for it was all he had known for so long, and the alternative was inexistence. He could not see that he had made any real difference in the lives of the Residents, only stopped paltry interferences by Inhabitants. Karma moved about him like a river and he felt like a flat stone.

  Then he heard a woman singing, a clear voice weaving through the crisp night air. He turned to the Pearly Gates, which glittered against the dark sea and sky. He walked over to them, drawn to the music. It was a sea chantey, but whoever was singing it had turned it into something graceful and full of beauty, slow and soft and emotional. The woman wove her music like a tapestry, formed her notes like a great sculptor shaping clay, and her song was a perfect work of art.

  The karma policeman stepped to the Pearly Gates, placed his hands on the bars and looked down the steps to where, awash in moonlight, he saw the woman who would become his wife.

  Bertha the Gatekeeper.

  Chapter XIV

  It was not, of course, the first time he had seen her, but it was the first time he had noticed her. He had passed the Pearly Gates countless times, had come to see the wonder on the faces of souls new to the city, to relax with the sound of the waves breaking against the shore, to watch the sunset, as he had that night. But he had never paid any attention to the Gatekeeper because, for the most part, she was simply part of the scenery. She stood vigil by the Gates and opened them for those who wished to pass through. She was the first line of defense should anyone be so foolish as to make war on the Silver City. Sol had never heard her speak more than a few words at a time before, and to hear her singing so sweetly was a revelation. He was entranced.

  He gazed down at her, his hands wrapped around the bars of the Gates, waiting until she finished her song. She radiated an incredible magnetism, and he longed to go to where she sat, but he withstood the temptation, not wanting to startle her. As she sang, he studied her. She was facing away from him, and her hair fell midway down her back in large, spiraling curls, and even in the milky light of the moon he could see that it was the color of honey. She sat at the bottom of the steps with her toes dipped in the dark water, leaning back, her head tilted toward the stars. The waves lapped softly against the pilings upon which the pier sat and Bertha sang in time with them, her voice a natural complement to the sea.

  She went on for several more minutes. When she finished, he remained standing where he was for a moment more. He touched his forehead to the cool metal of the Gates and closed his eyes, the song still dancing through his mind. Everything was gone, the rage and the scorn; his mind was a calm sea. Slowly, so as not to scare her, he flicked one of the bars. The Gates resonated like a clear bell and the Gatekeeper turned and looked up the stairs to where the karma policeman stood. When she saw the clothes he wore, fear flashed across her features.

  “I’m sorry,” she called, rising to her feet. “I know I’m not supposed to sing, but I didn’t think anyone was here.” She glanced around her and out over the water, gauging her escape routes, then, in a pleading tone, said, “Please. Please don’t sentence me.”

  He stared down at her, confused. Sentence her? How could she think he could ever bear to do such a thing, when her song was still fresh in his ears? When she had erased all of the stress and doubt he had felt, when she had brought him to such a place of serenity? But there she was, standing with her feet on the first step that was underwater and the waves breaking around her ankles, her eyes darting back and forth like some cornered animal. He felt guilt wash over him. “At ease, Gatekeeper,” he whispered. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  She regarded him with skepticism, but he saw her relax somewhat, and that made him feel a little better. “Will you open the Gates for me?” he asked, taking a step back from them.

  She hesitated and he thought that she would reject his request. Even he, a karma policeman, had no authority to breach the Pearly Gates. After several moments, she raised one hand, palm out, toward him. There came the sound of a great chorus of voices, all raised in one exquisite note as lovely as the Gatekeeper’s song, and the Gates split and opened before him, swinging out and over the shining water.

  He paused, realizing that he didn’t have the slightest idea what to do or say now that she’d opened the Gates. He had lived a silent, individual life, and he had no experience at approaching strange women alone in the night. He took the first step down, then another, hoping for providence to provide him with something. The dozen steps to the water’s edge disappeared quickly, and he stood before her, at a loss for words, struck by her beauty. Her hands were clasped before her, and the lights of the city reflected in her vivid blue-green eyes.

  “Your song,” he said at last. It was the only thing he could think of. “It was beautiful.” A breeze wafted over the sea, carrying with it the crisp salt smell of the water. Locks of her hair blew towards him, nearly close enough to brush his dark jacket.

  “Thank you,” she replied, and he could hear the song in her voice, struggling to break free. “I learned it in my youth. A very long time ago.”

  “Will you sing another?” he asked without realizing he meant to. He longed to hear her again, but surprised by his own forwardness, he rushed on. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude.” Then, again, “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled at him and he watched her fear evaporate. “No, it’s all right. But first things first. I don’t even know your name.”

  “Sol.”

  “And I am Bertha,” she responded. Her voice was so melodic it was as if she were speaking in poetic couplets. Sol was captivated by her. “Would you like to sit? I know the steps aren’t very comfortable, but I’m not allowed to leave the Gates,” she said, a small, rueful smile crossing her lips. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but when she pressed on he realized that she wasn’t even aware she’d made the face. “The water is so peaceful, anyway. And this is the best part of night, when no one is around.”

  The karma policeman nodded and sat down, resting his hands between his knees. Bertha sat a step below him on his right, carefully raised the hem of her gown so that it didn’t get wet, and dipped her bare feet once more into the water. The moonlight reflected on the waves and danced across her skin. Under the water, she wiggled her toes back and forth. “Why were you so worried when I caught you singing?” he asked.

  Her toes stopped their playful movement, and she didn’t respond at first. When she did, a note of hesitation had found its way into her voice. “That’s…personal. I’ll tell you, if you really want to know, but not until I know you better. Tell me about yourself, detective.” She would be the only one to ever call him ‘detective,’ and it grew into a pet name later when they were wed. He was always curious about why she had used the word to address him, but never thought to a
sk until after she would call him it no more.

  “There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid,” he replied. “I am a karma policeman. Our lives are routine and duty. It’s not terribly exciting.”

  “You protect humanity, detective,” she contradicted. “Don’t be modest about how important your job is. My job would be much more boring without your help.”

  She locked eyes with him and he was saw a spark of her power there, and he wondered just who this woman was who had been trusted with the only gateway into Heaven. He lowered his gaze to the rippling surface of the water. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “It is important, what we do. Residents have enough trouble balancing their karma on their own without Inhabitants getting involved. None would ever make it here to the Silver City if the karma police didn’t prevent interference.” He fell silent for a moment, rubbing the back of his fingers against his jaw line as if feeling for stubble. “And Residents do not make it any easier for us, the petty creatures.”

  She smiled and touched his hand. “I see them every day, detective, and I see more of them every day. Things will improve.”

  He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “What about you?” he asked. “Do you like it here, being Gatekeeper?” It was an obvious subject change, and he liked Bertha all the more for not calling attention to it.

  “Oh yes,” she chirped. “It’s very nice, being the first one to greet each new soul, to see their faces when they catch sight of the Silver City. Most souls don’t even enter the shifting lands until they’ve been here for over a year. Did you know that?” He nodded and she went on. She spoke swiftly, like an excited child. “Have you ever been to the shifting lands?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “Many times.”

  “What are they like? I’ve never been there, I haven’t been anywhere but here for the longest time.”