Enlightened (Love and Light Series) (40 page)

“That’s a benefit of the bond? The not aging?”

“Yes, I was never sure how it worked until . . . ”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, she knew what he meant. When Wolf had broken through the spell, she was able to drink life force straight from him.

“By the 1960s the immigration quota had been lifted and we were finally able to get everyone safe passage, and since then we have been looking for you.” He kissed her hair.

“I wasn’t even born.” She smiled.

“Maybe not into this cycle, but you were out there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dayalananda sat propped up on his meditation pallet, a blissful smile on his face as Wolf and Loti entered his home. Calisto took Loti’s hands in his, raising them to his face and kissing her knuckles. Margarite, Guided, and the guru’s closest sannyasin dressed in orange garb sat around the room. Wrapped in a white blanket, Dayalananda’s hands fluttered eagerly for them to approach.

“Wolf, my friend. So good to see you.” He didn’t sound the least bit sick or weak.

“Dayal.” Wolf hugged him, kissed both his cheeks. Dayal patted his arms. “You have been my good friend, and I thank you for bringing this light into our lives.” His wide hand reached out and gripped Loti’s arm, pulling her close. His long beard and mustache tickled as he smacked wet kisses on her face and mouth.

“Good girl.” He grinned, squeezing her arms, his nose just inches from her face. “You trusted yourself, didn’t you?”

Loti blinked in surprise. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiled and nodded, his moist eyes bright. “Easier to do, once you know who you are, hmm?” His head tilted, and Loti burst out laughing. His mischievous smile spread to his laughing eyes. The monks murmured and chuckled, but Dayalananda flapped a hand at them. “Shhh.” He winked at Loti.

“You must watch this with your special eyes.” He patted her arms repeatedly. “Maybe you will let our friend Wolf see too, heh?”

She couldn’t stop the giggles. Loti winked at him as Wolf sat down on the edge of the padded palette, rubbing her back.

“We’ve seen a lot together, haven’t we?” Wolf contemplated the sash of flowers around Dayalananda’s neck. White and pink flower petals were scattered around the palette and in his lap. Red talik was smeared on his forehead, yellow and white ash around his forehead and beard.

“You know what my favorite day with you was, Wolf?” Dayalananda held Loti’s hands, but looked at Wolf. Wolf smiled before he looked up.

“What?” But he already knew.

“August 15, 1969. The day I said the opening prayer.” They grinned at each other.

“Good music.” And they laughed the way old friends do. Calisto joined in, sitting down on the other side, a sad smile on his face.

“I don’t want to lose you, my friend.” Calisto sighed.

“Ah, Calisto.” He patted his hand and picked up a handkerchief from his lap. “See this hanky?” He held it up by two corners so it sagged into a triangle. “Hmm, see the hanky? Nothing else, yes?” Calisto grinned as Dayalananda tied two of the corners in a knot. “Now what it is?”

“It’s a hanky with a knot,” Calisto said.

“Yes, now.” And he untied the knot. “What is it?”

“A hanky without a knot.”

“Just a hanky, yes?’ He tied the knot again. “Knot.” And held it up. “Now, watch carefully and tell me in which direction the knot goes.”

He slid the knot apart and held the hanky up. “Where did the knot go?” And he chuckled. “Hmm, and where from it came?” He held the hanky up for a long moment, smiling kindly at Calisto. “Huh?” He lowered the hanky and began tying it again. That is death and life. Knot was born.” He finished the knot and started untying it. “And then knot was dead. But before the knot, hanky
was
.” He laughed and Calisto and everyone in the room laughed with him. “And after the knot, hanky
is
.” Holding the untied hanky aloft, he chuckled, smiling his great love around the room.

Loti laid a hand on her throat. Was it sadness veiled with happiness she felt? Or the other way around?

“That is the secret of death, Calisto. We don’t really lose anything.” He blew his nose with a honk into the hanky and balled it up in his lap. He patted Loti’s cheek. “Now, you watch, hmm?”

She nodded as Wolf took her hand and lowered her down next to him. Margarite and Guided took their turns exchanging hugs and words with Gurudev. He sank deeper into the cushions and turned his eyes to a wrinkled woman in one of the chairs. She stood up, her long braid hanging down the back of her orange kurta. She handed out shawls to everyone and with deliberate movements, wrapped one around her head and shoulders. Loti and the others did the same. She stood with a humble bow of the head by Sri Swami Dayalananda, eyes closed and hands pressed together in prayer, Namaste hands.

In a shrill, high voice she broke the stillness, singing the mantra, “Om mani Padme hum”, drawing it long and sweet. She repeated it several times, and then a deeper, male voice joined her. One by one, everyone added their voices to the mantra. Loti always had trouble understanding what it meant. A monk once told her it had no simple translation, that all the teachings of the Buddha were summed up in its six syllables, but the best anyone had come up with was, “the jewel is in the lotus or praise to the jewel in the lotus.” But that didn’t matter. It was the saying of it, the singing of the sounds that was important.

As they sang she thought of all the suffering they had been through, that her new friends had endured and her husband. The sadness didn’t choke her anymore. She glanced at Wolf who slipped an arm around her. What was the cause of all their suffering? Was it Modore? Was it Patrick? And was there ever a way to avoid it? She had no simple answers.

What she had was a deep and abiding love for them all—for Wolf, yes, but for Calisto and Margarite and even Fiamette.
Maybe that’s the answer: compassion.
What else was there to ease or even end suffering but kindness, random and purposeful acts to bring light into everyone’s life? There was quite enough hate and greed and anger in the world, she was sure. The least she could do was release some love into the fray, a peace offering, a floating, flickering emissary of hope on a sea of suffering.

Dayalananda eased his entire body into the pillows, his hands losing their deliberateness, surrendering in his lap. He sang “Aum” with long, soft exhales. The light in the room flowed with their voices, colors merged and separated within them so the boundaries were hard to find. Loti reached deep into Wolf’s prana until they were like one being. He saw through her eyes, and she felt with his heart. Their heart beats slowed; their breathing so subtle it was like the air wandered in and out of their lungs with no effort. Together they watched the light lose the distinction of separate beings until a clear, white light engulfed them all, and Dayalananda’s light was the light in the room. Bliss and gratitude seeped out their eyes, and the light grew brighter until it flared wide, then faded. The room returned to a peaceful flow of prana.

Feeling less contained, more a part, Loti touched Dayalananda’s still hand and wrapped her fingers around it.

“He’s gone,” she whispered.

The room fluttered in the orange glow of a sputtering fire. Soft suckling noises faded, stopped, and then a fair-haired youth slumped to the couch. The black-haired man sitting beside him licked his lips. It was difficult to assess exactly how old he was; he had an aura of agelessness about him. His washed-out eyes held a strange energy—a blend of religious zeal and childish eagerness.

“That was divine, Mark.” He patted the blonde’s jean-clad leg.

Mark said nothing. His heart had stopped beating.

“I can’t survive on these generous gifts much longer,” Modore said to the corpse. “I need a new warlock to spike my meals. You just didn’t have Patrick’s talent, I’m sorry to say. But,” He rubbed the young man’s leg, “your magic tasted like lightning. So close, but not quite powerful enough, although your gift should last me another year or so.”

He sighed as he glided off the black leather couch and over to the stone fireplace. He studied the flames, as if they were speaking to him, and maybe they were. All things flowed with life; some more than others.

“I have lived far longer than any vampire I have ever known or heard of.” Modore’s eyes reflected the dying flames. “And I doubt any one knows what I know.”

He spun around to his companion.

“I do hope Christian’s new pet is as powerful as he says.” His mouth tightened into a grimace as he scooped Mark up into his arms. Gazing down at Mark’s lifeless eyes, Modore’s expression softened. “You know I had no choice, my dear? If you had been able to . . . like Patrick. Well, ifs and hopes do not solutions provide, do they? If she can produce the quality of magic required, I won’t need to do the same to her. And, hopefully,” he released a derisive snort, “she will bring me my Light Walker and this will never be necessary, again.”

I hope you have enjoyed Enlightened, Book 1 of the Love and Light Series. As an independent author, it is a great privilege to bring you my stories, but one of the challenges is not having a traditional publicist and other promotional venues. If you have enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review or comment at Amazon or Goodreads.

~Melissa Lummis

www.melissalummis.com