Samantha Moon: First Eight Novels, Plus One Novella (143 page)

“
I’m going to have a little talk with our client.”

“
Tara? But isn’t she one of them?”

“
Exactly,” I said, and turned and headed back through the forest, with Allison stumbling and cursing behind me.

Chapter Thirty-three

As I left Allison in the bungalow, confident that she would be safe for the time being, trusting my inner alarm system—and my own gut feeling—I paused just outside the door.

As rain battered me, I decided to change plans, at least for the time being.

Instead of talking to Tara, I hung a right and headed back into the forest, and found a side trail that I had seen from high above the night before. The trail, wide at first, soon narrowed considerably. I didn’t know much about forests or hiking or even trails, but I figured this to be a game trail.

I continued on, pushing through massive ferns that seemed almost prehistoric. Thorny raspberry bushes were in abundance as well, all filled with juicy berries that probably tasted heavenly. The trail angled up, as I knew it would.

Stinging nettles snagged my jeans as I carefully stepped over fat banana slugs—and even the occasional toadstool. I marveled at the mushrooms that clung to moist tree trunks. Nature at its weirdest. Water dripped seemingly everywhere. Lightning suddenly flashed above, zigzagging through the treetops, followed by an angry grumbling of thunder.

I continued on, slipping once or twice in the sloshing mud, winding my way up the trail that would lead to the highest point of the island.

Soon, as the trees opened and the wind and rain lashed me violently, I found myself on a steep switchback trail that afforded a majestic view of the manor far below. The trail soon led to a rounded rock dome high above the island. I didn’t know if it had a name, but I called it Dome Rock.

Rain drove straight into my face, down inside my jacket collar. I didn’t mind the rain all. It made me feel alive. Human. Normal. Rain didn’t judge or discriminate. Rain fell on everyone...mortal or immortal. Living or dead.

Or some of us in-between.

I slipped and slid my way over the moss-covered rock and soon looked out over the Puget Sound, to distant islands and churning seas. It was so beautiful and epic and alive that it was nearly impossible to believe that a family was being terrorized by a body-jumping demon.

Nearly.

I knew one thing, though: I wanted answers.

And I knew just where to find them.

God.

Chapter Thirty-four

I sat cross-legged at the apex of the dome, completely exposed to the storm.

At times, the wind blew so hard that I thought it might lift me up and blow me off the rock mound. But it didn’t, try as it might. Instead it tugged and pulled at me like an angry thing, as I remained seated and focused.

My eyes were closed tight; my hands rested on my knees.

The wind thundered over my exposed ears. Yes, my hood was down. I didn’t want any barrier between me and God. I breathed in and out, slowly. Now, the wind blew even harder, rocking me further and, in the far distance, I heard the pounding of the surf against the rock cliffs.

I continued breathing, slowly, deliberately, deeply.

It took a minute or two of focused concentration, but soon enough, I felt a sensation of rising up, as if I’d entered a tube of some sort. A glass tube, because in my mind’s eye I could see myself rising up. But, interestingly, not so much rising above the earth. No. Instead, I sensed myself rising up through what appeared to be levels.

Dimensions.

How I knew this, I didn’t know. But the word felt right. Yes, I was rising up through the dimensions, even as the rain hit me full in the face. The sensation of being wet and cold seemed to be happening to someone else. Certainly not me...after all, I was rising, rising.

Rising...

The dimensions swept past me. On many of them I sensed entities, or beings, watching me, observing me while I came and went. Spiritual beings, I knew, highly evolved beings that existed in realms that we, as humans, could not comprehend...and yet, I sped past even them.

Higher and higher.

Until...

I was back. Not above the Earth, or even above the Universe. I was
outside
of the Universe. Outside of space and time. I was observing creation as God would have. As God did so now.

Welcome back, Samantha Moon,
came a thought deep inside my head. No, not exactly in my head. All around me, vibrating through me.

I sensed that I existed in the space between space, and it was a concept that was difficult for me to understand.

You are doing fine, Samantha Moon.

Thank you. You are doing fine, too, from what I can gather.

There was a gentle laugh inside me.
Kind of you to say, Sam. Do you mind if I call you Sam?

You’re God, you can call me anything you want.

More gentle laughter. God, I was discovering, had a nice sense of humor.
I understand that you think that, Sam. But I am, more accurately, the Source.

Source?

The Source of life in this universe.

I see,
I thought.
I think. That’s still pretty much God to me.

I will not argue the point, Sam. Either way, it’s a pleasure to have your company.

I sensed the vastness, the emptiness, the peace.

Do you ever feel lonely out here?
I asked.

Your question implies that I might find myself alone.

Well, yes, I guess. Are there many others like you? Other Sources?

There are a handful of us, yes.

How many?

Twelve, to be exact.

And from where do the twelve originate?

Exactly that, Sam. From the Origin.

And what, exactly, is the Origin?

My Creator.

I see,
I thought.
And you are my Creator?

You are my creation, yes.

And what do the other twelve Sources do?

They watch over their own multiverses, of course.

Of course. And why did the Origin create twelve of you?

To learn more about itself.

And why did you create me?

So that I can learn more about myself.

And thus, what? Report back to the Origin?
I asked.

You are correct, Sam.

I thought about this as the rain and wind pummeled my physical body a universe away, as I gazed out over the slowly-moving cosmos that rotated around a galactic center of some sort.

That’s pretty heavy,
I thought.

It’s as heavy or light as you want it to be. But, yes, I understand that these are new concepts for you in the physical world.

Is there evil?
I asked suddenly.

There is the potential for others to show you the opposite of light, yes.

I had a sudden insight, sudden clarity. I wondered if this insight came from the Source.

The darkness is necessary to appreciate the light,
I said.

Well said, Sam.

Can darkness ever destroy light?

There was a slight pause before the voice vibrated through my being again:
Remember this always, Sam: A small match can illuminate the darkest room.

I got the meaning and felt myself nod way, way back there on that rock dome, high above Skull Island.

So, I should never fear darkness,
I thought.

Live in light, Samantha, but acknowledge the darkness.

For without darkness, there cannot be light.

Very good, Sam.

Is there a Devil?
I asked suddenly.

There was a long pause.
You are asking if there is an entity that delights in causing mischief, who tortures souls for all eternity, who causes the good to falter, and the bad to be worse?

Well, yes.

No, Sam. No such entity exists.

I nodded. Perhaps here in space, or perhaps back on the dome, I said,
I have a question about a group of beings I have come across, one such being is, in fact, residing within me, and undoubtedly hearing this very conversation.

Maybe she needs to hear this conversation, Samantha. Maybe you are her answer, too.

I don’t understand.

Maybe you are her way back to the light.

I never thought of that.
I paused, formulating my thoughts.
I feel she is evil
.

She—and others like her—have certainly made choices that might appear evil.

But they are not evil?
I asked.

They operate out of fear, Sam. Fear of moving on, fear of giving up power, fear of retribution. They are, quite simply, misinformed.

Misinformed about what?

That life is eternal, that I am eternal. That they are eternal. That power is temporary, that love is everlasting.

Is there evil?

There is no evil, Samantha Moon.

Lightning flashed in the heavens above...until I realized that it had flashed directly above my body. I was about to ask another question, until I felt myself slipping back...or down through the dimensions. As I slipped down, down, God’s words sang through me and around me.

Love is everlasting.

I opened my eyes and looked out over stormy seas and wondered again if I’d completely lost my mind.

Chapter Thirty-five

As I hiked back from the dome, still reeling from yet another encounter with God—or, perhaps more accurately, the Source—I sent a text message to Tara Thurman:

We need to talk.

Her reply came a few minutes later, as I slid and skated down the muddy trail.

I know.

Meet me at my bungalow in twenty minutes.

Where are you?

Nature walk,
I texted and shoved my phone in my hip pocket before the rain could short-circuit something. I might be able to do a lot of things, but magically fix my iPhone wasn’t one of them.

Back at the bungalow, I let Allison know we were expecting a guest. Allison read my mind, shook her head, and went immediately into the kitchen and took out a big carving knife.

“She’s one of
them
, Sammie,” she said, slipping it inside her waistband, and then yelping loudly when the point bit her.

I snickered and reminded her that the entity, as far as we knew, could only jump from one body at a time.

“Well, we don’t know that for sure, Sam. In fact, we know very little about it.”

“
Which is why I want to talk to Tara.”

Allison still didn’t like it, except this time she gingerly slipped the knife inside her waistband. I chuckled and took a shower. Showers were still one of my few great pleasures in this new life of mine, and I reveled in the warmth it provided, always reluctant to leave. Even after the shower was long off, I stood there briefly in the stall, the heat and steam, and watched the water drip down my still-pale skin. Pale and flawless, granted.

No,
I thought.
Pale and dead
.

I threw on my last pair of dry jeans, then tossed my sopping-wet clothes in the bungalow’s washer. I’d just turned it on and was toweling my hair when a gentle rap came on the front door.

As of someone gently rapping,
I thought, thinking of the Edgar Allan Poe poem,
rapping at my chamber door.

*  *  *

As I reached for the door, I mentally reminded Allison to guard her thoughts. She understood...and reached down and adjusted the knife at her hip. I might have detected a small spot of blood appearing through her jeans where the point had poked her.

I next remembered the words of the Source:
They operate out of fear, Sam. Fear of moving on, fear of giving up power, fear of retribution. They are, quite simply, misinformed.

Misinformed or not, the being that possessed the Thurmans was, I suspected, desperate and powerful. A hell of a dangerous combination. But I would not fear it, whatever it was.

The smallest match can illuminate the darkest room.

I opened the door, stepped aside, and let the Devil in.