by Mary Eicher
“Hello,” Artemis said, her blue eyes fixed on him.
His leg began to wiggle as he bounced his heel up and down nervously. He’d felt the explosion, heard it, and knew his final escalation had been successful. The explosives planted beneath the stage had gone off right on time. He tried to find out more about it from the guards without implicating himself, but they weren’t interested in talking to him. Consumed with curiosity, he’d demanded to see the woman he hoped had just been killed. Three hours later, she had walked in the door, and Uberdorf decided to go a different way.
“I heard it,” he told her.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she responded coldly. “You set it up and knew exactly when the bomb would go off.”
“The Harbinger!” He leaned forward and rested his cuffs on the table. “I heard the Harbinger bells.” His voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do.”
Artemis hadn’t known why Uberdorf asked to see her; perhaps to gloat, but she hadn’t expected this. Her face softened, and she lowered her eyes.
“The cops said you know all about the Harbinger,” Uberdorf continued. “Gave a speech about it.” He no longer seemed angry, merely vulnerable. “I thought you could tell me what to do.”
Artemis gave him a sympathetic look. “There’s no antidote if that’s what you mean.”
“I know.”
“And there’s no need to be afraid.”
She sensed him resist that part. She took out the recorder and played the chords on the tape player for him. “Is this what you heard?”
He squirmed in his chair. “Yeah, sort of. It sounded a lot like that. But much, much louder. Where did you get that? I could use something like that in my business, you know.”
“I made it. It’s not the actual Harbinger, Jamil,” she said. “What you have experienced is the real thing.”
Uberdorf drew his mouth into a thin line. “I don’t want to die. Not here. Not like this.”
“Do you need a lawyer to get things in order?” she asked. “I’m a lawyer. I can help you with that.”
He lifted his hands and awkwardly scratched the short hair at the crown of his head.
“Naw. I got that all done. I was going to go to South America. I got everything ready. I knew my evangelist days were numbered. That Stone bitch made that real clear. And things didn’t exactly go as planned here. You saw to that.”
His gaze flashed angry again for a moment. Then he visibly relaxed.
“Where would you want to be when it happens?” she asked.
“Home. I’ve got a new crib. It’s great. Got a pool and stuff. I’d like to go there.”
She knew he would never apologize for the terrible things he’d done. He wasn’t really aware of how he’d hurt people with his scam. She doubted he thought the violence had been wrong. But she knew the final day would bring him peace. She stood and offered to shake his hand.
“I wish you peace, Jamil,” she told him, feeling a deep sadness that he still failed to grasp the import of what he had done.
He sat and watched her call for the guard and leave. At least she hadn’t beaten him up again, he thought. He was lying on the cot in his cell when the officer came and told him Artemis had arranged his bail, having somehow managed for him to be released.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Just after midnight, the governor received a message from the attorney general. Uberdorf had been released. No one agreed with the decision, but Hemsley had called in every chit he had to get it done on a Friday night in the middle of unbelievable chaos. It was all but impossible, but it would have been truly impossible to deny the Andronikos woman the one favor she asked.
“Blessed are the peacemakers,” Hemsley said, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes.
“Amen,” Jim said as he came into the governor’s office still clad in the ink-stained suit. It had become a badge of honor.
“You still here?” Hemsley asked.
“If you’re here, I’m here,” his assistant said with a mock salute.
Jim brought his boss up to date on the situation at the convention center. There were no serious injuries beyond cuts and bruises. The auditorium was a mess but there were no additional explosives found.
“We were lucky, Sam,” Jim pronounced. “No one died.”
“Except for your suit, Jim. That’s a total loss.”
Jim brushed the stain with his hand. “I’m beginning to like it. It’s like a purple heart or something.”
They discussed the media coverage for a while. Artemis’s speech and the explosion were repeated in what seemed an endless open loop locally. Even the cable channels had made it the centerpiece of their evening broadcasts.
“It’s not that bad,” Jim said with a face too grim to be believed.
The governor shook his head. “Yes, it is. You’re like Cinderella, Jim. Only it’s after midnight, and the magic is over. But there’s no point in turning tail. We’ve got to finish it. I want to hold the Q and A session in the next day or two.”
Jim sank into a nearby chair. His instinct was to put the matter behind them as quickly as possible. Let the weekend happen. No one watches the news on the weekend, and by Monday, with any luck, there’d be an entirely different news cycle and a fresh disaster to report on.
Hemsley picked up the official conference report that was mainly a hardcopy version of the presenters’ speeches and thumbed through it.
“There’s good work here. We can get a lot of this through the state legislature. We can repeal restrictive measures, fund the rebuilding of churches, and use the media to reassure people. We can still do all this if we get the legislative leaders and the public to support it.”
“Is that all? Or we could just enjoy the holidays and make ready to celebrate your inauguration.”
“The point of having a second term is so that I can repair the damage from my first term. Government needs to get out of the way and let people come to their own decisions, Jim. Then we can help them live their lives. People just want to be free. Why is that so damn hard for us to remember?”
“You might get the state legislature to go along with you, but I can only imagine how POTUS is going to react. Going to keep the lawyers employed I’m afraid. Speaking of lawyers, have you heard from Miss Andronikos? I heard she bailed out Uberdorf.”
Hemsley chuckled. “Yes, I did. She’s an amazing woman.”
“She’s not married, you know,” Jim ventured. “She’d make a terrific first lady.”
“She’d make a better governor.”
*
Artemis eased her way out of the bed, careful not to wake either Lucy or the child sleeping peacefully between them. She put on a white hotel robe over her shift and crept silently to open the glass door to the tiny balcony. She stepped barefoot into the cold night air and gazed up at the sky. The rain having passed, a three-quarter moon shone low in the west. It was three o’clock, the witching hour.
She knelt on the cold cement and extended her arms out from her shoulders, turning her forearms up and palms to the moon. Closing her eyes, she listened for the voices to come.
“What are you doing?” Lucy whispered from the door.
“Listening.” Artemis relaxed her arms and got to her feet. “Only there was nothing to hear.”
She went back into the room and for the first time became aware of the chill in the air. She rubbed her arms.
“What did you want to hear?” Lucy asked.
Artemis managed a sheepish smile. “Whispers.”
“Oh. I see.” Lucy stared at her not seeing at all. “What did you want these whispers to tell you?”
Artemis shed the robe and began to dress. “I need to speak to Wolf.”
Lucy put her hand on Artemis’s arm. “Wait. Wait. Temmie, it’s the middle of the night. Can’t this, whatever this is, wait until morning?”
Artemis tucked her shirt into the waist of her jeans. “It’s not over yet, Lucy. I can feel it. I may have made things worse. I need
to find out what to do now.”
“And Wolf will know?” Lucy folded her arms. “What? Please, Temmie, let me in.”
Artemis wrapped Lucy in her arms and kissed the top of her head. She worried that Lucy wasn’t strong enough just yet to accept the full measure of her peculiarities. She had never explained them to her lover; she couldn’t risk the disapproval they might illicit. But Strang had recognized Artemis from the beginning. And he had been more certain than she was herself of the destiny she was bound to.
“I’m just going to go talk with him,” Artemis said. “I’ll be back soon.”
*
Strang met her in the lobby after getting her call. He let her select a seat and then settled beside her on the plush sofa. His eyes crinkled as he studied her, and he grinned when she stifled a yawn.
“Sorry to disturb you so late,” she apologized.
“It’s just midnight Hawaiian time. You didn’t disturb me. But my darling goddess is weary, I see. Of course, goddesses don’t actually get tired, I’m told. Perhaps the day has been too boring for you what with dodging explosions and pummeling nefarious villains.”
Artemis laughed limply. “Just another day on a small planet in a vast universe.”
It was his turn to chuckle. “What keeps you from a good night’s sleep, Temmie? Which of the myriad of events of this astonishing day has you so concerned?”
“I fear I’ve only made things worse.”
Strang could see she was truly troubled, although he didn’t agree that she had done anything other than what she was meant to do.
“I’ve endangered the children. People aren’t ready to accept the change. God, when you think of how change has gone all through history.” She put her hands to her face and sighed. “I should have waited to say anything. I should have eased into it.”
“This was the time and place appointed for you, Temmie. You didn’t seek it. It was thrust upon you. You were guided here, my darling girl. And how long should the world wait to embrace a change that has already happened? Hum?”
She had no answer for him or for the alarm savaging her nerves. She stood and paced, unable to think what to do about the way she felt. Strang rose and walked with her. The lobby was quiet at the late hour. The drama of the past twenty-four hours had tempered the usual Friday night carousers as had the omnipresence of the police. The bar had closed, and the lights had been dimmed once the last guests had gone to their rooms.
“Has it occurred to you that you are asking the wrong person?” he queried after a period of silence. “Perhaps the oracle can ease your mind.”
Artemis stopped and gaped at him, taken with an idea. “Not Angie,” she said shaking her head. “But I could ask the voice that speaks to her.”
“The same voice that used to speak to you. I recognized the connection the first time I saw you with the child. You are living proof of that which connects us all. Even a blind scientist could see it. And I, my darling goddess, am far from blind.”
Her sense of euphoria had one drawback. “Lucy will freak.”
“I don’t think so, Temmie. Lucy loves you, and she knows more than you give her credit for. Lucy has a role in all of this just like you.” He grinned, tugging on his jacket. “She’s meant to center you with love, of course. But she is meant to do much more if you let her. May I accompany you when you ask her?”
*
Strang took Angie and settled into the small sofa with her in his lap. He asked if she concurred with what they were about to do. Angie nodded and leaned back against his chest. Artemis knelt on the floor in front of them. She extended her arms to the side and turned her palms upward. Silencing her conscious mind, Artemis closed her eyes and drew in a slow deep breath.
“I want to speak to Angie’s angel,” she whispered.
Angie’s eyelids fluttered, and her face relaxed as if she were asleep. She lay back, gently cradled against Strang’s chest.
Claire reached over and took her daughter’s hand. She had no idea what to expect. Angie telling them what the voice said was altogether different than hearing the voice directly. She made the sign of the cross and held her breath. Lucy bit her lip to keep from chastising her.
“Yes, Artemis. I am here.”
The voice was not Angie’s, and yet it was. It was deeper and seemed to come from a great distance. Strang’s eyes filled with fascination. He held firmly to Angie and watched as Artemis reacted to the speaker. Her back stiffened. Her eyes opened, the irises dark save for bits of silver light, and she seemed removed to a different point in time.
The voice continued, “You have discovered the answer to the ability named the Harbinger. What more do you wish to know?”
“I want to know why. Why has the Harbinger been given to us?”
Angie’s body stirred, and Strang held her closer.
“It is a gift to future generations. Its purpose will be clear to them. It is necessary for the species to progress. The time is coming when they must decide what manner of being they shall become.”
Artemis drew in a ragged breath. “Have I done the right thing?”
“Dear Artemis, the one with so many gifts and so many questions. You have done what needed to be done.”
“Then why have I no peace?”
“It is not in the nature of the hunter to be at peace.”
Strang observed the reaction of the two women standing behind Artemis. Lucy had a slight smile as she listened, the reporter in her fascinated by what was taking place. Her mother looked pale and confused as if she was standing in a room filled with ghosts. Her eyes were wide with astonishment as she watched the sleeping child talk.
Settling back on her heels, Artemis lowered her arms and drew the next question from the deepest pain in her heart. “Why Cab? Why did my brother have to die?”
“He agreed to serve his role in this life so that you could fulfill yours. He is a generous spirit, Artemis, a loving brother. He never left you to make this journey alone.”
Tears filled her eyes. “But I am the one who…who was touched, not Cab. Why did the Harbinger happen to him and not me?”
“You have always had the ability you call the Harbinger,” the voice told her. “You chose to refuse it. You stopped listening. You didn’t want to accept the physical world. Ichabod’s death was an event from which you could not turn away.”
Tears spilled down her cheek as Artemis understood her brother had died for her. Lucy bent down and embraced her.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Lucy told her. “It was never your fault.”
“Listen to your companion, Artemis. You have been bound together since the beginning. Her spirit is the mate to yours. She is the light that shows the hunter the way.”
Strang took the opportunity to ask a question of his own. “Angel, if I may inquire about dark matter. Am I correct in my hypothesis?”
Angie stirred. Her face turned toward him, but she continued to sleep. Her lips moved as the voice answered through her.
“You are not. What you call dark matter is that which you cannot yet comprehend. But we are grateful to you, Wolfgang Strang. Your wisdom is of great help in achieving awareness of that which is. The definition of the universe you have sought for millennia will elude you yet longer.”
Angie opened her eyes and sat up, staring at the adults in front of her. Lucy was hugging a weeping Artemis. Strang set Angie on her feet and tousled her curly hair. Lucy’s mother stood with her mouth working as if she was talking but emitting no sound. Strang chuckled. Angie cocked her head and put her hands on her hips.
“Well, I’m not letting any of you do that ever again,” she told them. “Now can we go have breakfast? I’m hungry.”
*
“Okay, little man. Time to do something for Daddy.” Joe sat in front of his son’s highchair and slipped a lottery game sheet on the tray. “Come on. Show Daddy what numbers to pick.”
The fourteen-month-old boy put the crayon in his mouth and tasted it. His father scrape
d the wax chips off the kid’s tongue.
“Come on, Joey.” He put the crayon in the boy’s hand and pressed it against the sheet of paper. “Stop fooling around.”
Folding his arms at the edge of the tray, the father waited for his son to make marks with the crayon. He nudged the slip of paper with his finger, coaxing the kid to take an interest.
“What are you doing?” his wife asked, standing at the sink and shaking her head.
“Making us rich,” Joe told her. “That woman on TV said kids can see into the future. Did you see them go nuts about the bomb that was about to go off? I’m just asking for a little help from our son so I can go buy the winning ticket. The jackpot is one hundred and fifty-six million bucks.”
The woman walked over to the highchair. Her husband might just be making sense for once, she thought. She wiggled the lottery paper and cooed to the little boy. “You can do it, sweetheart.”
The child eventually made six marks on the paper, and his father grabbed it up and kissed it as he hurried to the door.
“Play them all, Joe.” His wife called after him. “Don’t forget Fantasy Five.”
Little Joey took another bite of the crayon. He didn’t know what his parents were getting so excited about, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He tossed what was left of the crayon to the floor and waited for his mother to bring him a bowl of Cheerios, which he already knew would taste much, much better.
The line at the Quick Mart was filled with parents who had come up with the same idea. The children were more interested in the candy aisle than the lotto sheets being thrust at them. They marked the papers up and begged a treat for cooperating. Their parents were happy to comply, for a brief time convinced of imminent fortunes that would never actually materialize.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Although it had initially seemed impossible to arrange, Jim used his talents to reconvene the conference two days later, on a crisp Sunday afternoon. They met in the assembly room in the capitol building which had been thoroughly checked lest the cult had planned any further devastation. The auditorium bombing had intensified interest in the Harbinger what with Artemis’s strange theory and the children having clearly appeared to predict the explosion. The press had besieged the governor to conclude the conference with the question and answer session originally promised. Reacting to the demand, Jim had produced yet another miracle getting things together.