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The old woman patted the little girl on the head and then shuffled over to a wooden chair. It
creaked as she settled herself in it.
No matter. I've been called worse in this life and I can't deny I am old. I've lived longer than
anyone should. She reached into her rags, pulled out a small vial with a blue liquid and took a hearty
swig. She belched and wiped her mouth with her torn sleeve. So you're looking for someone?
Yes.
You won't find your quarry here.
John s nose twitched. The place smelled of defecation. Are you Liesel?
Her mouth stretched into a toothless smile. Sometimes, she said. When I remember.
John eyed her with care.
She has lost her wits.
Do you know who I am looking for?
A light flashed in her eyes. I know all too well. The old woman gave a mad cackle.
Has he taken physical form? I must find Him.
She gurgled, something akin to laughter. I suppose the Pope sent you.
John nodded.
And what makes you think you can find Him?
My soul is cursed. I can find him.
A shadow of understanding passed across her pallid face. I see.
He hesitated. What can you tell me? How much do you know?
Enough to drive a woman mad. And no one believes this crazed old fool. She took another swig
of blue liquid. You won't find Him, but you may find something just as important.
Oh?
The old woman motioned him closer with a crooked twig of a finger. Her breath was sour, and a
cold smile crept across her lips. His child.
John shifted under her gaze. His child?
Liesel nodded, the light in her eye getting brighter before she gurgled once more. You have
trouble with your ears, heretic?
John tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry as the deserts of Babylon. Who would have borne
such a child? Was it Lilith?
At the mention of the ancient name, Miguel made the sign of the cross over his ashen face. He
reached into his robes and pulled out the rosary.
John cast him an inward smile.
Futile gesture.
Lilith? remarked the old woman. Bah, she knew the truth before any did. That's why she left
Eden, and why she was cursed to bear only demon children. She would never have borne such a child.
Then who?
Sephirah.
The first woman pope.
Oh, God.
He had known her.
The reality of his past settled over him like a burial shroud. John could think of nothing to do. He
fidgeted where he stood. And in the end he, too, gestured the cross.
Chapter 8
Sweat seeped down the side of Brahm s face as she pursued the Peace Maker. Up ahead, he
remained on the edge of visibility. She raced through tunnels of trees and shrubs, running until illusions
of light blurred past her. She had passed out of the known world and into some bizarre pocket of
unreality. It unsettled her gut like bad venison. Yet the Peace Maker had meant her to follow, and
follow she would.
Eventually time and the blur of unreality caught up with her as she came to an abrupt stop. Her
momentum flung her into a clearing well before her feet were prepared and she stumbled to the ground.
Brahm grunted.
Not very dignified.
She brushed herself off and recovered her poise.
Kwe kwe, Orenda. The Peace Maker's voice was cool as an autumn morning, the words almost a
rustling in the breeze.
Brahm tried to gather her bearings, but the trees shimmered around her and the clouds sat like
sedentary puffs of stone. An eerie silence settled on the clearing. She sniffed at the raw air.
What is this place?
Where few will look to find us, he said. I can only hope we are not noticed.
She grunted again.
Fucking cryptic answer.
Please, he said, gesturing to a stump in front of him, sit, child. Sit with me and listen to what I
must tell you.
Child?
His face held a smile that bordered on patronizing. Brahm would have strode out of the clearing
had anyone else spoken to her in such a manner, but this was not just anyone. Instead, she perched
herself on the large stump, and waited for him to elaborate.
He folded his hands in front of him. War is coming and the Haudenosaunee will be a part of it,
but not you. You must walk a different path. Though you may feel you are betraying your people, you
must abandon them. The Great Mother needs your assistance. Both of you. Heed her call, Orenda.
Both?
Brahm shook her head. I don't understand.
In time, you will. For now, you must leave. If you stay, you will die.
What?
The Peace Maker looked about, and for a brief moment fear played across his face.
Leave tomorrow.
Tomorrow? Wait
I must leave you now. I need to speak with the Council and light a fire under them. Perhaps more
lives can be spared if I convince them to move quickly. Heed the Great Mother's summons, Orenda,
and be wary. Now, I can say no more. There are eyes and ears everywhere.
Wait, who would be listening?
He leaned in close, his voice a hiss on the wind. God.
The Peace Maker vanished in a haze of color and a blur of motion; so had the peculiar place in
which they had conversed. Brahm looked to the sky. The clouds soared through the firmament once
more and birdsong swept in. The musty scent of the forest floor tickled her nose.
She would die?
She rose from the stump and searched for any trace of the spirit being. There was nothing.
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