Chapter Five
“The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.”
—Marcus Aurelius
Truly, Tal’s perceptiveness was uncanny.
Ben struggled not to squirm under the General’s piercing stare. In moments like these, Ben was convinced he saw everything.
Knew everything.
“I don’t think I’ve asked,” he began in a roundabout way, warming up to the subject slowly.
“How did you meet Michael? Why did you decide to take him on as an apprentice?”
Tal took a long sip of his beer and set it on the side table before leaning back in his sofa seat, as if settling in for a winding tale.
“He went to the all-things store in town one day. Just browsing. He had no money,” Tal related, his body language relaxed and casual, though his gaze gleamed in the dark like beacons of light.
The All-Things shop was called Dark Dreams, owned and operated by Ishtar in her Mama Bear form.
She still retained the first shop that she set up in New Yor City, where she used to live for many years before moving out here with the family. Now, that original shop was managed by friends, men and women who grew up in the Little Flower Orphanage that Ishtar and Tal supported however they could.
It’s as if they were making up for lost time. Their own children were torn away from them, though Tal had Inanna for the first twenty or so years of her life before he was imprisoned. Ishtar wasn’t reunited with her children until thousands of years later.
They clearly had a lot of love to give. For they set up shop in one of the poorest hoods in the Russian district. Wanderers, homeless people, and yes, orphans, often visited the shop. Everything on display was free for the taking. It was one of the many ways the Mated pair took care of lost souls.
With Inanna’s help on the logistics and systems front, Tal’s carvings, furniture and other creations were shipped to the New York City store in addition to supplying the one locally. Even Ishtar’s baking could be transported and still smelled and tasted fresh after a quick reheating in the oven.
Ben was certain his mom explained this to his grandparents before, that between Mama Bear’s baking and cooking and the income from Dark Dreams, they were pretty well off by now. They had little expenses, only savings.
The homestead was self-sufficient in terms of crops of fresh vegetables and fruit. For meat, they mostly hunted and raised chickens and ducks for their eggs. Other groceries were bought in town at very reasonable prices, running water was directly connected to the springs, and their electricity consumption was minimal, given the endless supply of firewood Ben provided for those extra chilly months.
They lived mostly as they would have in ancient times, without the trappings of modern civilization. They did own modern appliances and some devices, and Ishtar liked to watch movies on their big screen TV on occasion, but for the most part, their days and nights were filled with satisfying, productive work.
And lots of love.
If Tal and Ishtar had their way, they wouldn’t sell anything at all. They’d give everything away for free. Their time, their creations. That was just the sort of people they were.
But Inanna convinced them to make Dark Dreams into a for-profit business, to be able to help people help themselves. As a savvy real estate mogul herself, she knew all about it—providing employment and opportunity to those who wanted to create better lives for themselves and their loved ones, who wanted to learn useful new skills. And they agreed.
But they still gave away things for free at their own discretion.
“Ishtar saw his interest in the wares and also saw that he could ill afford them,” Tal continued.
“You know Mama Bear,” he said with a curve of his lips, as if even the mere mention of his leopard Mate gave him joy. “She can sniff out a lost soul from miles away. She offered him one of my carvings, as she is wont to do when she sees a person in need of hope. Some weeks later, he came back. And then, again. With shorter time in between visits.”
Ben wondered which carving Ishtar gave him. Since he didn’t know where Michael lived, he supposed he wouldn’t be able to see for himself.
Well, and the fact that it was highly unlikely Michael would ever invite him to his home, secretive as the man was.
“He became such a frequent fixture and seemed so interested in the woodwork that she had him help with some small tasks, like keeping the carvings polished, the displays and glass clean, and sweeping the shop. As she tells it, he never talked much. Just responded very reluctantly whenever she asked anything. But one day, he voluntarily inquired about the origin of the woodwork. And, so, she pointed him here.”
Tal moved his eyes away to focus on the distant hills, remembering.
“When she first brought him to my workshop, I felt an eerily familiar presence. And yet I know I’ve never met him before. There was something terribly…contained about him. As if he wasn’t free to be himself.”
“Wasn’t free, period,” he added on a pause.
“It reminded me of Ere, my wounded binu.”
Ben knew that Tal used the ancient Akkadian word for son.
It was also a name Ere gave himself when he still took other humanoid forms to disguise who he really was. It was his way of having his parents call him with that endearment, even before he knew who they really were.
“Michael is…resentful,” Tal mused, almost to himself.
“Selfish. Sharp. With the potential to be extremely vindictive if he feels you’ve wronged him.”
Wow. Those were not glowing reviews, Ben thought with a grimace.
But Tal wasn’t done.
“Yet, he is also curious. Fair, in his own way, with his own sense of balance. Funny, when he’s not trying to be. And he has the capacity to care a great deal. Perhaps even too much. Perhaps that is the reason he has shrouded himself with a prickly armor. Ere was much the same way.”
Okay. That was…somewhat more promising, though certainly not the best candidate for friend of the year. Or even a casual acquaintanceship.
Maybe it was Ben’s curse, but he was drawn to the difficult ones. He yearned to reach into the darkness the way dawn’s light enfolded the night.
“So, he has potential,” Ben surmised.
Tal gave a subtle nod.
“Is that enough for you to trust him with our secrets?” Ben asked. “Clearly, he knows about the Immortal Kinds. How do you think he acquired the knowledge? Why do you believe he won’t out us?”
Ben didn’t mean the questions to come out like an interrogation. He was truly curious about Tal’s assessment. Because, at the moment, he didn’t trust his own judgement.
He was too close to it. Too drawn to Michael.
“I don’t trust him,” Tal said.
Well, fuck.
“But I also don’t think he will reveal our secrets,” he added.
“If for no other reason than the fact that he’s clearly a loner. He doesn’t appear to have friends or family. He also seems eminently practical. I don’t see him spouting wild tales about dragons and animal spirits, vampires and elves, to the public at large or law enforcement and government agencies in particular.”
“He is as anti-social, as you modern humans call it, as a being can be. And he clearly has many secrets of his own. As to how he knows about us…I don’t think he learned it from anywhere. I have the sense that he simply knows. His is not the knowledge spawned by blind faith or even a specific experience; his is the kind that is unshakable, irrefutable. Because he’s part of it.”
“But he is human,” Ben pointed out. “That is his real form.”
“So are you,” Tal returned.
“A human with a Pure soul. I do not know what kind of soul Michael has. I cannot see the colors of his soul the way Sophia can, but I sense it. Its resonance reminds me again of Ere. But also of all of the other Immortals. I feel a connection between him and all of us. We are alike, and yet not alike. He may be human, but he is also more.”
A shudder rocked through Ben at the same thought that he’d had of Michael himself. He felt the truth of it deep down when Tal put it into so many words.
But more what?
Who was Michael really?
“You have foresight to keep him close,” Tal said.
Ben was glad the General couldn’t see his grimace.
It wasn’t foresight that had him hanging around Michael, inching toward “first base” on the couch. It was his insistent, newly awakened libido.
“He has the potential for greatness, both great triumph and great calamity,” Tal went on, leaning forward, spearing Ben again with those compelling eyes.
“Everything that happens, happens for a reason. Even if we do not know what it is as it happens. Perhaps he is here because he needs us. Or perhaps we are the ones who need him. Perhaps there is a connection between you—”
Ben opened his mouth reflexively to deny it, until Tal arched his brow.
He kept quiet.
“—because you both need it. I encourage you to explore where it leads. Those who stand on the edge of the abyss most need the spark of guiding light. Even if they ultimately choose to fall.”
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
It was a near thing.
Michael almost didn’t make it home before the form of Eve overtook him. As it was, he’d lasted longer in the male form than ever before, well past the usual time to change.
He wondered whether it was because he’d been so enthralled by Ben. He needed to stay as Michael. They were…
In the middle of something.
Before they were rudely interrupted, at least. Damn that interfering Black Dragon. No wonder Shifu found him trying.
Now as Eve, Seven went about her nightly routine, making herself comfortable on the second-hand sofa in front of the second-hand TV, her prized possession clutched to her chest the way children clutched their safety blankets.
It was a carving Michael picked up from a shop in town. A free gift. Though Seven was skeptical that anything could be free in this universe. Thus far, she didn’t seem to suffer the consequences of upsetting the Balance for accepting the treasure without giving anything in return.
Absently, she stroked the carving’s head, as if it possessed real fur and warmth, instead of being made of wood. As she continued rubbing it in her hands, the wood began to heat, mirroring her own body temperature.
She turned to the Hallmark Channel to watch an old movie re-run. She loved those. The cheesier the better. To remind her of the silliness of humans, she told herself. Even if the sappy happy endings always put her in a better mood.
It took some adjustment just to accept that she had moods.
When she’d been a deity, she experienced rage and certain kinds of joy, but the range of her emotions were limited. Like living in grayscale versus the full color spectrum that humans enjoyed.
The intensity level was also different. She felt much subtler things that defied her ability to describe them, as well as overwhelming feelings that…if not frightened her (since she felt no fear), then at least concerned her. Mystified her. Losing control was something she’d never had the luxury to do. It had never been an option.
Now, she felt like her boundaries and sense of self were challenged on a daily basis.
With a determined huff, she tuned out the self-reflection and focused on escaping for a while through fantasy and fiction. Bless the humans for inventing motion pictures!
The Parent Trap was on. The original one, not the remake.
Eve didn’t understand the point of rehashing the same story. But, then, weren’t all stories a recounting of something that came before? Wasn’t the future destined to be a repeat of the past? Was there anything truly unique left in the world?
Her thoughts naturally veered toward a particular human male, but she forcibly pushed the niggling reminder aside.
One of the many strange things about humans was that they mostly revered the family unit. Two parents, one-point-five children and maybe a pet or two. These Hallmark movies always showed a man and a woman falling in love. One would assume they then “tied the knot” and proceeded to produce happy offspring. And everyone loved each other.
Humans formed larger clans with their extended family and friends, much like the way animal spirits did. Even Pure and Dark Ones banded together, though the latter group regarded permanent relationships like Mated Bonds with more suspicion.
The selfishness, greed and lusty appetites of Dark Ones were most similar to the gods that once ruled the world. Yet, still, familial and amorous bonds did exist. There was loyalty too within a Hive.
Gods, on the other hand, were constrained by none of these artificial boundaries. There was no permanence, because everything altered with enough time. There were no real “children,” only offspring, creations, sometimes entering the Universe fully formed.
There was no “innocence,” and no growing up. You either existed or not. You often had to fight for your existence because other gods envied your powers and wanted to absorb them for themselves.
This was why the offspring of gods were ever destined to usurp their own creators. Even humans depicted this endless cycle in their various mythologies, from Chinese to Egyptian to Greek and Scandinavian.
Never, in the history of civilization, had there been a pantheon of deities who loved and protected their children, stayed true and devoted to their chosen mates, and lived happily ever after.
Never.
Then, there was the evolution to religions that had only one God. But why was there only one? What happened to everyone else?
In Seven’s opinion, these religions were created alongside humanity’s need for a consolidation of power. When one culture absorbed another, or fragmented tribes needed to band together to overthrow a greater foe.
But even in the case of a one and only almighty God, where was His family? His Mate? And for that matter, why was it “He” to begin with? There were no depictions of Him falling in love, making a permanent pact with a chosen partner, and raising an army of rug rats upon whom He lavished affection and indulgence.
Truly, where did humans come up with the fantasy of True Love and the family unit? Their creators certainly didn’t set any examples.
Seven slid further into the cushions of the comfortable couch and wrapped herself in the cocoon of a furry blanket Maddie had given her as a housewarming present.
Again, a free gift.
In fact, all of the furnishings in her apartment above Drink of Me were given to her for free. Seven didn’t understand it. Didn’t know what their ulterior motive was.
Once she earned enough to save, she bought only the bare necessities—food, clothes, toiletries (because humans unfortunately needed a lot of upkeep). The only things she spent money on that weren’t strictly needed were the wares from Dark Dreams. Some pretty pottery and trinkets, metal art and wood carvings.
It was silly to collect them. They served no purpose at all, other than sit on various surfaces collecting dust. And yet, it made her…perk up to see them in the apartment.
Her favorite things, however, were the gifts from others. Even if she didn’t trust them.
She hugged the carving to her chest and let her eyelids droop with drowsiness.
Her dreams had become more vivid lately. She didn’t think they had to do with more “quests,” and yet the two rings she wore for the Dream and the Song of Dragons seemed restless.
After her recent dreams, the Dream ring heated against her skin, and the Song vibrated until her whole hand shook upon waking. Yet, neither coughed up any suggestions or answers. These treasures had helped her guide Ere, Ben and their friends on previous quests. She was just the messenger.
But now, it felt as if the rings wanted something else from her.
Something buried in her memories…
Age of Gods. Tens of thousands of years ago.
“Look at that unevolved animal…I cannot believe she takes it everywhere…”
“They say her Twin created it out of stardust, how rudimentary…”
“Well, with a temper like hers, it’s no wonder only her Twin would pity her enough to gift her a companion. Who else would bother? She is not one of us…”
“She is an abomination…”
“A curse…”
“The dreaded number Seven… Destroyer of Worlds…Usurper of Gods…”
Seven had heard all of this before.
In the beginning, the other gods had the courtesy to whisper, for her powers had been untested and unknown. They only knew of the Prophesy: that she would be the god to overthrow them all. That when the Jade Emperor brought her to life, he was in essence harkening forth his own doom.
After these many millennia, she had yet to rebel against her Creator. And while she was far from an easy target, she didn’t aggress upon the other gods as they had feared either. They tested their powers against her, always through ambush, seldom a direct confrontation. For everyone knew that they would never defeat her if she saw them coming.
Especially when she was with her Twin.
Alone, she was already formidable. Together, the Twins were nigh undefeatable. Many gods and monsters had perished in the process of testing their powers.
But because Seven did not show signs of outright rebellion; had not even tried to persuade other gods to her side in a bid for ultimate power, there were murmurs that perhaps the Prophesy was false.
One couldn’t always trust these things, after all. Even Prophesies could be interpreted differently. Even stars, from which they were gleaned, could change.
Now, the gods no longer hid their disdain. They openly lashed out at Seven, less so her Twin for some reason. Perhaps it was because the Dark Goddess did not attract attention the way Seven did, blending into shadows and keeping to herself.
Everywhere Seven went, she was wreathed in bright light. Her power was palpable. Barely contained. One could not help but be in awe of her.
Why was number Seven special? The Jade Emperor had countless offspring by now. There were plenty of gods who were more comely, more talented, more knowledgeable and far more affable. It was no wonder no one welcomed Seven into their midst. “Friendly” was not a vibe she ever gave off.
The gods envied her. Mistrusted her.
Feared her.
And what they feared, they wanted to destroy.
Seven took her seat at the royal table. For even amongst deities, there was a pecking order. She might be an outcast, but she still outranked all the rest of them, second only to the ruling pair. Even Papa Jade’s mouth piece, the Master, had to defer to her on occasion, though there was a tacit understanding and respect between them.
The table sat two dozen of the Jade Emperor’s most favored, or in Seven’s case, most powerful, offspring. The ruling pair never revealed themselves to lesser beings. At most, Seven had only ever heard their voices, a booming, thunderous sound that infused into every molecule of air.
“That is my seat,” Twelfth Brother said, nodding toward the place on Seven’s left where Byakko was lying down upon a large floor cushion.
Lord Twelfth actually had a name, unlike Seven. In fact, all of the other deities had names. All except Seven. Only their creations referred to her as the Pure Goddess and her Twin as the Dark Goddes. These were mere honorifics, for they had no other reference points.
Brother Twelfth was called the Duke of the Rising Sun, Qi-ri, by lesser beings and even some of the other gods who curried his favor. Given that he ruled one of the ten suns in Heaven, he was extremely powerful.
Which didn’t excuse his sneering arrogance, Seven thought.
She didn’t spare the god a single glance. Instead, she took a sip of her ambrosia and said succinctly:
“No.”
The god growled like a feral beast at her. She wanted to point out that he possessed less manners than an actual Beast. Byakko was much better behaved. Ever the gentleman.
But her Twin wasn’t here this day, and she didn’t feel like starting a row. So, she swallowed back the rebuke.
Twelve tried to take her Twin’s seat on her right. She dematerialized the chair as he put his ass down, making him crash inelegantly to the floor.
“That is not your place, either,” Seven said casually, though her eyes glinted with warning.
Suddenly, the food and drink laid out in front of Seven exploded in her face and chest. Besides the globs of culinary debris, shards of pottery and crystal embedded themselves in her skin, making blood run in rivulets down her face, neck and arms, wherever she was exposed.
Byakko was on his paws, already in his giant form, baring his teeth in a wrathful snarl at the god who dared attack his Mistress.
But Seven stayed him with a hand on the scruff of his neck.
Twelve was not worth a single whisker of her treasured pet. She would deal with him herself.
She stood from her seat and faced him, her expression a mask of ennui. He rounded upon her with hands in tight fists at his sides, prepared for her counter.
The rest of the gods at the table, as well as lesser gods and monsters who gathered in the gods’ hall paused in their activities to watch the confrontation. It was as if someone had orchestrated this encounter for their entertainment.
It was a role Seven was used to playing.
She had not come today with the intention of engaging in these pointless tiffs, but her temper had been riled by the endless mutterings. What infuriated her the most was not their slander of her—she was used to that.
How dare they speak of Byakko as if he was a thing? If anyone were to disparage him, it could only be Seven herself.
“Don’t you know, brother, that whatever violence you visit upon me, I shall return to you ten fold?”
She stretched her hands out at her sides, not bothering to raise them. Her long hair blew back from her face as if a soft wind caressed her.
But the effect was staggering.
Twelve opened his mouth on a silent scream as his ornate robes shredded into bits, the skin beneath them peeling back from muscle and bone.
He tried to fight back. She could feel his power pushing against hers.
She merely quirked a corner of her mouth in a disdainful sneer.
Weakling. He was no match against her. No one was. Not one-on-one.
She decided to toy with him a little to teach him and all the rest of their avid audience a lesson. To show that she did not take disrespect lightly. Maybe it would ward off more of such useless challenges. At least for a while.
The lull never lasted.
She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, regarding Twelve like a raptor eyeing a trapped mouse.
He possessed a gorgeous humanoid skin. His form and face were widely regarded as the handsomest in Heaven. He was smooth and golden all over, every feature perfectly chiseled.
Well, presently he was getting ripped to shreds and skinned alive, dripping blood all over the pristine floor.
What if he looked like the Beast he scorned? But not regal like Byakko and the other Beasts. But a mishmash of parts that was neither god nor animal?
She curled her fingers subtly, making fur spout where his smooth skin used to be, all over his limbs and face, though she left him bipedal. She elongated his teeth so that they crowded his jaw, making him unable to close his mouth. Drool dripped from the stretch corners, mixing with blood.
He’d sunk to his knees now before her, while their silent and still audience watched. His eyes were wide as saucers, wild with panic, pain and fear.
She smirked some more as she eyed his flaccid cock, naked and useless between his legs.
She curled her fingers again and hardened the organ to solid stone, making the furry stones below fill to the point of pain.
Involuntarily, Twelve bucked his monstrous body, humping on air, his head thrown back as he howled in continuous, helpless, gushing release. His semen splattered everywhere, erupting from his rude cock like a fountain.
Some of the audience tittered nervously at the sight; others looked horrified to see one of the most powerful gods brought so low, humiliated in such a way.
Seven grasped the god’s jaw in an unrelenting grip, staring down into his manic eyes.
“Who is the unevolved animal now, dear brother? Who is the laughing stock, the rude monster who can’t control himself. Like a horny beast in rut?”
She looked over him with snarling contempt.
“Where is your pleasing form? Where are your honeyed words?”
He gargled something unintelligible around the locked jaw and swollen tongue.
She leaned closer, pretending to listen.
“What’s that? You’re sorry for the earlier offense? You will not dare displease me again? Hmm. I don’t think an apology is quite enough to assuage my ire. I think you will remain in this form, in this state, for…oh, at least a fortnight.”
He whimpered and blubbered, tears running out of both eyes and fluids out of his thickened nose, mixing with the drool.
“Not enough of a punishment?” she purposely misunderstood.
“Very well, I shall extend it to a moon cycle then.”
He howled openly now, still bucking his hips, leaking from his erect phallus all over the stone floor. All over his own furred body.
“You are an embarrassment,” she said quietly to him, spearing him with her glowing gaze.
“An abomination,” she repeated the word the other gods so readily used with her.
“Remove yourself from my sight. Run along with your tail between your legs and hide, little Twelve.”
At that thought, she smiled evilly, shrinking the god’s sexual organs until they were miniaturized, though he still gushed seed uncontrollably.
He emitted a high-pitched scream and put his hairy hands over his groin, attempting to shield himself from view.
But the other gods saw. Some of them laughed uproariously at his expense.
He ran from the hall holding himself like that, crying all the way.
Seven turned back to the table and swept her icy glare over everyone gathered there.
Immediately, the tittering and laughter stopped. The mutterings died down.
Her wounds had already healed, the tears in her clothes fixed. She was resplendent once more. The food and drink on the table before her had been refilled.
She picked up a particularly juicy portion of meat with her fingers, eschewing the utensils, and brought it to Byakko’s maw.
His bright eyes met hers as he gently took the food from her palm.
“That will teach them to insult my beautiful Beast,” she murmured for his ears only, dismissing the crowd as if they didn’t exist.
“You are worth a thousand of those inflated peacocks,” she told him almost sternly, her temper not yet appeased.
“Nay, you are infinitely more.”
Byakko regarded her with a hope he didn’t often let himself feel, for they were always dashed as soon as he felt it.
In moments like these, he could fool himself into thinking that she truly cared…