by Mary Eicher
When Lucy returned from her daughter’s bedroom, she found Artemis had turned off the lights in the living room and was standing at the edge of the window peering through the blinds into the night.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
Artemis raised her hand, motioning for Lucy to keep quiet. “There’s someone out there. Two men are sitting in a truck watching the house. I saw them at the mall when we were walking to the car. I sensed we were being followed. They have been just sitting there for hours.” She stepped away from the curtain. “They are Uberdorf’s men.”
Lucy’s eyes grew wide. “Should we call 9-1-1?”
Artemis shook her head. “No. Evidently they were instructed to follow us. They’ll leave if we keep the lights off.” She sat on the couch and patted the cushions. “But in case they don’t, mind if I spend the night on your couch? Platonically, of course, friend.”
Lucy laughed. “You don’t have to do that.”
Artemis could see an invitation in Lucy’s eyes. “Nope. A deal’s a deal,” she said as she stretched out. “I could use a blanket though.”
*
The huge crowd had started assembling near a LAX overflow lot at noon on a bright Saturday afternoon. It had an angry restlessness that grew as its numbers swelled. They were not going to march around this day. They were not interested in making a peaceful statement. They were charged with the kind of anger that looks for a source rather than responds to a specific provocation.
Servants of the Harbinger were leading chants and working emotions to a crescendo. There were plenty of reasons for the people to be angry and lots of undirected aggression just waiting to be tapped. The detention centers were a main sore point. People whose loved ones had been taken away yelled on bullhorns and posted pictures of the “missing.” But there were issues enough to satisfy every person assembled. The Servants carefully worked the crowd, nudging frustrations toward the trappings of the one percent.
They attacked hotels first, trashing the lobbies and setting fires in parking lots. Then, like a prowling animal, they stalked a new venue to display their anger. By 3:00 p.m. the airport had closed, and flights were being redirected sixty miles inland to airports in the Inland Empire. Uberdorf kept in constant contact with his men. They moved the demonstrators toward downtown where banks and shopping centers fell victim to the rage.
The police tended to stand back, outnumbered and not unsympathetic to the mob. They did not interfere with the damage being visited on property but maintained vigilance against harm to bystanders who were less in need of a cathartic release.
The local channels covered the beast as it surged up streets and acted out its frustration. They were not alone. Similar, if less violent, demonstrations had begun in dozens of cities. It had been a way of life since the night after the election.
Governor Hemsley watched coverage of the events for a while and then turned the television off. Sacramento was being hit as well. His first instinct was to beef up law enforcement, but he demurred. The people were right to be angry. Hemsley’s initial actions regarding the Harbinger had been a series of terrible mistakes. He had failed the people and the government was continuing to fail them. He had suppressed information and let that loathsome con artist Uberdorf fill the gap with lies. He wouldn’t punish the citizens for raging at that fact.
He was determined to be a better governor and a better man. He was going to be the man he should have been all along. He was going to help the people of the great state of California. And he started by rescinding his decision to kill Jamil Uberdorf. He directed the state’s attorney general to begin an investigation of the Servants of the Harbinger cult to assist Assemblywoman Susan Stone. He would take the wretched man down legally to discredit him and let the truth of Uberdorf’s diabolical manipulations be told.
He was also going to change his cabinet. He didn’t want yes-men and political hacks. He wanted honest leaders who would finally solve problems that had lingered for decades. He was going to thwart the president and disengage from the directives being forced down the throat of the governors. Hemsley knew with certainty that detainment camps and governmental crackdowns had been a mistake. It might cost him everything, but he was not going to comply.
As for the Harbinger, Hemsley mulled the idea of bringing religious leaders together to determine what if anything could be done to settle their disagreements. He would bring in others from the communities up and down the state. He walked about his office, his mind sorting through names that had crossed his desk since the Harbinger hysteria had started.
Maybe he’d invite bloggers with attitudes both pro and con regarding the Harbinger. Maybe he’d ask that lawyer who had offered her processes to the government months ago. She had read the situation early and taken action. Hers was the kind of approach he was looking for. The more he pondered, the better the new way of thinking felt. He would go to the people, and he would find new participants and bring them in to solve problems. And he would do it all before the holidays. It was the best Christmas gift he could give to the people who had placed their trust in him again.
“What’s the name of that lawyer who we got in touch with a few months back?” he asked his chief of staff.
“Who? You have to give me more specifics, Sam. Everyone we know is a lawyer.”
“The one who sent us those legal processes to handle wills and such.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. She had a strange name. I think it was some sort of goddess like Athena or…Artemis.” He snapped his fingers. “That was it, Artemis something.”
The governor nodded. “Yes, that sounds right, Artemis. Do you think you could find her for me?”
“Probably, but we gave all that stuff to the legislature, and they’ve already acted upon it.” Jim wasn’t following the governor’s lead. “Can’t it wait? We got a crisis out there.” He scrunched up his mouth. “If you want to take a while to consider your options, well, okay.” He waited to see how the governor would react. But Sam merely sat behind his desk and said nothing. “I know it’s still so soon after Sarah.”
Hemsley turned toward the wedding picture he kept on his desk. “It’s because of Sarah that I’m changing things.” He stood and faced his chief of staff. “I want to think she was merely looking after my interests, Jim. But she was wrong to do what she did. She wanted me to have power. But what’s the point of power unless I’m prepared to do the right thing? Get me airtime for this evening. I want to talk to the people of this state. I want to tell them they’ve been heard.”
*
Strang pressed in for a closer look. The tiny curl at the edge of the Great Rift was continuing to change ever so slightly. It looked like a hook about to close on itself. The image was not crisp. The fact there was an image visible at all was miraculous. The Great Rift was huge, but it was unimaginably far away and composed of billions of points of light. He set aside his eyepiece and sighed.
“Phaeton?” he asked. “What are you trying to tell us?”
He had to stretch his legs. He went out on the lanai and saw Willa watching the sunset. He placed his hand on her shoulder and bent down to kiss her head. She was failing. He could see in her face that she was tired of the struggle.
“How goes the mystery?” she asked, her voice thin and barely audible.
“It remains a mystery.” He stepped behind her and gently stroked her shoulders. “I am not the scientist I once was.”
She patted his hand. “Do you still believe Phaeton has sent the Harbinger, my dear?”
He kissed the top of her head. “I believe the Harbinger has visited you.”
He sat down beside her and took her hand in his. She smiled and gave him a simple nod.
“This morning. We knew it was going to happen.” She looked up at him and then closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. “At least now we know the wait is almost over.”
He helped her up and walked her into the bedroom. He lowered her to bed, lifted her legs onto
a pillow, and covered her with the blanket. He would put aside the mystery for the next three days and spend every second with her. It was a relief in a way, to know that Willa would find release from the pain. And yet, he felt his heart breaking as he petted her temple until she fell asleep.
She roused a few hours later and snuggled next to him.
“Tell Temmie when she comes, I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for her.”
Strang peered into the dark room, cuddling his wife beside him. He thought of the moment he first saw her. She’d been working as a native dancer at the Marriott. He’d walked over, intent on introducing himself to the lovely island beauty. But before he could say a word, she’d smiled at him, and he had gone suddenly mute, his heart bursting at the mere sight of her. He had loved her from that instant. She had been the center of his universe ever since.
Chapter Eighteen
Uberdorf sat down gingerly. The pain in his kidney still bothered him almost as much as having taken a beating in front of his men. He hated that woman even if she was pretty. Come to think of it, she wasn’t all that much. She was skinny which made her boobs look bigger than they probably were, and those pale eyes were creepy. And she was too tall, taller than a female should be by half a foot, and unnaturally strong. His spies had said her gate swung the wrong way. No one could seduce that. He stood up because sitting was too uncomfortable.
His new office was posh and yet monkish at the same time. The furniture was sparse but expensive. He was free to spend the cult’s funds as he pleased, and he’d been on a spending spree. The latest acquisition was the brand-new black Cadillac in the garage. Being free of his mentor had very nice financial benefits, but it left him feeling untethered in an atmosphere fraught with legal land mines. He needed to keep his head straight and double-check every step before he took it.
He wanted to go to the stage and make sure the elixir display was completed. He had one of the Servants bring around the big caddy and drive him there only to find the stage door locked. The government had confiscated his property and posted a warrant on the door. He kicked the door repeatedly and yelled. He’d had enough of this harassment. He was a legitimate televangelist. His followers would not stand for this. He dusted his hands and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, gradually regaining his composure. He would plan an appropriate revenge, he vowed. He would take out that Stone woman who was having him investigated. But first, he’d get even with that dark-haired witch. She must have put a spell on him, he thought.
He got back into the car, wincing at the sharp pain in his back, and told the driver to take him back to his office. Along the way he made two phone calls. The first was to a Servant in Sacramento. The second was to an old buddy of his in South Central. He lit a cigarette to calm his mood and settled back to work out the details.
He liked the new world order as the pundits called it. The rules that mattered in his sphere of activity were flimsier. The people were anxious and willing to be led. It seemed everything had turned upside down. People like him were seen as saviors, and the long-established religious leaders were despised. The world hunkered down, hoping the Harbinger would not find them. That gave a clever man like Uberdorf all the space he needed to operate.
He wanted something dramatic, something that would send shock waves of fear around the world. And there was no shortage of possibilities. He could take out a stadium, or a landmark, or even a government official. He tapped his knuckles on his head. He was thinking too small. Ordinary terrorists do those things. He was not ordinary, nor did he consider himself a terrorist. He was the leader of an entire religion who wielded the power of a vengeful God.
“What would a vengeful God do?” he asked himself.
He pulled out the Bible and flipped through the pages. The Old Testament was full of the wrath of God. He’d knocked down the walls of Jericho; he’d destroyed cities like Sodom. Hell, he’d drowned the whole effing world with a great flood. Uberdorf scratched his tonsure and wondered what such a God would do today.
*
Lucy was amazed by the elaborate corkboard chart that filled the wall in Artemis’s dining room. “You’d make a great detective,” she said, reading a few of the cards. “So, what does all this tell you? And what’s all this Wolfgang Strang information?”
Artemis gave her a lengthy story about the scientist and his theory concerning the dark matter. Lucy listened without interrupting but found most of it going in one ear and out the other. Still, she liked listening to Artemis’s voice and feeling whole again.
“I thought the Great Rift was in Africa.”
Artemis chuckled. “That’s a different one.”
Artemis picked up a sheaf of papers and changed the subject. She’d received a copy of a report from her friend in Rome. It was an internal communication meant for researchers working on the Harbinger. It confirmed what he had told her. There was no evidence of an infectious agent. Preliminary work on brain scans was producing mixed reports. But there was compelling evidence of a change in brain activity. Change. The Harbinger may be activating an area of the brain that controls auditory response.
“That would be why people hear bells,” Lucy mused.
Artemis nodded. “They speculate that the headache is caused by a rush of blood to that area of the brain.”
“It makes sense, at least to me.” Lucy thought a moment. “And it would make a terrific article.”
“Don’t even think about publishing this. This is a confidential report. We aren’t supposed to have it.”
Lucy cocked her head. “There’s always the old confidential sources ploy.”
Artemis frowned. Such an article sourced to California would end any further communication from Rome.
“He’s my friend, Lucy. I can’t do that to him.”
Lucy sighed. “Now you want to keep information from the public.”
“The report says the results are preliminary. Once the WHO is certain, it will publish.”
Lucy yanked the document from Artemis’s hand.
“Now who’s being naïve? This will be communicated to governments but not to ordinary people. Just watch.”
Artemis didn’t want to disagree. She had Lucy back; nothing else mattered. And Lucy had suffered enough at work and at home. Artemis had seen the disillusionment Lucy went through when Jake refused to publish her articles. She retrieved the report and put it aside.
Lucy was standing with her back to Artemis, her arms folded and her foot tapping in agitation. Artemis slipped her arms about Lucy’s waist and nuzzled her hair.
“Um, you smell good,” she purred, pulling Lucy tight to her. “I’ve missed you.”
She moved her hands down Lucy’s torso leaving a trail of heat. Lucy moaned and melted into the embrace, feeling the hunger for her partner, so long denied, demand satisfaction.
Artemis undid the snap at Lucy’s waist, slid the zipper down, and moved her hands inside Lucy’s lacy panties. She stroked Lucy, driving the desire in them both higher. Lucy writhed against her, hands atop Temmie’s, pushing them downward to her burning center.
Withdrawing her hands, Artemis spun Lucy around and enveloped her in an eager kiss. She picked her up and carried her to a nearby chair. Pausing only to remove Lucy’s jeans and panties, Artemis sank into the chair and positioned Lucy facing her astride her lap.
“I need you,” Lucy whispered as she opened her blouse.
Artemis pushed the pretty satin bra up and fondled Lucy’s rigid nipples. Lucy arched her back, and Artemis bent to suckle at one firm breast and then the other. Lucy writhed and cradled Artemis’s head against her chest, fingers clutching the dark hair.
When she knew Lucy was at the edge, beyond want, beyond even need, Artemis responded with a more intimate touch and began to stroke ever deeper. Lucy cried out as she climaxed and then came again when the stroking persisted. Then she fell forward, her head on Temmie’s shoulder, her passion spent. She wrapped her arms around her neck and caught her breath.
�
��So, did that convince you not to write the article?” Artemis asked Lucy, still draped atop her.
Lucy sighed. “What article?”
Artemis stood up, Lucy cradled in her arms, and took her to the bedroom where she set her gently on the bed and swiftly undressed. Lucy rolled on top of her eager lover’s body, bringing her thigh tight against Artemis’s heated center. They made love until they had erased any memory of ever having been apart.
*
The classroom was full of color and texture and busy little bodies darting around in a creative frenzy. It was a special day. Angie was returning to school, and the prospect of decorating her desk invigorated the first graders. They flitted about, gathering the decorations they had made amid a constant undercurrent of sound. The teacher tapped her pen on the top of her desk and called them to attention.
“Calm down, everyone,” the teacher begged them. “Let’s show Angie our best manners, please.”
Lucy held her daughter’s hand tightly and opened the door. The class greeted her with a sound somewhere between a cheer and a giggle. Angie’s face lit up, and she accepted hugs from the friends she had been missing. Her desk was decorated with balloons and glittery stars and colored paper chains. There was a huge handmade welcome card that each of the children had signed.
The teacher smiled at Lucy. “Thank you, Ms. Breem,” she said. “We are all so happy to have Angie back. We will take good care of her.”
It was her way of indicating Lucy should leave. So, she did after giving her little girl a smile and a wave.
Artemis leaned on the car as she waited. It had been difficult for Lucy. She could tell by the way she was walking without her usual pep. Artemis was proud of her for letting Angie go back to school. It had been a giant step. She opened the car door and made a sweeping gesture with her arm.
“Is it too early to drink?” Lucy asked as she settled into the passenger seat.
“It’s never too early for mimosas,” Artemis responded, getting in behind the wheel. “How did Angie do?”
Lucy told her how the class had reacted and about the broad smile on Angie’s face as she left. Artemis headed the car to the neighborhood grocery store. It was the only place she could think of that would be open at eight in the morning. And they sold liquor.