The Binding

Chapter Eleven

He continued without taking a breath. "We watch the same thing over and over. Every generation cries how the world is being destroyed, swallowed by the violence that gets worse every decade. At the same time, they shudder at the very notion of the monstrous violence of the ancient world. Do you think the world is less violent today than it was during the days of the Pharaohs or the Romans? Or is it more?"

Leif leaned closer to me. "The world never changes. There isn't more death and destruction in the world now, just more people. Death touched the lives of everyone, but that doesn't mean there was more or less of it. Today, when real deaths happen to real people, it happens to other people in other places. And yet entire villages are slaughtered even now. The news and media outlets are marred with stories of death and destruction.

"Your generation is both fascinated and appalled by the Romans and their games, isn't it?" Leif nodded to himself. "You love it, and you hate it. Gladiators fighting in hand-to-hand combats to the death, brute strength mixed with sweat and blood as crowds watched and cheered their deaths. The idea horrifies you, doesn't it?" I gave him a tiny nod.

"The Romans, the Phoenicians, the Assyrians, the Spartans they would have been just as horrified by the violence we enjoy as entertainment today."

I shook my head, "What do you mean?"

"Film, television, video games... we love our violence. Our lives are saturated with it. Wars, serial killers, gang battles, alien invasions. People cheer, they gasp, they cover their faces, they hold their breaths terrified and excited. They even pretend to be the killer themselves. And every year the demand for it increases."

"But none of it is real."

"Exactly. The ancient world lived with violence. They killed for their food and they watched people die. Yes, some of it was for entertainment, but it was entertainment that served a purpose. Death was real, it was visceral, and it was meant to teach. People learned from it. That is why they would be appalled by this world's preferred brand of violence. It's not intended to teach. Nobody learns from these deaths. It's purposeless."

My mind was racing.

"Real death isn't part of daily life here, so we revel in the imaginary. Does that make violence today better or worse than it was then?"

"Neither. But, it doesn't make a difference."

"To what Ezra did? Who he was?" I didn't answer. "No, you're right, it doesn't. The world doesn't change, only our perceptions of it. Being immortal doesn't make us immune from that. The Ezra we know isn't the man he was then. And Azrael wasn't born the Angel of Death either. He was a man."

I leaned my head against the wall behind me.

"You know Ezra must have been at least two thousand years old before he made his first kill. Give or take a few centuries. I was fifteen years old the first time I killed a man. I still remember what it felt like to watch him die. You need to prepare for the day when you will see it for yourself."

I must have looked stricken. Leif didn't back down. "We are Avati. We watch civilizations rise and fall. We have all killed. One day you will too."

Neither of us spoke for a couple minutes. Leif was patient as he allowed me to absorb everything he said. He was unabashed and unapologetic in his bluntness.

"Please go, Leif."

He reached over and lifted my chin to make me look directly at him. He grinned playfully, as only he could. "You have all the time in the world, Ma biche."

He walked casually to the door and left without another word. I sat up and turned the hot and cold taps on all the way. Hot water surged from the faucet with an explosive current and lapped over me. The tub was more than halfway full before I stood up and yanked my shirt over my head, dropping the sodden clothing onto the floor.