Aurator, The (8 page)

Looking at the picture, I noticed what looked like a Greek-like statue of a man in a robe, curly hair and bare chest. In his hand he held a very rude stick which was taller than him. It looked as if the bark had been carved off by hand, leaving many channel-like impressions along the shaft. Around the staff was wound a large snake. “What about it?”

He pulled the paper back toward himself and smiled. “This is our symbol. This is the mark of our kind.”

I looked up at Aaron and noticed a small pin on the lapel of his button up shirt; it was the same symbol. I then remembered when Max had taken Hippocrates’s journal out of the floor and the board had this symbol on it. As I looked back at Max, he started speaking again.

“This is the symbol for those of us, all medical people by environment, and all Aurators by nature. The good of medicine.”

I thought back to my nursing school days. When I graduated I was given a necklace by my father that said RN on it on top of the caduceus, a staff with two snakes entwined around it with wings on top of the staff. “I always thought that the caduceus was the sign for medicine.”

“This is a common misconception,” Aaron said. “The caduceus was the sign for the Greek god Hermes, who was the inventor of magical incantations, conductor of the dead, and protector of merchants and thieves. This symbol is usually mistaken for the symbol of medicine, but in reality it represents all that we fight against. The staff of Asclepius is the only true sign of medicine… well, of good medicine.”

I thought about this for a moment. The caduceus was all I had ever seen in my career. It was everywhere. I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought that it might be a negative symbol, but then I considered a possible explanation. “Max?”

“Yes.”

“Does this mean that among the medical community there is good and bad… I mean… well… us and them?”

“Good question, but no. Those we fight against are not all in the medical profession. Some maybe, but a lot, at least of those that I’ve come into contact with, come from all different backgrounds.”

I looked toward Aaron, who agreed, “All different, none medical to my knowledge.”

“So,” I began, “Asclepius was one of us?”

“Yes,” answered Max, “but more specifically Megan, one of you. He was your ancestor. You are his bloodline, which is what makes you so powerful. We mentioned before that one of his daughters also had this power, but since then all have been men.”

“Why her?”

“Good question. We may never know.”

Although I enjoyed the history lesson, I remembered why I came in the first place. “What do I do about my purpose?”

Both men looked at me, Aaron now sitting on the couch across from me. “Complete it,” they said in unison.

I laughed out loud. “Are you crazy? I can’t kill someone. Besides, how do I even know where to look for this person?”

Max leaned forward and looked at me as a grandfather would look at his young granddaughter, “You have to complete it. If you don’t, innocent people will die. If you don’t, you will never be whole. This is your destiny… this is who you are.”

“How?” I asked.

“How what?” Max asked as he leaned back.

“If I find him, how do I kill him?” I couldn’t believe the words were even coming out of my mouth.

“That, Megan, is up to you. You need to follow your instincts.”

“What if my instincts are telling me that killing is wrong?”

“You just need to turn it over. Close your eyes and ask for guidance. Ask to be shown the direction.”

“Who am I asking?”

“Who do you think?” His eyes narrowed as if trying to place the answer into my mind.

“I don’t know. God? That makes no sense, God would never guide someone to kill.”

“Kill someone who is good? No. Fix a genetic mutation that he… or she… never created or intended and that is wreaking havoc in the world? Maybe. Just try it and let us know if we can help.”

I stood up, realizing that I still had things to do before I got my girls from school. “I have some things to think about. I’ll call you guys later. Thanks.”

11. Purpose
 

The day progressed as normal. I picked the girls up from school after shopping and cleaning house. I was going to work that night so I had made dinner and decided to take a nap after my daughter Trina came up asking if I was okay. I had responded with the “fine honey” that I normally did when I was upset but didn’t want my kids to worry. Along the way, I grabbed a quick kiss from my husband who was playing with Abi and dressed like a pirate.

I lay down and thought about everything Max and Aaron had said to me. I thought
I
need
help
, but then sighed and went to sleep.
Except I didn’t sleep well. I had dream after dream of killings. I was killing the same person over and over in different but all very gruesome ways. I awoke in a cold sweat, eyes wide and breathing fast. I looked around the room for someone but no one was there. I did however have a sense of resolve. I picked up the phone and called in sick to work. Then I dialed Aaron and told him where to meet me and what to bring.

He sounded stunned on the other line. “You want me to bring what?”

“Look,” I started, “I did what you guys told me and this is what I came up with. I’m only doing what feels right. This is what I need to do. Can you meet me or not?”

He paused on the other line. “If this is what you were shown then it is my place to help.”

“Thank you. I’ll meet you at eleven-thirty tonight.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.” I got up, showered, dressed in my scrubs for work and packed my bag, but this time not with items for work… at least not my regular work. I gave each of my girls a kiss good-bye and then walked downstairs to kiss Luke, who was watching the news, and left.

I drove to the cafe, parked, and quickly changed into more appropriate clothes for where I was going. I was a little early so I finished my make-up and hair and waited. I wasn’t sure if I could follow through with this. Could I do what was shown to me? Aaron pulled up right on time.

I stepped out of my car and walked to his door as he was getting out. “I wasn’t going to do this… whoa, you look… wow.”

It’s true that I was dressed differently than I normally did. I’m a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl but when necessary I clean up nice. I was wearing a form fitting, almost down to my knees, sleeveless red dress that I wore when Luke and I went out last New Year’s Eve. Luke liked the way the cut of the dress gave me a more voluptuous appearance. My make-up was definitely done up for nighttime and my hair was down instead of my usual pony tail. “Okay, okay, enough of the harassment. It’s for a reason.” I tried to reach for a bag that he was holding but he pulled it backwards.

“Hold up a minute. Just what are you going to be doing dressed like that?” He looked me up and down in a way that was teetering between annoying and flattering.

“Look,” I began, do you think I would be dressed like this had it not been necessary? Just… well, can I have the stuff?”

I could tell he wanted to tease me a bit more but his face suddenly turned serious. “I didn’t want to do this, but I called Max and he convinced me that we needed to help.” He handed me a black leather bag. I took it and looked up at him. His eyes were filled with concern and a little fear. What I had asked him to do was unfair, I knew that. But the dream I had was clear, and I knew that the only way I would be able to complete my purpose was to carry it out in this way… with his help.

“Thank you. I know that I shouldn’t have asked you to do this, but I don’t know any other way. If I could do anything differently, I would.”

“I know. I don’t have to understand it to support the greater good that will come of this.” Then placing his hand on my shoulder, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Honestly? No.” I answered so quickly that I had to backtrack. “I know what I have to do. The drive to complete this is getting stronger in me. I don’t think I’ll be able to control how I react much longer.”

He nodded his head in agreement. I remembered the story of his first purpose and not being able to help himself. He asked, “When are you going to do this?”

“Tonight, right now.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “How do you know you will see him tonight?”

“I dreamt it. I know where he’ll be.” I was looking through the bag to make sure everything I asked for was there when I realized things were a little too silent. I looked up to see a shocked look on his face. “What?”

“You… dreamt… it?” He seemed to have difficulty finding the right words.

“Yes, why? Didn’t you?”

“No.”

There had to be more than that. “No… but?”

“No buts, just no. It was random, at least it felt random. I know that there are larger hands at play here but I’m not aware of the game they’re playing. I just move when I’m told to move.”

I pondered this for a moment but then had what can only be described as an internal alarm clock go off in my head. “I’m sorry Aaron, we’ll need to talk about this later. I have to go.”

“Can I…” he started but I was already walking away.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I shouted back and got into my car.

I drove to the location in my dream. A bar. This was a bar I knew well, I had partied here during nursing school with a lot of friends from the Mission District. I was feeling pretty thankful that I didn’t have the need to frequent bars, or even drink anymore for that matter, as I parked and looked around. No one here. I quickly changed and put together a bag of items that I would need.

It has always amazed me how it can be years since you’ve been in a particular place but the minute you walk in you are hit with a rush of smells and memories that transport you back in time. The table that my friends and I sat at was still there. The bar was the same. The bar was wooden, hand-carved mahogany with twenty or more leatherette stools. Behind the bar were all the usual bottles of alcohol and glasses hanging above the bartender’s head. There were tables scattered throughout the rest of the room. A pool table sat in the corner with several wannabe pool champions hovering around it. The pictures on the walls were like any other bar, tacky, and clearly had not been updated since I was last here.

I walked up to one of the barstools and asked for a 7-Up. I sat down, placed my bag on my lap and waited. I could hear the chatter behind me. One man was breaking up with a woman who was in turn accusing him of cheating. Another gentleman was speaking with his male partner about their upcoming wedding plans and clearly having a difference of opinion regarding the theme for the event. I felt a little sad, wishing that these were my biggest concerns.

I sipped my drink and quickly reviewed in my head what I had seen in the dream. When he walks in I… OW! I was struck in the head by something cold. As I reached up to my head I looked toward the source of the pain. I stopped breathing. There he was, walking toward me, the dark aura emanating throughout the room, almost seeming to caress everyone he walked by. I took a breath, my chest burned, and I could feel my heart starting to speed up. I tried to look away but my body wanted to move toward him. It took all my strength to turn toward my drink and take some deep breaths. I could feel my body warming, the muscles tensing and relaxing. I looked to my right and there he was, sitting two stools down. I remembered the dream and knew that I had a part to play. I changed my posture to appear more nervous and insecure, glancing around as if searching for something.

After a few moments, I heard, “Can I help you? Are you waiting for someone?” I felt his words pierce my own heart. I reached for my chest and looked at him. His face had a familiarity to it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“Thank you,” I said rather breathlessly. “I’m not actually waiting for anyone, just people watching.”

His gaze moved up and down the length of my body. This sent a shiver down my spine, raising the hair on the back of my neck. I felt the anger welling up inside me. I wanted to kill him. This thought pulled me out of my moment of self-absorption and I turned back toward him. Our faces were just two feet apart.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“I have one, thanks.” I tried to play coy. Luke always said I was terrible at this but maybe that was because I never wanted to be coy with him.

“My name is Amber,” I said, “and you?”

“Oh, well I’m J.J. Nice to meet you. Can I interest you in conversation?”

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” What am I missing, I thought to myself. There was something about him. Was it the dream? Sitting there in front of me an average but not bad-looking guy, brown hair either intentionally cut into one of those windblown, bed-head haircuts, or else he just hadn’t gotten a haircut in a long time. His eyes were a bright blue that would have been beautiful if their appearance were not overshadowed by an immense sadness that emanated from them. His face was one of someone who had, in my dad’s words, been around the block once or twice. He looked as if he had lived more than one life. He smiled at me, and the softness I had felt in that moment was gone. He was evil. I felt the urge to spring forward and take care of him quickly. I looked back down at my drink.
Play the part, play the part.
This plan would only work if I continued to play my part. Although I felt the strength and a new sense of inner courage building in me, I needed to come off as insecure and weak.

I looked at my drink and concentrated on taking a more weak posture. He responded by moving closer, onto the stool next to me.

“Are you sure you’re not meeting anyone?”

“No, why?” I turned to look at him just as he sat down next to me.

“Just wondering why a woman as beautiful as you is alone. Seems a shame.” I could see how his words could be charming to someone who was lonely, or rather just wanted to be with someone.

“Thank you.” I responded softly. “But I’m not beautiful. Nobody ever seems interested in me.” I tipped my head ever so slightly forward as if to seem sad.

I felt a sharp pain but didn’t move as he placed his hand on top of mine on the bar. “Maybe you’ve just been waiting for me.”

I felt nauseated. My muscles wanted to flex and respond to his touch but I wouldn’t let them. The internal fight was almost painful as I took a ragged breath in. Looking toward him I saw that his face was excited and he took my response to mean, well, something much different.

I took a deep breath in, “Yes, maybe I have been.” I looked away quickly so as to seem shy.

“Well, do you want to get out of here, maybe go get something to eat?”

I looked up at him. It had worked, I couldn’t believe it, just as I had seen it in my dream. Could I go through with it and finish the way my dream did? “Okay, I guess,” still playing the part. He got up from the barstool and stood with his hand out. I didn’t trust myself to touch him, so I reached for my bag instead, clutching it to my chest. I turned to walk out the front door but he motioned toward the back door.

“My car is in the back, do you mind if I drive us?”

Is this what he does with all his victims? And they fall for it?
We walked out the back door into the alley between the two buildings, and he motioned for me to walk down the opposite way from the street. The alley was not quite big enough for a car to fit without going through like a pinball machine, and there was nowhere to run… not that I wanted to. He followed behind me until we were at least forty feet away from the door, then he placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Wait,” he said in a throaty, urgent tone. “Stop for a moment.”

That’s when I felt it, an urge unlike any other. My shoulder where his hand rested felt as if on fire. I wanted to turn and dismember him, I wanted to hear him beg for his life. I turned and was startled when I saw him holding a knife.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Things happened so quickly. I remember standing in front of him staring at the knife, but then in a blur of movements I had disarmed him, the knife clattered to the ground, and I had taken control. Within a second, I saw myself standing over him holding him down by his throat. His eyes looked up at me in terror. What a turnabout this must be for him, I thought.

“Who are you?” he choked out.

What is it about his eyes? Why are they so familiar?
“Who are you?” I did not release my grip but instead tightened my fingers around the curve of his throat so that I could feel his pulse for a split second and then it disappeared. “I could end you right now.”

“I’m J.J. I already told you that. Why are you doing this to me?”

Fascinating really… the feeling I was having. So many nights my heart raced as I walked down a dimly lit street at night, worried someone could attack me. But now… I wasn’t afraid of anything. My muscles ached to finish him. Then I saw it, the images so vivid in my mind… the women from my vision, the woman from the emergency room and then suddenly they shifted out of focus and visions of the kids from my school who were killed came forward. I tried to shake the images out of my head but was unsuccessful.

“What is your real name? J.J. is short for what?” I tightened my grip just slightly.

“John Jeffery,” he spit out.