Читать книгу Claiming Her - Marilyn "Mattie" Brahen - Страница 9

CHAPTER 6

I had about an hour before Mother got up. If Daniel cooperated, I could possibly come up with some leads on the unsettling occurrences my family and I had experienced over the last three weeks.

If Mother rose sooner, I’d stash Ginnie’s books back in her closet. It felt strange hiding this from her, beyond honoring Ginnie’s request. But Mother, in all my training by her, had never accepted the existence of a dark side, of Hell. She bluntly refused to consider a netherworld of lost souls governed by fallen angels demoted to devils and demons. Her saying that Bael could be demonic confused me. She believed existence was composed of layered dimensions, our own physical universe only one of the layers. And each soul itself, according to Mother, created its own Heaven or Hell, depending on the lessons learned and the work done or shirked upon completion of its sojourn on Earth.

I still preferred Mother’s views, but wondered if some of those dimensions could be in ideological conflict with each other. The concept of demonology baffled me. My being involved in it, even marginally, startled me even more. I wondered about the role of the mysterious Quatama in all of this, but had instinctively trusted him during our brief moment of telepathic contact.

I paged through the book, glancing at random paragraphs in each chapter, until I came to the one entitled Lucifer’s Minions. It compared the histories of pre-Christian gods and goddesses with biblical histories describing demons and devils listed as members of the Satanic Hierarchy. The names were often the same or very similar, but their descriptions varied.

The name Bael had another variation beyond the three-headed king of Hell and the monstrous Canaanite Baal. Baalzebub was a Philistine god, the last two syllables of that name meaning “of the flies.” King Ahaziah implored their Baal to rid Ekron of an infestation of flies. When the flies flew away, the Philistines rewarded Baal, making him their supreme deity: Baalzebub. Lord of the Flies. Jewish tribes later drove his worshippers from their lands, corrupting him into Beelzebub, the Prince of Demons.

The chapter never indicated whether the Phoenician Baal and the Canaanite Baal were one and the same. It did say that the name Baal had meant Lord or God in Syria and Palestine.

In the British Isles, the Celtic sun god Belenus, his name latinized from the original Bel, was worshipped during Beltane with crackling bonfires and ribald abandon.

What relation did these early gods have, if any, to the handsome young man in my dream, the protective spirit, Bael?

Skimming through a chapter on Satan, I found that satan in early Hebrew had once meant the adversary or judge in legal disputes. Later, Lucifer became the supreme Satan: God’s adversary, sternly judging God’s own creation: mankind.

Again I wondered how this fit the quiet pleasant Lucifer of my dream. And Azmodeus had been his son, not the offspring of Adam and his first wife, Lilith.

I rummaged through the remaining books and pulled out a hardcover called Man, Myth, and Satanism. One section showed crude drawings of Bael and Ashtoreth. Ashtoreth, looking like a handicapped angel, his rubbery limbs bent over under the weight of enormous batlike wings, sat astride a dragon of Hell that more resembled a deformed dog. The sketch of Bael did have three heads: the center head was a swarthy, thin-faced man wearing a crown, his left head, a frog’s, and his right head, a cat’s. A spider’s body squatted beneath the heads.

I couldn’t recall Ashtoreth in my dream, although my dream self apparently knew him well. In the sketch of Bael, the human head did have pointed ears, but as I read the text, I found that these drawings had been created by Louis Breton, a French engraver in 1863. Mr. Breton had admittedly used his ample imagination in interpreting the royalty of Hell.

The sound of movement down the hall, the creak of a bed, alerted me to Mother’s awakening. I stashed the two books back into the box and returned it to the top shelf of Ginnie’s closet.

Daniel still lay on the bed, watching me with a quiet fascination. “You’re such a good boy, Danny,” I told him. He smiled back broadly.

“Leigh Ann?”

“In the bedroom, Mother.” I picked Daniel up and met her in the hallway. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” She tied the belt around her pink terrycloth house-coat. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, but we’ll keep you company.”

“Fine,” she said, “and afterwards, we’ll get dressed and go out to find that new crib.”

“Sounds good.”

While she ate, I told her part of my dream, not admitting to knowing the names of Bael’s family members, and leaving out the story of Adam and Eve and their self-imposed exile on Earth. I did describe Eliom and the other events leading up to Bael’s formally declaring us betrothed.

She swallowed her mouthful of cereal. “Betrothed. He came to ask permission to marry you.”

“Yes, in what appeared to be a very formal ceremony.”

“Pity they don’t always have such niceties today.”

“Richard asked Dad for permission to marry me.”

“After about a year of your father telling you he disapproved. You and Richard were both stubborn. Your father decided there was no stopping the two of you.”

“I wish he had refused us.”

“What would you have done if he had?”

I paused, then smiled sheepishly. “Gotten married anyway, I suppose.”

“You see? We decided to let you find out on your own. You were too starry-eyed to see past your nose, let alone understand our concerns. So in this dream of yours, did your dream-father approve or disapprove of Bael’s proposal?”

“He didn’t say. He asked me whether I would accept the betrothal. He seemed to be delighted with it though. I got the feeling he and Bael’s father were close friends.”

She gave me a crooked smile. “So what was your answer?”

“I don’t know. I woke up, exactly at that moment in the dream.”

She drank her tea slowly, then asked. “A past life, do you think?”

I shrugged. “It felt like a memory. Very detailed. Mom, is it possible to have a past life in another dimension?”

She raised her eyebrows at that. “Anything’s possible. Why do you ask?”

“It didn’t feel like Earth,” I said.

“I think there’s more to this dream than you’re telling me.”

“Yes, but I think there’s something else you ought to know, something more important. Ginnie’s afraid of all this stuff.”

“Afraid of what stuff?”

“Of things that go bump in the night.”

Mother leaned back, toying with her cup on the table. “You mean afraid of the stories in those books in her closet?” Her eyes met mine, weary but patient.

“You knew.”

“Of course, I knew. If you want to hide something, don’t put in closets where mothers hang finished ironing. Either that, or do your own laundry. The shelf came loose one day. I had to remove what was on top to fix it.”

“You never told her.”

“No, I didn’t see any reason to. I knew she didn’t believe in demonology any more than I did. I’m sure you noticed the bible was also in the box. If she wanted to discuss it, she’d tell me. If not, I respected her right to privacy and her need to work through her fears and curiosity herself.”

We sized each other up across the table. Daniel squirmed in my arms. “Wait a minute,” I said and got his baby swing from the living room and put him in it. He bounced happily inside it, playing with his rattle keys. “You’re right about the dream. There is more. And I have to tell you about my strange conversation with Ginnie this morning.”

She heard me out as I filled in all the gaps, but as I related Ginnie’s sudden personality change, complete with words she had no memory of uttering and her near attack on Daniel, Mother’s patient expression hardened in anger and alarm. I quickly informed her of the prayer I’d sent out for greater spiritual protection, the instant and intense granting of it, and the brief contact with the entity called Quatama.

Mother lifted her cup to her lips, drained the remaining tea, and put it down. “That was what I felt this morning.”

“What?”

“A feeling of immense well-being, of love. I was lying in bed, half-dozing, and thinking, well, worrying about you. Then suddenly I knew you would be all right, that everything would be all right. But everything isn’t all right. Ginnie was psychically attacked, used, to issue you a warning.”

“That was before Quatama appeared. Ginnie’s protected now. I know it.”

“I’m not so convinced.” She shook her head.

“Mom, you told me you don’t believe in demons.”

“I don’t.” She spoke in a firm voice that underscored her words. “But there are entities who, through their own negative natures, act like demons. They may create complete personas to fuel their egotism. They take the names of characters out of legends, to fool the unwary and frighten or impress the gullible. It’s all a bunch of warped fairy tales, but it doesn’t mean these entities aren’t potentially dangerous.”

“Do you think Bael could be dangerous?” I nearly whispered it.

“I don’t know. Thus far, he hasn’t been.”

“You told me he might be demonic.”

“When?”

“The night he revealed his name, and you asked him, in the name of God, to state his purpose in seeking me. He disappeared at the mention of God, and you said he might be demonic.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, dear. A semantic slip of the tongue. I was speaking psychologically. That he might believe he was demonic, a negative entity.”

“Mother, what exactly is a negative entity?”

She deadpanned me. “A spirit on an ego-trip. Same as a living person with a bad emotional disorder, only in spirit. Leigh Ann, I want you to cut off all contact with this Bael. Even if he’s not directly to blame, he’s creating a psychic situation, possibly attracting other elementals, that might badly disrupt our mortal lives. Ginnie was right. You have unleashed something—now, don’t look at me that way. I know it’s not your fault. I know you didn’t start it—this Bael did. But you did respond to it, to him, and formed an attachment to him. You have to break it now, for all our sakes.”

“But Quatama is protecting us.”

“I don’t know this Quatama,” Mother said. “It’s possible he is protecting us, possibly also telling me to tell you to end this. You’re making a second mistake in your life, this time with a noncorporeal man who has no place in it. For once, listen to the experience of your elders, Leigh Ann, if not for your own sake, then for ours. Think of Ginnie, your brother, your father, me . . . .”

Her eyes shining, on the brink of tears, she sat stiffly, nervously, needing my unquestioning obedience.

She was also afraid. Of what?

The thought of breaking off all contact with Bael felt immeasurably painful, no, impossible. I sensed his presence, his mind touching mine, listening, assessing this new conflict.

“All right, Mother. I’ll correct the situation. There’ll be no further disruption of our lives. I won’t permit it.” A reservoir of strength poured into me, and the slightest breath of a whisper spoke silently and privately close to my ear.

—Well-said. There shall be no more disruptions. I will not permit it.—

“Promise me,” Mother said, her voice softer, her tense posture loosening. She appeared unaware of Bael’s interjection.

“I promise. I’ll straighten it all out. No more admittance to spirits who act unwholesome.” I tried for light humor, hoping to relax her, to assure her.

—I am whole again. I have found you and you, me.— His intimate murmur acknowledged my determination and control, carte blanche, an equality between us that, nonetheless, championed me, allowing me to take the wheel firmly as we steered ahead into uncharted waters.

Mother stood up. “Good. I know you’ll keep your promise. Honesty is one of your better traits. Now I’m going upstairs to take a hot shower and calm down. Then we’ll all get dressed and go find Danny a crib.”

“Go ahead, Mom. I’ll wash up the dishes.”

“Thank you, dear.” She leaned over and pecked a soft kiss on my cheek.

“And Mother? Please stop worrying?”

She offered me a wan hint of a smile, nodded, and went upstairs.

As I soaped, rinsed, and dried the breakfast dishes, I thought about how hard it had been to answer her without lying. Lying horrified me. As a young girl I had been unjustly accused of lying and punished for it. That experience had molded me—my honesty both a blessing and a curse. I knew I could not break off all contact with Bael, but I could direct the inevitable journey of exploration, shape it to my will. Perhaps Quatama had given me my newfound strength and self-assurance. His brief message—to come to him as I slept—suddenly resurfaced in my mind. But how? Another dream?

I put away the dishes, glancing at Daniel, who had been remarkably well behaved all morning. “I guess I’ll figure it out when the time comes,” I told him.

He waved his hands and bobbed up and down in his swing.

I bent to pick him up and felt an invisible touch upon my shoulder. A shiver went through me, travelling down my arm and back.

—Tell Quatama I still love you. Tell him he must allow us to seek an answer, to heal the rift that once tore the angelfolk apart.—

A different kiss brushed my cheek, full of longing, an aching sorrow barely checked.

My breath caught in a tight band between the pit of my stomach and my throat. Then the sensation, the emotional connection, ceased. My chest heaved, releasing, relieving, the constricted air in my lungs.

I hefted Daniel up out of his swing and into my arms, carried the swing back to the living room with my free hand, then took him upstairs to dress us warmly.