Maeve’s hand went over her mouth in disbelief. “Nathalia?” The question no more than a whisper. The Holy Mother reached out to Lamashti, but her Nephilim stopped her.
“No, it is a trick.” He stepped between Lamashti and the Holy Mother.
“The law stands. Lilitu must be provided for. Maeve offered and I accept.”
“I will not allow it, Lamashti. Your union would endanger the One.”
Lamashti’s body went back to normal and her face her own. “Your Sinnis is not yet born. You will provide or I will take what is needed from this woman.”
He Who is for the One had no recourse. He nodded his acquiescence to her. “I will provide but you must promise never to take from this woman or her child.”
Lamashti would do no such thing. He had no way to enforce it. Maeve offered.
The Nephilim turned back to the Holy Mother and sang. Nephilim song could not affect Lilitu but Lamashti enjoyed hearing their magnificent voices.
When Maeve’s eyes took on that empty look, Lamashti knew it was done. He could not change her memory since she was a woman of power, but he could block it.
He spoke in that mesmerizing tone he had and filled the Holy Mother’s thoughts with his voice, “I must go. I have an errand but will be back shortly.”
“I would like to fly first,” Lamashti told the Nephilim.
Taking her in his arms, he obliged, leaving the pregnant woman alone.
MAEVE BLINKED at the empty library. What had she been doing, just standing there? Leonard’s voice woke her from some kind of daydream. When she tried to remember, her head hurt a little.
She made an effort not to waddle as she crossed the library when she heard the television going in Libby and Leonard’s private quarters. Odd. They were book worms, not couch potatoes.
None of the furniture went together, except for the fact that it was all greatly dated. A large rainbow-colored throw that Libby knitted while she was pregnant covered the couch. Crocheted doilies plastered every table and shelf in Libby’s curio cabinet.
The curio was very, well, curious. No obvious theme; the collection consisted of mostly random items. Rocks and pieces of rusted and decayed metal that might have once been gardening or kitchen tools, made up most of the assemblage. Spoons and bells, bits of fabric and locks of hair, tea pots and motor parts.
Seemingly random.
Unless you knew Libby’s ability.
Libby was the Renuntio Primo of this branch of the Daughters of Women. Each of these items held one or more pleasant memories that Libby could access by touching them. She collected them from all over the world, getting odd looks and questions when purchasing them. No one but a psychometrist could “see” their value.
The one thing not represented was a book. As the sisterhood’s librarian, Libby kept the achievement records for them. She loved books. Libby had explained on Maeve’s first visit that her ability didn’t work on books because they were unique in the world. Books led every person who read them on almost the same journey. People are not as unique as they think. Each reader has a very similar experience while reading the same words. That was why she loved them so much. Holding them she knew she was wholly human, connected to the world’s inhabitants by mutual experience.
Crossing the threshold Maeve found both halves of the middle-age couple fixated on the idiot box. Their son, Billy, sat beside them. He had been eating lunch when something seized his attention. His mouth hung open, sandwich caught in mid-chew. Libby was white as a ghost. Only Leonard, in his ever present bow tie and sweater vest, showed any cognizance at her arrival.
He stood, making an effort not to groan with the movement, and offered Maeve his chair. She would have rather taken a less cushy seat. A dining room chair would have been easier to get up from, but she took what was offered, making her own effort not to grunt.
Leonard hit rewind and then play on the TiVo. The broadcast was about a major archaeological find in the desert somewhere between Saudi Arabia and Iraq. They unearthed an entire ancient city there in the cradle of civilization. The Discovery Channel showed images of the greatest finds. A mammoth ziggurat buried in the sand turned out to be the most intact ever found. It would take them years of careful study to unlock its secrets.
Leonard fast forwarded to a segment where a man in gloves held up pottery and other household items, preserved by the desert. Leonard hit the pause button as the man held a particularly detailed vase up for close inspection by the film crew. It showed a collection of bearded and winged men standing in a cluster in front of a slain man lying gutted and bleeding before them. They all looked in horror at the woman standing over him, holding a bloody knife.
Leonard advanced the show, frame by frame, as the archaeologist turned the piece in his hands. Maeve mirrored Libby and Billy’s expressions. Her mouth fell open. The woman so carefully carved on this seven-thousand-year-old pot was Nathalia.
“EVERYONE NEEDS to calm down.”
Maeve had called a meeting of the Primos. Everyone attended except Camilla, of course. She listened on speaker phone. Maeve’s private chamber was crowded. Her Guardian stood behind her taking up more than his fair share of space in the crowd. By now most of them had heard the rumors. The gossip reached a ridiculous level almost instantly.
“Nathalia’s disappearance is not as mysterious as some of you think. No time traveling worm hole opened up because of the twisted way she used her magic. I would love to believe such an outrageous story. I mean, I love comic books more than any person here.”
“Ahem.” Jolie cleared her throat and gestured to a tattoo of Witchblade on her leg. Maeve had never noticed that one. She twisted her head and took a closer look.
“Okay, more than any person—save Jolie. I’m just saying that it would be nice to believe that Nathalia was out there somewhere, but she isn’t. It’s better to know the truth than believe a lie, no matter how comforting. I didn’t tell you all before, because it was too horrible to say, but I think you should know what happened.”
The chatter died. Maeve paced back and forth, her belly leading each turn. “She killed a man by the name of Michael that night. The man who’d been killing my matches, threatening our beloved holy Capacitors.” Maeve leaned back on the front of her desk. She had been talking fast, but now she slowed down and said, in a very deliberate unmistakable tone, “Nathalia is dead.”
“How do you know?”
Maeve didn’t need to look to know who was questioning her so contemptuously on such a sensitive subject. Alisha was older than Maeve, had been with the sisterhood longer, had living children and a more fitting ability for Abbess. Alisha always thought she would be chosen to replace Nathalia. Since she hadn’t been, Alisha made life difficult for Maeve.
“Because I saw her. Her throat…cut.” Maeve fought back her own bile as Jolie threw up into a wastebasket. “Her blood covered this room. She isn’t living out her life in the past by some freak accident. I loved her and I wish she was, but she’s not.”
“Then why did you tell the cops that she’d left without telling you where?” Alisha challenged.
“You know good and well why we couldn’t tell them the truth. How do you think a murder investigation on Daughters’ grounds would have gone? Do you think they would have respected our privacy or would they want unrestricted access? I think the highly guarded room behind the Ishtar statue would have interested them, don’t you? What about the fact that every one of the murdered couples would have been found in my achievement book?”
“So you lied to protect yourself. And to speed up the process of taking over.”
“Oh, shut up, Alisha!” Everyone stared at Jolie, so normally quiet, who had the outburst. “Maeve isn’t confirmed Abbess yet. We all elected her to act as interim.”
“How can you just follow her blindly! What about your dreams, your seeings?” When Jolie didn’t respond, Alisha turned to the other Primos, her back to Maeve. “Where is the evidence? Are we just supposed to take Ma
eve’s word on it? It’s a little too convenient that she’s the only person who saw Nathalia’s body and the only one who benefits from her death.”
“Benefit?” Maeve spoke softly but it had the same effect as if she’d shouted.
“I saw it too. Your leader was without life.” The deep voice soothed. Most of them had never heard the Guardian speak. Maeve studied him for a moment. He looked different now, sedated maybe. Whatever his errand had been, it did him some good. In a room filled to the brim with women, something he normally shied away from, he seemed happy. Almost.
“She’s telling the truth.” Elle’s hand slipped from Maeve’s arm as she made the announcement. Maeve hadn’t stopped her when Elle rose to make a reading. As the Iudex Primo, she would know better than anyone if Maeve lied.
Alisha made a sound like hmph! She argued, “Oh, okay. If the man who worships the very ground on which Maeve walks and the girl who’s been Maeve’s shadow for years say she’s telling the truth, how can we not believe?”
Libby separated herself from the crowd and spoke to Alisha in a low menacing tone. “I will remember that your bullheadedness is what forced me to do this. You will never be Abbess as long as I breathe.” And then louder, “Maeve, where did it happen?”
Maeve silently pointed at a section of the stone floor that used to lie in front of Nathalia’s bed. Maeve had worried it would come to this, but would never ask Libby for this sacrifice. If she did a reading on the stones where Nathalia died, it would be devastating. Libby crossed to the area Maeve indicated, never taking her heated glare from Alisha’s face. Libby squatted down and placed her palm on the cold gray floor.
They all stood quiet while Libby worked her magic. When she finished, the pallor of her skin and the weakness in her legs left no doubt as to what she had seen, but she shared anyway. “Nathalia didn’t just die here. She killed herself. She cut her own throat. I could see her dark magic in the last moments. She used the corrupted power from the Capacitors to force the man to kill himself too. She forced all that black power back inside him where it came from.”
Libby paused while she sank into a chair a younger girl offered her. Seeing that kind of violence always exhausted Libby. Last time she had done a reading like that it had been last year when Marcie, an ex-sister, had been abducted. Touching that piece of jewelry, with a tiny piece of Marcie’s flesh still attached, was the worst reading she’d ever experienced, until now. That had taken her three days to recover. What would this cost her?
Maeve’s head reeled. She had seen Nathalia’s body for only a second before her Guardian forced her away. He was afraid of what the shock might do to her unborn baby. This shock was much worse. Maeve knew Michael. She’d assumed he had killed Nathalia. Taking her life would have been bad enough, but somehow forcing her to end it herself? That was really evil.
The Guardian must have felt Maeve’s distress, because he moved to place his hand on her belly. Since her pregnancy, his touch always eased her and her baby, though before, she had abhorred it, and even barred him from touching her. She barely noticed him now, but his movement triggered a memory in Libby.
“Then, when they were both dead, a Guardian came. I did not recognize him, but he had their magic and he used it. I couldn’t see everything he did, but he cleaned up. He took first the man’s, and then Nathalia’s body away.”
“Maybe the magic you felt was a healing. Maybe Nathalia is alive.” Seizing any thread she could find, Alisha argued on. “Maeve,” she said the name not title, “grant me permission to use collective power. I can search for Nathalia. If she is alive anywhere in this world, I will find her.”
“WAKE UP, my love.”
Are we there yet? Nathalia yawned and stretched as best she could without tumbling to her death. How she managed to fall asleep lying on Eiran’s back while he flew was a mystery even to her. He used his wings to fly so he couldn’t hammock her in those. Even so she had found his body very comfortable. His legs supported hers. Her butt fit perfectly in the small of his back. His shoulders, even after deducting the space the wings took up, were more than adequately wide for her body.
“Not quite. I need to stop in the nearest city.” Eiran hesitated. The wind whipped his words away as they descended, so he switched to their more intimate way of speaking. New moon is tonight. With the fresh violence that a new prisoner represents, I will need extra strength to keep the nearly reformed sedate.
Nathalia knew he didn’t mean reformed, improved personalities, but as in regenerated bodies. You need to feed.
Yes. You too will need extra prana when you go to meet the Igigi. They are more tempting than any creature on the earth. They aren’t just alive, they are life. Called the shining ones, they are pure prana.
Can we not take prana from each other? Nathalia asked.
You know that taking another Nephilim’s blood is not only banned, but dangerous.
You said that there was another… Nathalia knew he couldn’t see her face, but she blushed deeply. She couldn’t help it.
I am eager to give and take with you in this way, but I found you against such conduct not so long ago.
Maybe the hunger could help me. It’s weird to feel this way, and even weirder to say it, but I want you, Eiran. Since you said that you were only for me and called me Ereshkigal, having sex with you is all I can think about.
Eiran contorted in midair. Reaching around his side, he pulled Nathalia off his back. He cradled her in his arms like a baby. “You are still a maiden and do not wear my birthmark. I cannot penetrate you no matter what we wish. It will take great levels of control, but we can try the exchange orally if you desire.”
I do. Good thing you’ve had centuries to practice control.
He looked into her face with eyes dancing like flames. “Not centuries, millennia, my love.”
But not in the tomb. I’ve had enough dirt. I need a shower and a bed with clean sheets. Find us a hotel.
“Hoe-tay-el?” he asked, inadvertently mocking her accent.
She still had her twang and drawl even in her thoughts. Apparently, you can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the girl. A hotel is a building with bedrooms for rent for weary travelers. Where are we anyway?
Then, over the horizon came the answer. The Great Pyramids of Giza grew step by step out of the sand. Nathalia had never been to Egypt. She’d never been anywhere really. She grew up in a small town in East Texas then went down to Austin for college. Even when the last things holding her to that state, her parents, were murdered, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Eiran flew faster than Nathalia realized. The pyramids were beneath them and a great city bloomed on the horizon now. It must be Cairo. There, shining golden in the sun, was just what she wanted. The Four Seasons. She pointed to it and Eiran landed them on the roof. He set her down gingerly on her feet.
They had been flying for hours. She stretched and he shook out his wings. He folded them tightly against his back, but they were still very visible. He caught her looking at them.
“After we are done, I will fly us the rest of the way. I cannot tabalu and hold the prana. I hope they will not bother you. I must keep my wings ready during our short stay here. I cannot put them away.”
It’s fine. Come on. She pulled him by the hand across the roof to a door. Aren’t you afraid that people will see you. You’re not exactly incognito you know. She tried the knob, but it was locked. Can you open this?
“Of course, my love.” He closed his eyes.
A young Egyptian man dressed in what must have been hotel uniform opened the door. Nathalia had almost gotten used to her constant nude state, but having a new set of eyes made her awareness snap back. The bellhop stared right through them. Putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the high sun, he looked off into the distance then turned and walked back inside, leaving the door open in Eiran’s hands.
“People see and feel what we want them too. Women are more difficult to deceive th
an men. Women with power such as yours are near impossible.”
That was pretty impressive. My turn. You just keep us camouflaged while I get us a room. She went into the stairwell and jogged down a couple of flights. There was really no need for them to have the penthouse suit. A room a few floors down would serve them just fine.
She entered a hallway that felt promising. She took a deep breath and smiled. Air conditioning made the air she breathed cold. It felt so good. This modern girl and needed some modern comforts right now.
She sensed what she wanted and gathered energy to work her magic on the guests in room 821. She sent an overwhelming feeling of hunger and boredom to the man. The woman in the room needed little persuasion from her mate to get out of the room and go down to the restaurant for a while. They gathered their gear and left the room in a hurry, not seeing Eiran and Nathalia.
Eiran held the door open for her and she stepped in. Great Mother, this room was big. It was a suite, not just a room, and Nathalia could see the beautiful, golden covered bed through the open doors to her right. Eiran came in just behind her and turned to close and lock the door. Nathalia could feel him working some magic on it, but was too busy examining the room to worry about it.
The whole wall in front of her was window overlooking the city with the pyramids in the background. In front of that stunning view: a living room furnished with beautiful golden and red and pale green striped couches and chairs. Carved wood tables, an element rare in this area of the world, a generous sprinkling in between the other furniture. Everything was shiny clean and reeked of riches.
Breathtaking. Nathalia didn’t know if she had thought that, or Eiran. She felt him closing in behind her. His heat reached her before his hand, but only just.
Eiran rubbed quickly across her shoulder blades with one hand, then over her shoulder and slowly down her chest. Then pushing her hair up off her neck with his cheek, he kissed the back of her neck, just as he reached her nipple. He brushed over the sensitive brown peak slowly with his fingers and whole palm and then took the soft weight of her in his hand.
The Dying Art of Magic Page 11