Do Not Go Gentle

by James W. Jorgensen

  Timothy shook his head slowly. “I did not say that, Mistress—”

  “ Fool. You did not have to say it. You clearly meant it.” Sedecla paused, but Timothy knew better than to interrupt when she was angry. She sat in silence for several minutes, looking out over the water. At length, she looked back at the men. “I suppose I must not be too angry with you. ibn Ezra, as head of my sect, has long known the reasons for these abductions and the reason for the current need to increase their number.”

  Timothy nodded to Sedecla. “Thank you, Mistress. While I do not question your needs, I can do my job much better if I have more information.”

  “Very well. You have all observed the ritual I conduct with those I receive as my qurbana, my sacrifices. The ritual allows me to absorb the mana, the life force, of these sacrifices. Their life force restores my life force that has been leeched from me by both the passage of time and the cost of my magics.” Sedecla paused to drink some water and observe their reaction.

  Choate spoke up. “I see, and how long have you been performing this ritual, Mistress?”

  Sedecla laughed softly. “Far longer than you could imagine, Rufus. Many, many of your lifetimes.” Sedecla looked out over the water again, her gaze faraway, as if she were looking at different waters or waters from a different time. “Since my plans are now changing, I suppose I must impart at least some of my secrets to you if you are to serve me well.”

  Looking back at her managers, Sedecla paused, and then spoke again. “Achan knows more than the two of you who do not belong to the Disciples. Have you never wondered at the name of my sect? Do either of you know anything about the Witch of Endor?”

  Choate shook his head, but Timothy held up a hand, index finger and thumb pointed skyward. “Yeah, isn’t she mentioned in the Bible?”

  “Very good, Timothy,” said Sedecla with a soft laugh. “First Samuel, Chapter 28, verses 3-25 to be precise. Saul became afraid on the eve of battle with the Philistines and did not receive any assurances from the Lord. So, despite having forbidden the practice of necromancy, Saul asks his servants to find him a witch or medium to consult with the spirit of Samuel. Saul then went to a woman known as the Witch of Endor, who raised Samuel’s ghost for Saul.”

  “So your sect worships this Biblical witch?” asked Choate.

  Sedecla shook her head gently. “Not exactly. As I told you, I have survived many normal lifetimes by the use of my qurbanic ritual.”

  Choate’s eyes narrowed, and he coughed, a deep, rasping sound, like the tearing of thick sheaves of paper. “Am I to understand that you believe yourself to be the actual Witch of Endor? If so, I must say, Mistress, you look remarkably well for a two thousand year old woman.”

  ibn Ezra grabbed Choate’s right arm. “Kapura.” he hissed. “Do not dare to question the nature of the Qedesh.”

  Choate yanked his arm from the smaller man’s grasp and pointed a meaty finger in his face. “Do not touch me like that again, lackey, unless you no longer wish to have full use of that hand.”

  Sedecla clapped her hands, and the two men backed down immediately. “It does not matter what you believe, Rufus, nor you, Timothy. I do not require belief from you—just your services as my emissaries in the everyday world. Believe, if you prefer, that I am the latest in a long line of women who have acted as the head of the sect, the Qedesh. It is your loyalty I require, not your faith.”

  Choate settled back down in his chair, as did ibn Ezra. “I apologize, Mistress. Of course you have my complete loyalty.”

  “And mine,” added Timothy.

  “Very good. Now, to get to the matter of Timothy’s question regarding the increased frequency of my sacrifices. At present, all you need to understand is that I require more sacrifices. I have my needs. It is your jobs to fulfill them.”

  Sedecla looked back at the men. “Timothy, I want you to draw upon your expertise in law enforcement to develop a plan for obtaining and disposing of the qurbana I need while drawing as little attention to us as possible. Choate, put any of our unoccupied properties at Timothy’s disposal. I understand the need for concealing our activities from local authorities, and I do not want an increase in traffic to my residence. Continue to use your lieutenants, Timothy, but as you expand this operation, make use of ibn Ezra’s trusted aides. This effort will require all of you working together, combining your expertise to create a pipeline of sacrifices sufficient to my needs.” Sedecla paused now, inviting her managers to pose any questions.

  ibn Ezra appeared to be praying, and Choate appeared lost in thought. At length, Timothy spoke. “With the additional resources you are supplying, I can reduce the threat of discovery, Mistress. However, it will be impossible in this day of networked law enforcement to guarantee that we will not be discovered.”

  “I understand,” murmured Sedecla, “but that is where I shall require your utmost attention, Timothy. This is too important to allow any further stumbles such as the recent episode. You shall lead this effort, assisted by Achan and Rufus as you require. Spare no expense—this is the most important task I have ever assigned the three of you.”

  Sedecla turned to gaze again out at the ocean, and the three men sat in silence. As the sun set in a bloody wash in the western sky, the chef came to announce dinner. They ate in silence, each wrapped in their thoughts of what this effort entailed and what it might mean to them. After dinner, Sedecla retired to her suite, and her three lieutenants took strong drinks to the sundeck to watch their return to Boston Harbor in quiet contemplation.

  Chapter Four

  “Finn. If you don’t stop that feckin’ whining, I’m going to toss your ass outside and nail the doggy door shut.” Jamie sat at the kitchen table, his headache still raging even after three days of staying at home. Bustling around the kitchen getting ready for the day, Eileen and the girls looked at Jamie and Finn. Yelling at the dog was a definite sign that Jamie still felt bad.

  Eileen came up behind Jamie and rubbed his neck. “Now, love, you know he’s just upset. He thinks we’re all leaving like we usually do. I think he has enjoyed having you home the past two days.”

  “Yeah, Daddio,” chimed in Riona. “Finn loves his daddy,” she said, making exaggerated hugging and kissing motions. Finn cocked his head.

  Riona’s antics, which usually made Jamie laugh, did little more than bring a weak smile to his face. “I know, I know. I’m sure it comes as a big surprise to you all, but I’m not a very good patient.”

  Caitlin put her hands to her face with a look of mock horror. “Fue impactante.”

  Jamie glared at his middle daughter. “If you’re going to insult me, at least have the decency to do so in English. Gaelic would be better. I understand some of that language, especially the insults.”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes, which seemed to be her most frequent expression of impatience and irritation of late. “Daddy, I just said ‘It’s shocking.’ in Spanish. I would never have expected you to get grumpy when you’re sick.” Caitlin huffed and headed upstairs to finish getting ready for school.

  Jamie shook his head. “I can’t win.”

  “You can’t win?” asked Riona. “Try living with a grumpy old bear sometime, and see how you like it.” Although she laughed when she said it, Jamie could tell that even Riona was exasperated with him.

  “They’re just worried about you, love,” added Eileen. “As am I.”

  Jamie sighed. “I understand, darlin,’ and I’m a little worried too. That’s why I called Jerry and got an appointment—tomorrow at eleven.”

  “Okay, then. I don’t have any lessons until the afternoon either day, so I’m staying home this morning and coming with you tomorrow morning.”

  “Peace, woman. I can take myself to the doctor.”

  Eileen rolled her eyes. “Of that I have no doubt, Séamus Edward Griffin, but if you think I’m about to leave you to your own devices when you admit to being sick after three days, you’ve got a smart lesson coming to you.” Eileen left the kitch
en to finish her own morning preparations.

  Jamie stood and grasped the chair when he felt like he was going to fall. The dizziness hadn’t left him, although the vomiting and diarrhea were finished. Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. All I’ve done for the past two days is feckin’ rest and take naps. This shite has to stop. Jamie staggered to the living room and took up the spot on the sectional where he’d been camping out in the past two days. While it was comfortable, it was beginning to feel like a prison to Jamie. He had never been one to relax.

  Once the girls had gone to catch the bus, Eileen came back into the living room. “Well, Mister Grouchy,” Eileen said as she sat beside him, “is there anything I can do for you?”

  Jamie looked at his wife, and twenty years of marriage flashed rapid-fire through his mind. “Ah, lass, you know I love you all. It’s just so damned hard for me to be sick.”

  “I know, I know, but you have to let us help you get better.”

  Jamie took Eileen’s hand and squeezed it, and then they locked their arms together as they sat on the couch. “No matter how much I may complain, I always love having you with me, darling. I just want to be there for all of you.”

  “No worries there, my man. You always are.”

  They settled in, Eileen reading a book and Jamie starting to doze when his cell phone rang, pealing out the Notre Dame Fight Song. Eileen rolled her eyes. Jamie blew a raspberry as he reached for the phone. “You’re just jealous that no one recognizes ‘For Boston,’ unlike the ‘greatest of all fight songs’.” Eileen, a graduate of Boston College, wrinkled her face in mock disgust.

  Jamie looked at the phone and sighed loudly. “Brigid, love. How is everything in ‘God’s Country’?” Eileen made a gagging face.

  “It’s good, Daddy. Getting settled in and starting classes.”

  “The lads going to win their opener next weekend?”

  “Hard to say—it’s been a long time since we’ve been as good as when you were here, Dad, but I’m not calling to talk college football with you.” Eileen and the girls, save Riona, were avid football fans, most of all, college football.

  “I know, me Colleen, exactly why you are calling.”

  “Well then, why aren’t you listening to Máthair? I’m getting bad reports about your behavior, young man.” When the need arose, Brigid could channel her mother and grandmother quite effectively. Brigid, a junior at ND, was musical like her mother, playing piano and guitar, and athletic like her father. She had competed in swimming in high school and played on the ND women’s club water polo team.

  “I’m listening to your mother. I’ve stayed home from work the past two days. I’ve made an appointment with Doctor Jasinski. I’m even taking sick leave for the first time in ten years.”

  “Maybe, but I’m getting reports of excessive grumpiness, with a chance of severe irritation.”

  “Very cute. Don’t you have class? Maybe you could go mother your boyfriend for a while.”

  “Carl is doing just fine, thank you for asking father.” Brigid had been dating a young man from the Midwest, Carl Jorgensen, for the past year and a half. They had met at a dorm party and were dating on a regular basis. Although as juniors, they still focused more on classes than commitment. “Don’t try to change the conversation. Please promise me you’ll take care of yourself?” All of the humor left her voice as she spoke the last words.

  “I will, lass. I’ll follow doctor’s orders and more important, your mother’s orders.”

  “Go ahead, make fun of me,” said Eileen. “Don’t forget that I have a very long memory, boyo.”

  “How could I forget?” Jamie returned to his daughter. “You take care of yourself, your young man, and make sure the football team wins. I’ll take of myself.”

  “All right, Daddy. I’m holding you to that. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Jamie hung up and sighed. “She has not been gone two weeks, and I miss her already.”

  Eileen chuckled. “I know. So have you sufficiently been browbeaten into submission?”

  Jamie held up his hands. “For the last time, yes, woman. Now, would you let me get some of the god-blessed rest you’ve been demanding?”

  “Not another word, then,” said Eileen, opening up her book again.

  Jamie awoke to the doorbell. He was groggy, and his head felt like it was being pierced with a dull auger. Ah Christ, this is getting old. As he sat up, Eileen got up and opened the door.

  “Máthair chéile. Come in, come in,” he heard Eileen say. Jamie’s mother, born in County Cork, insisted on her family using as much Gaelic as possible to preserve their heritage. Now to top it all off, my mother has come to lecture me.

  Nuala Griffin was still slender, even at sixty-two. Her red hair, interspersed with gray, fell just past her shoulders. As she entered the living room, she fixed her gray eyes on her son and said, “It’s a good thing I found you on the couch, Séamus Edward Griffin,” her pronounced Irish accent tempered a small amount by having lived most of her adult life in America. She wore a simple print dress, and her only jewelry was her claddagh wedding band and a gold and crystal Celtic cross necklace. “What’s this I’m hearing about you taking ill?”

  “Come in, Máthair. Have a seat and join in the parade of female pummeling.”

  Nuala, short for Fionnghuala, settled gracefully onto the sectional beside her son, smoothing out her dress and placing one hand upon his brow. “You’ve no fever at least.”

  “No, mother, no fever. I’m just fighting the feckin’ flu.”

  Nuala poked a finger in Jamie’s face. “You’ll be watchin’ your language around me, young man. I’ll not tolerate such vulgarities.”

  Jamie sighed a very loud, Irish sigh.

  “Yes, mother. Anything you say, mother.”

  “See what I’ve been putting up with?” Eileen asked.

  “Aye. After forty-five years with Frank and seven children, I’ve seen it and am all too accustomed to it.” Nuala fixed her sternest maternal gaze on Jamie. “So what are you planning to do to get better, Séamus? Sitting here on the couch won’t be enough to cure what’s ailing you, I’m thinking.”

  Jamie sighed again. Ah, at least I’m down to just my first name. If I’m lucky, I’ll get her down to saying Jamie by the time she leaves. “As Eileen knows and I’ve informed all three of my bossy daughters, I have an appointment tomorrow morning with the doctor.”

  “Well, I’m sure that what you call ‘bossy’ is just them making sure you do as you’re told. Ah, but then you don’t see Doctor Brennan, do you? It’s that Polish man you prefer for some unbeknownst reason.”

  “Yes, Mother. Gerald Jasinski has been my doctor for nearly twenty years. He has seen to the needs of all of us, and I don’t think we’ve turned out too bad.”

  “Mayhaps,” admitted Nuala with a loud sniff, “but there’s no reason not to be seeing a good Irish doctor now, is there?”

  “I dunno—maybe I don’t want you browbeating information about our health out of poor Doc Brennan,” said Jamie.

  “I’d do no such thing.” objected Nuala. “Doctor Brennan and I simply chat about our families and how they are doing. Nothing more.”

  “Well, whatever you call it, I’m seeing my doctor, okay? Eileen is staying home from work again tomorrow to take me and to make sure I don’t duck out on the appointment.”

  Eileen smiled and nodded her head. “Right on both counts, darling.”

  Nuala also nodded her head, then patted her son’s hand and stood. “Well, then. It seems that Eileen is doing her usual bang-up job of keeping you in line.”

  Jamie shook his head and sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “What is it about Irish women that make them believe that their men have no brains?”

  “Years of experience, my son. I’ll leave you then. I’ve got church errands to run.”

  Eileen got up from the sectional and walked her mother-in-law to the door. Frank and Nuala lived in a modest house a few blocks aw
ay, closer to Saint Brendan’s. “You’re always welcome here, Nuala. I’ll call you when we get back from the doctor tomorrow and let you know what he says.”

  “Good,” said Nuala giving Jamie a final stern glance over her shoulder as she walked out the door. “I’d not be getting any information from himself over there.”

  “Love you too, Mom.” Jamie knew his mother hated being called “Mom.” She thought the word too undignified. Nuala didn’t dignify his jibe with a response as Eileen closed the door.

  “Do you really think you’re that funny?” Eileen asked as she rejoined her husband.

  “No, but if I don’t give me Máthair a hard time, she’ll think I’m really sick. “

  “Which you are. I’ve never seen you sick like this in twenty years of marriage.”

  Jamie sighed again, this one not feigned. “I know, my love. I know. I’ll be a good lad and get some rest, and then we’ll see what Jerry has to say tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  It seemed as if just a few moments had passed when Eileen was rubbing his shoulder. Jamie shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. Eileen crouched beside him, with a stern look on her face. “How long have I been asleep?” Jamie asked, sitting up and trying to stay upright.

  “Tis just after lunchtime. When were you planning to tell me that Cal is coming over? He just called. He’ll be here in half an hour.”

  “Wow, I must have been out of it—I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject. I disconnected the phone here and muted the phone in the kitchen. What happened to taking it easy and resting?”

  “Here now, woman, what do you think I’ve been doing?”

  “You’ve been on the computer and on the phone every minute you’ve not been sleeping is what you’ve been doing. I hardly call that resting.”

  “Eileen, how long have Cal and I been partners?”

  “Almost ten years, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything. We just got a new case, and I’m letting Cal down.”