Leif bounded up the steps of the main entrance to Esther's apartment. He was eager and impatient. He was enjoying his assignment and gave thanks once again that he hadn't had to go to Turkey. Tel Aviv was proving to be unexpectedly agreeable. Esther's doppelganger was charming and remarkably enthusiastic. Maybe he could find a way to extend his time in Israel.
Faux Esther was an architecture student, and he had been able to get closer to her by giving her advice with her designs. It was a situation that was working out perfectly for everyone involved.
He punched in the code to the building's door and swung it open just as a group was leaving. He stepped aside and let a man and woman step through, followed by another man right behind them. The woman eyed Leif as she brushed past him. The second man looked through him as if he wasn't there. Leif swerved past him toward the doorway when he felt a sharp sting low on his torso beneath his stomach. He swept his jacket aside to investigate as the stinging melted into an intense burning. He scowled as scarlet billows spread like inkblots across his shirt.
Someone grabbed him, yanking fistfuls of hair from behind and pummeled him headfirst into the building's stone façade. Leif managed to turn and see the third man blur out of the corner of his eye before his head cracked with a loud snapping sound against the stone. His ears buzzed, and the air swam in thick waves as tiny pricks of lights danced in front of him. Before he had time to clear the fog from his head, Leif swung awkwardly around, grabbing the man by the shoulder. The building and ground pitched and swayed as he spun. He thrust his elbow into the man's face, shattering his nose. The man's knees give way. In the next instant, he wrapped his hand around his attacker's neck and buried his face into the stone railing. The man sank into a heap of meat on the ground.
The second man charged. Leif stood his ground, thrusting the palm of his right hand upward, connecting with the new attacker's jaw, using his momentum against him. The man flew back and slid down the steps. The man groaned, and Leif had to lean against the railing for support as the earth slipped and swayed in bilious waves. He swallowed down a wave of nausea and looked up when the woman growled.
She stepped toward him, pulling a small pistol out of her bag. Leif grunted as two bullets dug into him. The sound of the gunshot met his ears long after he felt the metal rip into him. Blood pooled into his lungs. The muscles in his legs tensed and sprang as he lunged toward her, tackling her to the ground. He heard a sharp crack as her head connected to the pavement. She lay still for a second or two before squirming away.
Leif climbed, dragging himself up against her body, then wrapped his long fingers around her neck and squeezed. She kicked at him, writhing clumsily. Her right hand began searching, scratching at the ground for the gun while her left hand pulled futilely against his fingers. Leif squeezed harder. Her heart skipped and shuddered, slowing irregularly before falling way altogether. He held on a few more seconds before pulling away.
He felt something snatch at his ankle. He rolled over on top of the woman and kicked the second attacker in the face. The man fell back, and Leif staggered to his feet. Leif swayed drunkenly and hobbled to the building's door. He had to punch in the code to open it. Behind him, the man groaned and stood up. Leif thrust his shoulder against the door and flung himself into the building's foyer. He slid a few feet along the tile. The door was closing on its own, slowly. The man stumbled up the steps. Leif's heart thundered in a cold panic. The door was taking too long to close. He kicked his feet out in front of him, slamming the door and locking it shut.
He didn't know if the man had the code and didn't wait to find out. He rolled over, letting out a wet and haggard groan and pulled himself to his feet. He scanned the first floor, his thoughts ticking away the seconds. He walked halfway up the steps, smearing spots of blood along the banister before doubling back down the stairs. His breathing was rattled, wet, and sickening.
With his clean hand, he pulled the door of a supply closet open and stopped short up in surprise. Wooden steps leading down into a dark basement. He climbed down the first two steps and shut the door behind him. He fumbled for a lock but didn't find one. Cursing softly to himself, he listened, holding his breath as he watched the crack of light under the door.
He stepped down a couple for steps backward. His feet slipped, and he fell, face-first into the stairs. Leif grunted, skin peeling away from his cheek and forehead, as he slid from step to step. He jerked and dropped over the edge of the staircase into the unknown darkness. He landed shoulders first onto hard-packed dirt. The impact forced out what little air he had left in his lungs.
The floor creaked slightly directly above him as he waited, watching the darkness. The door opened, and someone stepped halfway down into the basement. The intruder hovered silently, listening, then turned back to the main floor.
Leif counted more seconds until he slowly lost consciousness.
The lonely sound of crickets singing outside the bedroom drifted in through my window. A full moon was hovering above the sea, making all the shadows in the room quiver with soft edges. When I was in college, I spent a summer living and working in a remote village. The only water source was a hand-pump well, and the people there had never lived with electricity. The nearest telephone was a single payphone, a five-mile hike down a dirt road. That one telephone was supplied with power through a single generator... when it was working. It was the only generator for more than fifty miles.
It rained almost every day. Dark billowing clouds obscured the sky most evenings but were swept away by morning, only to be replaced within a few hours as evening returned. There were astonishing storms of massive thunder and lightning like I had never seen before. Thunder shook the trees, and lightning lit up the sky like cannon fire. It was how I imagined terrifying battlefields during World War I. But in that remote village, the world was silent. No animal or insect made a sound, giving the center stage to the wind and the thunder as it gnashed its teeth and clawed at the land. Instead of being terrified, I was awestruck. It was exhilarating.
My surprise, the first night of a new moon, was startling. For those living in the modern world flush with electricity, experiencing the darkness of a new moon is not something we can imagine. It can only be experienced. It was darkness; a complete, engulfing darkness. An inexhaustible black had swallowed the world. Nothing could be seen, not even our own bodies, our own limbs, our own hands fluttering inches from our eyes. Nothing can prepare someone accustomed to the constant, ever-present sources of light in cities for such complete darkness.
I was equally surprised to discover how much light there was during a full moon. The full moon brought as much light as the new moon brought the dark. Everything was washed in a pale blue that softened the landscape. Deep shadows lay underneath, as further evidence of how bright it really was. Shadows can only exist with light.
I thought about that village as I watched the moon slowly creep across the sky. Ezra was asleep next to me, his breathing deep and even. The crickets sang to each other in rhythm with the waves outside. Close, as if I could step from the front door and drop directly into the water. I had been listening to the sounds of the Turkish night for hours, unable to sleep. The air was so warm and humid; it created a cold clamminess against my skin. After another hour, I finally admitted to myself that sleep was going to be impossible.
I pulled aside the mosquito netting and crawled out of bed. I slipped on a pair of canvas deck shoes and walked downstairs. I was out the door before I'd fully decided to go outside. There was a small path that led from the house and meandered down to the water. It was a steep hill filled with bushes and rocks—bushes that scratched against my legs and snatched at my cotton shorts and rocks that leaped in front of me. On any other night, I'd never have attempted to walk the path without a light, but the moon was generous.
There wasn't a beach to speak of. Eventually, the bushes disappeared and left the rocks to fend for themselves. Large jagged stones lined the edge of the water along the peninsula. I slipped out of my shorts and stepped into the water.
The water was cool. Colder than I expected it to be, but I sighed happily as I waded deeper. When it reached my thighs, I plunged the rest of the way into the sea. The water tasted like salt, densely organic with seaweed, and something faintly metallic. I relaxed and allowed the waves to take me a few feet down the coast before paddling back in the direction of the house. I dove to touch the bottom several times, digging my fingers into the soft sand.
Something soft brushed against my leg, and I kicked. A long string of kelp bobbed up to the surface. I grabbed it and flung it away from me before diving down to the bottom again. Then I swam, skimming my body along the sand toward what I guessed was the direction of the shore. I finally surfaced when I needed air and found I was facing two small islands out to sea instead. I turned around and lazily swam toward the rocks.
A dark silhouette of someone standing on the rocks was watching me. I stopped, treading water, and waited. My head barely broke the surface, but I was certain I could be seen. The figure pulled a shirt up over his head, and I smiled as a soft electric current slid over me. The binding was such a strange sensation underwater.
Ezra swam toward me with strong, sure strokes... so much better than my drowning paddles. He looked like he barely broke the surface of the water. When he got near, I ducked under and pushed away. I resurface a few feet from him. He tried again and bent to grab my ankle, but I was able to kick and wiggle past his grasp. I took a deep breath, dove down, and skated along the sea bottom. I came up closer to the coast and watched him circle around several times, trying to find me.
With his back to me, he dove under again. I kicked nervously, unable to tell which direction he'd gone. I only had time for a quick gulp of air before I was pulled underwater. Ezra had both hands wrapped around my calves. I wiggled and turned as he wrapped his arms around my waist and brought us both to the surface.
He kissed me once and tossed me, laughing, through the air. I hooted as I splashed back down into the water but didn't have time to sink. Ezra was already there to catch me. Only once was I able to catch him by surprise and pull him under. I had to make do with feeble attempts at splashing and misdirection. Ezra was tough to distract.
At some point between splashes, kicks, and giggles, the sun crested over the horizon. We stood deep enough in the water that the small waves just brushed the top of my hips. The water was slick, and my hands slid effortlessly across Ezra's wet skin. His fingers traced my jaw, and he bent slowly to kiss and nip deliciously along my neck. I could smell metal burning and felt electric spiders prick their way across my scalp. I ignored the binding and circled my arms around his shoulders, drawing him closer.
Ezra froze, and I pulled away from him, confused. He was looking toward the rocks. My eyes tracked the movement to a woman watching us. Ezra pushed me behind him and turned to face the woman. The air around her pulsed in fast circular waves, like a flower's petals opening. Ezra growled quietly in warning.
"No, wait... it's alright," I said, stepping out from behind him. The woman was a study in curves. She had a voluptuous hourglass figure that was soft and inviting. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her hair was a long, dark chocolate falling sheet of soft curls. This woman was what nature meant when it said woman. She was wearing a long black and red sari that waved in the breeze.
"I'm sorry to interrupt such a personal moment," she said and knowingly smiled, "but Yisu wanted to meet you." I noticed a flash of movement behind the woman, and a small figure peeked out from behind her. As the shape moved a bit more into the open, I could see it was a tiny slip of a girl. She came up to the woman's waist. She had long, straight black hair and a delicate Asian face. She didn't look like she was much older than seven or eight.
The woman turned slightly and wrapped her arms protectively around the girl's shoulders and pulled against her side. I realized the pulsing waves of energy I saw weren't coming from the woman but from the little girl.
Ezra and I looked at each other. The girl watched us wide-eyed and smiled. I smiled back and stepped toward them, Ezra on my heels. I squatted, dripping water, in front of the girl, and held out my hand.
"I'm Kaja."
She took my hand, "I'm Yisu. This is Sria." She was small and delicate, mostly skinny legs and arms.
"When we heard Gregor had come out to meet you," Sria said, brushing the child's hair away from her shoulders, "Yisu couldn't wait anymore. You're the first Taman to be born since she was."
"And when was that?"
"We can't be sure exactly," she answered. "Sometime after Rome became a city, but before they started worshiping Caesar."
I laughed. This tiny wisp of a girl was probably around two thousand years old.
I turned to Ezra and gave him a long look. "I guess we are going to have to get used to people showing up on our doorstep. They seem to have a knack for finding us no matter where we are."
"They don't," Sria said with a mixture of mischievousness and mystery. "She does," she added, nodding to Yisu. "She is Taman, and that makes her very... talented."
Ezra and I exchanged glances.
"Are you cold?" Yisu asked, looking at my dripping body and then Ezra's.
"No," he answered. "But let's go inside the house and get dressed." He pulled his shirt on and gestured for them to follow him up the path. I pulled my shorts on quickly and followed them.
The kettle whistled. I picked it up and poured it into a ceramic teapot. The warm jasmine aroma wafted up immediately. Sria picked up the teapot and set it on a tray.
"She looked about four years old when I found her. She is aging very fast." I set a plate of scones and croissants on the tray. "She had been living alone, traveling from one group to the next for several hundred years by then. We'll never know how long since she doesn't know herself. As young as she was when she died, she doesn't have the same sense of time as we do."
No, of course, she wouldn't. "But how could she have managed by herself?"
"Well, she didn't. Not all the time. Her people were nomads in Western China. She'd get families to take her in," she explained. "But it wasn't long before they realized she wasn't aging like she should, and she'd have to move on."
Western China, I thought, that area was mostly desert. I couldn't imagine such a tiny girl surviving all alone looking for her next host family. Or rather, I didn't want to imagine it. I picked up the tray and carried it towards the great room.
At the end of the hallway, I rounded the corner and stopped. Sria stood behind me and watched over my shoulder. Yisu was sitting cross-legged on the coffee table, leaning on her hands behind her as she faced Ezra. Ezra was sitting across from her on the sofa.
Yisu tilted her head as she examined him. "What's your name?"
"Ezra," he answered.
"What's your other name?"
"Azrael." Sria made a small jittery movement behind me.
"What's your other name?" she repeated.
"Ezraeil."
"How many names do you have?" Questions were coming out of her in a rapid stream without any inhibition.
Ezra half frowned. "I don't know. A lot."
"Why?"
"I'm very old. I have different names from different people with different languages."
"What does it mean?"
"Among my people, it meant, 'He who helps the mother speak the voice of justice.' "
"What justice? What kind?"
Ezra thought about it for a moment, "Eventually.... Death. I killed a lot of people a long time ago."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to."
"Do you still want to?"
"No."
Yisu thought about this for a moment. Ezra sat calmly, looking almost curious. "Were you afraid?" she finally asked.
"Yes," he answered evenly.
"You don't kill anymore?"
"Sometimes, when I have to." He raised an eyebrow at her as she chewed on her lip. "Do you?"
"Sometimes, when I have to," she echoed Ezra.
My heart thumped lightly. Sria walked around me and moved toward Yisu, tapping her gently on the back. She gestured toward the sofa with her chin, and Yisu immediately uncurled her legs and hopped off the table, grabbing a croissant along the way.
Sria had full round lips and dark eyes. Her lashes were so thick it looked like her eyes were ringed with dark eyeliner. Up close, I could detect a slight East Asian influence about her features in her eyes and cheekbones.
"Sria is an unusual name. I don't think I've heard it before," Ezra said. I crossed to sit next to him.
"I don't think it's on the map either," I added. "I don't remember seeing it." I turned and looked at Ezra. He shook his head. He hadn't seen it either.
"Map?" Sria asked.
I pointed to the wall at the other end of the room. Sria and Yisu turned in unison in the direction I indicated. They were too far away to be able to read any of the names.
"It was Esther's."
Sria turned to me at the mention of Esther's name. "The woman you killed?"
I nodded uncomfortably. She looked at me with interest.
"How did you do it?"
"I distracted her," I answered almost apologetically. Yisu rolled her eyes.
"Of course you did," Sria said. "There is no way you would have been able to overpower her or run. But how?"
I shrugged, trying to ignore the uneasy hollow pit that was growing inside my stomach. "I used her past against her."
Yisu sat forward, brushing crumbs away from her mouth. "Her past? You know the past? Or see the past? Is that what you do?"
I looked from Yisu to Sria, unsure what to say. They both looked eager, but Yisu wasn't even trying to appear calm. "Kaja has visions of people's past," Ezra finally answered.
"How strong are the visions?"
I snorted, "Three-dimensional surround sound."
"You see and hear everything?"
"See, touch, hear, smell... probably taste if I felt the inclination," I answered. "It's the full meal."
"Fascinating. Mortals too?"
I hadn't really thought about that. I'd had a vision of Detective Aguirre back in Portland. I nodded. "But it doesn't happen all the time."
"Interesting." She swiveled her eyes toward Ezra. He held her gaze and then nodded almost imperceptibly. His mouth set into a firm line.
Sria moved gracefully, switching her attention back to the map. She stood up, sweeping her sari out of the way. Her body swayed in an alluring, unselfconscious way, almost like an invitation.
She saw me staring at the sari and smiled. "We've been living in Mumbai for many years now. There are so many people and children it's easy to blend in." Her attention returned to the map. "Esther made this?" Ezra nodded. "The Moabite?" Ezra didn't respond, so I nodded. "I met her a couple times. Very lively and fidgety, in a pleasant sort of way."
"Your names aren't included," I said as Sria began scanning the pins. Her fingers flipped through the thin scattering of names in Western China and Mongolia. She looked at the name on every pin in the region before she smiled satisfied. Then she moved further south closer to the Middle East.
"Here I am." Ezra and I moved toward the map, flanking her. I looked at the pin she was holding. It was stuck in the northeast section of Afghanistan. It read Srinana.
"Inanna?" Ezra asked in surprise. She smiled and lifted her chin. Ezra's eyes raked slowly down her body and back up to her face.
Inanna? I gaped at her in shock.
"The goddess of love, sex..."
"And lust and fertility," she finished for me and beamed.
"And war. You can't forget about that," Ezra added.
"Of course. You seldom have love without jealousy or conquest." I looked at her again with a renewed appraisal.
"I was born Srinana, but Yisu couldn't pronounce it when we first met, so she called me Sria."
Yisu shrugged, busy working on her second croissant.
"Then you became Inanna, Inannu, and Ninsianna?" I asked.
She nodded, "and then Ishtar and Astarte, among many others, but by then, the legend of the goddess was far bigger than I was."
"You also became Aphrodite and Venus."
Sria huffed loudly and sank into the sofa. "The Greeks. They were fun and pleasant in the beginning, but by the end of their age, then they locked their women away and became rigid and judgmental... so certain of their own superiority. Especially the Athenians." She snorted again and huffed. "They didn't understand Aphrodite let alone know what to do with her."
She ran her fingers through her hair, untangling any clumps that were beginning to form. "But at least they tried, which was something. Not like the others."
Others? What others?
Ezra leaned back into the sofa with a whimsical grin and harrumphed lightly. I didn't know if it was in agreement with Sria or if he was privately laughing at her. "It was their issue with sacred prostitution, I think."
"Sacred prostitution?" What that hell was that?
"My temples were a place of respect," Sria said. She sounded off-put and vexed. "Sex was an act of reverence and celebration. It honored the earth and made the land fertile. More than that, it honored the people. What greater gift can anyone give?" Somehow I was getting the feeling she wasn't just talking about a temple priestess as part of some religious ritual.
"Then others came and corrupted sex, making it dark and sinful." She frowned. "Pitiful. And look at the result... a world completely obsessed with sex and ashamed of it... punishing themselves all the time." Clearly, Sria had no love lost for modern-day religion.
"What the hell is sacred prostitution?"
Ezra grinned subtly. "When I was young, sex was part of fertility. A single bad summer was the difference between life and death for everyone. Sex was one of the many ways we worshiped and honored The Mother. We had many festivals and celebrations to thank her for our lives."
"And by festivals, you mean..." Visions of what it must have looked like flashed and disappeared. It occurred to me that I would probably get to see Ezra's festivals for myself.
He nodded, "Yes. They were large fertility rituals."
Sria leaned toward me to explain. "Sacred prostitute isn't an accurate description. It's what they call it today, but the term is exaggerated and misunderstood. Modern people seem to imagine drunken orgies and strangers coupling wantonly in the streets. That's because prostitution today has all of these negative associations. Women and men, priestesses of the temple, and regular people would honor the goddess by giving some of themselves. It was sacred... it was respectable, and money would be given to the temple in exchange."
She stopped to adjust her sari and took another sip of tea. "Over the years, there were many temples built to honor the mother goddess. Eventually, as more gods and goddesses began being individually worshiped, the temples were dedicated to Inanna. Sex was the primary vehicle to honor her... or rather... me." She smiled, showing dazzlingly white teeth.
Ezra was trying not to smirk. He had told me many times that the legend of the god often bared little resemblance to their flesh and blood reality.
"All the women... all the woman," Ezra continued, repeating himself to make sure I understood, "paid tribute by serving time in the temple. And all the men did as well by frequenting the temple and have intercourse with the women there. Part of the ritual was to give women money for their time, which was given to the temple. How much money didn't matter, it was just a symbol."
"A child born from a temple was considered very lucky," Sria added. Then she perked up, "Well... this world won't last forever. We'll just have to see what comes next. I can wait."
Indeed, I thought. Waiting is what Avati does best.
Yikes, hope Leif is okay.
TEASER: "You poisoned yourself?"
Wonder what's going on there.
How are you guys, are you still enjoying?