Thirst No. 2 (7 page)

After boarding up Eric's room and ditching his car a safe distance away, I go for another

Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) drive, this one entirely aimless. It is dark now and the time of day suits my mood. Kalika thrust back her second empty eight-ounce glass of blood with the same numbing words:
Hungry, Mommy.
I shudder to think what her appetite will demand tomorrow. Will I have to collect a whole team of basketball players? Maybe I should drive down to the Forum and wait for the Lakers to start practice. They have some big boys who know how to shoot a ball.

But should they bleed for my daughter?

Should Eric?

Seymour has scored with many of his points, as always.

Midnight finds me at the beach where I buried Yaksha's body, or rather, where I sunk it.

There was little of Yaksha left when I sent him to a watery grave, with his full blessings.

Eddie Fender had done his usual number on my creator: stabbed him, torn him, dissected him, drained him. Good old Eddie, never one to take a joke well. But Yaksha hadn't minded the horrific treatment. Indeed, in the end, the most feared of all earth's ancient demons had found peace of mind through faith in Krishna. Staring at the dark waves, I think of how the passage of the many years does not necessarily bring devotion, how my own suffering has more often than not brought cynicism.

I have to wonder if that is why I keep suffering.

"What am I missing?" I ask the ocean. "Why do I have to go on like this?"

Yet now it is more important than ever that I continue. I am a mother; I have a responsibility to feed my daughter; but it is very possible my daughter is capable of destroying all mankind. No one knows, except perhaps Krishna, what weird alchemy of blood she possesses. Bowing my head in the direction of Yaksha's grave, I turn and leave the beach.

Another hour finds me at Paula's school, inside St. Andrews church. It's peculiar how many churches don't have posted hours, how their doors are always open. The light of the candles, as I step inside, fill me with warm feelings. Despite my obsession with Krishna, my respect for Jesus has never faded, even during the Middle Ages when the Catholic Church tried to burn me at the stake for witchcraft. Me, a witch? I'm a goddamn vampire.

I almost told them that, but then, the Church was never one to enjoy a joke.

St. Andrews is comfortably stuffy. The smoke from the candles and incense fills my nostrils as I take a seat in the third pew and stare at the stained-glass windows, dark and sinister without the sun to give them color. A statue of Mother Mary stands nearby, dozens of glowing red dishes flickering at her feet. I have never lit a candle for the Madonna in the last two thousand years, but I have a strong urge to do so now. But I won't pray to her, I won't ask for her help. Her own son was crucified, so I don't think she is the best person to run to with my problems. Yet I feel close to her, and that is reason enough to show her respect. Plus I like candles. I like fire of all kinds.

I have just lit my candles when I hear steps off to my right.

"Alisa?"

I smile as I turn. "Paula. What are you doing here at this hour? Praying?"

She is happy to see me. As best as she can with her swollen belly, she gives me a hug.

"No, I was working on the school's books. I couldn't sleep tonight. I only stopped in here because I saw a car parked out front. I thought it might be yours. Why are you here?"

I gesture to Mother Mary. "I'm making my confession."

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"You need a priest for that."

I shake my head. "I don't think there's a priest anywhere who would be able to sit through a list of my sins."

"Nonsense. They hear all kinds of stuff. None of us is that unique. I think it all sounds the same to them after a while."

"For once I have to disagree with you. My confession would set a record for the most difficult penance assigned." I pause as a wave of nostalgia sweeps over me. "Actually, I knew a Catholic priest once. He used to listen to my confessions. I think that's what drove him mad."

Paula wonders if I am kidding. "What was his name?"

"Arturo. He was Italian. I met him in Florence, a long time ago. But that is another story.

I'm happy to see you. How are you feeling?"

Paula beams. "Wonderful. If I didn't have such trouble sleeping, I wouldn't even know I was pregnant."

"Not to mention the basketball in your belly. Well, that's great, I'm happy for you." I glance at the main crucifix and lower my voice. "Very happy."

Paula touches my arm. "Something's the matter?"

I nod grimly, still staring at Jesus, wondering how it felt to hang on the cross with so much power available to him, but unable to show it. In that instant I feel a great kinship with Jesus. Seldom in five thousand years was I allowed to demonstrate my full power, and then, when I did, people died.

Also, I think of how Krishna was killed, cut down in the forest by a hunter's arrow, mistaken for a beast and shot in the heel, the only portion of his divine body that was vulnerable to physical attack. So the legend of Achilles was born, not in Greece, but in the deep forests of central India. It is impossible for me to look at Jesus and not think of Krishna. Honestly, all the religious dogma aside, I believe they were one and the same. So universal that they were everybody, and nobody at the same time. Like Kali, Mother Kalika.

Who is my daughter? What is she?

"Something is the matter," I say to Paula.

"What is it? Maybe I can help."

"No. Thanks, but no. No one can help me." I gesture to the empty pews. "Could I remain here a while? I have to think, to meditate. I think that will clear my mind, and then I will know what to do."

Paula kisses me on the cheek. "Stay as long as you want. I will lock the doors as I leave, but they will still open from the inside. You'll be safe in here."

I smile feebly. "Thank you. You are a true friend. Sometime, when things are less hectic, we must talk."

Paula stares deep into my eyes. "I look forward to that talk."

When she is gone, I curl up in one of the pews and close my eyes. I meditate best when I am unconscious, when I allow God to do most of the talking. Even though I am in a Catholic church, I pray Krishna will visit me in my dreams.

Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) T he scene is the same as it has always been. It can be no other way for it is constructed in eternity. It is only here that dialogue with the Almighty can take place.

I stand on a vast grassy plain with many gently sloping hills surrounding me. It is night, yet the sky is bright. A hundred blue stars blaze overhead. The air is warm and fragrant. In the distance a stream of people move slowly toward a large spaceship. The ship is violet; bright rays of light stab into the sky from it. I know that I am supposed to be on this ship.

Yet, before I go to it, I have something to discuss with Lord Krishna.

He stands beside me on the plain, his gold flute in his right hand, a red lotus flower in his left. His dress, like mine, is simple—a long blue gown that reaches to the ground. But he wears a jewel around his neck— the brilliant Kaustubha gem, in which the destiny of every soul can be seen. He does not look at me but at the vast ship, and the stars beyond. He waits for me to speak, to answer him, but for some reason I can't remember what he last said. I only know that I am a special case. Because I do now know how to respond, I say what is most on my mind.

"When will I see you again, my Lord?"

He gestures to the wide plain, the stars overhead. "All this creation is an ocean, turbulent on the surface, silent in the depths. But like an ocean, the creatures in it are always searching for meaning in the creation, the ultimate element." He smiles to himself at the irony. "The fish searches for water in the ocean. He has heard so much about it. But he never finds it, and that is because he searches too hard." He pauses. "I am everywhere in the creation. There is nowhere that I am not. Why do you speak to me of separation?"

"Because, my Lord, I fear I will forget you when I enter into the creation."

He shrugs, he has no worries. "That is to be expected. You learn by forgetting what you once knew. Then, when you remember, it is that much sweeter."

"When will you come to earth?"

"When I am least expected."

"Will I see you, my Lord?"

"Yes, twice. At the beginning of Kali Yuga and then at the end of the age."

"Will I recognize you?"

"Not at first, not with the mind. But inside you will know me."

"How will I know you?"

He looks at me then, and his eyes are a wonder, windows into the cosmos. Time loses all meaning. It is as if the whole universe turns while I stare at him. I see thousands of people, millions of stars, so much life striving for small joys, so many illusions ending in shattering bitterness. Yet in the end it all turns to red, then to black, as the blood of the people runs cold and the fires of Kali burn the galaxies to ash. Still, none of this disturbs the eternal Lord for he never blinks, even though the sheer magnitude of the vision forces me to turn away trembling. He has stolen my very breath.

"Sri Krishna," I pray, overwhelmed, "take my soul now. Don't send me out. I surrender everything to you. I can't bear to forget you even for a moment."

He smiles. "I will tell you a story. This same story will be told by a simple man named Jesus, in the middle of Kali Yuga. Few people will recognize this Jesus with their minds, but some will know him inside." Krishna pauses before he begins.

"There is a man named Homa, who is a good person but not a perfect soul. He is a friend

Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) of Jesus and one day Jesus asks him to go to the village to buy some food for a large meal Jesus wants to give for some elders of the nearby village. Jesus says to the man, 'Take these ten coins and buy twelve loafs of bread, five jugs of wine, four fish, and one bag of a grain. Load it all on my donkey, and when you are done bring it here. I will be waiting for you.'

"At this Homa is confused, as well as excited with greed. He can see Jesus does not understand the value of the coins because he knows he can get all the things Jesus has requested for only five coins. Yet Homa also knows Jesus will need twice as much as he has asked for in order to feed all the people who are expected. Still, Homa does not plan on spending all ten coins. He says to himself, 'I will buy what I have been told to buy, and I will pocket the rest of the coins.'

"So Homa takes the donkey to town, and sets about purchasing the food. At the bakery he buys twelve loafs of bread, but as he places them on the donkey, when he is not looking, they change to twenty-four loafs. Next, Homa gets the five jugs of wine and the four fish.

But like before, when he is not looking, the five jugs turns to ten, and the four fish turn to eight. Finally, Homa obtains the bag of grain, but then, on the way back, he sees that he actually has two bags, and that everything else has doubled as well. He is astounded and feels to see if the five coins are still in his pocket.

"Jesus is waiting for him when he arrives and greets him with a kind smile. The smile of Jesus is a wonderful thing. Mankind's history will portray Jesus as filled with sorrow, but the love and joy that flow toward Homa when Jesus looks at him is all-consuming. Still, Homa is worried about seeing Jesus, even though Jesus has only kind words for him.

"Jesus says, 'Welcome back, Homa, you have brought everything we need for a great feast. Thank you.'

"But in shame Homa lowers his head and takes the five coins and places them at Jesus'

feet. 'Don't thank me, Master, for I thought to cheat you. I knew you needed more than you asked for, but I was going to keep these extra coins for myself. It is only by some strange magic that all this food is here. I bought only half this.' At that he kisses Jesus'

feet. 'I am unworthy to be called your friend, or even your servant.'

"But Jesus lifts him up, and says, 'No, Homa, you have done well because you have done my bidding. That is all you have to do. I ask nothing more of anyone.'"

Krishna pauses and stares up at the sky. "Did you enjoy this story?"

"Yes, my Lord. But I do not know if I understand it, or how it relates to me."

"This man, Homa, he is like every man. He is good-hearted but he has his flaws. Yet he is perfect in the eyes of Jesus because he has done what Jesus asks. You see, Sita, God does not expect you to give him all that you have. He understands the ways of the world, that it requires effort to deal with them. God only asks that you grant him half of what you possess, and then God will make up the other half. That is why the food multiplied. That is the miracle of this tale." Krishna pauses. "This story will be a part of the Gospel of Jesus, but too soon it will be removed from the holy book by those who want the peasant class to give everything to the Church, who do not understand the compassion of Jesus for those who struggle in the world." Krishna pauses again and smiles at me, that bewitching smile that steals even the hearts of the gods. "You don't need to surrender
everything
to me. Keep your head and I will take your heart. You will need your head to deal with Kali Yuga, particularly the end of the age."

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"What will happen at the end, my Lord?"

Krishna laughs and raises his flute to his lips. "You will not enjoy the tale if you know the end of the tale. Enough questions, Sita, now listen to my song. It dispels all illusions, all suffering. When you feel lost, remember it, remember me, and you see the things you desire most are the very things that bring you the greatest sorrow. My song is eternal, it can be heard at all times in all places."

"But—"

"Listen, Sita. Listen in silence."

Krishna starts to play. But as he does, a sudden wind comes up on the plain and the notes of his melody are drowned out. The dust rises and I am blinded, and I can't see Krishna anymore. The light of the stars fades and everything turns black.

Yet in this blackness an even darker shadow fills the sky, and I know I see Kali, who is without color and who destroys all at the end of time. Sinners as well as saints, devils as well as angels, humans as well as vampires. And I know it is Kali who will eventually destroy me.