Triggers: Erm, well there's the whole peaked cap/Third Reich stuff, but it's not like, overt swastikas and shit. 38 pics, almost don't need dialogue but feck it, I'm writing it.
Frustrated at Death's absence in the presence of a Seal, Gabriel returned to the portal and told Karena to follow him indoors, in the event that what came through the rotating portal was not what they had intended.
"Come on, child. While both Grim and I can handle what comes through there, I don't want to risk you getting hurt. Don't worry about the horses; they can run in the face of any dangers."
"Are you sure they'll be all right?" Karena asked.
"Of course. The worst that could come through are my brothers and sisters; they have no hatred for animals, but humans - that's a different story. With your auric signature, you're a bigger target. Now hurry, child." Gabriel said.
Pepin had had enough of sitting in his stall. He arched his neck over the door and with his lips, opened the latch. He walked over and let Rosie out as well. The two horses went to the large barn door, Pepin using his head and shoulders to open a horse-sized passage.
The big, glowing bush with the funny looking apples (to Pepin, anything tree-like MUST have apples and apples these were not....) gave off an otherwordly scent, like the mingling of peppermint candy and the ripest fruit.
Pepin grazed closer and closer to the strange plant, curious, but cautious.
His curiosity and greed for treats eventually won over his caution, and the big red gelding approached the strange growth. His mate, Rosie, snorted and moved away, as if to say that Pepin was ruled by his stomach and if he got eaten by the weird not-tree, it was HIS fault.
Pepin snorted back and began to nibble at the odd crystalline flowers, crunching them between his teeth with great relish. They tasted better than the cookies Karena would give him every year for "Cookie Eat Day", as he called it, or Yule, as she called it.
Pepin thought he could eat forever, but the sweetness of the crunchy flowers eventually proved too much, and he stepped back from the plant, seeking the water trough to quench his thirst. He felt more vigorous than he had in a long time, and there was a snap to his step that had been missing for years.
Karena and Gabriel found Death sitting in the dining room, his mood soured by the apparent failure of the spell to bring the individuals he wanted to the house.
"It is imperative that she be the one to manage and handle these coming reincarnates. She's the one that can talk to them, and HAS been talking to them since she could talk! Now you tell me that there's a Seal spinning above the plant? Why didn't you tell me before?" Death snapped, his dead eyes fixed on the miffed archangel in front of him.
"Grim, it appeared not 3 minutes after you... disappeared. Where did you go, anyway?" Karena asked.
"To check a grimoire. We DID do the spell correctly, it just... apparently takes time for it to kick in." Death explained.
"Gabriel and I will handle the logistics of this; I think it best if you retired for the night, Karena. It is nearly 2 am, and if we get a reincarnate through tonight, you'll need to be well-rested to deal with him... er.. them."
Gabriel rolled his eyes at Death's near-mistake. They had discussed who was coming beforehand, and decided to leave Karena out of the loop for personal reasons. Gabriel knew through angel radio, the super-conscious level of communication among the seraphim, that only one reincarnate's paperwork was ready and that the others would be along in the next couple of months.
Karena said nothing, but rose from the chair and went up the stairs. She DID need sleep; she had not slept well the past couple of nights with the new house, the move, and the energy used in the spell.
Settling into her new bed, she closed her eyes and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Gabriel and Death went back to the plant, noting that some of the crystalline flowers looked munched on.
"Crap; those aren't going to hurt the red jackass, are they?" Gabriel muttered.
"No, probably will prolong his life. Look - here he comes now!" Death said as a green glow grew to reveal a slightly transparent man in a particular uniform.
"Give him a few minutes before you address him, Grim. He needs to finish apparating." Gabriel said.
The man slowly took solid form, looking mildly confused.
"Balthasar... he said I'm to talk to his brother, Gabriel." the man said in German.
"I am he, young man. So sorry to take you out of your nice, cozy slice of Heaven, but you are needed here. Do you understand English?" Gabriel said softtly.
The man gasped in shock as he took his first breath of air since 1944.
"I.. can speak English. Now, where am I?"
"Twinbrook, America, 2012. Specifically, on the farm of a Ms. Karena Ducharme." Death intoned.
"Then why am I not 99 years old? This is... all too confusing. Why does that name sound familiar, though... Ducharme....didn't she use to call me on the phone after... in... oh, mein Gott." the man groaned. "This HAS to be a nightmare. I blame Pritzl. Making that bathtub hooch...."
"Herr Vogel. You died in 1944, and have been occupying a small portion of Heaven, created for you and your comrades. The woman you are referring to is the spiritualist medium Karena Ducharme, who was gifted by my Father with the ability to speak to the dead, for reasons that we ourselves are only beginning to understand. My companion here, Grim - who you know as the spectre of Death itself, the one and only Reaper of Souls - has brought you back to fulfill a task, only part of which he's let me know about. I do apologize, but my brothers and sisters should have prepped you over the last week about this?" Gabriel relayed to the man in uniform.
"I reaped you myself in 1944. I want to apologize for that, but Fate had already cut your thread and I could do nothing." Grim said, coming forward.
"You? I only saw Valkyries." Vogel stated simply.
"We see what we believe in , Herr Vogel. It is all one and the same. Valhalla, Heaven... all one and the same." Gabriel explained.
"So, you two dragged me out of Valhalla, then, for what purpose?" Vogel said, his face settling into an expression best described as looking like he was weaned on a pickle.
"The lady of the house needs protection against a coming darkness, the likes of which I have not seen in a very long time." Death replied.
"Don't worry, there will be others. Many others. We... we're working out the details as we speak."
"Others? I should hope so; there was quite a crowd of us in the room for the debriefing." Vogel relayed.
"Oh, really? Balthasar was told to do it on a person-by-person basis!" Gabriel exclaimed. "How many were there?"
"I lost count. So many different uniforms, languages... it was confusing, sir." Vogel replied.
"Can you give us an estimate? My brother can be such an ass sometimes."
"Oh, oh... er... maybe 20, 30? He said that while some of us knew this 'mysterious lady' as he called her, that not all of us would be allowed down to Earth, as some of us still had learning to do up in Heaven." Vogel stated.
"I bet that pissed a few of them off." Gabriel said.
"Yeah, one of my compatriots was especially pissed, and let Balthasar know, which got him a reprimand of 'you shouldn't even be here and are only here because she intervened for you' - shut him right up." Vogel chuckled.
"I think I know that man. Reaped him, too. He kept asking me if he'd get his leg back, and how he was pretty damn important. Thing is, you humans are all equal, 6 feet under." Death said.
The odd tree behind the men tinkled and sang, the strange leaves dancing to and fro. The Seal hovering above it dimmed, and then winked out of existence.
"Well, that's it for the night, apparently." Gabriel stated. "My brother has closed the gate."
"So, Herr Vogel, are you ready to embark on a new adventure? It's not going to be an easy one, but hopefully, Ms. Ducharme will be familiar to you in some way." Death said.
"I'm.... not sure. I really don't have a choice, do I?" Vogel asked.
"I mean, here I was, at Beaumont-le-Roger, like I was in '42, but knowing that I was, indeed, dead. No way to talk to my wife, no way to even go home so I can see her - and the only person outside of my comrades-in-arms left me in 1975; so I was all alone with no... I mean... And then nothing, nothing until nearly 29 years later? What kind of racket are you two running?" Vogel complained.
"I assure you, we are not running a racket. People reincarnate; that is perhaps why there was that absence. You were scheduled to do so on your 100th birthday, in a different body, in a different part of the world, in a different social status. We just.... pre-empted that, and kept you in your original packaging, so to say." Death explained.
"It's getting late, gentlemen. Let's go in, I'll make some drinks and we can discuss this in a warmer environment." Gabriel said.
The three men crossed the backyard and went up the back steps into the house, down into the finished basement.
Gabriel turned the radio on and headed for the bar, while Death set up the pool table for a game.
"I am sure you play?" he asked Vogel.
"Naturlich. Expect to lose, badly." Vogel replied.
The three men drank and played and played and drank, getting louder with the passage of time.
Karena was awakened by their loud carousing, which to her, sounded like shouts for help. Rising from her bed, she reached for her glasses.
She heard Gabriel's voice rise in a scream of laughter, and smacked her forehead. "That fucking bastard. Tells me to sleep and then makes enough noise to wake the dead." she muttered to herself.
Walking towards her bedroom door, she grabbed a nearby baseball bat, just in case the boys actually WERE in trouble and needed help.
As she descended the stairs to the first floor, she noticed that there seemed to be three voices instead of two - and one was harshly accented. She quickened her pace and descended the basement stairs.
She stopped dead on the third step from the bottom, the bat falling out of her hand and clattering to the floor, as she saw a very familiar-looking man in uniform leaning over the pool table, his expression intense as he concentrated on making his shot.
Karena closed her eyes, her breath catching in her throat, and tears beginning to fall down her face. She could not believe it. She had to be dreaming. This all had to be a dream, and she was in a coma in the hospital or something.
The man at the table stopped in mid play at the noise of the dropping bat and fixed her with an expression she knew all too well.
"Yes, can I help you?" the man asked, his accented English and voice sending a frisson of recognition down Karena's spine.
"W-w-Walter?" Karena said, giving the name the proper Germanic pronunciation. "Oh... oh.. Gott in Himmel, is that... is that?"
"OberstLeutnant Walter Vogel, madame. And you are?" the man said.
Karena was struck dumb by the admission of the man standing in front of her. She pinched herself twice and winced. No, she was awake. This was real. Oh God, this was real.
"Madame? Is everything okay?" Walter asked.
"Go over to her, you ninny." hissed Death "before she faints."
"Karena, say something to the nice young man." Gabriel said gently.
"Karena? Why does that name sound so familiar?" Walter mused, coming closer to Karena.
"....because I've talked with you, in trance, since 2004. I... I thought that was all just me being crazy... I... my ex.... oh.... Oh, Sainte Ciboire de tabarnak...c'est un rêve...." Karena slipped into Quebecois, overcome with emotion.
The French spoken by Karena seemed to spark recognition in Walter, and he took her hands in his.
"I know you. I have known you before....you.... No. It cannot be. She was..."
Karena sobbed openly as she felt his hands for the first time in this life, their familiarity making her chest ache with longing.
Suddenly, Walter drew Karena to him, holding her tight, his own voice cracking with emotion.
"My dear, dear lady. How long it has been. How long it has been, my dearest friend. How I've missed you."
Karena trembled in his grasp, her emotions overcoming her ability to speak.
Breaking their embrace, Karena gathered her courage.
"I'm not Annelise, if that's who you think I am. I know you had said so when we conversed via trance in the past but... I have new knowledge about that." she said softly.
Walter looked at the woman in front of him; slightly confused. Her energy felt familiar, but she was right; it did not feel like that of his wife.
Heart sinking in dread, Walter asked Karena if she knew where his wife was, or who she was - and who Karena was.
"You... when you speak French, it's... familiar somehow." he explained.
"It should be, cherie. Though you may not like the answer." Karena replied.
"Then don't give it to me, right now. I'm still trying to figure out why I'm here." Walter said.
"Follow me, upstairs. I'll make coffee. I have something to show you that might help." replied Karena. She knew this was going to hurt; more Walter than her. She had overcome the issues knowledge of her past life with him had brought up; save one thing - and that, in truth, was going to be hard for both of them.
"So, you wrote a biography? Of me? I'm flattered, my dear. How ever did you get the information?" Walter asked, sipping at his coffee laced with rum and egg nog. He sighed in pleasure at the comforting familiarity of the beverage. This woman, whoever she was, knew what he liked. She had even had a carton of his favorite cigarettes in a cupboard - some packs were missing, but he wasn't about to complain.
Karena tapped out a cigarette from one of the missing packs and lit it. She reached over to the adjoining seat and set the book on the table.
"Your sister, when she was still alive, gave me most of the information, and what remained of your self-written autobiography. The rest was gleaned from war-time documents and publications in German, along with the help of others - some of them comrades who flew with you. Gunther Rolf was the best source of information - he was determined that you get the same treatment biographically as himself." Karena explained.
"Frida is still alive?" Walter asked, hopefully.
"No, she passed away in 2006; don't you remember me telling you via the talking board? Her portion of Heaven must have been different from yours." Karena said, yawning.
Karena slid the book over to Walter.
"Here; I want you to read this. I know you're probably not tired, but I'm exhausted. Please, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I only ask that you clean up after yourself. Gabriel can show you how to stack the dishwasher, or use any of the new appliances you are not used to." she said.
"All right. Do you want me to take notes?" Walter asked, curious about what Karena had written about him. There were some secrets that he'd only told a select few people... did Rolf know them?
"I'd appreciate it. I mean, my sources were good, but nothing is as good as the original article." Karena said over her shoulder as she headed back up the stairs to bed.
She, too, was curious as to whether or not some of the information Rolf had given her from "undisclosed sources" was accurate. Still unsure of her psychic abilities at reading her own past, she hoped that what Rolf had told her, and she had included in one of the appendices of the biography, was indeed true; even though that knowledge was painful.
Walter had cracked open the book and was reading the forward by his old friend and wingman, Gustav Seigfried, who apparently was still alive and well, though fast approaching his 90s, in Germany.
"You old bastard; this must have been a riot for you - some young thing like her asking about your kazmareck." he muttered, continuing to read.
Karena's sleep was tormented by past life dreams that night; tears running down her face as she slept. Beneath her, in the kitchen, Walter remained engrossed in his biography, his coffee going cold, his cigarette turning to ash in the ashtray.
Some three hours later, after some rummaging in the liquor cabinet in the office for whiskey, and finding an old photo album he swore he sent his sister back in late 1943, Walter sat in front of the fire, the biography resting on the table - the damning appendix and the pictures in the open photo album... ones he definitely knew only Heinz Baer had had - driving him to drink more than half of the whiskey in the bottle.
Fuck, he thought, his heart nearly at the bottom of his feet. She knew. Which means Annelise probably knew, too. He thought Baer had sworn not to tell anyone... that he had given him the last letter to Collette.
Damn, damn, dammit all to hell, he thought. There was no way Karena was Annelise, either. He had read the end notes on that whole affair; his wife essentially writing him out of her life and that of his children, and the trouble Karena had nearly got into writing the biography. Thank the Gods for old Hajo - he had gone from Wilde Sau pilot to lawyer, and one of his last cases was defending Karena's right to publish the unauthorized biography, despite what the mayor of his hometown had had to say about it.
Deep in his heart, he began to think of who Karena could be, and the prospect of it terrified him.
Gabriel bounced into the room and plopped himself on the closest chair.
"Pfennig for your thoughts, young man? You know Dad didn't write those commandments, right? Ah, but that's not the issue here... is it? Oathbreaker." Gabriel said sarcastically.
Walter stared into the fire, unable to reply. He knew he had done both his wife and Collette wrong. Karena's addendum did not state what happened to Collette, however. He suspected she knew, but had left it out. Why had she left it out? Her telling of the affair was almost clinical, cold - not like the rest of the biography.
Walter rose from the couch, stubbing out his cigarette and leaving the half-empty glass of whiskey - his 8th - on the table. He staggered up the stairs to the bathroom, his stomach in knots.
He wasn't sure if it was the insane amount of whiskey or the knowledge that everyone who had read that biography knew about the affair, including his old Luftwaffe buddies, that had made him sick.
He rinsed his mouth out in the sink and brushed his teeth. He was suddenly so fatigued that standing up any longer was not going to be an option. Grabbing a robe and flannel pants hanging on the back of the door, he put them on, hanging his uniform in their place.
Walter opened the nearest door to the bathroom and was happy to see it was a furnished bedroom; though he would have slept on the floor if he had had to.
He pulled back the coverlet and sank gratefully into the soft mattress, his sleep deep, but troubled. Flashes of memory ran through his dreams, snatches of song, remembered encounters... the smell of lilies and lavender cloyingly sweet, the strong scent of a Gauloise... a hummed melody.....
Ah, it's so good!
ReplyDeleteYay! I am so glad you like this! You're the first person to comment on this blog, too!
Delete