The Sword of Michael - eARC (15 page)

Chapter 18

Dillon and I sat on the floor, backs against my couch, our weapons spread out in a greasy array around us; the shower ran long from the bathroom where Sabrina stood and let cleansing water run over her; Jolene came in from the kitchen and handed Dillon and I each a mug of fresh brewed steaming coffee, then went and brought one back for herself, slid cross legged with boneless grace into a seated posture, yogalike, across from the two of us.

She had aged, my beauty, and that filled and topped off the reservoir of rage and anger that had driven me at some point during the night. Her face was drawn with fatigue; long lines running beside her mouth that seemed to have grown overnight, a streak of grey hair along the front of her red mane, a boneless hunch, round-shouldered, the posture of the terminally fatigued or beaten…and as though she could read my mind (and she probably could, fatigue or not) she straightened herself, took two deep breaths, and a clarity seemed to emerge from within her, settle her straight backed and once again the proud and strong Priestess of the Great Mother.

She sipped her coffee and stared at me over the lip of the mug.

It was almost, for a moment, like it had been.

From the shower, barely muted by the fall of water, muffled sobs.

Dillon began to get to his feet.

“Leave her,” Jolene said. “I’ll see to her. She needs to be alone right now.”

“I…” Dillon said.

“Yes,” Jolene said. “I know, Dillon. But she needs to be alone for now. She’ll be with us when she’s ready.”

The shower shut off.

Jolene nodded. “Soon.”

“So what now, Marius?” Dillon said. “I just, I just don’t, I just…”

I took a long hot pull off my coffee and focused on the simple warmth of it in my belly.

“First we drink our coffee,” I said. “And see to Sabrina. All of us stay together right now. And then we’ll sit in Circle and seek guidance. But right now? Drink coffee. Clean guns. Check the wards and boundaries and protection. Rest.” I looked at Jolene. “Yes?”

She nodded. Once. Rose without using her hands, the blossoming of a red and white and black-garbed flower, left the room. I heard muffled words and the homey sound of women in a bathroom.

“It’s all like a dream,” Dillon said. “Is it always like this?”

“Yes,” I said. “In the ’twixt and the ’tween, when the Other Realms open up, in the area between where we go to fight, it’s always like this. A dream and a not-dream. Non-ordinary reality.”

“The whole Otto Skorzeny thing?”

I shrugged. “Just as real, or not, as everything else we saw and did, Dillon.”

“He said he’ll be back. To talk to you.”

“If it’s in accordance with the Creator’s Plan, he will be. If not, he won’t be.”

I drank my coffee. Jamaican Blue Mountain. That was real. Or real enough.

We cleaned guns. Reloaded magazines and moon-clips. Refreshed Holy Water. Sharpened knives.

The women were alone in the back of the house and we left them be. Their work was the work of the Goddess, the Divine Feminine, and ours, tonight, was that of the Divine Masculine, the protective principle of the universe.

Oh, Marius, came the soft tigerish voice I loved so much. You’re so serious…

Should be, Burt said. Big night’s work. And it’s just the beginning…

And they were gone, or rather, gone silent.

First In Front was there, sitting in my recliner, watching me and Dillon at our tasks. As always, his knife seemed scoured and sharp, and he seemed still and focused, his eyes gleaming bright with the white light of the Creator radiating from him like a stove carefully banked.

It is the end of the beginning, he said. You came close tonight, to the trap they set for you. He nodded in response to my silent question. Yes. Anger and rage, the fuel of the fighter, the warrior…you have to beware. And you must watch for Dillon, because he doesn’t understand or know, he only trusts you and follows your lead. Be careful where you lead, Marius. The path is perilous…

And he was gone.

Spirit guides are never really gone—they are with you always. Most times, when they seem to disappear, it’s you and your junk that blocks the channel. Junk being the stuff we need to work through—distraction, anger, dark forces interfering, all of the long list of things that are obstacles on the way back to the Light—and that junk interferes with *our* reception. The Creator always knows and is always connected to us; or to be accurate, we’re always part of the Creator. But the exercise of Free Will allows us to disconnect, to be separate, or to feel and experience that we are separate. And the exercise of the Return to the Light leads us back to the full and direct experience of God the Creator, and the connection of all of us.

We are all related.

We are all connected.

And sometimes, when our spirit guides go away for awhile, it’s for us to examine our relationship with the Creator and our guides, and in the silence the appearance of absence brings, develop a new appreciation and integrate the lessons we’ve learned.

And sometimes we all need a break.

I looked at our prepped gear. All ready to go. I didn’t have the military experience Dillon did; he’d gone in harm’s way as a solider and as a military contractor and for awhile, as a bodyguard—the way of Middle World war was familiar to him.

Me, I’d learned as I went along, and brought along the skill-set gifted to me by my warrior guides and
yes, we are all warriors, they whispered
and just as Dillon had learned some of my way, I’d learned some of his.

So we were ready for both worlds.

Outside, light grew through the trees in the park. In the Koran, it says that night ends when you can tell the color of two strands of string, one white, one black. It was that time.

Jolene led Sabrina into the front room. Stood there, holding her hand. Sabrina was wrapped in one of Jolene’s terry cloth bathrobes, her hair still damp from the shower. Strength had returned to her. The toll of the night was calculated in her eyes. As in Jolene’s.

I could tell they wouldn’t speak of that. Nor would they need to. All would be shared in journey.

Jolene gestured for Dillon and I to follow her. We did, into my healing room. Jolene had moved the treatment table out, and so there was space for the four of us to sit on the floor, at the four points of the compass.

“Now,” Jolene said. “We’ll join in sleep and dream. In the light of the day. Together we will rest and heal.”

“I’ll stay up,” Dillon said. “I’ll watch over you all while you sleep.”

I opened my mouth and Jolene silenced me with a look.

“Beloved,” Jolene said to Dillon. “You will rest with us. I’ve been shown that you all are safe. In our sleep we will be watched over, by the Mother and all of the helping and compassionate spirits.” She paused, and smiled the smile that no man could resist. “Dillon, even the mightiest warrior needs rest. Today you have earned that. Please.”

He hung his head and nodded.

We all joined hands for a moment of silent prayer, and I felt a wave of fatigue sweep over me. We turned so that we faced outwards, lay down with our heads facing into the center of the circle we made, joined hands.

As the light of day grew against the drawn curtains of my healing room, the darkness of complete rest grew and I fell into a deep and, for a while, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 19

I woke with the heaviness in my bones that told me that I hadn’t moved at all while I slept. There was no light against the windows. I’d been asleep for a long time. I blinked and rolled onto my side. Dillon was still asleep. No Jolene, no Sabrina, but the clatter coming from the kitchen told me someone else was here.

I got to my feet and went to the bathroom.

Then into the kitchen. Sabrina wore a set of designer sweats, courtesy of Jolene’s overnight closet-stash. She considered me, her hair drawn back tight, eyes and face grave.

“There’s coffee,” she said.

“How you doing?” I said.

She nodded. “I’m good, Marius.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not ready to talk about this yet. But…thank you. Thank you.”

She turned away so I couldn’t see her face, filled a mug of coffee, handed it to me. I took it and avoided her face, honoring her wishes, touched her shoulder.

“Dillon still sleeping?” she said.

“Yes.” I grinned. “You wore him out.”

She laughed, a flash of the old Sabrina there. “I’ve shown him mine, now he’s gonna have to show me his.”

“Uh, my name is Paul, and that’s ’tween you all…” I said.

She filled another mug and went into the healing room, came back out with it.

“He’s too cute when he’s sleeping,” she said. “I’ll leave him alone…for now.”

“Where’s Jolene?” I said.

“She went home,” Sabrina said. “She wanted to get cleaned up, get some fresh clothes, and pick up some groceries. And,” she said, grinning, as she headed me off on the next words on my lips. “She said not to worry, and to just rest, she’d be fine and she’d be back when she was ready.”

She sipped her coffee to hide her grin.

“Gonna have to rein that old Cave Man thing in, Marius. Don’t wanna piss off the Priestess, now.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Whatever. How ’bout you rustle up the Cave *Men* some eggs or something, woman?”

She laughed, more of her in that this time. “Already done. Take me about five minutes once Dillon gets up, unless you want to eat and leave your partner to starve? I’ve got scrambled eggs and some thick slices of ham I found in the icebox, some fresh fruit and made some orange juice. Nothing like breakfast for dinner.”

“What time is it?”

“Past seven. You were down for fourteen hours. Did you dream?” she said.

“No,” I said. “Not that I remember. I was out.”

She nodded. I didn’t ask her if she’d dreamed.

I heard stirring, and then Dillon came into the kitchen. Sabrina went to him and gave him a full body hug, long and hard and silent, so hard I heard him exhale with the strength of it. She stepped back, tears streaming down her face. Turned away and handed him a mug of coffee.

“Thank you,” he said.

She nodded, couldn’t speak. More tears streamed down her face. Opened the fridge and took out a bowl of whipped eggs and began to prepare a meal.

I inclined my head in the direction of the front room and Dillon followed me out. We flopped on the couch.

“Wow,” Dillon said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Best not to ruin the moment.”

He looked at me in complete bafflement. “What?”

“Dude, take it from me…don’t say a word. Nothing. Just be…here.”

Dillon shook his head. “Marius, I don’t know what scares me worse, women or the Dark Forces. I sure don’t understand either, but I can handle a straight up fight. Steering the course with women, well…”

I laughed. “Welcome to the club, bro. The only thing I know about women is I don’t know, and that I’m here to serve the Divine Feminine. Which means I shut up, most of the time, and just be who I am and hope that’s enough.”

He held up his mug. “Word. Where’s Jo?”

“Took off for home to get clothes and groceries.”

“She shouldn’t…”

“Don’t, dude. She’ll know and then we’ll both be in trouble.”

We laughed and laughed. In the kitchen, the homey sound of a woman preparing a meal.

The meal was convivial. A bowl full of steaming scrambled eggs, big slabs of ham, more coffee, some fruit. Sabrina ate little, but sat and sipped another big mug of coffee and watched Dillon and I (okay, more Dillon than I) as we plowed through the food.

Remember what I said about sleepy, hungry, and horny after a powerful journey session?

We’d dealt with sleep and food, and what was unspoken between Dillon and Sabrina was growing with each moment.

“Uh,” I said. “Should I give you two some privacy?”

Dillon laughed. Nervously I thought. Sabrina grinned a lascivious grin.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sabrina said. “What do you say, Dillon?”

“I, uh, I…”

I laughed.

There was a loud knock at the front door.

Dillon and I looked at each other, got to our feet. Dillon pulled his pistol and held it behind his leg and followed me to the front door, stood off to one side and peeked out the window.

Not Jolene.

A very big and very tall man in a long leather greatcoat.

I opened the door and looked up at Otto Skorzeny. Behind him, the darkness of fresh fallen night. Fireflies dotting the dark.

“Hello, my friend,” Otto said. “I have come for a visit. May I come in?”

“Only those of the Light may enter,” I said. “Are you of the Light, Otto?”

“By our deeds we shall be known,” Otto said. “I saved you once, yes? That would make me at least an ally, yes?”

“Are you of the Light, Otto?” I said again. I was aware of Dillon off to my side, his Glock 19 right behind his leg, freshly cleaned, oiled and stoked with the best fighting ammo.

Otto Skorzeny stared down at me. He was dressed in a snug jersey turtleneck, jet black, tucked into pleated black trousers held with an expensive black leather belt and a gold buckle, black socks and expensive Italian lace-ups, also black. The black leather greatcoat and the heavy scars on his face added sinister, if such a thing were possible. Dangerousness smoked off him.

“Yes, Marius,” he said. “I am of the Light. I have always been of the Light, though for a time I dwelt in the Dark and was used by them. I have returned and I have been redeemed. May I enter?”

“Yes, Otto Skorzeny,” I said. “You may enter here.”

I stood back. Otto inclined his head once, sharply, in a Teutonic bow, and then entered. Dillon stepped back and looked at me for confirmation.

“You sure?” Dillon said.

Yes…

“Yes,” I said.

“Good enough for me,” Dillon said. He holstered his pistol under Otto’s interested gaze. Held out his hand and was engulfed in the huge hand that met his. “Welcome, Otto. I believe you are of the Light…though you might be the darkest Light Worker I’ve ever met.”

Otto laughed. “This is a good saying. I like this.”

Sabrina said it. “Come in. Sit. You are welcome.”

Once again, we were Four.

Otto settled into my recliner, facing the window. Sabrina brought him coffee. He looked into the mug, smiled at her.

“You knew I like much sugar?” he said.

She smiled. Dillon looked at her, and then back at Otto. Otto held Sabrina’s eyes for a long moment.

“Thank you,” Otto said.

“Well,” I said hastily. “I’d say, what brings you here, but I think we know that, don’t we?”

Otto sipped his coffee, closed his eyes in appreciation. “Do we, Marius?”

That brought a long moment of silence.

“So then,” I said. “Tell us the tale.”

“Where is your woman, Marius?” Otto said.

“Why?”

“I would like to meet her. What she did, last night…remarkable. Extraordinary.”

“That’s her in two words. Remarkable. Extraordinary.”

He considered me. “Yes. Exactly.”

“She’s running some errands.”

Otto looked at his wristwatch, elegant gleaming case on a black leather strap, oversized to fit his huge wrist. “Perhaps I should wait till she returns before I begin?”

“It may be some time. What do you…feel?”

“I am given to story telling, Marius. And I…feel…that time is short. And, as you said, you have many questions.”

“Yes. I do.”

Dillon looked at Sabrina. She gazed back, inscrutable and distant.

We all sat down, circled once more.

“So…” Otto said. “I shall begin…”

* * *

“You know of the Great War…not the Great Wars of this century, which are pale memories of the Great War, the War fought so many tens of thousands of years ago, when the Earth itself was changed…The War between the Followers of the Light, the Path of the One, and the Followers of Belial, the War between the Light and the Dark.

In Atlantis, so long ago, the descendants of Lemuria had brought with them the sacred technology, the technology of earth—the masters of sound and vibration, the singing speech, the power of the great crystals—and in Atlantis, their children grew, and two factions grew…those who adhered to the ancient teachings, and the warnings therein, and those who wished to push further, to use the power of the crystals and vibration to change life itself, and to change the nature of time and space.

To meddle with the work of the Creator, to become like the Creator. To walk the Halls of Time, and track the different timelines. Each Time Line grows from a branching point, from a place where a great decision is made—or a seemingly insignificant one. And in the Hall of the Great Arkenstone, there was where the Time Keepers dwelt. Specially trained, specially selected, carefully monitored, for the temptation of great power was always in mind of those senior in the ranks—for a Time Line can be created—or manipulated—by the intervention of those with an agenda in mind. Dark…or Light. Either way, interfering with the Divine Plan as devised by the Creator.

And you know of the War…how the planet itself was shattered, the earth changes destroyed Atlantis, sank it beneath the waves in three great successive earthquakes, brought on by the meddling…the refugees scattered all throughout the world.

And the remnants of the sacred technology. The Grid, the Great Grid of energy that connected all the Portals of the Time Keepers with the energy lines of the Mother Earth itself, shattered by the effects of the War—those that survived had knowledge, and some had bits of the technology, but so many and so much were lost…some was saved, hidden in places where the Time Keepers had seen would remain relatively unscathed, where the ancient bones of the Mother herself would protect those pieces.

The very nature of Time and Space was altered in the Great War.

Fragments of what was were sent, like shrapnel, through the time-lines—to different times, in the past, in the future, on different timelines, to manifest. The Great Wars of this Century are racial memories of that which destroyed the earth; that which presaged the destruction and changing of the earth itself.…

* * *

Otto sipped his coffee. “But you, Marius, and you, Sabrina…you know this. You’ve seen this, felt it…because you were there. In different bodies, perhaps with different appearances…but you were there.”

He nodded at Dillon. “As were you, my brave friend.”

“Which brings me to me,” Otto said. “And you. And why all this, right now…”

“Yes,” I said. “Which brings us to now.”

“Yes,” Otto said. “I was there as well…for many lives, I came back. As did others. Tossed loose into the Time Lines. And in the life where you know me, I came back…I lived a normal life, started a career as an engineer…in what became Nazi Germany and Austria. And you know something of my career.”

“Yes,” Dillon said. “You were the first, one of the first, to create special operations…”

“Not the first, my friend,” Otto said. He looked at me. “Long ago, there were units, specially selected, that did similar work. The Time Keepers were such a unit. And among the angelic realm, there are those…those who volunteer to descend into the flesh, with all of the dangers there, to do the work in the Middle World directly instead of through others…”

“The dangers of the flesh or of the Middle World?” Sabrina said.

“Both, Young Goddess,” Otto said. “The flesh is not the best vehicle for the transmission of frequency and vibration. It’s dense, prone to failure and misdirection. That’s the structure of it. And there are the distractions that contribute to that…” He looked Sabrina up and down, to Dillon’s obvious discomfiture. “The pleasures of the flesh can be a trap as well. Those who descend into the flesh, whether from the Light or the Dark, face distraction that hinder the Remembering, the Remembering of what they have been sent to do.”

He smiled. “Dangerous work.”

“Not to cut into the story, but you said we didn’t have much time,” I said. “This is territory we’ve been over before. Literally.”

He nodded once, a sharp Teutonic head bob.

“Then let me pick up the pace,” Otto said. “During the Nazi Regime, the Dark Forces worked through the portals provided by certain key players in the regime, the obvious ones like Hitler, Himmler, Goebbels, and so on…and many of the willing participants in the process became receptacles for the Darkness, which were all drawn to the vortex that the Holocaust created. The Holocaust…the Holocaust was engineered to create a massive vortex…and to kill a handful of extremely important people.”

His face was drawn into a grim mask.

“Among those who died in the camps were the children who would have grown into the scientists who rediscovered, independently, the power of the Grid, the ability to travel faster than light, to walk the halls of time. The Dark Forces can see down the timeline, and this had to be prevented…they wanted to create the portal through which they can manifest and once again, exert control over the Earth.

“And the Light sent Light Warriors in the flesh…and those who remembered their work did what they could…saved who they could, intervened where they could.”

“How did being Hitler’s personal assassin and top commando work on behalf of the Light?” I said.

Another sharp Teutonic nod. “Excellent question. I was tasked to assassinate the Big Three. Did that happen?”

“No,” Dillon said. “It didn’t happen.”

“It didn’t happen because I was approached by the Allies, and I spent most of the war and the entire rest of my…documented…life, working for the Allies,” Otto said. “I was an agent in place, the most highly placed agent in the entire Allied espionage structure. Right next to Hitler the whole time.”