SIXTEEN
When I get to France, I immediately turn around and drive under the Channel, back to England. As a result, dawn finds me in London, in a poor section of town, where it’s possible to rent a motel room and carry in a body and nobody asks any questions.
The van I stole to transport the woman belongs to an electrician. I’m lucky—it has several long rolls of electrical wire, in all gauges, in the back. The wire allows me to tie the woman to the bed. I wrap her up so thoroughly she looks like a generator waiting to be plugged in. The van also has tools I use to construct a wicked shocking device. I’m not a fan of torture, but I’m less a fan of dying, and these people are trying to kill me.
In France—before driving back to England—I dug out her bullets and her suicide tooth. I even sewed up a couple of her torn arteries in the rear of the van. Yet she’s still bleeding as I tie her to the motel bed. She’s in pain, moaning beneath the cloth I have taped over her mouth. I pull off the rag once we’re settled and sit beside her on the bed.
“I won’t gag you if you promise not to cry out,” I say.
She nods weakly. “Thirsty.”
The motel, despite its wretched exterior, has a well-stocked minibar. I hold a bottle of Evian water to her lips, and she gulps hungrily. I pull it away.
“Sip it slowly. You’ll throw up.”
She nods and slowly drinks the entire bottle.
“Would you like some more?” I ask as I toss the bottle in the garbage.
“I’m fine.” She coughs. “Relatively speaking.”
“So you have a sense of humor, good. I was beginning to wonder about you people.”
“You know nothing about us,” she says bitterly.
“That’s why we’re here, to get acquainted.”
“That’s not why we’re here.”
“No?”
“You’re interested in only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Why do you play these games?”
“This isn’t a game. I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Blood.”
I smile. “You’re joking. Who told you that?”
“You deny that you’re a vampire?”
“No. It’s not something I go around advertising, but I’m not a bloodsucker. In the last fifteen years, I’ve seldom drunk human blood.”
“Liar.”
“I’m aware of your mental abilities. I possess similar powers. But I can’t read your mind, and you can’t read mine. At the same time, I sense you know the truth when it’s spoken aloud. So listen to me. I almost never drink human blood. I don’t hunt people and drain away their blood and leave them to die. Now am I speaking the truth or not?”
She hesitates. “We know your history. We know you’re evil.”
“What’s your name?”
“What do you care?”
“My name is Alisa. I—”
“That’s not your real name,” she interrupts.
“What’s my real name?”
“Sita. Bloody Sita.”
“I’m impressed. You do know something of my past. Who told you my name?”
“If I tell you, I’ll be executed.”
“Come on, I won’t tell anybody.”
“No.”
“You can tell your pals I tortured the information out of you.”
“They wouldn’t care.”
“Well, then, maybe I will have to torture you.”
Her eyes widen. “You would enjoy that.”
“It gives me no pleasure to hurt someone.”
“I’ve seen you in action. You’re a killing machine.”
“Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I enjoy it. You and your partners came to kill me. I was just defending myself.”
“You’re faster than us, stronger. You could have fled if you were only interested in protecting yourself.”
“Bullshit. If I didn’t set an example that I’m not to be fooled with, your people would never leave me alone.”
“What kind of example are you going to make of me?”
“Answer a few questions and I’ll call your people right now and tell them the address of this motel. They can pick you up and take you to their own private hospital.”
She looks away. “We don’t have hospitals.”
“Because you’re strong. You don’t age.”
“You may as well start the torture. I’m not going to answer your questions.”
“Stop it! I don’t want to torture you!”
“You are torturing me! My knees are shattered. My hands are broken! I can’t stop bleeding. What else can you do to me?”
I soften my tone. “I know you’re in pain, I can feel it. I can go to a hospital or pharmacy and get you bandages and medicine and clean up your wounds and remove the pain.”
“If—”
She stares at me. “That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Numbria.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“You don’t know what it means.”
“But I do. It’s not mentioned in any history books, but it’s the name of the younger sister of the Goddess Isis. The mantra ‘Om Numbria’ used to be considered one of the most powerful chants on earth.”
She’s stunned. “How do you know this?”
“A friend of mine taught me the mantra. I used to chant it.”
“You worship the Goddess?”
“Sort of. When I was young, I met Krishna. He touched me deeply. He told me that when a person worships him, they worship all forms of God. He said the form doesn’t matter. Only the love matters.”
She appears genuinely curious. “How does it matter?”
“He said worship cultures the human heart. That’s why being a parent is the highest calling a human being can have. Krishna believed most parents worship their children.”
“Huh! Most parents are cruel.”
“Were your parents cruel to you, Numbria?”
She turns away. “I won’t speak of them.”
I squeeze her arm gently. “Do you want the medicine or not?”
Numbria casts me a weary glance. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Thank you.” I stand from the bed. “On the drive here, I saw a clinic three blocks over. I can get you what you need there. I’ll leave you ungagged if you promise to stay quiet. But if you call for help, I’ll hear you and be back before anyone else can arrive. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
I turn toward the door. “I won’t be long.”
It’s true I prefer to get the information I need without resorting to torture. I don’t mind playing doctor to Numbria. But I have another motive in seeking out drugs. Sodium Pentothal is an established truth serum. From experience, I’ve found it to be effective. Yet I know if morphine and a small amount of dilaudid are added, the combination is much more potent, especially if the subject in question is in pain.
I have no trouble obtaining what I wish at the clinic. I accidentally bump into a young doctor in the hallway and work my magic on him, and a few minutes later he sends me out the door with a bag full of goodies. All free of charge. You have to love the British and their universal health care system.
However, a disturbing feeling sweeps over me as I prepare to leave the clinic. It’s so strong it’s close to a physical sensation. I feel like I’m being watched. Not by one set of eyes, either, but by a multitude. I remain still a long time, trying to get a fix on the source, to no avail.
I call Seymour on the cell phone I stole from the doctor. He’s upset I didn’t call earlier, but I apologize and we get down to business.
“How are Teri and Matt doing?” I ask.
“You mean, how do they feel about last night?”
“Yeah. Did they see anything?”
“They didn’t see you. You lucked out in that respect. But there was gossip at the president’s hotel about some superchick with blond hair who killed a dozen people. They both saw blood on the floor, and Matt kept asking where you were.”
“Why?”
“Like you said, the guy’s got an antenna. Maybe he’s worried you were the superchick.”
“They don’t even know I was at that hotel.”
“I guess.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were tired and went to bed.”
“Did Teri get to meet the president?”
“No. His secret service was too spooked to throw another party.”
“A pity.”
“I take it you killed the four?”
“I killed three of them. I’ve taken one of them captive.”
“What are you going to do to him?”
“Her. I’m going to interrogate her.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
“I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her to talk.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“If I don’t figure out a way to stop them now, I’ll never have peace. The rest of you could be in danger as well.”
“More reason to make me into a vampire.”
“More reason not to. Numbria has already admitted she knows what I am.”
“Who told her?”
“That’s what I have to find out. It’s going to be a long day.”
“The longer you’re gone, the more suspicious it will look to Matt and Teri.”
“What are they doing now?”
“Sleeping. It’s still early and they went to bed late. Tell me where you are.”
I give him the name and address of the motel. “Don’t come here unless I call for you,” I warn him.
“Fine. As long as you answer when I call.”
“Agreed. Is the secret service searching for me?”
“I don’t think so. I know they haven’t linked you to Teri. They haven’t questioned her.”
“A secret service agent named Mike saw me kill the three and still let me go.”
“Did you cast a spell on him?”
“No. He seemed to grasp that the people I killed weren’t normal. And that I should be left alone to deal with the rest of them.”
“That’s a hell of an insight on his part.”
“I think Mike’s what people call an old soul. You run into them if you live long enough. He has a rare form of intuition. He won’t report me.”
“You meet the strangest people.”
“I hooked up with Teri so I could have some normal friends.”
“Then juiced her up with vampire blood and pushed her into the Olympic limelight, where she shattered a world record.”
“Are you saying it’s my fault they came after me last night?”
“I don’t have to say it.”
That’s what I love about Seymour. No one can cut to the chase like him. I tell him about my feeling of being watched. He’s worried.
“They must have picked up your trail. Finish with your captive and get as far away from her as fast as you can. Let her live. Send her back to them as a goodwill ambassador.”
“She’s bleeding an awful lot to be an effective ambassador.”
“They don’t heal like you do?”
“No. But they’re very strong, very fast. I could let her go and she could turn around and try to kill me.”
“It’s your call.”
“There’s something else that bothers me about this feeling of being watched. It reminds me of the IIC group.”
“The Array?”
“Yes.”
“That gold medal is costing you in more ways than one.”
“That’s not fair. Teri deserved to fulfill her dreams.”
“Bullshit. She cheated, even if she doesn’t know it.”
“That wasn’t her fault.”
“It doesn’t matter. Look at the attention it’s brought. The vampire I wrote about was obsessed with staying in the shadows. What’s gotten into you?”
“How do you know I didn’t plan this? Look how it’s flushed my enemies out into the open.”
“As far as I can tell, you’re the one who’s out in the open.”
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.
“Let me help you,” Seymour continues. “Let me come there. I can help you question the woman.”
“You’re too squeamish.”
“Listen to me, Sita, please. I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Go back to sleep. I know what I’m doing.”
“Famous last words. If you begin to feel the least bit odd, call me.”
I promise. I hang up and drive back to the motel. Numbria hasn’t tried to escape. She must know more about the strength of the handcuffs than I do. I start out by showing her the labels on the two bottles I hold in my right hand: dilaudid and morphine.
“I’ll give you a shot to take away the pain and then bandage you,” I say as I fill the syringe. “I can set your broken bones, too. I don’t need an X-ray. I assume once everything is set, you’ll heal much faster than your average person?”
“Why are you doing all this?”
“There’s no reason for you to suffer.”
“You’re a hypocrite. You’re going to make me suffer if I don’t answer your questions.”
“A hypocrite says one thing and means another.” I find a vein and insert my needle and inject her with the opiate solution. Her face relaxes almost instantly. “I haven’t lied to you.”
“You’re Bloody Sita,” she mumbles. “You want my blood.”
“I’m not interested in your blood,” I say, although I must admit I have seldom encountered blood that smells so vibrant. It makes sense. Their power must be derived from their blood. I imagine drinking it would be a rare delight.
Yet I push away such thoughts as I clean her wounds with alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. For her size, I have given her a strong shot. She appears to float on euphoric waves, even as I dig out fragments of bone from both her knees and sew up my incisions. The bones in her palms are also a mess, and I wonder if she will need a specialist and a series of operations to recover.
When I’m finished attending to her injuries, and before the narcotics wear off, I give her a shot of Sodium Pentothal. She doesn’t notice. There are still enough opiates in her system to potentiate the truth serum. Her eyes fall shut, but I don’t mind. As long as she can hear me.
“You hear my voice, don’t you, Numbria?”
“Yes.”
“And you know my name?”
“Yes.”
“What is my name?”
“You have many. Alisa Perne. Lara Adams. Your oldest name is Sita. Bloody Sita.”
“Why do you call me Bloody Sita?”
“Because you are a vampire. You are evil.”
“Who told you I am evil?”
“The Source.”
“Is the Source an individual? Or a group of individuals?”
“A group.”
“Does this group have a leader?”
“Yes.”
“Is it like a secret council but with a president?”
“Yes.”
“How old is the Source?”
“It goes back to the beginning of time.”
“The beginning of history?”
“Yes.”
“What does your group call itself?”
“The Telar.”
“Are the Telar connected to the IIC?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Do you know what the Array is?”
“No.”
“Do you know a woman named Brutran?”
“No.”
“Have you heard her name mentioned?”
“No.”
“Can the word ‘Telar’ be translated into English?”
“Roughly.”
“Translate it for me.”
“It means the Immortals.”
“How old is the oldest Telar?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you were to guess, what would you say?”
“Ten . . . twelve . . . thousand years old.”
I have been standing as I question her. Now I have to sit down. It is hard for me to imagine any creature on earth older than myself. It’s just so ingrained in me that I’m the oldest.
“How many Telar are there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Roughly.”
“Five thousand. Maybe more.”
“Are many Telar over ten thousand years old?”
“No.”
“How old are you, Numbria?”
“Eight hundred years.”
“In Italy. In the Dark Ages.”
“You were alive when the plague spread over Europe?”
“Yes.”
“Did any of the Telar catch the plague?”
“Many did. Many died.”
“Did any members of the Source catch it?”
“They saw it coming. They hid away. They survived.”
“Did the Source instruct you to hide?”
“Yes. But when I heard, it was too late. Azol was sick.”
“Who is Azol?”
“My brother. He died from the plague.”
“Was he Telar?”
“He was my brother.”
“Did the original Telar form a civilization?”
“Yes.”
“What was it called?”
“The Egyptians.”
“But modern archaeologists say the ancient Egyptian society only goes back five thousand years. How could the Telar be older?”
“Modern archaeologists know nothing.”
I don’t argue the point. I fled India for Egypt five thousand years ago, and it was a thriving civilization. That’s when I met Suzama. It was largely wrecked by a group called the Setians, before I left, although I heard it quickly rebuilt itself.
“Do the Telar have records of a group called the Setians?”
“Yes.”
“How do the Telar describe them?”
“As a race of demons.”
Fair enough, I think.
“Do the Telar have records of a priestess named Suzama?”
“Yes.”
“How do they describe her?”
“As a divine oracle.”
“Was Suzama Telar?”
“Suzama was mortal. The Telar are immortal.”
“Was Suzama aware of the Telar?”
“The Source cannot be sure what Suzama knew.”
“Do the Telar have any record of me in ancient Egypt?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
“When did the Telar become aware of vampires?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was there one vampire in particular who made the Telar aware of them?”
“Yes.”
“What was this vampire’s name?”
“Yaksha.”
My heart skips in my chest. Simply to hear his name spoken by this stranger disturbs me. “Did Yaksha know about the Telar?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“He married a Telar.”
I almost swoon. My maker, Yaksha, not only knew of this race of immortals—a race he never told me about—but he was close to them. Hell, he married one of them. I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel betrayed.
“What was his wife’s name?” I ask.
“We do not speak of her.”
“Why not?”
“She betrayed the Telar by being with the vampire.”
“Did she become an outcast? Yaksha’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Was she killed?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“The Source. The high priest of the Source.”
“You mean the boss?”
“Yes.”
“Did this boss try to kill Yaksha?”
“Yes.”
“But he failed.”
“Yes.”
“Why did he fail?”
“Yaksha . . . Clever. Powerful. Impossible to kill.”
“Yaksha must have been angry the Source killed his wife.”
“We do not speak of it.”
“Did he take revenge? Did he wipe out your Source?”
Numbria takes a long time to answer.
“The Source is eternal. It cannot be destroyed.”
“What is the goal of the Telar?”
“To survive. To control.”
“Are there members of the Telar in high positions in society?”
“Yes.”
“In politics?”
“Yes.”
“In business?”
“Yes.”
“In science?”
“No.”
“The Telar avoid scientific positions because they wish to avoid sharing their scientific knowledge with the rest of mankind. True?”
“Yes.”
“Do the Telar wish to help mankind?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Human beings have spread across this planet like a plague. They poison it. They must be stopped.”
“How do you plan on stopping them?”
“There are ways.”
“Tell me of some of these ways.”
“The Source has not revealed what it will do next.”
“But you’re convinced the Telar want to exterminate mankind?”
“Not exterminate.”
“You will allow some humans to survive?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To study them. To learn from them.”
“What could you possibly learn from a human being?”
I’m shocked when the question provokes an extreme response. First Numbria doesn’t answer, and I make the mistake of thinking she has not heard the question, that she has dozed off. But when I repeat it, with more force, she gets agitated. She begins to thrash in the bed, threatening to open the wounds I’ve worked so hard to close. Obviously I have struck a nerve. I have no choice but to sedate her further, and soon she is asleep.
For a long time, I sit and ponder how I could have shared a world with the Telar and yet been unaware of their existence. To make matters worse, Yaksha clearly didn’t trust me with the knowledge of their existence. True, I only saw him at the end of his life, but he could have warned me.
Was he afraid of what I might do to them? Or was he trying to protect me from them? Maybe he felt if they didn’t know where I was, then it would be better for all concerned.
“But they know about Bloody Sita,” I say aloud as Numbria sleeps.
Who was this Telar that Yaksha married? She must have been a remarkable woman to have captured his heart. Here, in my arrogance, I always imagined I was the only one he loved. The truth is sobering. No, worse, much worse, it breaks my heart. I don’t even know her name. I only know the Telar killed her to punish her for being with Yaksha.
Long ago, I was his lover. But that was before Krishna entered our lives and forced him to take a vow to destroy all the vampires—including me. Krishna asked me to take a vow too. To make no more vampires. In return, he promised I’d always have his grace, his protection. Thus Krishna gave Yaksha and me contradictory vows. Leave it up to the Lord of the Universe to make our life’s purpose impossible.
I’m weary. It’s been a long time since I’ve rested, and my battles with the Telar have exhausted my reserves. I crave sleep but fear to stretch out on the floor and black out. Instead, I lock the windows and the door and sit in a chair facing Numbria, with a gun on my lap.
Long ago I learned to half sleep, where my mind empties itself of thought and my metabolism slows down, but I still hear what’s going on around me. The practice has saved my life on more than one occasion.
Turning off my cell, I close my eyes and rest.
The devil does not exist. I do not believe he exists. Nor do I believe the old saying that the devil’s greatest accomplishment was to convince the majority of mankind that he does not exist. For me, Satan and a literal hell are fables born of Christianity’s desire to control humanity by increasing its fear of death. After all, I’m five thousand years old and I’ve never met Satan.
Until now, I fear. I feel he is close.
I do not feel like I’m dreaming.
It’s all . . . too real.
Fire and brimstone. I choke on red smoke and squirm from the heat of surrounding flames. My eyes are neither open nor closed. I sense a number of creatures around me, but when I try to focus on them, something else takes their place.
I feel as if I stand on a precipice above an abyss filled with lava and demons. Yes, real live demons, who torture thousands if not millions of souls who have sinned during the course of their short lives. This precipice—I feel like I’ve been shepherded there by a being greater than myself. A malevolent being who knows all my sins and who can hardly wait to make me suffer for them. Far below, I hear demons applauding with ravenous anticipation when they see me waiting to be shoved inside.
Inside where? Hell. I’m standing at the gates of hell.
“No!” I cry. “Don’t put me in there! I don’t belong in there!”
My cries make the demons explode in laughter. They know that no one who has been brought to the gates of hell ever returns. The reason is simple. It’s their master who chooses who enters this accursed region, and their master is never wrong because—even though he’s opposite of Almighty God—he’s almost as old as God. He’s the alpha and omega, the one and the many. His names are endless—Devil, Satan, Old Gooseberry, Beelzebub, Old Nick, Lucifer . . .
For some reason, in this place of darkness and pain, the name Lucifer, “the Light Bearer,” haunts me the most. I recall how in the beginning God created heaven and the earth, and in heaven he created the greatest angel of them all. Greater even than Michael and Gabriel. His name was Lucifer, and God placed him above all the angelic hosts by endowing him with the light of the Holy Spirit itself. With this light Lucifer felt he was the equal of God, and thus was poisoned with arrogance, the first and most damning of all his sins, for it led to all his other crimes.
It was because of arrogance Lucifer strove to replace God in heaven, and rallied the bulk of the angels to his side by promising them a share of his light. These angels who joined him did so because Lucifer was so bright, so enchanting, and the Lord had never promised to grant them such a wonderful boon.
When the war began, Lucifer had numbers on his side, but when he rose up against God, the Lord chose not to fight. Instead, God bid his servants to save heaven and earth. He commanded Michael and Gabriel, and other archangels—whose names have long since been forgotten—to strike down Lucifer and his rebels.
How long this battle waged, no mortal was ever to know, for it was fought in a realm outside of time and space. But eventually Lucifer fell into the pit that God had prepared for him, and those angels who fought with him also fell, and became known as demons, and they hated the pit almost as much as they hated their master, who had promised them glory but instead led them to eternal damnation.
But it is said by Michael and his brothers that they did not defeat Lucifer, for he was too powerful. Lucifer was defeated for another reason. As he fought to claim heaven for his own, he had to call more and more upon the light of the Holy Spirit for strength, and the deeper he dove into the light, the more he realized the light had its origin in God.
Therefore, Lucifer realized a terrible irony. In his quest to destroy God, he saw that he was fighting against himself, for his light was not only of God, but his very being had been created by God. And Lucifer saw he was God, as were all those fallen ones who fought beside him.
Yet in the end, rather than share this truth with his demons, he chose instead to descend into the pit. It’s said he traded eternal bliss for endless agony, all because he could not stand to admit the truth to anyone else.
It is this same Lucifer who stands before me at the gates of hell. He asks if I understand why I’m here, and I cry out, “No!”
He laughs as he replies, “But Sita, you have also fallen. Even when you have seen that my light is no different from the light of your precious Lord?”
I try to answer but cannot speak. My fear is too great. I scream as his shadow engulfs me, and weep as he throws me into the pit.
But God does not hear my cries. For I am forsaken.
I awaken on the floor of the motel to the screams of Numbria. She thrashes on the bed in agony. She cries for another shot. As if in a dream, I reach for the needle and fill it with opiates. Yet as I turn back to her, I can’t help but notice the blood soaking through her bandages. Its smell seems to penetrate to the core of my brain, and I feel I have reverted to a yakshini, a devil from the deep, a reptile consumed with hunger. There’s no sympathy in me. How can there be? After all, Lucifer is right, I am forsaken.
“Sita, help me,” Numbria cries. “There’s something wrong with my mind. There’s something inside me. I can’t stand it. It’s killing me!”
I sit beside her on the bed and lick my lips and smile.
“Do you want me to stop the pain?” I ask.
She glances at the needle in my hand. “Yes! Stop it!”
I raise the needle in front of her eyes and squirt out a few drops.
“But the pain adds a certain sweetness, doesn’t it?” I ask.
Numbria stops thrashing and stares. “What are you talking about?”
I squirt out more of the drug, wasting it on nothing.
“It sweetens the blood. There’s nothing like a meal when the victim screams for mercy, before they realize there’s no chance. The pain is only going to get worse.” My grin widens. “You must know that by now?”
She shakes her head. “This isn’t you talking. It’s this thing in my head. It’s in your head too. Listen to what you’re saying. You’re not a monster.”
I grip her wounded arm and twist it so that she cries out.
“But I am, the worst monster of all. I’m a demon. That’s why I’ve lived so long. That’s what he told me. I live in his light and I feed on his darkness.” Pulling at her arm, I use my nails and rip off a chunk of skin. Her blood flows so bright, so warm, so dripping, I can hardly wait.
“No, Sita! Don’t do this! I don’t want to die!”
I open my mouth and lick. I bite and laugh out loud.
“Then you should never have been born!”
It’s been too long since I’ve fed. Her screams make it so sweet.
There’s an explosion at the motel door. Blinding light pours in, and for a moment I cannot see. A person, it is a human being, rushes to my side and grips my shoulders. I don’t know who they are or what they want, but I hate to be interrupted, and I’m going to kill them. How dare they touch me!
“Sita, it’s me, it’s Seymour. Can you hear me?”
I smile, my face cracking with dried blood. I don’t know why it’s dry. I feel as if I was feeding only a moment ago. No matter, I will feed again off this one.
I giggle. “Yes! I hear you. I know you. Seymour, lovely Seymour.” I reach out a hand and stroke his face. Such a pretty face it is. Too bad I will have to rip it to pieces to get what I want. “My, you’re so warm, so tasty. Can I have a little bite?”
“No. Sita, you’re caught in a spell. You’re—”
“Yes!” I scream as I yank him closer. “You’re supposed to say yes to me. No one says no to me! Certainly not a pathetic mortal like you! Do you know what you are? You are meat! Bloody meat!”
He does not struggle the way the other one did.
His eyes remain calm as he stares into my eyes.
“Krishna,” he says. “Think of Krishna and it will stop.”
I feel as if I have been stung by something burning.
I strike him, and he flies across the room and hits the wall, crumpling on the floor. His eyes stray to the motel door. For the first time I realize there is another one there.
“Shanti,” Seymour gasps. “Run.”
But this Shanti creature does not run. Instead, she walks slowly into the room. Her eyes remain focused on me—she doesn’t even glance at the meat on the bed. At first I’m annoyed, but then I’m glad she’s there. The more the merrier. She is smaller than the male. I’ll eat her first, in front of him, draw out his terror, and then start . . .
“Ah.” I grab her by her shoulders and shake her roughly. But she shows no fear, and that annoys me. It does something else to me. I feel suddenly dizzy and weak. She’s draining my power! I raise my hand to strike her, to kill her . . .
But she reaches up and strokes the side of my face.
Her touch stings. Like that damn Krishna word.
“It’s all right, Sita. Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I love you.”
“Stop it!” I yell. I will kill her, she’s hurting me. But I can’t keep my arm up. All the strength falls out of it and it drops to my side. She continues to stroke my face. Her hands don’t feel as awful as they did a moment ago. Actually, it’s kind of nice, her touch.
“That’s right, Sita. It was just an evil spirit, and it’s leaving.”
I blink, I recognize her. “Who are you? What are you?”
“Shanti, your friend. Seymour’s here too. We both love you so much.”
“But you’re . . . you’re meat!”
Shanti shakes her head. “The spirit told you that. It lied to you. Let it go, let it leave. Remember Krishna and it will go.”
I grip my head. “No! Don’t say that word. It hurts.”
“Krishna is soothing, like my touch. You know him. Tell me something about him.”
It’s a question I hate to answer. But I don’t want her to stop touching my face. It lessens the pain inside. So I say a few quick words. “He carried a flute. He played it. . . . I remember. . . . The music was nice.”
“What else do you remember?”
“His eyes. They were blue. A beautiful blue.”
Shanti puts both hands on my head. “Say his name aloud. You’re almost back. You’re coming back.”
“Krishna. Krishna.” The warmth of the name and her palms washes over me like a healing balm. So soft, so soothing, so comforting. I feel as if my mind, which was locked in a black box, has suddenly been returned to me on a gold pillow.
“Shanti,” I whisper.
“That’s me.”
“Seymour.”
“Over here,” he says from his place on the floor. “You okay, Sita?”
I feel a smile on my face. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m Sita.”
Then I’m all the way back inside my body.
I sense a black cloud flee the room. It leaves behind a faint stink, but the more I focus on who I am, and my friends, and Krishna, the more I sense a perfumed odor fill the room. I remember everything.
The memory gives me the strength to look at the bed.
At what remains of Numbria.
A mass of torn flesh. It leaks onto the floor.
I feel I will be sick. “No,” I moan.
Shanti and Seymour both hug me. I hear him talking.
“It wasn’t you, Sita. It was the Array. Brutran and her cronies waited until now to attack.”
“But why? How?”
“I don’t know how,” Seymour says. “But I think the why is becoming clear. All this time we’ve assumed we were dealing with a single enemy. We were wrong. The IIC is composed of normal people who have stumbled onto some great power. These others . . .”
“They call themselves the Telar. They’re immortals.”
“The Telar are their enemies. It makes sense. That’s what Brutran was offering you in her home. Protection from the Telar. But you turned her down, and it pissed her off.”
“I wonder what she wants in exchange for her protection?”
Seymour turns and steps toward the open door. He’s going to close it.
“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” he says. “Anyone who would focus the Array on you and force you to do something like this has got to be pretty sick.”
I put a hand over my eyes, to shield them from Numbria’s remains.
“Wait till you meet her,” I say. “She’s cold as ice.”
“I hope to God I never meet her,” Shanti says.
I hear Seymour closing the door. Then it bursts open.
“Alisa?” I hear Teri’s gentle voice. “Are you there? Matt and I didn’t mean to pry, but we decided to follow . . .” Her words trail off, and she screams. “Oh, God! Alisa! The blood . . . What’s that on the bed? Oh, no!”
I leap to my feet, see Teri and Matt standing in the doorway, frozen in shock, their faces pale as ghosts. Teri’s eyes are the worst. The horror inside them, I don’t know if I can bear it.
“Teri! Matt! It’s not how it looks!” I say, even as my lips crack on the dried blood that covers my mouth. “I was attacked by a group. They’re the same ones who are harassing Lisa and Shanti. It’s a long story, but I swear to you I didn’t do this. Tell them, Shanti. Tell them, Seymour.”
“It’s true, she didn’t do this,” Shanti says.
“Listen to her,” Seymour says.
Matt stares at them. “You guys just got here. What do you know?”
“We know she’s telling the truth,” Shanti says.
“Matt! Damn it! Just listen to her!” Seymour snaps.
The setting is too sick. The gross mass on the bed wipes away any chance at reason, as do my blood-soaked face and clothes. I hold out my hands, trying to calm the air, and speak in a gentle tone.
“Matt, get Teri out of here. But please let me explain later. It will all make sense then. I promise you, this is not how it looks.”
Matt steps in front of Teri, who’s on the verge of fainting, and pushes her outside the door. Then he turns to me, and I can’t help but notice how cool he remains in the face of such horror.
“It makes sense now,” he says. “There’s no need to explain.” Taking Teri by the arm, he turns his back on me. “Stay away, Alisa. Stay far away.”
They walk away. I hear a car start.
Red tears pour over my bloody cheeks.
Deep inside, I feel a pain in my heart I have never known.
But I cannot call on Krishna to fix it.
Lucifer was right about one thing.
I deserve this pain . . . for I have sinned.