Consequences (24 page)

“No, not all of us … but there are those that
choose to use these gifts for chaos, and then revel in pain they
cause.” My mind flips through the beings that I have encountered …
James, V, and the horrible creature from Cassandra’s memory. Coming
with those memories, dread threatens to break through my level
demeanor.

“Ellie? You’re shaking, what’s wrong?”

“Monsters, Dimitris … nothing more than what
I understood in life; there are monsters, but they are alive only
in the souls of humans. Here in the world of Mortos and then
passing into the world of Ho Thanatos, no matter what mask they
wear to change their appearance … inside, they are still
monsters.”

“I would have to agree with that, Ellie; but
to hear you say the same thing as the Symboulio is a little
disheartening. I think I would modify that idea to include that
angels are in the hearts of humans also. If I accept that there are
monsters, then I think it’s safe to believe that angels pass into
the realm of Ho Thanatos as well. I like that name ‘Ho Thanatos’…
very fitting, very appropriate.”

Continuing at our same pace, Dimitris speaks
with the excitement of a child, who only just found out they
weren't alone in the world. “I think that you should know the
Symboulio are ancient and have deep-seeded beliefs that those
humans who pass into the mist are actually the ones unworthy of
entering the Elysian Fields … too loathsome for heaven. The council
has been around longer than Christianity or even Greek mythology.
To understand that you exist, to see what you are capable of,
spawns jealousy, contempt, and most of all fear in the hearts of
the council. They will shoot first and ask questions later …
please, promise me that you will develop as healthy a fear of them,
as you have for your monsters.” I can feel genuine concern for my
safety in his words, so I squeeze his hand to let him know I
appreciate the message he is sending.

Attempting to steer the conversation in a
different direction, I reply to his statement about liking the
expression 'Ho Thanatos'. “My mentor, Cassandra, uses the term Ho
Thanatos, 'death that cannot die' … she is very insightful, in her
way.”

“The Cassandra … princess of Troy… Homer’s
prophetess … who would be three thousand years old? Really? Cor,
even with all I know, I can still be blown over by your world.
Cassandra’s dilemma is a favorite story here; even to this day … no
wonder the Symboulio conveniently forget to mention 'who' they know
resides in the mist. They wouldn’t want the underlings to develop
sympathy, or admiration, for your kind … that would absolutely
devastate the ol’ Gaffers. I’ll be damned … Des’s suspicions were
true. They couldn’t handle an uprising in their midst. We, seers,
outnumber them … isn’t that how it always works, though: keep the
masses ignorant, and then only feed them what you want … so you can
mold their prejudice?” Dimitris’s exhilaration is flavored with a
righteous bitterness that doesn’t sit well with me.

“You know, in some cases the Symboulio are
right to withhold information. A little while back, I sensed an
entity, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. She has the power to
reduce even the most rational person into the quivering mess of
terrified prey. I’ve felt true evil before, but she made my heart
race like a frightened rabbit on the verge of collapse. If she knew
who was hunting her ... if she knew about the supposed power in
your Symboulio, she would crush you all, in an instant." Or, she
could simply see them as insignificant … thus ignoring their
existence as if they were a group of mosquitoes, rather than
glorified, corrupt, ethereal policemen.

I don't want to insult the importance of
Dimitris's council, so I keep that bit to myself. "I’m not a fan of
censorship, but there are times when some information is best kept
secret for people’s own safety, and sanity. At the same time, I
think you should know what you could possibly be up against; since
you are on the frontlines, so to speak. I do see that there is an
absurdity in what they are choosing to withhold … but then again,
prejudice has never made any logical sense to me. Ultimately, I
fear that ripping apart this organization without a clue as to what
might pop up in its place … would only lead to more innocent lives
lost. Yes Dimitris; believe in your revolution, strive to fight the
good fight, but be prepared for the consequences of your
actions.”

He nods solemnly, having seen enough death to
easily comprehend the weight of my advice. After walking a bit
farther in relative silence, he finally voices the question that
has been bouncing around his head, “Who is this terrible creature
you sensed? Does she have a name?”

“Cass refers to her as Beowulf’s monster, but
I’ve heard another name in her mind, Echidna. I don’t think Cass
believes in the Greek mythological ‘Mother of All Monsters’; but
she seems to think that this creature is old enough to be the
source of the mythology. It does make sense if you think about it;
Echidna was the viper nymph responsible for unfathomable
vindictiveness in Greek Mythology, and Beowulf’s monster was some
sort of evil she-dragon seductress to the Vikings. Cass has seen
her antics through visions, but only the visions the creature wants
Cass to perceive. To trump the strength of Cassandra's visions …
whatever this creature is, she is incredibly powerful.”

“What did Cassandra see?”

“She watched the creature hunt. Like all of
us with these talents, I think the creature was a ‘special’ human
once. I don’t want to even guess at what she can do, though no
matter what her gifts are … she uses them to reap havoc. She feeds
on hopelessness, fear, and hatred. Cass said that she can become
solid like me; but in any shape needed to harvest terror … and
because of that, she may be responsible for any number of the
folklores about nightmares coming to life, from mythical monsters
to vampires and werewolves. I guess in that sense she really is the
Mother of All Monsters, the beginning of all the horror stories
that have been ignored as fables and suspicions.” I shudder at the
thought of something so old and influential.

Dimitris responds to my shiver by putting his
arm around my shoulders and asking if I am cold. What a change in
perspective, when we drop pretenses and really look at each
other.

“Honestly, I’m fine.” I don’t shrug out from
under his arm, though.

I don’t want to lose the contact that is
intimate and innocent all in the same breath. Given my own modesty
and shyness, I’ve become acutely aware of the different customs in
different places. I can feel the lack of sexual tensions here,
compared to America … here, a touch of greeting or thoughtfulness
is simply considered friendly, with no innuendoes.

We take our time making our way down south,
and the minutes pass by at a leisurely pace. He asks questions
about Cassandra nonstop … after all, how often does one get to asks
questions about a living three-thousand-year-old legend? His
enthusiasm is contagious, and now that he understands the Ho
Thanatos are no different than Mortos … some good, some bad, most
indifferent, Dimitris is becoming genuinely excited. The idea of
history’s starlets moving right next to him ignites the curiosity
of a child, and I have to smile at the enchantment reflected in his
eyes. I have a feeling that with everything this tender soul has
been exposed to, seeing him this happy is a real rarity, and a
treat to be savored.

“Ellie … is Cassandra as beautiful as the
myths write?”

“Yes, I believe she is … if not more. As Ho
Thanatos, we wear our spiritual energy like a cloak … Cass wears
hers as if it were spun from the most intricate, golden silk. Her
inner beauty and wisdom project the most breathtaking image of
royalty … when we first met, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
Her projection of her mortal body is exquisite: with dark red hair
that seems to catch on fire when she stands in the sunlight, and
her eyes are a brilliant green … but her spirit makes her a
goddess. Looking at Cassandra, I can understand how myths like
those of Aphrodite started.”

“Why can’t I see your energy? I can see you
and your kind when you’re in the mist, but I see semitransparent
forms that look like reflections on the surface of the water …
nothing sparkling, no energy.” I can feel a change settling over
his emotions. They still hold the reverence and contentment from
his acceptance of the Ho Thanatos, but now I can feel a deep shadow
of sorrow.

“Are you all right, Dimitris?”

“Yes … I just remembered where I’d seen the
energy before. The lovely young one vanished, while profusely
bleeding light. I don’t feel well. Do you mind if we find a safe
place to sit for a little while?” His mind seems to take hold of
the thought of someone’s spirit being destroyed … gone forever; and
because the snare will not let go, he is hemorrhaging grief from
the wound.

We are close enough to the water that I can
hear the waves breaking, so I guide Dimitris toward the sound in
search of a place to rest. We have to cross a highway that runs
along the coast, and since we have been walking most of the night,
there are very few cars driving past. Dimitris holds my hand for
support … the pressure of his enlightenment starts tearing at my
self-control. If I don’t find a place to detach myself, the full
power of his distress is going to crush me.

I try to focus on the thoughts that are
weaving their way through his despair. He is picking through all
the, once thought, useless information he has collected by watching
and listening to the Symboulio over the years. Following the
tangent of emotions that run alongside his memories, the deaths he
now sees as murders, I find a thread that runs back to his history
classes taken at the council’s boarding school.

A brief, auditory history lesson shows me
that Beowulf’s character is based on real life … no surprise there.
As an unwilling participant in the making of a child with Echidna,
Beowulf took his anger to the council. The Symboulio, much like
more modern churches, saw his interest as an opportunity to spread
their beliefs, and allowed his membership without any of the normal
pomp and circumstance. Secretive and barbaric in the eyes of the
council, Beowulf’s rise to king was only a small accomplishment.
When he died during the battle with his monstrous son, he took all
his clandestine information on the ethereal creatures with him. The
Symboulio’s anger was immense, and they wrote off any further
examinations of the viper woman’s involvement in Ho Thanatos
affairs. That was a big mistake, a very big mistake.

Simply walking and folding my thoughts in
Dimitris’s past, while trying to avoid his present state of mind; I
hadn’t noticed that Dimitris had taken back the job of guide. He
leads us to a large sail boat moored to one of the many docks in
the bay. Modern and glossy-white, it looks as if it should be
classified as a yacht, but my guide says it is too small to be
considered a proper yacht … this is meant to be a home. I look at
the name painted elegantly on the back … Despina.

“This is your boat? Despina? It’s named after
your cousin, right?”

“Being the only surviving member of a very
powerful family of seers has its benefits. I’ve taken a stance of
ignorance over the years, concerning the Timoro and what they do to
your kind. I have tried to call them in only when I saw something
mischievous or evil … but I never took the time to know any of you;
and I can’t help but to wonder how many innocents I’ve condemned.
Whenever I become too curious for my own good, I come to Despina
and try to leave the Council behind for a few days. Naming her
after my cousin just seemed appropriate, considering this is where
I want to be, when the reality of my choices start to become too
obvious. Now, given how fond of you I’ve become … I couldn’t think
of anywhere else I wanted to be. Please, Ellie, let me take you
wherever you would like to go … please, give me a reason to float
away from my life, just for a little bit.”

“Cassandra isn’t expecting me back for a
couple days … I can’t think of a better way to spend that time.
Thank you, Dimitris.”

I can tell as soon as we settle onto the
boat, Dimitris is exhausted. He shows me around, and after my tour
I suggest that he try and get some rest. After fighting the need
for about an hour longer, he finally closes his eyes while sitting
upright on his bed. Walking around, I peek at the pictures and
trinkets he has sitting out in plain sight. After becoming bored,
primarily because I don’t want to be too much of a snoop, and
grudgingly deciding to not look in any of the cupboards or drawers;
I go out up on deck. Athens is a city of light, and I have to
remind myself that it doesn’t actually feel like a major metropolis
… the love of ancestry is too strong here. I make myself
comfortable on a chair and close my eyes so that I can focus on
listening to the water licking at the sides of the boat. When I
feel the warmth of the sun on my face, I realize that I must have
dozed off for a few minutes.

Shaking off the drowsiness, I return to
Dimitris. The rays of sunlight, pouring through the small, round
windows, lit up the entire interior of the sleeping quarters.
Walking into the cramped area that serves as a bedroom, I close all
the shades so that Dimitris’s sleep won’t be interrupted. When he
starts to toss and turn, grumbling and moaning, I can feel a
desperation shooting out of his dreams. Crawling on to the bed, I
let him rest his head in my lap. Responding to my company, he wraps
his arms around my legs and hips while trying to nestle back into a
deep sleep. My warmth and presence seem to help curb his
nightmares, but he still feels distraught, even after his breathing
becomes slower and deeper. I don’t want to touch his sleeping mind;
the act seems too intimate after Christopher. I only want to touch
Christopher’s mind. Actually, I only want to touch Christopher,
period.