Читать книгу Claiming Her - Marilyn "Mattie" Brahen - Страница 8

CHAPTER 5

That was the scene that remained hazily in my mind, as I awoke from the dream. My eyes opened groggily, scanning Ginnie’s alarm clock. 7:45 a.m. Ginnie still slept, and Daniel lay quiet in his makeshift crib. A peacefulness pervaded the bedroom as I lay back on my pillow.

Leigh Ann. Leianna. How strange. I remembered Bael’s intensity, his eagerness to claim me as his own.

Angels. The angelfolk. Michael, Lucifer . . . and Bael. The names of his brothers, Azmodeus and Ashtoreth, were unknown to me, but not so the names of Eve and Adam, the missing mother and uncle of my dream self.

Adam and Eve, the first humans in the bible, the parents of mankind. Were they two and the same? Or were the names a coincidence or a symbol from my own subconscious? In my dream, they were brother and sister, exiled on Earth from some place called Eliom in an immortal dimension.

The name of Lucifer was also all too familiar: the fallen archangel who founded the mythic Hell. Bael, who seemed to exist outside my dreams, had been his son.

Eliom seemed to be both the name of the village we lived in and the name of the land itself. It seemed to be an agrarian culture with huge plots of cultivation people tended as farmers—no, gardeners. I saw no equipment, no mass production. The people worked with small tools and their hands. They even called the rolling expanses of fields and groves the Garden, verbally capitalizing the name, almost reverently.

But it surely was unlike any mortal garden ever known. Bael and I had worked on a section of small pepper-like plants. The peppers grew plumply, but were a soft periwinkle blue. I remembered thinking how good they would taste when harvested.

Weedlike plants, with triangular leaves and small yellow flowers crowded the peppers, but we made no move to pull them. Instead, they received the same reverence we offered to the pepper plants.

We cupped our hands around the base of each plant, concentrating until a shimmering white mist appeared within them. The mist seeped upward to bathe the entire plant in a sparkling cloud. Energy the angelfolk generated daily to the flora of the habitat known as the Garden.

I saw no fauna in the dream, but heard the chatter of birds and insect sounds in the canopied forest glade where Bael kissed me.

“Good morning.” Ginnie studied me with half-shut eyes and yawned, stretching in bed. “You looked like you were a million miles away.”

I lay there, quietly regarding her, then asked, “Ginnie, do you believe in the stories about Heaven?”

“I, um, just woke up, and you want me to discuss religious philosophy.”

“The best time. Just pluck your answer from your fading subconscious.”

Gin gave me a small crooked smile. “Before rationality returns, you mean. Okay. Yes, I believe in Heaven. Most humans have, since history began. And even today, with all our scientific breakthroughs, people still believe, both educated and uneducated and from different cultures, in some sort of Heaven.”

“And Hell? What about Hell?”

She cast me a doleful but forgiving look. “Oh, God, Leigh. You’re getting too heavy now.”

“Well?”

“From what I’ve read, it’s a dumping ground for old deities which people used to worship hundreds of years ago. The newer religions turned them into devils and demons and stuck them in Hell. Made it taboo to worship them.”

“Gin, the concept of Hell existed long before modern theology.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t evil. Everyone went to Hades or whatever name each culture called their afterlife world. Honestly, Leigh Ann, I think I’ve studied more mythology than you have. I don’t want to get into a heavy debate, but listening to you and Mother chatter on endlessly about ghosts and ghoulies, I got curious. And while I don’t seriously believe in this stuff, but I do enjoy reading it.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’ve always liked fantasy.”

I threw my pillow at her. She caught it deftly.

“So you don’t,” I said, “believe in Hell and the concept of eternal damnation. Lucifer, Satan, and all that.”

“No. It’s not a Jewish belief. Other religions arbitrarily condemn people to Hell simply because they don’t subscribe to their particular religious doctrine. How could anyone believe that a good soul who loves God in his or her own way could be condemned for that for all eternity?”

“But what about really evil people?”

“I didn’t say God wouldn’t condemn people who commit acts of evil, just not for all eternity. If there is such a place as Hell, maybe they condemn themselves to it, knowing that their actions make them unclean in the presence of God until they change and repent. But Lucifer’s Satanic hierarchy lists quite a few gods and goddesses who predate Christianity and competed with Judaism’s monotheism, rival deities who were turned into Lucifer’s fallen minions. Ashtoreth, a Canaanite and Phoenician fertility goddess also known as Ishtar in Babylon, changed into a handsome, blond, blue-eyed, male devil with great wisdom of the sciences, especially the medical arts. He also knew all events throughout all of time.”

“Was Ashtoreth a fallen angel?” My mouth felt dry. “I mean in the Christian myths, about Hell.”

“Yes. He became a demon prince.”

“And who was Azmodeus?”

“How did you know about him?”

“I . . .” What could I tell her? “Oh, never mind. You’re right. This is getting too heavy.” The alarm clock buzzed. I leaned over the bed to check on Daniel. He was awake, quietly resting in the converted laundry basket. “The baby’s up.” I got out of bed and took him in my arms.

Gin got up and turned off the buzzer, looking at me strangely. “Azmodeus was a demon prince of lust and lechery. Old legends say he was the get of Adam and Lilith, Adam’s first wife.”

“I thought Eve was his first.”

“The sources are murky, but Genesis 5.3 says Adam was 130 years old when he had his first child with Eve, a son. Apparently Azmodeus and a host of other little devils came earlier, through Adam’s union with Lilith.”

“Mother and I never dealt with demonology. What really made you read up on all of this?”

“Are you kidding? All of that constant white light protection stuff? You never gave the bad guys a name, but it scared the hell out of me when I was younger. So, instead of looking for bogeymen in the dark, I decided to study up on it. And found it was all a bunch of rewritten religious hogwash. To the victor goes the edit job. Come on, let’s go down and get breakfast. I’ve got a class at eleven, and I can’t be late.”

“Just let me check Daniel’s diaper . . . wet. You go ahead. I’ll change him and be down in a minute.”

“Okay. Morning, Danny.” She tickled his chin lightly, making him smile. “You want coffee and toast?”

“That’s fine.” I laid Daniel on his bassinet, unsnapped the bottom of his sleeper and drew his feet and legs from it. I removed his rubber diaper — disposable diapers hadn’t yet flooded the market and conversely the landfills — and unpinned his soiled cloth diaper. Only urine stained it. I chucked it into the plastic diaper hamper beside the bassinet.

Ginnie’s answers plagued me as I rediapered the baby. Aside from the typically irritating behavior of the pre-adolescent Azmodeus, none of it jived with my dream. Of course, there was the myth of Lucifer’s fall from grace, from Heaven. Was Eliom symbolic of Heaven and Lucifer portrayed in the dream before his infamous exile?

I pulled Danny’s rubber diaper and sleeper bottoms back on, picked him up, and went downstairs to join Ginnie. Mother and I hadn’t mentioned Bael’s name to her, perhaps because of Mother’s penchant for exactness when dealing with Ginnie’s skepticism.

I wanted to ask Ginnie the etymology of that name. I was also afraid to.

Coffee was waiting on the table, and Gin was putting bread into the four-slice toaster. I put Daniel into his highchair, took a sip of coffee, then mixed the baby’s powdered formula with water for his bottle.

The coffee had been made earlier by Dad, who had left for work at eight. Fred was already on his way to school, and Mother was still asleep, a privilege she insisted on three days a week—Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays—now that her children were older. Today was Tuesday. Later on, she and I would shop for that new crib for Daniel.

Gin had warmed the coffee. Our toast popped, and Daniel’s bottle was ready. I sat at the table opposite Gin and fed Daniel while we ate.

Gin resumed the conversation for me. “You never did answer my earlier question.”

“What was it?” I couldn’t remember, my head filled with all the names and histories she’d mentioned.

“I asked you where you’d heard the name Azmodeus. I mean, it’s not your normal top-of-the-morning conversation, and you didn’t sound as if you knew the biblical history on him.”

I thought of citing a book or even a movie, but decided the truth served me better. “I dreamt about someone named Azmodeus. It was a very strange dream. I lived in a land called Eliom where I and others worked in this huge garden. I lived with my father—my mother had left us when I was small—and we were friends with another family. The family consisted of Lucifer, his wife, and their three sons. The sons were Ashtoreth, Bael, and Azmodeus.”

Ginnie silently sipped her coffee, not answering at first. Finally, she set her cup down. “Eliom sounds suspiciously like Olam. You know, Baruch Atoy Adonai, Elohenu Melech Olam. Blessed art Thou, King of the Universe. I think Olam means Universe. It sounds to me as if your subconscious was working overtime. There are other word-sound connections I picked up right away. Eliom and a vast garden. The Garden of Eden. And I’m sure even you remember the serpent was in the Garden—Lucifer. As far as the other demonic names, you must have picked them up from some source, and buried them until they appeared in your dream. You do have one heck of an imagination.”

I froze at the implication in her tone.

“What? Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. Maybe some of this psychic stuff is real. I’m just reminding you not to forget there are other explanations.”

“Maybe.” I relaxed again. “So the name Bael is among the Satanic Hierarchy?” I asked her casually, so casually that I wondered at my calmness.

Gin considered her answer carefully. “Yes, but it’s another case where the name appears in different forms, each with separate legends attached to it. Bael is supposedly a great king in Hell and looks rather strange with three heads, only one of which is a man’s. Then there’s Baal, which in ancient Hebrew meant ’little god,’ and who also doubled as a fertility god in Canaan. Not a nice guy. His cult sacrificed children by burning them . . . Leigh Ann, you’re blanching. Look, the book you ought to read is The Black Arts. I have a copy of it hidden in my closet. Mother doesn’t know, and I don’t want her to. Keep it that way.”

“Where is it?”

“In a box on the top shelf.”

“Gin, how come you’re not shocked? That I even dreamed these names?”

She gave me that challenging look that often changed conversations on the paranormal into heated arguments. “How come you’re not shocked that I know of them and their histories? That I’m hiding that book from Mom?”

“You’ve already explained that.”

“Yeh, well, that wasn’t the whole explanation.”

“What was?

“That I want to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what, Gin?”

“In case these entities are real. Knowledge can be a powerful weapon, Leigh Ann. It can dispel the darkness and change something potentially fearful to laughable or absurd. You and Mother believe so strongly in the unseen good. I want to be prepared for the opposition, if you accidently tamper with it or unleash it.”

“Unleash what?”

“Evil.” She leaned back in her chair, grimly satisfied. “I strongly suggest you read that book. Maybe it’ll cure you of such dreams. If not, next time you dream of this Bael or Baal, you can tell him to take a hike back to Canaan!”

Her face flushed and her blue eyes flashed molten daggers at me.

“Gin. Ginnie . . . .”

Her breath came heavily and with a sick shock, I recognized the expression on her face. It was one and the same with that worn by the smirking Azmodeus in my dream.

“No one wanted you to come back into our lives,” she drawled sarcastically. “Why don’t you drop all this talk about Bael and save yourself, before you’re in too deep?”

Her features had altered, her pale blue eyes flecked with green and her fiery hair emanating a light yellow mist. Even her cheekbones sharpened tautly, suddenly thinner.

Daniel began crying. He pushed his bottle away. Gin’s eyes slid caustically to him. She raised her hand slowly, edging toward his throat.

“GIN!”

Her hand dropped as if it belonged to a puppet. She glared at me, her eyes confused, but they were her eyes, pale blue, and her hair and features only. The strange manifestation had fled.

She picked up her coffee cup, sipped, and put it down. “You really do need to read that book. If only to know how absurd some of this mysticism can be. It could even be dangerous if you mixed with the wrong nuts. Why’s Danny crying and looking at me that way?”

“You got a little . . . emotional there. It scared him.”

She didn’t answer, confused.

“Gin, are you angry that I’ve come back home?”

“Angry? With what you were going through back in Queens? No. I’m glad. I want to see you and Danny have a better life, and you need a safe haven to start over. What better place than with your family?” She glanced at the clock. “Oh, my God. Look at the time. I’ve got to get dressed, or I’ll be late.” She stood up, looking at Daniel. He had quieted. “I’m sorry, Danny. Aunt Ginnie didn’t mean to upset you.” She took his small hand in her fingers. He seemed to forgive her.

“Ginnie, wait.” I moved around the table and clasped her in a hug. “Thank you for caring about me, Gin.”

She hugged me back. “You’re welcome. I love you, too, but I’ve got to get dressed.” She broke away and laughed as she walked away. “What did you just do, Leigh Ann? My skin’s tingling, and my stomach has butterflies.”

“I hugged you. That’s all.”

“Hmn. Must be static electricity.”

I watched her closely as she reached the living room and headed to the stairs.

The aura I had enveloped her in radiated a strong blue and gold. Blue, representing Heaven’s protection, gold, the highest degree of intelligence. Gin’s own natural aura, a soft orange, shimmered close to her body, followed by the blue and then the gold emanations. I had psychically sealed the outer gold so that no other psychic force could penetrate it to harm her or attach itself to her psyche again.

I was less concerned about Bael. Wary as I was, my gut feeling insisted he would never hurt me or mine. But his brothers—at least my dream portrayed them as his brothers—concerned me greatly, especially the cocky snide Azmodeus. Someone, if only for scant minutes, had invaded Gin’s psyche, using her sudden anger as an entrance point. The entity had shown a sharp resemblance to the 14-year-old in my dream, but his words, his tone on delivering them through Ginnie, had been menacingly adult.

My sharp shout to her had brought Ginnie back to herself. She had no memory of the intrusion.

I knew Ginnie well enough. She wouldn’t believe any of this, if only in defense against what she obviously feared. She had always been psychologically resilient and resourceful. Had her own mind shaken off the psychic intruder, or had something or someone else . . . possibly Bael . . . forced it from her? Or had it left on its own, using her as a temporary conduit to deliver its nasty message?

I didn’t know. I only knew Ginnie’s sanity, strong and healthy now, might not survive another attack.

I picked up the baby and mentally sent a prayer that the forces of good protect my family beyond my own efforts. I felt my skin prickle and my own aura grow, blazing golden around me. The baby giggled. He, too, was bathed in gold, and I knew instantly that the rest of my family had been similarly armored. —Bael,— I thought.

—No. My name is Quatama. Come to me when you sleep tonight. —

— Qua-ta-ma?— I repeated, putting the accent on the second syllable, trying to pronounce it as he had. —Who are you?— I received no answer, only a feeling of well-being, of being guarded by Quatama beyond the simple definition of good and evil. A shiver ran through me, not of fear but of awe, knowing somehow that his was an intellect that understood both good and evil and sought to balance these opposing forces of the universe for the stability of the universe.

All fear left me, replaced by curiosity, a desire to remedy my own lack of understanding. I picked up the baby, heading upstairs as Ginnie, hastily dressed, her schoolbooks in hand, waved on her way out the door.

I eased Daniel onto my bed and took down the small box from the top of Ginnie’s closet. The box contained a dozen or so books on mythology and religion. The Old Testament crowned it.

The Black Arts was wedged face down at the bottom. I removed it, put the box back, sat down beside Daniel, and began to read.