Catee's Grace

by Keith Holmes

  “Ahmlad.”

  Whether by Divine Providence or sheer will, Ethan’s breathing began to calm. With an aching in his joints and his daughter’s smiling face in his mind, slowly he stood. His face was hard as he looked to Jahleel, then down to the Vigilant’s sword. Jahleel followed his glance then the two stared at each other once more. Neither spoke.

  The sound of a farm truck, headlights cutting through the snow closed a gap between itself and them; winding down a paved road nearby. It stopped, idling, as though it were waiting. Jahleel tapped his chin. Ethan wiped furiously at his own.

  A fogged window rolled downward. Jahleel stepped to it, trying to fill the view and hide Ethan’s frightening visage. An old woman in a floral print dress and heavy coat looked to the knight, then warily past him to Ethan. In the driver’s seat a fat older man sat, dressed in a thick wool coat. An Austrian Trenkar hid much of the old fellow’s baldness as he looked on with apprehension.

  “Weiden am See?” Jahleel asked.

  “Ja," the old woman said softly, nodding toward the truck's beed.

  “Danke."

  He took Ethan by the arm and escorted him to the back of the truck. Ethan laughed when he looked inside. Jahleel boosted the father up and then followed, sitting down among the recently purchased sheep. Happy for their warmth, the knight gave the cab a tap and it lurched forward.

  Ethan cradled his stomach and tried not to shiver. The young father canted his head toward one of the sheep. “I think I know that one,” he said, a tired grin lifting the corner of his mouth.

  Jahleel couldn’t fight off the chuckle that spilled from his throat.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Sasha stood before Joli’ who had placed her head in her hands, elbows resting atop her desk. The young sorceress looked distressed and even a bit scorned as she entwined her fingers before her and awaited a response to the news she’d imparted. She’d been waiting for some time as, rather than addressing the girl, Joli’ immediately picked up the phone and made a call… then another before burying her face in her hands. Finally she lifted her eyes to Sasha and spoke.

  “Thank you for telling me this Sasha. I know how important the gathering is, but I need for you to stay with the child tonight.”

  Sasha frowned as she nodded, her eyes a little frightened. “Will everything be all right Priestess?”

  Joli’ didn’t answer, dismissing her with a wave. “Do as I say.”

  Sasha nodded politely and hurried out of the door. She bowed deeply as she passed the Great Mother. Though the priestess acknowledged the entrance of her mistress, she decided to forego the pomp of a bow.

  “What’s distressing you?” Claudia asked. “I sense something is… amiss?”

  Joli’ sighed and looked away, knowing that Claudia had already ‘seen’ what was wrong. “The child told Sasha that her father was coming here. I called Paris and…,” she paused as disappointment built to shame.

  Claudia finished the statement. “Adele’ is dead and the Vigilant along with the girl’s father are on their way here.”

  Joli’ shook her head. “No, Adele is nearly dead, comatose. The father and the knight are… I’m not sure.”

  Claudia’s eyes lifted to the ceiling in contemplation. “Where do Tara’s loyalties lie?”

  "With us, I believe. She thinks that you accepted her."

  "And that fact proves she has no hope of joining us."

  "She's a simple mother, trusting. This world of ours will take time to make her understand. We've done it before."

  Claudia smirked. “Still lusting are we Joli’? Was she that good?”

  "Mother she...," Joli' began.

  "When her husband arrives, will she choose him or us?" Claudia interrupted.

  "They've only just been separated, mistress. She needs time to..."

  "Time she does not have," Claudia said. "A sorceress she could never be, but she'll make a fine tribute."

  "Mother no!" Joli' protested, standing.

  Claudia lifted black eyes to her High Priestess. Flames of rage burned behind them. Realizing her error, Joli' slunk back into her chair.

  "I'm sorry mother. I am fond of her. It's easy to manipulate men to our ends, but another woman..."

  Claudia's anger subsided, replaced with empathy. "And if she knew the truth? Do you suppose she'd be rolling around the spa with you if she knew that you were born of wealth? That you are nothing like her? Thank you wed yourself to dragons? Do you suppose she even knows what a dragon truly is?"

  Joli' sat silently, listening.

  "If we gave her the time she needed to forget him, then we'd gain only a lovely dullard, incapable of achieving anything greater than spending my money. And one who'd interfere with the growth of the Dawn Child," Claudia said. "Can she be a sorceress, Joli'?"

  The priestess knew the answer but didn't want to give it. After a long pause she spoke. "You know that she can't, Great Mother," Joli' admitted.

  "Then she has but one use. I've no interest in investing time in a part-time daycare worker from Chicago. We already possess what we want from her."

  Joli' didn't answer for a long time. "What if the child rebels, mother?"

  "Her pain will drive her into my comforting arms," Claudia said coldly. "She isn't safe here. You know what must be done." With that, Claudia turned to go.

  “Yes Great Mother,” Joli’ whispered.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Even with the sheep's bodies surrounding him in a blanket of living wool, Ethan was shivering. His body ached as though his joints were filled with shattered glass and every bump brought misery. The bitter cold stiffened him, biting into his skin. Though he closed his eyes, praying for sleep to come, worry kept him awake.

  Even Jahleel had begun to succumb to the cold, shivering as he kept watch. He was standing, leaning over the cab of the truck. Once they were in the city center, he thumped on the roof but the truck didn't stop. He knocked again, but still they continued. Jahleel leaned over to rap against the passenger window to find that the old woman had already rolled it down.

  "Warten Sie mal," she said.

  Ethan looked to Jahleel as he hunkered down amid the sheep. "Where are we?" he asked, his lips numb.

  "Weiden am See," Jahleel said.

  Ethan tried to sit up.

  "Sit tight," Jahleel instructed.

  Soon asphalt gave way to a gravel road and a short time later they pulled into the tree-lined barnyard of a rustic Austrian Farm. Ethan moaned as the truck shuddered to a stop.

  Jahleel stood and moved to the edge of the truck. "Can you walk?"

  "I'm fine," Ethan insisted, each movement a burning pain. Somehow he managed to make it to the back of the truck. Before he attempted to exit, the old woman took Jahleel's attention. Ethan was glad, so that the knight wouldn't witness the difficulty with which, he made the climb.

  “Waraum.... hier?” Jahleel questioned.

  “Wachsam, ja?” she asked. Jahleel shrugged, not understanding. The old woman pointed to his eyes. “Wachsam?” she asked. “Ritter?”

  Out of instinct the knight averted his eyes. He'd been in darkness long enough for them to begin to glow. "Nein," he insisted, but the old woman simply shook her head.

  "Nein. Kommen," she urged, waving her hand. Jahleel turned to Ethan and then they began to follow her toward the house.

  The farmhouse was picturesque though imperfect; like something from a painting with its white washed stonewalls and timbered roof. The home was old and rugged, weathered to a great degree but charming and cozy. The old woman paused just inside the door, in a small closet sized room that was more of a hallway into the kitchen. Pulling a picture from the wall, she turned to Jahleel and raised it before him.

  The picture was a group photo, servants standing on a manicured lawn before a great old mansion. The old woman’s fingers marked her place in the photo, dressed in a maid’s uniform. Jahleel shook his head as he looked the photograph over and then his eyes grew wide.
<
br />   “Schwestershaft… Sponsas Draco,” the old woman said softly.

  “You… work here?” he asked, his body making a sweeping motion as he pointed to her and then to the photo.

  She nodded.

  His glance shifted to Ethan a moment before the young father stumbled sideways, his legs quivering. Quickly the knight extended a hand to keep him from falling over.

  "m'fine," Ethan muttered.

  Jahleel’s lips thinned as his teeth gritted. He knew what had to happen. "You will be," he said.

  Quickly he took Ethan's arm and placed it over his shoulder as he set off marching across the barnyard. The two met the old farmer on his way into the house but didn't speak.

  “Where are we going?” Ethan asked, staggering even with Jahleel’s aid.

  The Vigilant didn’t answer; instead he simply bounded toward the barn, dragging Ethan past the emptied sheep truck and through the door. The shadows of the barn clung heavy along its walls, combated only by the dim light of an oil lamp. The sheep shifted in their pens as the pair entered and headed toward them.

  He hadn't intended to, but in his frustration, Jahleel shoved Ethan toward the sheep pens. Weakened, the young father stumbled and fell to the ground.

  "What the fuck man?" Ethan complained. But before he could push himself from the ground, a sound met his ears. It was the sound of heartbeats, of blood flowing through healthy veins.

  “The blood will sate you… for awhile. Get your strength back Ethan. We have work to do.”

  Ethan shook his head as he tried to stand, rising halfway before falling back to the ground. “No… no way… I am NOT a monster… I’m NOT!”

  Jahleel lowered his eyes in pity. "Yes you are Ethan. Do what you must."

  Ethan was near tears but he hadn't the strength to stand let alone argue. His head hung in shame.

  "Do it for your family," Jahleel added softly. The knight turned on his heel and marched through the barn doors, closing them behind him. Then he leaned against them and waited. A moment of quiet was broken by the bleat of a frightened sheep and Jahleel winced. "Please. Please let her be able to fix him," he said.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Tara stood before a full length mirror, baffled by the new dress Joli’ had promised her. It wasn’t a dress at all, but a robe of the finest black silk. It was magnificently crafted and doubtless enormously expensive, but it was still just a robe. Confused, she put it on.

  Once stretched upon her lithe form Tara truly became enamored with the it. Like many women, she’d always been body conscious but this robe, sinful in look, hid every ‘flaw’ and accentuated every asset, as though it were a second skin, designed to be upon her form exclusively.

  Her reflection in the mirror was at once frightening and enthralling as she let her blue eyes inch over it. A split to nearly her naval revealed a plunging v-shape filled only with her skin, a wide hood rested delicately at her back. Given the color and raciness, Tara figured the robe would transform her into ‘Elvira’ or perhaps ‘Mortitia Adams’ but it wasn’t like that at all. Instead she was quite simply stunning, and for a moment she wondered what Ethan would do if he caught a glimpse of her in it. A knock at her door kept her from entertaining that thought for long.

  Catee was the first to respond to the knock, bolting across the floor to grab the knob. Tara followed closely behind. By the time she reached the threshold, Catee had opened the door wide, its frame adorned with the enrapturing visage of a white enrobed Joli’. Sasha was by her side still in street clothes and carrying a dinner tray.

  Tara couldn’t speak as she looked Joli’ up and down and at that moment her confidence sank a bit. While Tara was no less stunning than the tall, raven-haired beauty before her, in her own mind she was repulsive by comparison. She gulped just a bit as Sasha, speaking to Catee, broke the quiet.

  “Hey Catee! I brought you some dinner! Do you want to play with me again?”

  Catee smiled and nodded, the smell of chicken filling her hungry nose. “Uh-huh… what did you brought me?”

  “Let’s go see,” Sasha said, moving into the room to set the tray upon a coffee table.

  “You are absolutely stunning Tara,” Joli’ said, stepping forward to brush her hand down the young mother’s cheek.

  “Not as beautiful as you,” she blushed.

  “You’re too sweet Tara.” She rested her hand at Tara's shoulder, toying with a wayward curl. But she could see the reluctance in the young mother's face. "You'll be fine," Joli' reassured. "Ready to go?"

  “I think so,” Tara answered sheepishly. She watched as Catee ate chicken fingers, Sasha by her side. "Hang on," she said, breaking from Joli's touch and moving to her daughter. She lowered to her knees and swooped the little one into a hug. "I love you Catee."

  “I love you too Mommy,” she answered.

  “You be good for Sasha. I’ll be back in just a little while.”

  Catee turned to her mother with a crinkle in her brow.

  “Don’t get wet Mommy.”

  Tara looked to her, confused. But with Sasha and Joli' looking on, she laughed it off. “Okay baby,” she said and then stood and headed for the door.

  Tara and Joli’ made their way down the surprisingly quiet halls.

  “Where is everyone?” Tara asked, noting the unusual calm.

  “Waiting for you,” Joli’ responded rather dryly, keeping her eyes forward down the hall.

  The response placed a knot in Tara’s stomach. “For me? But… Catee’s the special one right?”

  “No Tara… tonight you are the honoree. Tonight is special for you.”

  Tara’s feet planted forcing Joli’ to pause and look at her. “I don’t want to be special. I just want to…”

  Joli’ shook her head, her face drained of emotion. “All of us are special. Tonight you are honored and initiated. It’s the way we do things here.”

  The young mother didn’t answer, her eyes moving from Joli’s face to the painting that hung just over her shoulder. It was the one she’d noted earlier, the only painting of a man in the place that she’d seen. ‘Philip the Fair’ Sasha had named it. Joli’s eyes followed Tara’s gaze.

  “Why is that here?” Tara asked again, shaking her head softly.

  “Look at it closely,” Joli instructed.

  Stepping past her so that she could get a closer look, Tara began scanning the painting. The first thing that struck her was the king’s eyes. They were strangely familiar. Suddenly she realized why. They were Claudia’s eyes. She gasped lightly as she put her hand to her mouth. Then as she continued to search the painting, she found something else; atop Philip’s chest there lay a crimson cross pattee’, the symbol of the Templars. The cross was upon its side as though it were purposefully disrespected.

  For a moment Tara was back in her kitchen. Asa wore a cross like this. It looked so much like the ones those motorcycle enthusiasts’ wear that she dismissed it. But now it had new meaning. “This is Claudia isn’t it?”

  Joli’ politely grinned and nodded. “Claudia tried to destroy the Templars many years ago. The men she controlled let her down so often that she decided that she must be the one to command the deed so she killed the King of France and took his place.” Joli’s voice was rushed and droning, as though she were telling Tara all of this and knowing it didn’t really matter anymore; speaking with bother in her tone more than passion.

  Tara stepped back. “She killed him?” Tara marveled, her face filling with new worry as the knot in her stomach tightened.

  Joli rolled her eyes. “War isn’t fought without casualties Tara. Can we please go? Everyone is waiting.” Tara began shaking her head.

  “I… I don’t…”

  Joli’ wasn’t willing to coddle her anymore. With a timbre of frustration in her voice, she stepped to Tara. “Listen to me. I don’t know if you’ve figured this out yet or not, but this is not a game. I’ve protected you so far, but there are those here that are frightened just to have you and you
r daughter so close to them.” She paused, forcing herself to calm. “This is a war Tara. I’m trying to keep Catee safe. Trust me.”

  "And me?" Tara asked. She'd never seen this side of Joli' before.

  Joli' looked into her eyes and then she grinned and offered a curt nod. Then she placed her hand at the small of Tara's back and guided her down the hall. The doors to the Chantry were wide open, voices and laughter spilling from them when they arrived. Tara looked in on the gathering nervously. There were Hollywood stars and corporate magnates, wealthy widows and government officials from the four-corners of the globe for this special night, in celebration of the Great Mother.

  As the two entered the room, it erupted with cheers and clapping; smiling faces clad in similar dress save for the color: gray charcoal dominated the scheme of the jovial bunch with a smattering of colors along the spectrum from black to white.

  "Hi! Welcome!"

  Tara turned to find a young woman in a charcoal robe standing before her. She was offering a glass of champagne. "Thank you," Tara said, taking the glass.

  "Excuse me," Joli' said, not waiting for a response as she walked away. Before Tara could protest, the young woman spoke again.

  "It's really exciting to have you here. Thank you," she said.

  "You're welcome," Tara nodded.

  “I’m Samantha.”

  “Tara,” she replied, her eyes scanning the crowd once more, “nice to meet you.”

  “You look a little overwhelmed?” Samantha chuckled.

  “Yeah. I’m a little confused I guess? Why is everyone wearing the same… thing…?”

  Samantha smiled thoughtfully. “When you are an initiate you wear black to symbolize that you are still in the dark. Other colors symbolize gaining ‘vision’ and white…”

  Tara completed the thought. “White means you have seen the light!” Tara chuckled, her best impression of a TV preacher. Samantha frowned.

  “Is that funny to you?” she asked, putting the young mother on the spot.