Thirst No. 5 (42 page)

“You told me to do that!”

“Yes! It was part of our deal. Then you blew up a building filled with children. Seymour begged you to stop but nothing was going to stop proud Sita. You pushed the button.”

“I killed them because I had to. They were part of the Cradle. They were evil.” I hesitate. “They were working for you.”

Cia finds my excuse a joke. “Ask yourself, Sita, how many black pearls did that explosion cost you? Enough to tilt the Scale against you?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid the answer is yes,” Cia says.

“Sita, don’t listen to her!” Seymour says, jumping out from behind me. “It’s all lies. You know what she is.”

Cia nods to her man. “Shoot him.”

The man turns the gun on Seymour and pulls the trigger.

I rocket into hyper mode. I see the flash explode out the tip of the barrel. I see the bullet fly out from the center of the orange and red fire. The round is a hollow point, made of copper, which means it will crumple on impact, flatten out, cause
tremendous internal damage. The bullet flies a foot from the gun, two feet, three feet—already I can compute its trajectory. It will strike Seymour in the center of his chest. If it doesn’t hit his heart it will at the very least tear open a major artery. Either way the shot will kill him.

Matt stands to Seymour’s right, I’m on his left. Matt is faster than me; he also sees the bullet coming. He moves to intercept. But whereas Matt is six feet from Seymour, I’m only two. I stand a better chance of stopping the bullet. But in the time it takes me to halve the distance to Seymour, the bullet covers more than half the distance to his chest.

The only way to save him is to leap in front of the bullet. Swatting it away will not be possible. A feeling of déjà vu sweeps over me. I have done this before for Seymour, when Matt tried to shoot him.

I leap. I wait. The bullet screams toward me.

It should enter my chest any moment. . . .

Matt strikes my side. He feels like a freight train. His momentum is overwhelming. I fly back the way I came. Yet out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of him knocking the bullet out of the air. Man, is he fast. I have never seen anyone, not even Yaksha, move like that.

Cia claps in approval. “I’m impressed. For a moment there I wasn’t sure which one of you was going to be the hero.”

Seymour looks down at the bullet on the ground and then at his chest. “Whoa,” he whispers.

“You were saying,” I say to Cia.

She loses her smile and the demon eyes return.

“I was saying that this little charade proves nothing. We know you’re not afraid to offer your life to save another. Your failure at Auschwitz was of a deeper nature. Sure, you should have saved Anton, we were surprised when you ran. But that was only a blip on the screen of your life. What really frightens you is what you so richly deserve—eternal damnation.”

“The deal is void,” I repeat weakly.

Cia turns to her partner. He takes the box back and gives her the gun. Aiming it at Seymour, she approaches to within five feet. A bullet fired from that range, especially one fired by her, will kill my friend.

Matt and I exchange a look. We would strike Cia if the man did not hold the box. He can knock us out before we can reach her.

“A deal is a deal,” Cia repeats. “If you can’t open the Vishnu
Vimana
for us, then you’re to come with us, in our
vimana
.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying not to let her hear my fear.

“Oh, I think you know.”

“Sita, let them kill me,” Seymour pleads. “You said it yourself, with me dead they’ll have no leverage over you.”

“No,” I say.

Seymour is suddenly emotional. “You can’t go with them. You were free. You only came back for us.”

Cia enjoys his outburst. “See what that got you,” she snickers.

“Sita, put it on,” Sarah whispers.

“No way,” Cia says, shaking the gun, making it clear she intends to shoot someone. “Sita, give the veil back to Sarah. That’s a good girl.”

I hand the veil to Sarah, who shakes her head violently and pushes it toward me. But I’m stronger than her; I force her to take it.

“It’s all right, Sarah,” I tell her. “It won’t help me where I’m going.”

“That it won’t,” Cia says, offering her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

I stare down at her hand and see Tarana’s hand. I see the Scale and hear the screams of torment of those who failed its final judgment. Those who were taken along the dark path, through the red door, into the inferno. Cia is only offering her hand but if I agree to shake it I know I’ll burn. I’ll never stop burning. Nothing could be worse.

Except giving in to these creatures.

The hidden
vimana
has told me that much.

I cannot give in to my fear. The price will be too great.

And the only way to not give in is to shake her hand.

Drawing a deep breath, fighting to steady my trembling, I stretch out my arm. Cia quickly clasps my hand and I realize a part of her wants me, my soul, almost as much as the
vimana
. Her fingers close on mine like a steel clamp.

“Deal?” she repeats.

I nod. I refuse to say the damn word.

Cia releases my hand and chuckles. “Take your time, Sita. Say good-bye to your friends. Take a minute, take two. There’s no hurry now.”

“No!” Seymour cries, tears bursting from his eyes. He grabs my arm. “You can’t go with them just to save me.”

How much I love him right then. My love is so great I feel it can touch the sky. I touch the side of his face. I take him into my arms. I hug him as close to my heart as possible. There are no words I can say to him, nor is there any need. In that instant we’re closer than we have ever been. I hear his every thought, and he hears mine.

“It’s all right, Seymour. This was meant to be.”

“No, Sita. No!”

“I have to do it. To save you, to save everyone. I was born for this.”

“But I love you.”

“I know, I know. You are my love. But now you must leave this place. You must live your life. You’re my muse. You still have so many stories left to tell.”

All these words we exchange in silence.

In the end I kiss Seymour’s cheek and let him go.

He can’t look at me, and I understand.

Matt embraces me next. He seems confused, in shock. In his own way he pleads with me to stop.

“It can’t be over, Sita. Not like this. Not this way.”

I hug him in return and think of how he held me in bed at the hotel. How he finally opened his heart to me after hating me for so many years. I press my lips close to his ear so only he can hear.

“I love you more than you know,” I say.

“Then stay,” he begs in a whisper that only I can hear. “I’m stronger than you know. I can fight them. I can stop them.”

I pull back from Matt and sadly shake my head. “They cannot be stopped by fighting. They can only be stopped with a sacrifice.”

He tries to argue but I put a finger to his lips and shake my head. He must see the determination in my eyes for he lowers his head and steps back.

Sarah comes next. Her words gush out. “My grandmother told me about you when I was a little girl. I used to listen to her stories and wonder if such a creature like you really existed. Now I know she wasn’t exaggerating.” She presses her head to mine. “Thank you for saving me, for saving us all.”

I pat Sarah on the back. “You have your grandmother’s heart.”

Mr. Grey is the last to say good-bye. He embraces me tightly and quietly repeats my name. “Sita. Sita. Sita.”

I hug him close and whisper in his ear. “I’ve figured out who you are. You’re a time traveler,” I say.

He stiffens in my hands. “An interesting idea. How did I get here?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I only want to know how
The Story of Veronica
ends.”

He glances at Cia before turning back to me. “I’m glad. Veronica didn’t write the last page of the book. Her brother, Thomas, did. Veronica wasn’t present when the Master died. She was in Rome.”

I’m confused. “But the veil has Christ’s face on it.” I stop. “You’re not saying it’s a fake?”

“No,” Mr. Grey says. “The Veil of Veronica is the most precious of all Christian artifacts. You see, when Veronica traveled to Rome with her brother, she made a living painting the walls he built. But eventually her reputation grew and she was invited into the homes of wealthy citizens and senators. They hired her to paint their portraits or landscapes—all kinds of beautiful paintings. Before long she was the best-known artist in Rome. It was then she began to talk about the Master’s teachings.”

“Oh,” I groan, knowing what’s coming next.

Mr. Grey nods grimly. “She loved the Master so much, his words burst out of her. She even taught people to meditate, telling them that the kingdom of heaven was within. That angered certain people in power and she was arrested and condemned to die.” He stops. “She was crucified.”

“Tragic,” I say. “But the veil . . .”

“She wasn’t dead when she was taken down from the cross, but she was near death. Thomas laid the veil over her so the
people gawking at her could not see how they had torn her face. But as she died a light shone in her eyes. Everyone there saw it but only a few understood that the light came because her every thought was focused on her Master.” Mr. Grey pauses. “It was that light that created his image in her veil.”

“In the end, she was one with her Master,” I say.

“That’s why the veil is so precious. It proves they were the same.”

A wave of incredible freedom suddenly washes over me.

My love
does
reach to the sky. My whole being does.

No story ever told to me has meant more. Again and again Krishna says in the Gita that the Essence resides inside every man. And I have read the Gita countless times. But to hear of this young woman with so much love for her Master that she was able to find him inside her heart—it means more to me than any scripture.

Especially since I’m about to go to hell.

Suddenly, it no longer scares me.

My whole life I have longed to be with Krishna again.

Meeting him was the greatest event in my life.

It was also a curse.

A curse because it kept me looking for him outside myself.

Now, in this instant, I know he’s inside me.

It no longer matters where they take me, or how they torture me.

I will be with Krishna. I will be happy.

“Time to fulfill your bargain,” Cia interrupts.

“Just so we’re clear,” I say. “You let my friends go and never trouble them again. That’s the price you pay for me going with you.”

Cia nods. “That’s the deal.”

I turn toward the Joshua tree on the left. “Let’s get this over with.”

Cia gestures to the man who turns the red dial on the box. In an instant the tree transforms into a pulsating red
vimana
. I can feel the heat of it from a distance and know that the instant I step inside it I’ll begin to burn.

I remain fearless. I’m utterly content. I feel Veronica near me, and know if she can die under such extreme circumstances and still hold on to her Master, then there’s no reason I can’t do likewise. Of all the teachers I’ve met in my five thousand years, she has turned out to be the greatest.

I walk calmly toward the red
vimana
. Indeed, I lead the way and almost stop and encourage Cia and her partner to quit lagging behind. I have already entered my own inner kingdom, the same kingdom Veronica’s Master spoke of. The outer form of the Lord is unimportant. The Master meant what he told Veronica—he is always with us.

The door of the red
vimana
opens. I pause at the threshold, and Cia and her son draw even with me. But as we stop to look at the others, I see Cia’s face drop. My attention is drawn to a flicker of light out of the corner of my eye.

Looking over, I see that the four-armed Joshua tree has suddenly been replaced by a golden
vimana
. It floats two feet off the ground, and although it doesn’t resemble a gold crown, it reminds me of one. Kingly, reverential, enchanting, powerful. It looks like a ride Walt Disney might have imagined in a dream but never found a way to construct on earth. The ship is round with no sharp edges but it’s not saucer-shaped. The Vedas would have called it a celestial chariot. I like to think of it that way.

“Change of plans?” I ask as we stand on the threshold. The interior of the red
vimana
is clouded with stinking smoke. The odor reminds me of the smokestacks of Auschwitz. The rot of burning flesh. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.