Blessed (23 page)

She felt so embarrassed. Her mother and father had thrown a huge fit about Chrissy last year in the RA’s room with the door wide open. She’d wanted to die of mortification as people stared into the room while her parents ranted like the crazy people they always warned Eliana about. She’d been so relieved when Chrissy hadn’t given her the cold shoulder because of her parent’s behavior. Unlike them, Chrissy didn’t have a judgmental bone in her body.

“I know, sweetie. I was scared at first that you were going to be like my dad. Trust me when I say no one was happier than me that you didn't try to torch my mom when she made you that complexion charm,” Chrissy said in a teasing voice.

Reaching out, Eliana grabbed Chrissy's hand and gave it a squeeze. Chrissy didn’t talk about her father, at all, and Eliana was frankly surprised that she even had a father. She’d always assumed that Chrissy’s mom was a single mother and that Chrissy didn’t know who her father was, but had never asked for fear of hurting her friend’s feelings. “What did you mean by 'be like my dad'?”

Chrissy turned into a small alcove with a golden fountain set into the wall. She followed Chrissy inside, inhaling the smell of the orchids and roses floating in the fountain. The room had a lovely, serene feel to it and Eliana relaxed as she watched her friend.

Chrissy stared at the wall as she spoke, refusing to meet her eyes. “My dad is a Crusader.”

Swallowing a gasp, Eliana tried to keep her face blank. Crusaders were religious fanatics who took “thou shalt not suffer a witch to live” seriously. The mainstream Crusaders said they were trying to save the godless, but the fanatical ones were responsible for thousands of witches and wizards being burned alive all over the world. While her atheist parents were harsh and condemned everyone, they didn’t believe in killing someone because of their religious beliefs. Crusaders not only believed in murder in the name of their god, they considered it their sacred duty. They’d been officially labeled as a hate group by the United States government, so they operated underground in total secrecy. To hear Chrissy say her dad was one was the equivalent of Chrissy saying her dad was a terrorist.

Chrissy shuddered, then continued in a ragged whisper, “After my mom and dad got divorced, and before we moved here, my dad joined a group of Crusaders that had their headquarters out in the middle of nowhere near the small town I grew up in. We didn’t know he’d joined them, but soon word got around our conservative town that my mom was studying witchcraft. She’d been a practicing witch for years, but because of the nature of the area we lived in she kept it on the down low.”

Eliana leaned on the wall and watched Chrissy, her fair hazel eyes distant as she relived the past. “At first it was little things, like women muttering behind my mom's back at the beauty parlor or my friends no longer being allowed to come over to my house to play. Then it started to get bad, really bad. Someone spray painted 'Burn in hell, whore of Satan' on our garage and poisoned our dog.”

“Shit,” Eliana said softly. “Didn't you call the police?”

Chrissy laughed bitterly. “Yeah, but my dad was a town sheriff. How far do you think the investigations went? We were told they couldn't find who did it, and that if we wanted it to stop, we needed to get ourselves back to church and ask for forgiveness from the Lord.”

With blazing eyes, Chrissy looked up. “I don't know much about being a Christian, but I'm pretty sure that above all else, Jesus asked us to love one another. Evidently, they missed that message at our local parish. We finally moved after they burned a cross on our lawn. The fire spread to our front porch and almost burned down our house while we were sleeping inside. I still have nightmares about that night.”

Eliana gave the taller girl a hug, holding her while Chrissy rested her head on top of hers and wiped her eyes.

“You can be whoever you want to be around me, Chrissy. You're a good person, inside where it counts. I don't give a crap if you wear a tall, pointed hat and ride a broom around. If you’re a witch, so what? You’re still a good person and worshiping the Mother Goddess isn’t destructi-I mean evil oriented.” She inwardly cursed at her almost slip up, hating having to hide shit from Chrissy. “But I'll be pretty pissed if you bring a black cat into the dorm and get us kicked out.”

“Thanks.” Chrissy sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “No familiars for me yet. That's pretty advanced. I'm at the try-not-to-blow-myself-up stage.”

They strolled into the store, and Eliana quietly gawked. Racks of shimmering and transparent clothing, spangled veils, and all kinds of jewelry filled the room. With an eager noise, Chrissy marched to the back of the room where they had a huge table filled with different types of beads in little divided boxes.

Eliana said to Chrissy's retreating back, “Okay, I'll be fine. You go do what you need to do.”

Chrissy raised a distracted hand and narrowed in on a row of different colored rhinestones with the skill of a trained hunter.

Smiling softly, she wandered around the store. It smelled nice in here, a combination of incense and flowers, and she felt strangely peaceful as she meandered around. Pausing by a rack of belts festooned with coins and bells, she browsed through them and admired the skill that went into making them. She paused at one that was soft cream leather with a beaten silver Eye of Horus as a buckle. Glancing at the hand-labeled price tag, she hastily dropped it. No way was she going to be able to afford that belt without winning the lottery.

She moved deeper into the store, past racks of drums and hand bells, toward a series of altars and statues that dominated the far wall. The room began to darken as she approached a brass figure of Isis on a rough wood altar.

Her ears felt stuffed full of cotton, and her breathing got tight. She felt a sense of panic as her feet seemed to carry her toward the statue of the goddess Isis, but it was slowly soothed away. Dimly, she heard the sound of exotic music playing and the hushed murmur of women's voices blending in harmony with the music. The last thing she remembered before she passed out and hit the floor with a thump was the kind look in the statue's eyes.

It reminded her of her mother.

“Child, it's time to rejoin the world,” a woman’s voice said.

The voice was smooth as velvet and held an exotic accent Eliana hadn't heard before. It soothed her, made her think of the smell of cookies baking on a cold winter’s day. The darkness was so comfortable, and she didn't know if she wanted to leave it yet.

A warm, soft hand gripped her own, the rings on that hand pressing into her fingers.

Rings. Wait, she needed to look at her ring. Something had happened, and she needed to look at her ring.

With a gasp, she sat up and stared at her hand, blinking her eyes to adjust them to the low lighting. The ring was a swirl of blue and red, no trace of darkness. She lay back on a thick pillow, turning her head to look at the person holding her hand.

The woman had thick black hair with streaks of gray in it, falling bone-straight to her waist. High cheekbones and full lips graced the older woman's face, giving her a decidedly regal appearance like an ancient queen. Around her head, she wore a gold diadem with an image of Isis on it that furthered the impression of royalty. An elaborate Egyptian necklace rested on her chest, and the hand holding her own had scarab rings on it. A long, pleated white gown completed the look and Eliana vaguely wondered if she was still dreaming.

Over the woman's tanned shoulder, Eliana saw Chrissy looking at her anxiously while chewing on her thumb.

“What happened?” Eliana asked.

“You fainted, child. Your friend told me that you had not eaten dinner yet, and all the walking and incense may have gotten to you. We found you passed out in the store before the altars and devotional statues.” The woman gave her a gentle smile and released her hand.

“You were brought to my private quarters so you could rest and recover. We had one of our midwives look you over. She says you're healthy as a horse and to let you wake when you were ready.” The woman glanced over her shoulder at Chrissy. “Little witch, can you give us a moment alone? I would like to tell your friend something.”

Chrissy's hazel eyes widened, and she darted a glance at Eliana. “Do you want me to stay?”

She checked her ring again and peeked at the woman watching her patiently. “No, it's okay, Chrissy. We still need to finish that dress tonight, with or without my fainting. Go ahead and finish you're shopping. I'll be out in a sec.”

Hesitating, Chrissy nodded and went out the door, closing it with a soft click.

The walls of the room were made of soft tan sandstone, and to the right there was a pale wood desk with a large brass oil lamp on it. She was lying on a small couch covered in dark blue fabric that was silky to the touch. Her feet were propped on gold pillows, and the woman was sitting on a small coffee table inlaid with brass designs.

“My name is Nuri. I'm the High Priestess of this Temple. I believe you're Eliana, and that your Mentor is Aiden Klemenson?” Nuri asked as she sat next to her.

Eliana stared at her and Nuri looked back with an amused smile. “Yeah, I mean, yes, I'm Eliana. Are you a Chosen too?”

Nuri lowered her shields, and the scent of lotus blossoms and night air came over Eliana. “Yes, I'm pledged to my goddess Isis. But that is not the only reason I know who you are. I believe you have met my son, Devon?”

She paled and swallowed as she imagined what Devon had told his mother about her behavior. “Umm, yes, I've met Devon.”
How could I forget? I nearly put him through a wall.

Nuri threw back her head and laughed. “Don't worry. I'm aware of my son's personality. He's a Chosen of Mentu, a war god. It makes him aggressive and dominant. We take on the personality of our patron gods, or they increase what's already there and strengthen it with their presence. It has made Devon more dangerous and less tactful.”

Eliana slumped back into the couch. “I don't know what it is about Devon, but he rubs me the wrong way. No offense meant, but he can be a...not-nice guy,” she finished lamely, not wanting to call him an arrogant asshole to his mother.

Smoothing her white robes about her, Nuri took a seat next to Eliana on the couch. “I think that you two are more similar than you know. You made quite an impression on Devon. Enough that he came to talk to me about you.”

“What did he say?”

“That he had met a powerful pre-Chosen during his attempt to catch that Destruction Chosen, Linda. He said you were lucky she didn't kill you, and he was mad at Aiden for leaving you so exposed.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and Nuri held up her hand. “I'm sure Aiden is doing his best to protect you. He tends to use his strength in magic, where Devon uses his strength of body. Please, try to not think too poorly of my son. Devon is driven to protect. He did it first as a Marine and now as the Captain of Mentu's Temple Guard. He's not always subtle or polite, but he will do his best to see that those under his protection come to no harm.”

Eliana didn't speak. Her mother's advice of “if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all” kept her quiet.

Nuri watched her closely. “Did you know you were followed to my Temple today?”

She felt her stomach tighten. “No! I tried to keep an eye out for anyone. I guess I'm not good at it yet.”

“Don't feel bad. The Temple Guard noticed it on their surveillance cameras. We have them all over the Temple District. Mostly to deter petty crime, but also to keep an eye out for the followers of Destruction.” Nuri's mouth tightened. “The Destruction Temple District is on the other side of D.C. Do not, under any circumstances, go over there alone. Ever.”

Eliana wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. “Do you know who was following me? What were they doing?”

Nuri shook her head, her long hair sliding over her dark shoulders. “Two men, rough-looking sorts. They were following you and your little witch friend. We haven't seen them around here before. They left before you got to Temple Square.”

Closing her eyes, Eliana tipped her head back on to the back of the couch. “I'm sorry, Nuri. Trouble follows me wherever I go lately. I try so hard to keep safe, but I might as well be running around with a target on my head.”

Nuri laughed, a warm sound that helped ease away some of her fear. “Do not fear, child. You're not alone. The Creation Chosen are keeping an eye on you. We may not be obvious about it, but we're there.”

Eliana smiled and lifted herself into a cross-legged position. “I appreciate that more than you know. I hope someone chooses me soon before I become a smear on the sidewalk.”

“We will not let you become a smear. Our prophets are interested in your future.”

Eliana blushed and picked at her hair. She hoped that she could be what they wanted, what they needed. Most of all, she hoped that she wouldn't spend the rest of her life being scared.

“This is just so overwhelming.” She found herself eager to talk to Nuri, to finally have someone she could unload on and there was something about the other woman that made her feel as if she’d known her for years. “I don’t understand any of this and I’m afraid my ignorance is going to get me killed. Were people trying to kill you before you became a Chosen? Is this normal? And what happens when I am Chosen by a god?”

“No, no one tried to kill me during my time of Choice, but I faced challenges of a different kind, things I cannot discuss with you. I don't know what Aiden has told you about his own time of Choice, but for me, it was like coming home. I felt as if I had known Isis all of my life. Of course, it was not all so easy to adjust to. My faith that she had my best interest at heart allowed me to trust her commands with a peaceful mind.” Nuri patted Eliana’s leg.

“Is Devon's father a Chosen as well?”

Nuri shook her head, a sad look filling her dark eyes. “No, Devon's father is an ordinary human. He's actually a High Priest of Osiris, which is how we met.”

Seeing her blank look, Nuri continued, “Osiris is Isis's husband. We do many rituals together. Johnathan, Devon's father, is a particular favorite of Osiris.”