I Am the Storm

by Trisha Lynn Halaas

  “What does it say?” Persephone sounds through her closed cover.

  I walk over and open it up. She sits facing me on the opposite loveseat. She’s wearing tight fitting jeans with a White Stripes band t-shirt and red and white striped socks. She has a glowing crimson string in her fingers and is making a cat’s cradle.

  I read it again, this time out loud.

  “Well, Lucifer means ‘angel bearing light,’” Persephone deduces. “He was God’s closest archangel. Michael was next in line.”

  “So, what does that have to do with the Leviathan?” I ask.

  “Not sure. Keep reading.”

  “Daniel 10:6:

  ‘His body was like beryl, his face like the appearance of lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and the sound of his words like the sound of a multitude.’”

  “Sounds like a dragon,” Persephone says, making a witch’s broom with her string. She wiggles the brush head with her fingers.

  “Sure does,” I respond, reading further.

  “Psalm 18:8:

  ‘Smoke went up from his nostrils, and devouring fire from his mouth; glowing coals flamed forth from him.’”

  “So, definitely part dragon,” Persephone confirms.

  “Isaiah 27:1-13:

  ‘In that day the Lord with his hard and great and strong sword will punish Leviathan the fleeing serpent, Leviathan the twisting serpent, and he will slay the dragon that is in the sea,’” I continue.

  “Part serpent, part dragon. Great.”

  On the next page is a detailed sketch of the beast. It has the body of a snake with large skeletal wings resembling that of a bat or dragon. There are fin-like spikes underneath its chin. The head resembles a gigantic snake with huge sharp teeth. According to the drawing, the wings function as fins. I have a sneaking suspicion they’re capable of flight, too. Or used to be.

  “Seph, it’s horrifying,” I say, holding up the book for her.

  She looks up from the glowing string teacup steepled in her fingers. “What the hell?” she exclaims, collapsing her teacup and coming over to join me on the couch.

  “I know,” I reply, studying the detail. The body seems to be made from some sort of rock. The drawing is raised and bumpy, very rough feeling. I can’t tell how the texture was achieved on paper. I also notice that it appears to have arms that collapse into the body. The arms appear human, except with long skinny fingers. The legs, too, except resembling more of a spider. Its snake eyes have red centers. They gleam in the room’s light. At the back of the open throat, I see a ball of fire waiting to erupt. It also has a snake’s tongue.

  “Ew,” I deduce. “That’s what he really looks like?”

  “No, that’s what the lower order fallen angels look like,” Persephone replies. “Turn to page twenty-five.”

  On page twenty-five, I find the following passage:

  “Revelation 13:1:

  ‘And I saw a beast rising out of the sea, with ten horns and seven heads, with ten diadems on its horns and blasphemous names on its heads.’”

  “What.” A beat. “His tattoo…”

  I trace the new picture. Same rock-like texture. Same everything besides bonus heads. Seven truly terrifying large heads splay out from its massive serpent body. They’re not snake-like. In fact, they all look human. Or at least mostly human, part beast. Haunting. The picture makes them look as though they’re moving, floating around each other similar to a hologram.

  “Well, he didn’t always look like that, you know,” Persephone says, back to her glowing string.

  “Once upon a time, he was an archangel.”

  “Yes, and they don’t look like humans either. Unless they choose to. They’re beautiful, though, not ugly like those beasts.”

  Toward the end of the book I see a page featuring a giant staff. Moses’s. The staff is featured alone—parting two walls of sea. It’s very tall and wooden. Crooked.

  Defeat of the serpent must be committed in his own dwelling, the place called Hell. To get there, one must utilize the Holy Staff to part the waters of the vortex in order to travel to the depths of Hell.

  I need that staff.

  “There’s a picture of Moses’s staff,” I say.

  “Ahh yes, also known as the ‘Rod of Moses.’”

  “Where can I find it, Seph? It doesn’t give a map,” I say, scanning pages.

  “Let’s see,” Persephone replies, producing a book out of thin air, a Bible. “Moses had a staff in his hand while God spoke to him at the burning bush. He told him, ‘And thou shalt take this rod in thine hand, wherewith thou shalt do signs.’”

  “Like part the Red Sea,” I nod.

  “Yes, and the battle at Rephidim.”

  “So, I need the staff to unlock the vortex in the tomb to get to Hell.”

  “Yes, it seems when Lucifer was banished to Hell on Earth, it was not technically on Earth. Earth is a mixture of Heaven and Hell. Just look around you. There’s so much good, not just evil,” Persephone explains.

  I touch the moonstone heart hanging from my bracelet. I picture the tiny sleeping bag figurine in my pocket. Axel’s chubby little fingers wrapped around his bulldozer. Then, my mind wanders to death and destruction, violence, rape, and tiny bottles of blue elixir.

  “You see, the plane crosses over in the same way as the Spirit World,” she continues.

  “And that’s why Lucifer can cross over from Hell to Earth.”

  “Yes, Hell is actually located inside the Earth,” she reads from another book.

  “What book is that?”

  “The Dead Sea Scrolls,” she replies.

  “You know Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek?” Stupid question. She’s fluent in all languages, current and dead.

  “Stupid question.” She rolls her eyes, answering my unspoken thought.

  “So I have to go through the sea to get to the center of Earth, which is Hell’s physical location. I have to find another primordial Holy Relic to do so. Oh, easy peasy.”

  “Yeah,” she replies, thoughtfully flipping through her pages.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” I say, rubbing my tired eyes. It’s still daytime. I’m exhausted.

  “Here’s an endnote,” she responds, inspecting the bottom of the page. “It roughly translates to: ‘God shall judge through sin and death. He will send those deserving to Hell. Otherwise, an instrument needeth be used to part the waters of the downward path.’”

  “Where is this instrument?”

  She flips through pages. “Okay. Moses’s staff was left in the care of his ancestors. Which happen to be near the sea.”

  “Turquoise.”

  “Yes, Turquoise Shire has a direct link to him.”

  “Looks like we’re going to Turquoise,” I deduce.

  “Looks that way. Maybe you’ll see Brooks...”

  I flush involuntarily. “Maybe. Haven’t even thought of it.” I shrug, walking over to my bag.

  “Hmm. Yeah, I’ll bet,” Persephone replies preoccupied.

  Hands in bag, I look over at her. She’s holding a Barbie and a Ken doll. They look eerily familiar. One has long white-blonde hair, the other medium-length, shaggy dirty blonde. You have got to be kidding me.

  “Seph, that’s ancient history.”

  “Not sure about that,” she says, changing their clothes. Summer attire.

  My blind search is futile. This bag has no bottom. I dump its contents on the bed. An incredibly sizable jumble mounds the covers. I start rifling through clothing.

  “It’s been so long, Brooks. Too long.” Persephone speaks for Barbie. She’s got a dream house now. Her hologram turquoise and wooden Barbie-sized mansion is situated along a recognizable powdery beach. I roll my eyes.

  “I know, Lyv. I’ve missed you so,” she says in a deep voice. She pulls Ken’s arm out and links it with Barbie’s. “Let’s go out to the beach like we used to.”

  I ignore this display.


  “Oh yes, I would just love that, Brooks. Remember the one time we went down to the water… It was a beautiful sunset, shimmering on pristine waves. There was a slight breeze. You touched my cheek, then slid wind-blown strands of hair behind my ear, and we—”

  “Enough, Seph. I get it,” I say, now laying out possible outfits. “Like I said that’s ancient history. Probably won’t even see him. I gotta go right to the leader.”

  “Then why, pray tell, are you laying out possible outfits? Your hottest possible outfits…” She mumbles the last sentence under her breath.

  “I’m just trying to find something suitable for the terrain,” I reply, finally selecting an ensemble and taking it into the bathroom.

  “Isn’t that your favorite skirt?” Persephone asks from the floor. She’s belly-down with her miniature Brooks and Lyvia walking along the hologram beach.

  I ignore her question and turn on the walk-in shower. The heated water sprays down on my head and from the sides as I wash up. Once I get out, I put on some makeup. Not too much, mind you. Well, maybe a little more than usual. Gold dusted, smoky eyes topped with a glossy nude lip.

  I spot a towel with a tiny embroidered word on it. Hair. I wrap my hair in it. It becomes warm on my head. Within seconds it slips off on its own accord. My hair is completely dry and styled, loose and wavy. It looks as if I just used an iron.

  I dress in, yes, my favorite skirt. It’s short and lightweight, flares out slightly. The fabric layers in flaps. Slits cut open in the front on each thigh. Always kind of reminded me of Wonder Woman’s. I have it in a variety of colors and textures. It’s my signature piece. This one’s aquamarine but sheens as fish scales in the light. I pair it with an equally lightweight strapless white top, sweetheart neckline and a corset back with matching aquamarine ribbon, tied in a bow. With a spritz of ‘Perfume’ that smells like butter cookies and a touch of pumpkin spice, I reenter the living room.

  “Wow,” Persephone says, looking up from her dream house. Mini Lyv and Brooks are now entangled in each other’s arms on the beach. Good Lord.

  “What? It’s Turquoise attire,” I reply, packing my bag. I debate leaving some things here, but I don’t know when or if I’ll be back. Looks as though the hefty monstrosity will be continuing the journey as is.

  “It most certainly is,” she says. Mini Brooks is running his fingers through mini Lyv’s hair.

  “Okay Seph, put it away. We need a game plan,” I tell her, strapping on my warrior sandals. I check to make sure I still have my necklace on. It features a small platinum cross and a rectangular tag, a gift from my brother. The tag reads, “I love you, love Shane,” in his handwriting. He sent it to me when we were away from each other last year.

  Persephone waves her hands over her mini ‘Brooks and Lyvia: Lovers on the Beach’ doll set, and it vanishes from sight.

  “If we leave now, what time will we get there?”

  “If we leave right now, no stopping for chitchat, we can get there by six o’clock tonight.”

  “Okay. That would be good. I think Noelani will be finishing up her meeting by then. We can grab some food in the city on the way.” I flash to the necklace I have never seen Lani without. I put Seph in my bag and head down the steps.

  “Regina,” I call, but get no answer. That works out. I can get on my way.

  Outside, I make my path through Regina’s jungle garden. The myriad of colors creates a stained-glass effect. The petals almost paint a picture. I can’t tell what it is though. I spot Regina’s paisley bag hanging from a clothesline.

  23

  As I walk into town toward the start of the SkyChariot, I spot movement from my left. A large pit bull comes bounding at me. She jumps up and I grab her front paws.

  “Hey, girl,” I say, noticing her gender. I set her down. She waggles her tail and paces in front of me back-and-forth.

  “Chloe—” I hear a woman’s voice calling from a cottage tucked in the foliage. She appears at the mouth of the trees obscuring her home. She’s wearing a short 1970s style dress with billowy sleeves. Slouched boots. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun.

  “Hi,” she calls as she walks over. “I was tying up the others when she shot off.”

  “Oh, it’s no problem. I love dogs,” I respond, laughing and squatting to pet Chloe. As she nears me, I can’t help but catch that familiar feeling again. I feel as if I know her but from a different life or something.

  “I’m Claire,” she says, holding out her hand.

  “Lyvia,” I reply, shaking it. “Nice to meet you. You’ve got a lot of dogs.”

  “Yeah, my boyfriend and I adopted them,” she replies, joining me with Chloe.

  “That’s awesome. He must really love dogs too.”

  “Yeah,” she responds noncommittally. I sense something there. Sadness.

  “Were you born here?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “No, I was born in Ruby,” she answers. No surprise there, with the animals and all. “Switched about three months ago, before—”

  She gets cut off when Chloe freezes. The hair on her back spikes straight up. She seems to have spotted a small animal. A squirrel to be exact. Ugh. Claire grabs her collar at the speed of light sensing the bait as quick as the pit bull.

  “It was nice to meet you, Lyvia. I gotta get her back. See you around,” she waves with her free hand.

  “Sounds good. Bye, Claire,” I call out, continuing my path. It’s a little bit of a trek to the SkyChariot stop right outside of Crystal. It’s beautiful out. The town looks livelier than I’ve seen it since I’ve gotten here.

  Two guys are unloading bags of cement. It looks as though they’re repaving an area. I spot three girls slightly younger camped around the fountain on the other side of the walkway. Two are sitting on the stone ledge. The third is sitting on the ground. Her eyes are shaded with large sunglasses and her head rests on the fountain’s granite lip. Her finger lazily traces circles on the gemstone-pebbled road. The other two giggle at a magazine between them sneaking surreptitious glances at the boys.

  A couple strolls by in the opposite direction holding hands. She looks up at him and nuzzles her head against his shoulder. Yuck. I want to rip their hands apart and yell, “It’s not real!” because I, for one, know it never is.

  Coming outside a clothing store, I spot a familiar golden mane. “Scarlett,” I call with a wave. She’s got heaping shopping bags in each hand. A bored Axel follows behind. Tiny fingers clutch a bag. A sticky red licorice rope is clasped in the others.

  “Lyvia,” she calls back, heading over. “How’s it going? Any news? Dagan?”

  I don’t have the heart to tell her about Dagan right now. I just can’t do it. “No word,” I answer, stooping down to Axel. “Hey buddy, remember me?”

  “Yes. Hi, Via.” Via. That’s a new one. I like it.

  “You want some? You want some? You want some?” He holds out his gooey red candy. His eyes are magnified by the thick black frames of his tiny eyeglasses. It may be the cutest site I’ve ever seen.

  “Mm that looks good, Ax, but it’s all you.” I tousle his hair and stand up.

  “Nothing, huh?” Scarlett ponders, the bags pulling heavily at her arms. “That’s weird, but not entirely. He disappears sometimes. I’m not sure where he goes. I think it’s mostly research. He must be hiding out still. Have you learned anything about Levi and all that?”

  The truth is I want to fill her in on everything, but I don’t have time. I must get to Turquoise. “No, not really. I’m headed out to Turquoise. I gotta meet with the leader up there for some information that will help, hopefully.”

  “Okay, well, if you need anything, let me know,” she says, giving me a half-hug with her full arms.

  “Bye, Via,” Axel calls. He swings around a giant shopping bag and hugs my legs.

  “Bye Axel,” I squat down for a proper squeeze.

  “Okay, I’ll see ya later, guys,” I say, standing back up. “I’ll keep you posted, Scar.�
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  “Please do,” she says, already hustling away. Her arms look they won’t make it much farther. I’d wage all the virtues I have to my name that she’ll make it home without having to stop and readjust once. Superwoman.

  Onward I go.

  Smack. Smack. Smack. Slapping against sidewalk. I steer around children playing double-Dutch with jump ropes. Each rope glitters in the sun before taking turns to clap the walkway.

  A tall guy brushes past me on the detour. He’s wearing a baseball hat, sunglasses, t-shirt and jeans.

  A memory forms. Slap. Slap. Slap. Black inky waves gently spank smooth damp sand, a gentle hand lashing velvety flesh. Moonlight. A strong wind caresses exposed skin with hot humid kisses. Phantom suntan lotion and fresh clean aftershave fill my nose. Flash of black. Thick gooey copper coats my tongue.

  I do a quick double take. I always have to be aware of my surroundings. Because of my need to stay under-the-radar, I keep on my toes, especially now. I flip back casually and take a quick scan. The guy gets lost in the crowd almost instantly. Of course, ‘livelier’ today.

  I catch him cross to the right and head into a bar. I decide to take a speedy backtrack. Something about him. I should don a disguise. When you see a guy enter a bar alone—or with people—you can expect him to linger. I spot a bathhouse two doors down.

  Bathhouses in Crystal are reminiscent of the time when men swam in tight prison-striped onesies that went down to their calves, and women wore swim dresses with petticoats. The hems were shortened. But still.

  These bathhouses, though, serve as the town’s rest areas, not just changing rooms. They’re much more than a pit stop. Lounge Cache’s feature hotel luxury and amenities. Each contain separate men’s and women’s parlors with every convenience and service one might need—free of charge.

  I walk into this one and go straight for the ladies’ wing. Just follow the pink. The cotton candy hallway opens into a cavernous room with walls of mirrors. My eyes are immediately drawn to the large aquamarine pool in the center. The sea green water looks like a Turquoise surf, just smaller. The floor has the texture of damp spongy sand, although it’s not.

  At its center, stands an extravagant statue of a woman. She’s in a mystical, magical forest. Long, straight, straggly hair frame her openly defiant face. She’s wearing swaths of torn cloth tied around her breasts and hips. As I move around the statue, it melds into another woman.