The Spaces in Between (24 page)

“And the answer is?”

“I sought power to have solid evidence that there is a life after this one.”

“That is correct.”

“And the gate?”

“You have found the
Sephirot Yesod
, but there is a price to pass through each gate,” the Urban Shaman said. “Are you prepared to pay the price?”

“Name it,” the Dread Pirate said as if he had any chance of negotiation or any option of turning back.

“Your memories.”

“
Fuck yes
, take them!” He closed his eye. The eyelid cracked back open a sliver. “Did you take them yet?”

“Yes,” the Urban Shaman said. “What is your name?”

“Cameron Styles, the Pirate King,” Cameron said. “Wait why do I know that? I gave up both my name and my memories. Didn’t I?”

“Those are not your memories,” the Urban Shaman said. “You’re pulling those memories from the Akashic records. There is a difference. Why don’t you run over the events that happened the day your sister died again?” Cameron glared at him. “Sorry, poor choice of wording.”

Cameron reflected on what happened that day and the memory was different. He saw all the events in perfect clarity not through the clouded looking glass of times passed. But the tinge of guilt was not as bitter as he remembered. He knew that he felt guilty, but the emotion wasn’t attached anymore. He noticed another force at work too – destiny. There were forces behind this event that made it unavoidable.

“I’m not nearly as upset as I thought I would be looking at this again,” Cameron said with a sullen drop in his tone.

“Well they are not you’re memories anymore,” the Urban Shaman said, “Just because you give something up doesn’t mean you can’t get something great in return.”

“Then what is the point of me giving up my memories?”

“Well you didn’t give them up exactly. When H.P. Lovecraft died he left his stories in public domain. They are still his stories, yes?” Cameron nodded. “But they are not exclusive to him now.”

“So my memories are public domain?”

“Pretty much,” the Urban Shaman replied. “Oh by the way. Here’s this.”

Only a single card this time. There was no semblance of choice.

Cameron flicked the card into one of the empty caves and stepped through the door.

14
(13 skipped for posterity)

Cameron slide precariously on a tight rope. He didn’t look down, but he didn’t have to in order to know there was no net under him. He was also sure that somewhere on the rope the Hebrew letter
Peh
was branded, but that would violate his policy against looking down. He kicked his sandals over the edge and gripped the rope with his toes.

“Which one of us knows how to tightrope walk?” Cameron inquired to the thin air.

I’m not sure either of us knows
Ryoma said in Cameron’s head with the voice of Cameron’s conscience.

“I was afraid of that,” Cameron replied. “I’m not fond of heights.”

So why a tightrope, exactly?

“Represents the fine line we walk between our intellect and our emotions…”

Oh, clever.

Someone whistled from below. Cameron lost his precarious footing and spun 180 degrees. He imagined that the rope was the handle of the Smith and Wesson revolver and his trained hands slipped into reflex. Both hands grabbed hold of the rope before his toes, which were now somewhat rope burned in between and had to support his entire bulk. His head hung behind his shoulders and Cameron could see the ground below him. The stone floor was visible, but certainly far enough below to maim him. Not maim him in the illusionary way that the stairs to the Underworld did, but he felt that this floor could actually hurt him. This was part of the test.

Also the floor was on fire. Someone or something had spread gasoline it over the floor. Though Cameron was sure that this gasoline would never burn out. Overhead the fire formed the Hebrew letter
Peh
. His legs lashed the rope more tightly than they had ever been around a lover. Cameron gulped and hand over hand he began to pull himself forward.

Fear is more of an emotion than a defense mechanism. It shows up mostly when an element of a past traumatic event shows up in the present. Or by something we do not know or understand. Like when a black man locks his car doors when a white woman approaches. However, there is genuine fear that is an alert from the pit of your stomach saying, “Something bad is going to happen.” Like when said white woman breaks into the car anyway and steals the man’s stereo to fuel her addiction to caffeine.

It is a common misconception that all intuition is whispers from your higher self, angels dancing upon your crown, or demons shitting in your brain. While these are factors the majority of intuition comes from the subconscious collective or otherwise. A scent of pheromone or a conversation behind your back that your senses caught at the time, but the conscious mind was far too busy calculating carbs and South Beaches for lunch that it was missed.

In the time it took to explain the true nature of fear Cameron crossed the tight rope without further incident.

15

On the other side of the tight rope Cameron approached a wall made of green stone and invisible wall of sandalwood incense. Cameron gagged on it. He recognized the wall as the gate of Ishtar, but there was no gate to it at all. Here the wall seemed to rival the Great Wall of China, and by rival I mean “beats it hands down – you could see it from Jupiter”. He assumed correctly that the woman standing in front of it was named Ishtar.

Her skin was the tone of a cup of coffee and if he had any luck she would smell like coffee too. Her green robes were albeit see through, and Cameron was filled with lust at first sight. A feeling that Cameron until this moment was sure that Lilith had robbed from him.
Now that’s a cup of coffee I’d love to get my lips on. Maybe I should consider the pagan Goddess dating scene if I get through this.
Cameron pondered for a moment if this might have been a side effect of Ryoma’s taste in women merging with his.

Her full purple lips locked with his and he felt the firmness of her breasts against his chest. “Is the price of this gate? My virginity? Because I may have lost that a while back,” Cameron said when he came back up for air. Not that he actually needed air, but it was a human habit to breath if they remember that they breathe. “But I am perfectly willing to give it a try anyway.”

“No,” Ishtar pressed an index finger against his lips. “The price is your heart.”

“My heart? I’m afraid I’ve lost that too.”

“Not a problem,” Ishtar whispered then kissed him again. This time she tasted like Lilith and smelled like Lilith. He ran his hand through her glossy black hair, and pulled Lilith on top of him.

16

“Welcome to the
Netzache
Sephirot,” Ishtar no longer wore Lilith’s appearance and lay nude upon her pile of robes.

“That was a hell of a welcome,” Cameron said and pulled back on his socks. The revolver was returned next, but it never left his reach even for an instant. If it was actually Lilith he probably would have never let it out of his hand. “But I don’t understand the need for the deception. I was just as willing to lay you.”

“Because that was not the purpose,” Ishtar replied and stretched her dark arms over her head. “My job was to steal your heart.”

Cameron leaned in. “And how exactly were you supposed to do that by reminding me of Lilith?”

Ishtar grabbed Cameron by the collar of his kimono and pulled his face into her’s. “So it would hurt all the more when I tell you what she’s been keeping from you,” Ishtar whispered each syllable dripped with a mixture of arsenic and cyanide. “Your son.” Cameron’s arms and jaw went slack. Ishtar completed the transaction by reaching into Cameron’s chest and ripping his heart out, but by then it had already stopped beating.

She picked up Cameron’s limp arm and pressed a Thoth tarot card in his palm. He looked at it and walked up to the wall. The card stuck like a Shinto priest’s rice paper talisman. The card widened and Cameron stepped through the Ishtar gate.

17

The door painted with the Grim Reaper by Lady Frieda Harris snapped shut behind him.

Cameron’s feet met the squishy surface of the next path’s floor. He kneeled to get a better look at it. The way was dark, but between his fingers the surface felt like silk. He pulled on it and the whole thing came up like a sheet. He looked at his end of the sheet and the corner was embroidered with a monogram of the Hebrew letter
Nun
. He cast the sheet aside.

Under it laid Ishtar upon more silk sheets the front of her robe parted exposing her down the middle. “I am ready for you now, Pirate King,” she said. “Just you and me.” Cameron leaned in and stole a kiss from her purple lips, but his arms pushed him away before anything else. He was never truly alone these days.

“You know I’m just not really feeling it,” Cameron said. “Maybe take a rain check, perhaps when you give me my heart back?”
When it’s more convenient for me than it is for you?
His knees popped and brought him back to standing.

“Won’t you stay with me forever, Pirate King? “ Ishtar asked.

“Been there, done that,” Cameron said. “I’ve got things to do now.” She rose to her feet. Never actually stood up, but just rose to her feet like Dracula rising out of his coffin. He sidestepped her and continued down the silky path.

“Do you think that I’m the only thing that you’ll encounter on this path?” Ishtar asked.

“Do you think I care?” Cameron didn’t stop walking.

“If you make it to the top do you think you can really face her?”

Cameron missed a step. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve killed Pirate King far more than you know, but this one. I think this one you regret.”

Cameron stopped, and the name came from the distant Akashic records instead of his brain. “Kristina? She’s here?”

“And you may think that you’ve forgiven yourself, but did she ever forgive you? She’s up there at the top of the Tree in
Kether
. Can you face her?”

Cameron peered at the Goddess Ishtar still exposed and unabashed. The playful look in her eyes had vanished into something ferocious and somehow that was far more arousing. He didn’t really think that he could face Kristina. Was staying here with Ishtar for all eternity really that bad? Or maybe just for a little while until he builds his courage up.

No, there is no procrastinating on this decision
. He could not believe that this choice was so hard to make. Why would he care? He was truly heartless now. Then it dawned on him: staying here with Ishtar would be a horrible fate. What would he matter then? How many lovers did she have, and what would one more really mean to the Netherworlds?

“I’m already seeing the whole thing clearer than I’d ever have in my life,” he said. “And I’m not even halfway up the Tree. If she’s at the top then she understands this even better than I do.” He started forward again. “Now you’ve given me something to look forward to.”

Now that his lower emotions were finally flushed out of his systems, Cameron could now start to feel the true love that poured from the top of the Tree and passed into the
Tephireth Sephirot
.

18

Soon Cameron reached a cliff in the silken path. Over the edge was a field of bamboo shafts almost as far as the eye could see. In the center Cameron could spot a bright white light. He was reminded of the balance training grounds in many martial arts movies. He swept his leg over the edge and set it upon the closest shaft. His foot was uncomfortable against the uneven top of the bamboo pole, but it was nowhere close to a point. He was concerned that it just might be.

He swung his other leg over the edge and rested his foot on pole beside him. Cameron sprung to the next set of poles. This wasn’t difficult at all. It was not the time for tests; it was now the time to barter passage. The jumping reminded him of what it must be like to jump on the moon. Not that he had ever jumped on the moon. Well, he was the Pirate King so that kind of thing was below him.

It only took Cameron five more jumps to reach the center. This wasn’t the center of just anywhere this was the center of everything. Tiphareth was at the very center of the Tree in the Middle Pillar, and it held balance between the Pillar of Severity and the Pillar of Mercy. Sitting in the lotus pose at the center of all things was Cameron’s higher self Noremac.

Cameron couldn’t tell if Noremac’s eyes were open since the white light emanating from him always obscured his face. Noremac’s head tilted a little to let Cameron know he was noticed. However, in Noremac’s usual style no verbal communication ever came from him.

“So what do I have to leave here?” Cameron asked, “My eardrums? So I can’t be balanced anymore.” Noremac shook his head in a slow and exaggerated fashion, and then he pointed towards Cameron. He then gestured at the shiny black square in his left hand.

Then for the first time Noremac spoke: “Look into the mirror and chant ‘IAO’.” Cameron wasn’t surprised at all that Noremac had used his own voice. The chant represented Isis, Apophsis, and Osiris the Egyptian holy trinity made popular by Aleister Crowley. To Aleister Crowley the chant represented all magical workings. Isis was the wife of the King Osiris whom was murdered by Apophsis. She gathered the pieces of her husband that Apophsis spread through the Nile valley, and with those pieces resurrected Osiris as the king of the Underworld. In other words things have to hit rock bottom before they can get better.

Cameron’s eyes locked on his faint reflection in the black mirror, and he vibrated the letters “Eeeehhh, aaaaaaahhhhhhh, ooooooohhhhhh” in the base of his throat. His field of vision darkened and his reflection flashed a horrible grin back at him. A hand burst out of the mirror with a huge revolver in its grasp, and Cameron’s new fast hands drew his own. Both triggers were pulled. The lights clashed and cancelled one another.