Divinity (20 page)

The small nametag on her blue silk blazer read “Suzanne Briggs.” Julia smiled at her and said, “Thank you, Suzanne. Does she know I’m here?”

“We did tell her this morning after you called, but she wasn’t coherent. She may not even know you’re here or who you are when you’re standing right in front of her.” Suzanne’s face took on a plastic, sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Ms. Samson. You may have made a very long trip for nothing.”

I bet she practices that look in the mirror
, Julia thought as she checked her watch. She had three hours before visiting hours were over, and she didn’t intend to waste them standing here being patronized. “Thank you.”

Julia followed John through a long corridor with many doors. Each door had a small window, but Julia kept her thoughts focused on what was in front of her. Eventually they came to a door that had a small “EXIT” sign lit up over top of it. John slid his ID card through the mechanism on the side, and the lock released. He swung the door open and they both stepped through to a garden oasis that was so beautiful, Julia stopped for a moment and soaked it up.

Everything was perfectly manicured, including the shrubs, and there were crystal-clear pools of water with soothing waterfalls and fountains feeding them. Comfortable-looking furniture was scattered about the grounds, creating many spaces for the residents to have quiet solitude and commune with nature. The majestic trees were planted in such a way that the electric fence surrounding the facility was impossible to see—for most people.

John continued leading Julia toward a wrought-iron bench with wooden slats for the seat, where a woman sat, quietly speaking to the air in front of her. She had long, straight red hair and pale, freckled skin. She was slender, but not frail, and she wore a blue velour nightgown and soft matching slippers.

“I hear you all the time. Won’t you please just be quiet?” she said, staring at something no one else could see. “What does that mean?”

The woman paused for a moment, as though hearing something.

“Tell who?”

Julia stared at the woman. She had seen pictures of her once, but that was many years ago. Nothing could have prepared her for that completely vacant look in her mother’s eyes. It wasn’t as though she were soulless. It was as though she were mindless.

Julia looked up at John, who stood there, apparently looking at a tree across the yard, but Julia knew his attention was focused on her and her mother. She sat down on the opposite end of the bench, giving her mother space.

“Hello, Maria.”

“Shhh!” Those vacant eyes swept past Julia without any recognition. Julia wasn’t sure she even knew there was someone beside her on the bench. “I will, I will. No need to nag. Do you like my pretty new lipstick?”

Julia caught herself looking to the space in the air on which Maria focused, just in case there actually was something there. She also noticed that Maria wore no lipstick, nor did she have any in her hand.

Another resident on the other side of the fountain started to holler, and John walked toward her, checking back over his shoulder once.

“I see they found you, Sera.” The clarity in Maria’s voice made Julia’s blood run cold.

Julia shifted her gaze back to Maria, and was surprised to see her mother, lucid and focused, staring directly into her eyes. “My name isn’t Sera.”

“It was the day you were born. I guess it was changed. What do they call you now?” Maria’s body did not move at all. She continued to stare, her entire being focused on Julia.

Julia wondered if Maria actually knew what she was talking about, and who she was talking to. Even if Maria was capable of sharing her history, how much could Julia even rely on it being true? The vacant expression was gone, though, and it was clear that Maria knew she was talking to a person. Even if she didn’t know who that person was. Finally, Julia answered her mother.

“Julia.”

“That’s a pretty name, Sera.” There was a long pause, as a thought seemed to float across Maria’s eyes, and then eventually settle in and take hold. “Sorry, it’s hard after all these years of you being Sera in my head to suddenly call you something else.”

Julia’s skin started to tingle with the goose bumps that were covering her. She decided to test Maria and see if she knew her own name. “What do they call you?”

Maria continued with her penetrating stare. “Well, I don’t guess you’ll want to call either of your parents ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad.’ You can call me Maria.”

Julia let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Okay, Maria. Will you tell me about my father?”

Maria opened her mouth to speak, and suddenly her eyes lost focus and became as vacant as before. “There was a man in the field. It was a pretty field and there were rows and rows of corn. But one day the men came. Then there was no more corn, and no more man. But there was a mist. And bananas. The bananas were in the mist. Surely you understand.”

Julia’s jaw dropped.

I lost her. How?
Julia looked up from her mother’s empty eyes and saw John walking toward them with a patient slowly shuffling along beside him.

“There were dogs, too. He played the guitar. He loved music. We all love music. I think it’s inherited.” Maria continued her babble. “You used to dance. In the air. Do you like music, Sera?”

John shot Julia a sympathetic look as he passed. The patient at his side was babbling much the same nonsense as Maria was as he led her back inside.

“The corn. The clue was in the corn.” Maria was no longer even looking in Julia’s direction, but rather out toward the water.

Julia patted Maria’s hand and murmured “It’s okay.”

The door to the facility clicked shut. Julia glanced in that direction, and when she looked back at her mother, she found her once again focused and lucid. Maria leaned forward and gripped Julia’s hand tightly.

“How would you describe someone so vibrant? Even in his light, he is firm, almost hard. But he was gentle and soft. He filled me with his love and his light. That is what you are. His love and his light.” Maria’s eyes shone.

“Gabriel?” Julia asked. She felt off-balance with this constant transformation of Maria’s.

“Of course. Your Daddy was kind and wonderful. He saved me, you know.” Maria’s eyes darted around.

“Saved you from what?”

Maria centered her attention back on Julia, her eyes growing wider and almost childlike. When she spoke again, her voice seemed smaller—younger, and it caused the hair on the back of Julia’s neck to stir.

“My Daddy wasn’t soft and gentle. He put me in the little room and filled me with hurt and anger. He didn’t stop when I cried, he just kept going. Sometimes he would laugh.” Tears trickled from Maria’s haunted eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Julia couldn’t begin to think of what else to say as the tears seeped from her own eyes. Her mother’s words brought her back to her own childhood traumas. She couldn’t imagine suffering that heinous act at the hands of her own father. Julia’s heart broke for the woman-child who sat before her, rocking herself back and forth on the bench. Julia leaned forward and hugged her tightly. “He can’t hurt you now, Maria.”

As quickly as she had started, Maria stopped crying, her voice returning to normal. She sat back, her eyes stabbing into Julia’s. A slow and knowing smile crept across Maria’s lips. “No, he really can’t.”

Julia shuddered at the image that flickered through her mind of a crazy Maria killing her own father. “Tell me why you’re here, Maria.”

Maria threw her head back and barked out a harsh laugh. “They keep me here because I told them that I am married to Gabriel.”

“I see,” Julia said, surprised it wasn’t for the murder of her father—Julia’s grandfather.

Maria leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t tell Gabe that. I’m sure he wouldn’t like it.”

“Why would you tell them that if it wasn’t true?” Julia was starting to become a bit more comfortable with the ever-changing tides of her mother’s psyche. That worried her a bit.

Maria’s face contorted. Her tone indicated that she was stating the most obvious fact on the planet. “Well, I didn’t want them to think I was a whore, having his baby out of wedlock!”

“What is your progress, Gabriel? Have you learned anything of the abomination?” Michael demanded as soon as Gabriel appeared before him.

“Only that nothing is known of this creature—beyond what I tell them. I finally spoke with Ariel. He had no information, though he did name it after I described it.” Gabriel watched the scene between Julia and Maria unfold below as he spoke with Michael.

“Oh? What has Ariel named it?” Michael’s voice boomed, his anger evident.

“The
A’nwel.”
The two women entranced Gabriel. “They look alike, but vastly different. It is odd to see them in the same place, looking each other in the eye. Are you sure this is a good idea, Michael?”

“She is still half-human, Gabriel. She has choice. You know there is little we can do about that. But whatever humanity this trip will give her, it will also take from her, so that is the least of our worries.” Michael turned back to look at the pair in the garden, and nodded toward Maria. “I want her kept safe. She must not be used as leverage against her daughter. We would surely lose her then.”

“Of course, Michael.” Gabriel shifted his gaze back to Michael. “We will do whatever it takes. As always.”

XX

“M
ARIA
, how do you know your ‘Daddy’ will never hurt you again?” Julia whispered, looking around. It was an easy game now that she knew the rules. Maria’s appearance of insanity came and went with the surrounding audience. The thought gave her chills.

Is she devious enough to appear insane when it suits her, or is her madness controlled by someone else?
Julia wondered.

“It was Gabe. He took care of that for me.” Maria leaned forward and grasped Julia’s hand tightly. “So quickly.
Too
quickly.”

Maria’s eyes became so intense they seemed a few shades lighter. Julia had the sensation she was falling into them. The moment Maria’s skin made contact with her own, Julia’s mind filled with a vision.

The only light trickled in under the bottom of the door. The gloss of the hardwood floor reflected the light enough that Julia could just make out a little girl in a soiled flannel nightgown, pressing against the back corner of what appeared to be a closed, empty closet. She was as far away from the door as she could get, yet still only inches away. In the other back corner there was an old bucket, half-filled with a substance Julia could not make out in the dim light, but she was grateful that this vision Maria was giving her did not incorporate odor.

The girl’s knees were pulled up to her chin, her arms wrapped around them. She had long, straight, strawberry-blonde hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a brush or a wash for several weeks. She rocked herself and whispered so quietly, Julia almost didn’t hear the words.

“I know you’re there. I see you there all the time. Why don’t you help me?” The child’s glistening tears made streaks through the dirt down the sides of her face.

Her whispers were met with silence.

“Momma says if I pray, someday I will be saved. I pray. I know you’re there. If I talk to you, doesn’t it count as praying?” The little girl’s mouth was pressed into her knees, stifling her sobs. Her soft whispers seemed to come through the air.

“What is your name? You know I see you there. Please save me.” Her pleas broke Julia’s heart. The little girl hugged her legs tighter. Her arms trembled from the effort.

“You will know my name, child, when the time is right,” a voice boomed from the darkness. Julia recognized that voice.

The little girl jumped, bumping her head on the wall behind her, a yelp escaping her quivering lips. Her eyes flew open at the sound of heavy footfalls. As the shadow of someone approaching showed through the crack under the door, she squeezed her eyes shut and started to chant, “No, no, no. Not again, please not again. No, no, no…”

The door was flung open. A tall, sweaty man loomed in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind him. He began to unbuckle his belt, his tongue snaking out over his lips as he spoke. His words gurgled, as though breaking free from the slime in the back of his throat.