The 49th Mystic Page 21

“Yes,” I managed.

  “And you heard?”

  I looked up at Talya as fresh, silent tears slipped down my cheeks. “I thought it was my mother at first.”

  “Neither male nor female. You say you heard it as a woman?”

  “I couldn’t tell, just a voice.”

  “Your helper and comforter.” He stared deep into my eyes. “In your Old Testament, the Holy Spirit is always feminine. In many languages, like Greek, there is no feminine word for Spirit, so most humans translate the Holy Spirit as an it or he. Labels. In truth, the Infinite has no gender, nor is there any separation between the aspects of Elyon. We identify with three aspects—Father, Spirit, and Son—but they are one, so that if you see one, you see them all.”

  “No male or female . . .”

  “These are metaphors. There is no male or female Inchristi. Elyon is One. Revealing your union with Elyon is the Spirit’s primary purpose now, as Yeshua first taught.”10

  “Can I call the voice my mother?”

  “He’s infinite. You’ll hear in terms that are personal to you and draw you into intimate awareness of who you are as the light. It isn’t the place of any human to condemn your union with Elyon.” He paused. “The important thing to remember is this: the self-righteousness of the earthen vessel is like filthy rags, used up and worthless, like the law. But that is not who you are in union with Elyon. You are the light, yes?”

  “Yes.” I was swimming in wonder.

  “To deny your identity as the light, one with Elyon, is to blaspheme the Spirit, who reveals your union with the divine light. In that state of denial you will find yourself unforgiven, not by Elyon but by yourself. Thus they call it the unforgivable sin. Unforgiven by you. Elyon will not override your free will. You will see yourself either as light or in darkness. In truth, you are the light, as Yeshua taught. When you feel lost, know that it is always because you are covering up your identity as the light with your denial of it. Like hiding your light under a basket.”11

  “A basket . . . my earthen vessel.”

  He dipped his head. “Life in polarity occurs in cycles of remembering and forgetting, often many times in a day. Re-member who you are. It’s the only way to find the peace of God in this life.”

  I looked back at the valley, now smothered in shadows as the sun set. No Shataiki, just trees and cliffs. “I saw a colored forest. A village and a lake.”

  His eyes were bright and he smiled. “You saw your home, not so far from here beyond the Great Divide. The Realm of Mystics. You will see them soon.”

  “The Realm of Mystics,” I said, liking the sound. My home.

  “And now I can tell you, it’s this very realm that both Horde and Albino will attempt to destroy in the coming war. If you don’t find the Five Seals of Truth before that appointed time, all will be lost. You must find all five before the Realm of Mystics is crushed.”

  I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to destroy the Mystics, nor how I could find all five seals in time, but in that moment of wonder, none of it concerned me, even though I knew it should. Maybe that’s why he’d waited to tell me.

  “Do you understand?” he asked, searching my eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Talya slipped the book back into the leather cloth and we stood, he as a man on a mission, I unsteady, lost in thoughts of that valley I’d seen.

  “I . . . I have the second riddle,” I said.

  “Riddle? You mean the finger.”

  “Finger? No, a riddle. A clue.”

  “We call it a finger. It points the way, like a finger that points to the sun. It isn’t the sun, it only points to it. Like Scriptures. They aren’t the Word; the Word is Justin. The Scriptures only point to the Word. Remember, set your eyes on what is unseen, not on the finger itself. If you focus all of your attention on the finger, it will block your sight of that to which it points. In this way the letter—that is, Scripture—kills, but the Spirit gives life, as written.”12

  I was sure I had read that once, the last part anyway. “Then I have the second finger.”

  “Good. The Second Seal will come to you when you’re ready, not before.”

  “I am ready.”

  “Are you?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Jacob is close behind. As is the other one.”

  “Which other?”

  “Samuel. As I suspected, he could not resist hunting the enemy who hunts his newfound Mystic.”

  The revelation surprised me. Samuel was coming after me? On the one hand, I loved him for it. On the other, I couldn’t imagine what was in store for him.

  “We go to the high pass before we sleep,” Talya was saying. “You will not eat the rhambutan fruit tonight. You must dream and do what you must do. And when you wake in this world tomorrow, you will face a deeper darkness.”

  Our eyes met.

  “You will face it without me,” he said. “It is time for me to find Thomas of Hunter.”

  18

  I WOKE SLOWLY, with visions of light and color swimming through my mind. I had seen, and my skin still tingled from it all. Was it possible?

  I opened my eyes and the white ceiling came into focus. I was back in Eden. A knot formed in my throat and my eyes misted with tears. Was it the same here as there?

  Having been blind most of my life, I knew the workings of the human eye and the optical processing center of the brain better than most. Right now my eyes were receiving data and transmitting it to the back of my brain, where sight actually occurred based on neural programming. Change the program and you change what is seen. Red could become blue, and round could become square. Science had proven this much.

  The primary challenge to changing the way we see is that a full third of the brain is dedicated to sight, the most complex of the senses. Thus, the mind is heavily invested in the perception of what it has learned to see. I would have to let go of my attachment to one system of sight to see with another.

  Just like the perception of realities. Being so heavily invested in one interpretation of truth, a person couldn’t see another. Seeing, they could not see. True sight required metanoia. The transformation of the mind. Awakening.

  So what was I “seeing” right now? Not what was necessarily there, only what I had learned to see through countless years of genetic imprinting. But in my dream I had seen more. Much more.

  Could I see the same way here?

  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The soft, tender voice of Spirit hung in the back of my mind, a distant memory now, and yet still present.

  I opened my eyes.

  What is known that cannot be named?

  I sat up in my bed as my situation crystalized. Leaving the overlook, Talya had led me up the mountain to a wide ridge above the tree line. The Great Divide. In daylight, the largest of all Elyonite cities could be seen far below, he said. I’d fallen asleep next to a fire without eating the rhambutan fruit.

  The events of the previous night in Eden dropped into my awareness like a hammer from the sky. I yanked up my sleeve and saw that the tattoo was still there. White, like a pure white ivory ring set into my shoulder.

  Vlad had turned the town against me. But if both worlds were linked and if I was that link, then what Talya said was true there was also true here. When he spoke of polarity, he also meant Eden, the town—I was sure of it.

  The audio clock beside my bed was silent. The backup batteries must have gone dead during the night. So what time was it? No sound from the house. My father was already gone—it had to be late.

  I quickly dressed, gave my teeth a once-over, pulled my hair free of the ponytail, and ran into the living room.

  The drapes were still drawn, no sign my father had made any breakfast. The sound of gentle breathing first alerted me that I wasn’t alone.

  Spinning to my right, I half expected to see Shadow Man watching me from the corner of the living room. Instead, I saw that my father had passed out on the couch. No sign of Miranda.

  “Dad?”

>   He shot off the couch and faced me, appearing dazed but otherwise fully awake.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “What time is it?” His voice was frantic. He answered himself as he glanced at the wall clock. “After ten?”

  I didn’t know why he’d slept so late, but that didn’t really concern me right now. I was focused on what I knew I had to do.

  My father leaped to the window, jerked the curtain open, and peered outside, as if expecting to see something that shouldn’t be there. He turned back, face drawn, eyes fixed on mine.

  “They killed Miranda last night,” he said.

  “Miranda? What do you mean?”

  He told me what he meant in one long rush. My pulse joined the pace of his words. For five full minutes I stood there listening, sinking into fear and alarm.

  It was only the beginning, I thought. Just like the terrorists who took down the grid beyond this valley, Vlad would only increase the intensity of his assault. And I was the only one standing in his way.

  A voice in my mind told me I was to blame for Miranda’s death. Vlad had come here for me. If not for me . . . I shoved the thought out. I had seen darkness in my dreams and risen above it. Strange how I didn’t feel that same way here, but I had to try. My father was clearly possessed with that darkness.

  Those gentle words echoed across time. What is known that cannot be named?

  And Talya’s voice.

  See what is unseen, daughter. See past the illusion of fear. You are not merely your earthen vessel or its memories. Fix your attention on what is unseen, not on what is seen by the eyes in your head.

  The power of that sight still lingered in my mind like a distant hum.

  I crossed to my father and gently put my arms around him. He immediately dropped his head on my shoulder and began to sob.

  “I know how much Miranda meant to you,” I said. Eden had now taken two women from him. He was breaking under the weight of it all. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I know. But it will be. You’ll see. It’s going to be okay.”

  He began to settle, then stepped away. But the worry would not leave him and he started to pace again, running his hands through his hair.

  “Dad?”

  But it was pointless. He crossed to the window and peered out again, and as soon as he did, he began to talk in that quick manner of his, expressing his disbelief at what was happening and laying out a strategy of revenge that sounded less like him and more like Barth.

  “I have to go,” I said when he came up for air.

  He was talking about guns and continued without pause. “The problem is getting into the armory. I can’t believe they all agree with him. If I can just turn one of his enforcers, maybe Russell or Francis, and a few of the others. If Cindy knew . . . heck, if Hillary knew—”

  “Did you hear me, Dad? I have to leave.”

  “What do you mean, leave? You can’t leave.”

  But I was no longer the sixteen-year-old I’d known only yesterday, was I? I was the daughter of Elyon, a twenty-one-year-old Mystic from another realm.

  Right?

  “Can you sit down for a second?” I asked.

  The resolve in my voice gave him pause.

  “The only way to keep you safe is to arm ourselves,” he said. “Both of us, I’ll grant you—”

  “Father!” I pointed to the sofa. “Sit down for just one second and listen to me.”

  His jaw clenched, but he finally nodded. “Okay.” He sat. “I’m listening.”

  I eased into the chair opposite him and took a deep breath.

  “I know that I’m your daughter, and I love you more than I know how to love anything else. But I have some things I have to do, regardless of what you think. The truth is, Vlad needs me alive. He came to this valley for one reason and one reason alone. Me. I know that like I know I have a white tattoo on my shoulder. That’s why I have to go. And I have to go now.”

  “Go where? It’s way too dangerous!” His heel was bouncing.

  The jittery man before me was hardly the same father I’d turned to for comfort only two days ago. Fear and rage were compromising his frontal lobe—brain-speak for reasoning faculties.

  “There’s no way a sixteen-year-old girl can face off with that monster and hope to survive.” He was shaking his head. “No way.”

  “I’m not going to Vlad. Or Barth. I’m going to Simon. He knows more than he’s saying, and I think I have a way to get to him.”

  “Even Simon,” he protested, standing now, stepping over to the window to peer out again. “You know what happens if you break his law. And it’s martial law now.”

  I was getting nowhere. So I stood and walked to the door.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded.

  “I told you.”

  He looked dumbfounded. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “I heard everything. No one in the streets, new law. Barth has a taste for blood and would love to start with yours. You give him the least excuse and he will come after you with swords drawn.” Swords? I went on without bothering to correct myself. “Which is why you can’t leave this house. If something happens to you, who’ll be around to take care of me?”

  My words caught him flat-footed.

  “I, on the other hand, have great value to both Barth and Simon. Alive, not dead. Which is why I’m going. Give me two hours.”

  I opened the door.

  “Two hours? I can’t wait here for two hours!”

  “Two hours,” I said, and I shut the door behind me. I would apologize later.

  Except for Spotty, the Franklins’ Dalmatian, who’d gotten off his leash, Eden was a ghost town.

  I felt no fear as I walked down the sidewalk in my tattered Converses. No fear as I strode right into the center of the town square, a solitary sixteen-year-old girl. No fear as I stepped into the church.

  The first stab of fear hit me when I entered the sanctuary. Soft light from the stained glass didn’t take the edge off the stern-faced image of God pointing down at the Bible. Memories of a hundred Sunday school lessons flooded my mind. I knew that Simon was well meaning, but the concept of God he taught and the one I’d encountered when I found the First Seal were hardly the same.

  What if everything Talya was teaching me was wrong?

  But I refused to believe that. Or at least I tried to.

  I walked through the auditorium into the administration offices, right up to Simon’s door, part of me hoping he’d be there, part of me not wanting to face him, because he represented that old view of God that had caused me so much fear. And there was no fear in love.

  The office was dark when I pushed the door open—which was why I could see the line of light at the bottom of another door behind the desk.

  I stepped up to the door, heart pounding. Cracked it wider, peering in.

  Simon stood in the light of a lantern with his back to me. He was holding a black book up to the light, drawing his finger along a page. I could read the header at the top.

  Experimental Protocols

  Emergency Override

  I pulled the door open. “Judge?”

  Simon spun, face white. “Rachelle!” He jerked a drawer wide, dropped the book inside, and slammed it shut. “What are you doing here?”

  I knew then my father was right. Simon was hiding something. But I was there for another reason.

  “The door was open . . .”

  He crossed to me, shoved me out, and slammed the door shut behind us. A dead bolt automatically engaged, sealing the door seamlessly into the bookshelf.

  For a second, he stood there in the dark office as if unsure what to do. Then he grabbed my hand and led me to a side door that opened into the sanctuary. “As far as you’re concerned, that room doesn’t exist. It’s just a place I escape to when I need to clear my head. Please keep it to yourself.”

  “Okay.”

  “You have no bu
siness being here,” he said, leading me to the steps that descended from the platform. I was so used to dutifully following his guidance that for a moment I forgot why I’d come.

  I stopped by the altar and looked up at him, then drew a breath and steadied my resolve.

  “I’ve come to help you,” I said.

  He stared at me with blank eyes, lost in concerns I knew nothing of. He stepped to the side and sat heavily in the chair behind the bench. Stared off at the far wall.

  “I’ve always liked you, Rachelle. In all of this you’ve been so . . . unique. Gracious, despite all your challenges. But what’s happening here . . .” He turned to me. “It’s beyond both you and me. Between us, I want you to know I never meant you or anyone else any harm.”

  My heart broke for him. “Do you mind if I share some thoughts with you?” I asked. “Do you ever wonder if everything you believe about something critical is . . . well, just not so?”

  He stared at me. Answered slowly. “Such as?”

  “God, for starters. You saw what happened to me last night. It wasn’t in my mind. Something else happened. Something real.”

  “Maybe. I’m more of a hard-facts guy. Theology, science, what’s written and proven. The rest is hard to swallow.”

  “Everything is hard to swallow unless you’ve been trained to believe it,” I said. “Take away all your memories of what should be, and suddenly the world opens up to all kinds of new possibilities.”

  He eyed me carefully. “There is no bending God’s laws,” he said slowly.

  “True. But what are God’s laws? An eye for an eye? Or is his law called grace now? Didn’t he give both? So then maybe both are true: one to experience this world of ups and downs, and one if you want to experience God beyond polarity. And we’re all bound by whatever system we serve.”

  “What are you suggesting? The law holds this town together.”

  “True, but what if that law is weak and useless, like Paulus wrote?”

  “Paulus?”

  “Paul, I mean. Ultimately, only the law of grace is effective.” I cleared my throat. “What if God isn’t disappointed in us?”

  For a moment I saw deep hunger in his eyes, and I thought he might break down. It was almost as if he wanted to tell me something, or believe something, but just couldn’t bring himself to.