True Believers (10 page)

“And I am doing mine. You've walked into a delicate situation and now you can't walk out again—not until I get the assurances I need.”

“You can't kill a man for wanting to get away from this madhouse.”

“He's already dead. What you need to worry about is why I should keep you and your family alive.”

“Paul's dead?” She shook her head. The man was lying. Gilgamesh had told her Paul was alive. “I don't know what your game is, but Paul is no terrorist, and my family has nothing to do with any of this. What you're doing is criminal.”

“This agency is above the law. We don't answer to any court in this land so don't expect any help there.”

“But Taelen said—”

“Jessit is a politician. He knows I don't have to hand you over. So I don't have to worry about him. But you are my wildcard and I need some guarantee of your cooperation. You either do your part and play nice with Jessit, or I will make sure your parents are imprisoned for life, while you…” He pinched her cheek. “You will be meeting your friend Domino in the afterlife.”

Denman turned to walk away, but Rachel grabbed him by the arm. “What have you done to Paul? Where is he?”

That taint again.
It repulsed her.

He pushed her away, but not before his hostility produced a dusky blue aural ring that surrounded him from head to foot.

It was him. Gilgamesh's spawn. It had to be.

She doubted Denman was aware of his bloodline. Most half-breeds were oblivious of their anomalous DNA. They had no talent for manipulating the energy around them or reversing the cellular decay in their bodies. And all of them were mules. They could not reproduce, thus ensuring the purity of the Nephilim race. She lowered her eyes in an act of submission, hoping he didn't have the wherewithal to identify her in kind.

At least Denman seemed high up in the hierarchy here. That was good for her if Gilgamesh reached her in time. It was bad, if he didn't.

Paul reached the maintenance shaft that ran through the bowels of the compound. The schematics showed an abandoned sewer line that fed straight into the desert. That was his ticket out.

Orange emergency lamps ran the entire length of this basement, and he was glad for the available light. According to the map Bubba showed him, this cramped corridor traveled east to west. Most of the corridor ceilings were high enough, but every so often he came across several low beams that crisscrossed at head level. He ducked on cue and kept trotting.

A mechanic's station emerged from the murky glow ahead. He picked up his pace. Judging by the footprints he left behind in the dust, this place wasn't visited often, but he was leaving an easy trail once the
hounds
reached this level. That was a worry for later.

When he reached the first workstation, he scoured the tables and nearby cabinets for supplies, but like his cell, the drawers and bins proved empty. He glanced up and caught the tail end of a big red pipe wrench. A tool, and perhaps even a weapon. He'd need both if he was going to bust his way out of here.

His thoughts drifted back to Rachel. A pang of guilt stabbed him for leaving her behind. For a moment he considered going back.

The woman haunted him, and that drove him crazy. She had spurned him repeatedly on this dig, which frustrated him every time he thought about it. He was sure she wanted him. She had sent all the right signals, and he had responded in kind. But whenever the opportunity presented itself she pulled away, apologizing for the misunderstanding.

More than once he'd broached the subject with her, she finally admitting that she didn't date members of her team. He begged a promise from her that they would see each other after the expedition was over. Her soft breathy voice was like honey on a warm biscuit when she replied,
We'll see.

Now he was abandoning her and he doubted the next guy would treat her any better. Who the hell was Jessit anyway? And how could the military so blithely turn her over to this alien?

He had to move on. His only hope was to get help from the outside. The dim glow of orange lights seemed to go on forever, but he trudged forward, wary of every shadow and sound.

A tinny rattle in the distance forced him to freeze to a crouch. It felt like a lifetime before he twitched another muscle. Slowly, he stood up then took a step. Probably mice. A whole colony, he assured himself, and began his sprint once more.

Another mechanic's station lay up ahead and he found himself falling into a steady jog. When he reached it he took a break and laid the pipe wrench down so he could stretch his arms. A trail of paper tatters and mouse shit littered the floor like confetti. He sighed in open relief.
Mice.
Just him and the rodents.

He had barely taken a full breath when four shadows emerged from the darkness. They descended on him in unison, pinning him to the workstation in one fluid move.

“Leaving so soon, Mr. Domino?” The voice came from deep within the recesses.

Paul's head was shoved flat against the table, but he could see several men, all of them masked and armed with automatic weapons.

Not mice
, he thought.
Rats!

Jessit listened to his adjutants give their latest report while he tapped his fingers on the chair rail with increased speed. They still made reconnaissance trips with the Terrans and their helicopters, but the trips were becoming less and less fruitful. No sooner would they detect a signal when it would vanish before they could triangulate.

Senit delivered another disappointing report.

“What do you mean it disappeared?” Jessit tried to keep his voice level, but he couldn't hide his frustration.

Senit Dante glanced over at Gered, a subtle look that let the younger adjutant know he'd field this question alone. “We were on top of the signal. I had already given the order to descend when it disappeared.”

“Damn it, Senit. It makes us look like fools in front of the Terrans if we keep chasing after ghosts.” Jessit eyed a fresh decanter of brandy left on the bar in his quarters. He had started his purification rites early, and that bottle of deep gold seduction mocked his resolve. Senit offered to remove it, but Jessit refused, as a means of demonstrating his sacrifice and dedication to the gods.

Senit bowed his head, his palms spread upward in apology. “If it makes a difference, our instruments recorded a huge spike in electromagnetic energy. The pilot of the helicopter said his gauges acted…he used the word,
squirrelly.
It wasn't just on the surface, but in the transport itself.”

“Ghosts,” Gered interrupted. “Sorry, sir.” He lowered his eyes when he realized he had spoken out of turn.

“Gods, Gered. Not ghosts.” Jessit dismissed them with a wave. “Go. Recalibrate the instruments. You can try again tomorrow.”

Senit and Gered made their obeisance and turned to walk away when Jessit asked Senit to stay behind. Gered rolled his eyes at Senit, a look that said,
Better you than me.

Once they were alone, Senit walked over to the bottle of brandy and pulled out the stopper, waving it teasingly under his nose. Jessit jerked the bottle out of Senit's hand and then the stopper. “Uash'l has already started. You blaspheme the gods with such impiety.”

“Not everyone is as devout as you are, Taelen.” Senit smoothed a finger over the long lean decanter of brandy and sighed. “If the humans have any saving grace, it is their artistry with alcohol. You have to admit, they have a talent for it.”

Jessit recapped the decanter and put it back on its table. “I never understood why the gods allowed you so much latitude. Anyone else would have been struck dead.” Jessit slouched into his chair. Most of his wounds had healed, but he still felt out of sorts. To make matters worse, their mission to find the gods had been a dismal failure. Only his brief introduction to Gilgamesh proved to be of any worth, and he was powerless to speak of it, not unless he wanted to sacrifice his command…and his testicles.

“We must be going at this the wrong way. How can we miss our target so many times?”

“Is it possible the gods don't want to be found?” Senit sat in the chair across from Jessit, throwing his feet up on the low table in front of him.

“Perhaps we should have the priests bless our journey before we embark on the next signal. Perhaps we need a sacrifice.”

“Don't look at me,” Senit said with a smirk. “I'm a heathen, remember?”

“I should have gone this morning. Maybe the gods know you're a heathen, and they're punishing us.”

“Taelen, how in all that's holy did you grow up to be a soldier? You talk like a priest. Besides, you're still recuperating.”

“Don't mock my faith, Senit.”

“Then stop talking like those ball-less wonders. I think the only thing that separates you from the priests is that you still have your testicles.”

Jessit cringed at that remark. “You can go.”

Senit headed for the door, hesitating before opening it. “I'm sorry, Taelen. That was out of line. I didn't mean what I said.”

“It's all right. I'm used to your sinfulness. Maybe I keep you around to make me look more pious.”

Senit grinned at him. “Glad to know I'm doing such a fine job.” He patted Jessit on the shoulder gently, still mindful of his injuries. “Good night, Taelen. Maybe we'll have better luck tomorrow.”

Jessit locked the door behind Senit and marched back to the bar, the decanter of brandy whispering temptation. He tugged at his tunic, reassuring himself he still had his gonads…and his cowardice.

Priests did not join the brotherhood of free will. They were tested, inducted when they had passed the most stringent trials. The most critical of which was the Call of Anu. Only those who could bear witness to the gods'
glory
were allowed into the sacred convention of the Holies. As a final act of sacrifice, as it had been since the beginning, a man had to forfeit his testicles in reverence to the gods.

Jessit pulled the thick glass stopper off the decanter, inhaling its urgent draw. He'd been tested like all the others. Unlike most postulates, he had witnessed the
glory
in vivid detail. But when the examiners had applied the rigors, he lied. No matter how barbed the lash, he lied. His faith was not strong enough to sacrifice his manhood. He clinked the rim of the decanter across a thick wide glass. The liquid sloshed to the very edge of its lip—and then stopped.

Jessit stared at it. A hard lump formed in his throat. His hands felt like lead, and it took all his strength to put the bottle down. His shame, his cowardice haunted him still.

He had lied.

***

Jessit had begun
d'rema,
the final rite of purification, and he insisted on going to the planet surface to complete the sacrament alone. His physician, El'asai, complained bitterly, but Jessit assured him he was strong enough to withstand the
menze.

Senit also objected. He'd been harder to convince and Jessit finally had to concede to some restrictions. He'd perform
d'rema
at the cave where they found the glyphs. Senit promised to observe his privacy, but Jessit had to promise to call for a transport when he was through.

The cave had been prepared for him before his arrival and he would be alone as he ordered. Jessit walked out of the shuttle and gave the signal for the pilot to depart.

Jessit took a deep breath before entering the cave. Even from this distance he could smell the sweet, intoxicating scent of the
menze,
the incense that opened the mind and allowed the faithful to see their gods—if the gods so deigned.

The cave glowed in candlelight and warm woodsy incense scented the air. Deep bowls of water raised the humidity in the grotto, and Jessit breathed in comfort. This part of Earth was too dry for an Alturian. The extra humidity was a blessing.

He cast a furtive glance to the smooth sandstone wall, where the carved image of Anu's son stared down at him. The cave lay barren of all but what his aides left for him, yet he felt a strange presence. Not a single presence, but many. They surrounded him in this place. A cold ache filled his belly, as if he had trod on sacred ground.
Maybe this was a bad idea.

Jessit mumbled prayers for clemency under his breath and disrobed until he was nearly nude, his pelvis wrapped in little more than a thin, white loincloth.

The throb in his midsection mellowed. Perhaps the ancient souls that remained here had forgiven his trespass.

He knelt on a thick prayer rug and bowed before an effigy of Anu. Wispy tendrils of smoke curled from the gold-filigreed tabernacle sitting behind the icon. To Jessit's left sat a wide, shallow cauldron of warm, red oil. He opened the lid of the box to let more of the drugged smoke out. The
menze
had been lit before his arrival. It would smolder for hours now. He had a long night ahead of him.

Jessit dipped a flattened ladle into the bowl of oil and brought it to his chest, dribbling it over his shoulders and across the three narrow bands of webbed skin tiling the lower half of his ribcage. He massaged it over his body until his skin glistened. The incense was already working its magic, and he felt a tinge of wooziness sway his body to the rhythm of his prayers.

He hated using the incense. He hated using anything that dulled his senses, but it was part of the purification. And this time, he had to see the gods, had to speak to them. His eyes narrowed into thin slits until they acclimated to the smoky darkness of the cave.

Jessit wet his lips and tried to remember what he'd had for breakfast this morning. The incense was stealing his memories, and he lapsed into conscious oblivion. He glanced down at the kettle of charring wood as it released its toxin of enlightenment.

Once more, Jessit invoked the name of Anu and the Hundred. Once more he prayed for deliverance and blessing. Jessit had performed this ritual since he was a boy. He uttered the ancient words, his body brown and slick, swaying gently within the thick white smoke from the incense.

Prudence warned him that the thickening smoke should worry him, but his body yielded to the intoxicating effects of the hallucinogen in the incense. He chanted his prayers, getting louder and louder. It almost didn't matter when he heard the smoke talk back to him. The dialect was stilted, but it spoke in the ancient language of priests.

“How strong is your faith, believer?”

The incense lulled him into submission. He listened to the disembodied voice croon to him, demanding his attention.

“Command me, Lord Anu. I will obey.” Jessit's words were soft and slurred.

“You are surrounded by unbelievers. They taint this world.”

“Earth? It is the planet of the humans.” He tried to open his eyes wider, but all he could see was the smoke.

“It is the planet of Anu's sons. The humans have committed sacrilege against us.” The voice grew loud and angry, echoing against the cave walls until the din became too great to bear.

Jessit's knees trembled at the ire of this ghost. He wanted to let his body collapse, but fear of showing disrespect forced deeper resolve. “I am the instrument of Anu,” he replied in prayer.

“You are my instrument, Taelen Jessit. See me for who I am.”

Every candle in the cave flashed at once in a brilliant death, leaving only the shimmering form of a figure within the white smoke of the incense. Jessit's eyes flared wide when he recognized the figure in front of him. The palms of his hands hit the ground, followed by a solemn bow of obeisance. He didn't dare raise his face from the rug. “Command me, Lord Gilgamesh. I am your servant.”

Jessit thought he heard a muffled laugh, but he dared not look up. Sweat pearled down his oiled body, and the room seemed to close in around him. His eyes mutated to fullest vision, though all he could see was the pattern of the rug beneath him. His mind raced to grasp the smallest drop of lucidity. Was he really seeing a son of Anu? Or was this a trick of the hallucinogen?

The apparition spoke to him once more. “Can you see the humans from space?”

Jessit looked up at him, uncertain of how to answer. Their visual scanners were precise enough to see anything on the planet surface except when the magnetic shield warped and thickened. He wet his lips, hoping he didn't say anything to upset his god. “Our sensors are most accurate, Lord.”

A shockwave rushed through the cave, a sure sign of Gilgamesh's displeasure. He glided forward and stared into Jessit's eyes as if trying to evaluate his worth. At the moment, Jessit was feeling particularly insignificant.

“We have detected a disturbance across the globe. Earth suffers from immense waves of magnetic interference. Are the humans responsible for this sacrilege? Or is this the work of your people?”

Jessit prostrated himself once more, his head touching the nap of the carpet before answering. “It is not us, Divinity. The humans have developed a technology that distorts the magnetic field surrounding the planet.” He gulped, not wanting to ask the next question. “Why is it sacrilege, my Lord?”

The entire cave lit up like a firestorm, and a roar of thunder quaked the interior of the cave. The noise was so great it pounded against Jessit's ribcage like a hammer. Jessit pressed the palms of his hands against his ears, but it did nothing to soften the uproar.

This god was angry.

“Any fool can see its profanity! You will make it stop.”

Jessit kept his head down, speaking only to the carpet. “We cannot, Divinity.”

“You dare defy me?”

Jessit shook his head in response, though he wasn't sure if it emanated more from the trembling in his bones. The walls came alive with the sound of mortal wailing.

“We are the faithful, Holiness. But I have only one ship, and we have yet to find the source of the shield.” By this time he was sweating profusely. “But…” He hesitated, breathing hard. What he said next would commit them for good. “We have an armada a few days away. It serves Anu and his sons.”

The thunder ceased in an instant.

“Look at me, Taelen Jessit.”

Jessit took a shallow breath, both his hearts pounding as if trying to escape from his chest. When his eyes looked up, the man he had seen over Rachel's body stood before him in robes of light. The god's brilliance was almost too much to bear, burning his eyes with radiance. Jessit wavered on his knees, his thoughts as clumsy as his sway.

Gilgamesh smiled at him, a wicked leer that made Jessit's stomach twist. He was seeing double, and the incense made it hard to breathe.

“I am the instrument of your will, Lord Gilgamesh. I am the faithful.” The words slurred more heavily and Jessit teetered on the brink of collapse.

“Stop this abomination on the Earth. It is your quest, your bond to me. If you fail me in this mission, none of you will see home again.”

Gilgamesh dissipated in a shower of light that sparkled all across the room and relit the candles.

Then the room for Jessit snapped to black.

***

It was Senit who found him the next morning. Jessit thought his head was going to implode, his nostrils still plugged by the drugged smoke.
D'rema hangovers.
He choked on the water Senit tried to feed him. “Enough.” He spat out some of the water. “I'm all right.”

Senit helped him sit up. “I knew I should have stayed with you.” He shot a glance at the burnt candles eaten away to their nubs and the charred remains of the incense. “They make the hallucinogens too strong.”