CHAPTER 7

 

 

THE BODIES OF the dead soldiers were shipped back to the states two days later. The other three were transported to a hospital in Bitburg, Germany. They had sustained serious injuries but would survive. Unfortunately, two would be severely crippled.

Sabnock's injury took twenty-three stitches after a small piece of shrapnel was removed. The angle of its entry had left a large gash across her right shoulder blade. Although painful, the demoness considered it more a nuisance than anything else. She had wanted to remain with the rest of her unit but received new orders to report back to the States after taking time off for her injury. Because she had accumulated leave time, Sabnock decided to combine her medical leave with her time off and take a trip.

"Got any idea where you'll be going, Sabby?" Squirrel asked. She had told her unit about her orders. No one was happy about it. Many believed her calm approach to tough situations had saved them from serious injuries or even death.

"Yeah, Fort Benning in Georgia."

"Bugs are horrible there. They have roaches as big as skateboards." Squirrel shuddered thinking of the two years of hell he had spent there. Hot summers, mosquitoes, no-see-ums... and just about every type of snake you could think of. He hated creepy crawlies and biting bugs.

"So I've heard."

"At least you'll have a few weeks of leave before you have to report. What are you going to do with yourself?"

"Travel. I've had an urge to visit the Carpathian Mountains. Maybe do a little sightseeing around Transylvania."

"Geez, Sabby. I hear they have werewolves and vampires in that place. You think that's a good idea?"

Sabnock laughed. If Squirrel knew the truth about her, he'd realize that those creatures weren't much of a threat to a demoness.

"Don't worry," she replied. "I'll make sure I carry a wooden stake or two."

"And a cross. Don't forget that!"

Realizing Squirrel was serious, she sobered slightly. He had good reason to fear the unknown.

"Alright, I'll pick some up," she promised, wanting to alleviate his worries.

*  *  *

Two days later she was packed and on her way to Moldova and the Carpathian Mountains. She had told Squirrel she had an urge to visit the place but in reality it had been an almost overwhelming compulsion. Something demanded her presence.

Normally, she would use the available military transports. Those could take several days, though, and for some reason she felt it was imperative she get there as quickly as possible. Sabnock caught a red-eye special to Cahul and then rented a car and raced toward the town of Teraclia. It was essential that she arrive in time. The question was, in time for what?

After checking into a hotel, the demoness spent several hours walking around the downtown area, trying to discover what had drawn her to the town. Finding nothing, she stopped at a restaurant and ate a light meal before heading back to her room. It was then that she spotted the old woman shuffling down the sidewalk, her body pressing slightly forward against the cold gusts of wind blowing from the nearby mountains. Only her determination gave her the strength to win the battle.

Gray-haired, slightly stooped and frail looking, it was obvious her health was failing, but it made her no less beautiful. Sabnock leaned against the building, unconsciously flicking a cigarette lighter on and off as she thought about her next move. The small lighter fascinated her. She could stare into its flames and see the fires of home; a small comfort for someone who refused to return to the land of her origin.

"It can't be her," the demoness reasoned. "She would have to be over two-thousand human years old."

That argument alone should have settled the issue. Still, Sabnock shook her head. Her demon senses knew the truth.

Two people passing by looked at her nervously. The demoness gave them an evil grin and they scurried off. Chuckling, she pushed away from the wall and walked across the street. Entering the motel, she saw the woman talking with the hotel clerk. Sabnock waited at the entrance for the woman to turn around, curious to see if she would be recognized.

*  *  *

Constance was tired. Actually, she was beyond tired. The centuries had taken their toll and her days were numbered, which was why she had returned to Teraclia. The manuscripts of her people and her life needed to be given to Dakota. The young journalist was the perfect guardian for them, even though she didn't have long to live by the historian's standards. Her people, the Gebians, were long lived. Human life spans were short but nonetheless just as important in the greater scheme of life.

Turning away from the clerk, she leaned heavily on her cane. The elevator seemed so far. The next thing she knew, her elbow was gently grasped, helping to support her while she gathered her strength.

"Thank you, young woman," she gasped, trying to catch her breath.

"My pleasure, ma'am," Sabnock replied, not sure what to do.

The two women moved slowly to the elevator. Constance leaned heavily on the arm that was helping her. Once inside, she pushed the second floor button and then sighed.

"Getting old can be hell," she quipped, glancing up at the face of the woman in uniform. The light in the elevator was behind the tall figure, shading her face.

"I can only imagine."

Chuckling, Constance patted the hand holding her arm.

"All in good time, deary."

Sabnock didn't know what to say so she remained quiet. The opening of the door prevented any further conversation.

"I can make it from here. Thank you for your help," Constance said, her breathing less labored.

"I've come this far, ma'am, a few more feet won't hurt."

Secretly the historian was relieved. Even short distances were difficult for her, and there was something comforting about the young woman's presence. It had been a long time since she had experienced that feeling.

Reaching the door, she fished in her handbag for her key. Hand shaking, she started to put it in the slot when it was taken from her and inserted into the lock. Pushing the door open, Sabnock helped Constance into the room and removed her worn overcoat. Folding it neatly, she placed it on the table and then pulled out the chair for the old woman to sit.

"Have you eaten?"

The historian looked up at the woman and again found her face hidden by the shadows.

"No. I rarely feel hungry at my age," she replied, squinting at the light shining in her eyes. "Sit, please."

Waving her toward the other chair, she leaned back and watched as the soldier moved gracefully away and sat. Crossing her long legs, Sabnock reached up and removed her cap, placing it on her lap. Constance frowned when she saw the short, red hair.

"What's your name, young woman?"

"Sabnock, ma'am."

"Well, Sabnock, stop with the ma'am. I feel old enough already without having to listen to that word."

"Yes ma'am," the demoness replied and smiled, knowing it would aggravate the historian.

"You young people show no respect nowadays," Constance responded, grumpily.

"No, ma'am. What would you like me to call you?"

"Constance, and don't you dare call me Connie. I detest that name."

Even though Sabnock had known this was her Constance, it still shocked her when it was confirmed.

"Well, Miss Constance, I..."

"Cut out the Miss too. I'm plain, ordinary Constance."

"Okay, well, plain, ordinary Constance, since you haven't eaten and neither have I, perhaps you would allow me to buy you dinner. I'm sure the hotel has room service."

"Now why would you want to do that?"

"You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago and I'm hungry."

The historian laughed.

"My dear, you can't be more than thirty, so it can't be that long ago."

"Time is sometimes irrelevant, don't you think?" Sabnock asked.

Constance leaned forward in her chair to get a better look at her young companion. There was definitely something familiar about her.

"Do I know you?"

"Have you been to Afghanistan, recently?"

"No. I was there a long time ago but it was long before you were born, child."

"Then I'd have to say not in this life," Sabnock replied, making a joke out of what she knew was the truth. "So, can I buy dinner?"

"Why not?" Constance said, not wanting to be alone. She would soon be more alone than any other time in her life. Tonight, accepting this woman's company felt right.

"Good. Let me guess, you like steak, extremely rare or a beef or lamb stew."

"You're quite intuitive, but I can't eat something that heavy anymore. It doesn't sit well on the stomach."

"Okay, how about some French Onion soup and fresh bread."

Nodding, Constance leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Something about the young soldier seemed very familiar. Her voice, her red hair and her demeanor made her think of her warrior, but she knew it wasn't possible. Fate was just being cruel to remind her of the one person she had truly loved.

Sabnock called room service and ordered their meals. Then she waited patiently for the historian to say something. When she didn't, the demoness grew worried. It was obvious Constance had only a short time left in this life. Although saddened, Sabnock also felt hope, knowing she could search for her in the Underworld. Contrary to human belief, it wasn't just a place for the condemned, but also a place for the flawed; and most humans were flawed. Few were able to lead the exemplary life that permitted their passage into the Twin's realm.

Everyone knew Dis' sibling ran an orderly realm and hated any sort of disruption. Those that fit best in the Overworld were the gentle and passive, or those willing to sacrifice their existence and lives trying to help the needy. His world was a place filled with eclectic souls contented to quietly go about their business being creative and unnoticed. Of course, the Twin also allowed the real heroes entry for he needed to keep his legions filled with souls brave enough to defend the realm. It kept the Underworld and Overworld armies balanced. Sabnock knew that balance was a necessity in all things.

As for Constance, from the short time they had spent together long ago, Sabnock knew she was no angel. Filled with fire and passion, the historian knew how to enjoy life and had the appetite for all that it could offer. The demoness was confused about how Constance could still be alive. Humans were lucky if they made it to a hundred.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her acute hearing picking up the slowed heartbeat.

"I'm just a little tired."

A knock interrupted them. Sabnock opened the door and took the tray from the hotel attendant. Handing him his money, she shouldered the door shut and put the tray on the table. Placing the soup and a glass of water near Constance, she grabbed her own bowl and sat down. Both women ate in silence.

"Ah, that was good," the historian said, pushing her bowl aside.

"Yes. It's certainly better than Army chow."

"I can imagine. So how long have you been a soldier?"

"All my life."

"A born soldier, huh?" the historian teased.

"You might say that. What do you do?"

"Me? I'm a historian."

"Do you teach?"

"No, I record history. At least I used to. I'm too old and tired for that now."

"Have you always been a historian?"

"All my life."

"A born historian," Sabnock said, unable to resist teasing her.

Constance chuckled.

"Enough about me. What brings you to Teraclia? You're obviously an American and this place isn't exactly a tourist trap."

"Curiosity. I had some leave coming and decided to check out the land of vampires and werewolves. I've always been curious about the dark side of humanity."

"I certainly understand that. Imagination can be a great thing but it brings with it its own demons."

Sabnock couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the comment.

"I suppose so," she agreed, smiling. "I take it you don't believe in those things."

"Oh, I believe alright. I've seen many things in my life and would have to say those would be some of the least strange."

"Now that sounds rather ominous."

Constance leaned forward to get a better look at her guest.

"You look like you don't scare easily," she commented and then shifted the table lamp to improve the lighting. Frowning, she rubbed her tired eyes and tried again to focus on the woman's face.

Everything seems so blurry tonight, she thought.

"Maybe I should go now," Sabnock offered.

"No, no. It's just that you remind me of someone I knew long ago."

"Someone important?"

"Yes. Very."

"Would you tell me about her?"

"You don't want to waste your time listening to an old woman rambling," Constance replied, patting Sabnock's hand. "Don't you have someone to meet? A handsome woman like you can't be here alone."

"I'm pretty much a loner. There's no one, and I really want to know about her, if you don't mind. You loved her, didn't you?"

The historian hesitated, not sure if she wanted to expose her deepest feelings to a stranger. Still, it was the happiest moment of her life and she wanted someone to know, really know, how special Lynara was. Maybe talking about her would give her short existence more meaning.

"She was a warrior, like you," the historian began.

"Warrior. It's a word not very often used anymore."

"Yes, but it's the appropriate word for her. Lynara was a lieutenant, young and handsome. You remind me of her. Her hair was red, like yours, but long and flowing. No matter, to me she was more than just handsome. She was brave, honest and true to herself."

"She sounds almost too perfect," Sabnock teased.

"No, she wasn't perfect, but she was good. I've never met anyone like her since."

"Good? How?"

Constance shrugged.

"It's hard to explain."

"So what happened to her?"

"She died! She could have stayed with me and lived. I believe she would have if I had only asked her to. Our love was strong."

"But you didn't ask her."

"No. I think it would have killed our love. She was a warrior first. Duty, to her, was the most important thing."

"Are you so sure?" Sabnock asked, remembering back to when she had chosen to live, but too late.

"Yes. Besides, there were other factors that would have made staying together impossible."

"If you really loved each other, nothing should have stopped you."

"You are young and idealistic. There are some things that are insurmountable even with love."

"Like what?"

"Death."

"You don't believe in an afterlife?"

"Well, yes."

"Then there's hope."

Constance chuckled.

"Where were you when I was a lot younger?"

The question gave Sabnock the opening she needed but she wasn't sure if she wanted to take it. Would it really serve any purpose to let Constance know who she really was? Then again, was there any harm in letting her know the truth?

"Now don't go taking me so seriously, young woman. I'm way too old to jump your bones."

"Oh, I think you still have it in you," Sabnock teased, "and I consider it a compliment that you still want to."

Constance was about to comment when she caught the word still.

Just a figure of speech, she thought, and the wishful thinking of an old woman.

"I have to say, you do remind me so much of her, Sabnock. That is such an unusual name. I don't think I've ever met anyone with it, although I know it has a meaning. I just can't remember now."

"I doubt if you'll find many people who want to name their children that. Sabnock was a female demon. She commanded the legions of Satan. At least, that's what the legends say."

"And your parents named you after her? Were they devil worshippers?"

Sabnock grinned.

"No. Actually, I never knew my parents. As for the name, well, I'm not sure how I came about it."

"Well, someone had to give it to you. Children just don't choose their own names. Maybe you were a rambunctious child and your foster parents started calling you that."

"I never had parents of any kind. I pretty much have been on my own all my life."

"How sad! Everyone should have someone to love."

"Constance, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"You can ask. It doesn't mean I'll answer."

Sabnock smirked.

"If you could live those moments over again... with Lynara... would you choose differently?"

"Knowing what I know now? I'm not sure. I'd like to think I would be brave enough to let her go. Then again, I think we could have made it work. Maybe I should have let her make the choice. Those two weeks, well, I'm being selfish now, but I would have sold my soul to have her with me for as long as possible if I thought I could make her happy."

"Then why didn't you call out to her?"

"I almost did. I wanted to. I..."

Constance stopped. Call out to her? How did she know? Shaking her head, the historian hesitated.

"How did you know?"

Sabnock stood and then knelt in front of her. Taking the withered hands in her own, she began running her thumbs across the palms.

"You still don't recognize me, do you?" she asked softly.

Constance gently disengaged one hand, touched the demoness' cheek and then her red hair. Green eyes stared unblinkingly back at her.

"Lynara?"

Sabnock nodded and pressed her lover's hand firmly against her cheek.

"But, you're dead! We burned your body."

"Yes, and you're still alive. I think we both have a lot of explaining to do."

"I should say so. You can't be a reincarnation. I've always thought it possible but never really believed in it."

"No, I'm not reincarnated. Listen, I think you should get some rest. We can talk about this tomorrow."

As much as she hated postponing the discussion until later, Constance had to agree. Already, she felt sluggish and unable to think clearly.

"Maybe that's a good idea. Where are you staying?"

Sabnock knew their time together was short. Although she didn't know the exact hour of her lover's death, she didn't want to chance it happening while she was away.

"I have a hotel room a few blocks away but if you don't mind, I'd like to stay here. We've been apart too long."

"You aren't thinking of taking advantage of an old woman?" Constance teased.

"No, but that doesn't mean I'm not thinking of taking advantage of you," Sabnock bantered back. "Now, let's get you ready for bed."

"And just where are you going to sleep, young woman?"

"I'm a soldier, remember? I can fall asleep just about anywhere, so these chairs will be fine."

"You'll do no such thing. I can't rest knowing you're sitting over there in that thing trying to sleep. This bed is big enough for the both of us."

"And you accused me of wanting to take advantage of you?" Sabnock teased.

"Pffft! As if."

"That's too bad. I was looking forward to it."

"Me too. Later, when I've regained some of my energy," the historian said, feeling almost young again. She knew it was an illusion, but enjoyed imagining it would happen. "Let's get some rest."

Helping Constance into bed, Sabnock pulled the quilt up and then lay down beside her. Closing her eyes, she pretended to sleep. Her lover fell asleep instantly. Sabnock waited patiently, making sure Constance was warm and comfortable.

Four hours later, she got up, picked up the phone and ordered a light meal for the two of them knowing it was only a matter of a few minutes before the historian would wake up. When she stirred, her warrior helped her get into the chair. Walking to the door, Sabnock opened it as the waiter was about to knock. Taking the platter, she paid the bill and then closed the door.

"I've never had anyone wait on me like this. It's rather nice."

"I would have done this every day of your life, if I hadn't taken so long to make up my mind," Sabnock said.

"Make up your mind?"

"About us. I wanted to stay with you. I had decided to but Death stopped me."

"I know," Constance said.

"No, Constance, you don't know. What I'm trying to say is I..."

How do I explain this so she doesn't think I'm crazy or give her a heart attack?

"I'm not what you think."

"I don't understand," Constance said, confused.

"I know. This is difficult. When we fell in love, you thought I was human. I'm not! I'm a demon."

The silence was so loud both women wondered why they weren't deafened by it.

"That's pretty incredible."

"Incredible like unbelievable or incredible like you believe me."

"Sabn... Lynara, you've never lied to me and you're here now. How can I not believe you?"

"How could you not?" Lynara chided gently. "Speaking of being here, you have some explaining to do."

"I guess you're not the only one with secrets."

"Apparently not. It looks like you've been keeping one for over two-thousand years."

"More like seven."

"Seven?"

Lynara was stunned. No human could live that long.

"Yes and no, I'm not a demon. I'm Gebian. We're long-lived."

"So it seems. Why haven't I ever heard of Gebians?"

"We tend to keep to ourselves. It would create issues if humans knew about us. It is strange though that you didn't know about us."

"Maybe not. I really wasn't interested in humanity in the beginning. We demons were too busy fighting another war. As for the humans, they certainly would want to study you. They've been searching for my kind for a long time. If they ever proved we were real, it would create havoc."

"Considering their opinions of demons now, I'd say that's putting it mildly."

The two fell into a comfortable silence thinking of things that might have been had they been more honest with each other. Constance finally spoke.

"You said you changed your mind."

"Yes. I was torn between my vow to live and die as a human or spend what little time we would have together. Had I known it could have lasted this long, the choice would have been simple."

"I doubt it," Constance said, although she knew she would have chosen Lynara over two-thousand years of loneliness. "Choices are never that easy, especially when it comes to love and being true to yourself."

"I would have chosen you," Lynara said firmly. The historian didn't doubt her.

Constance sighed. So many years alone, wasted, because neither had spoken what was in her heart, and now it was too late.

"And I you. It seems we both had a lapse in judgment," she said and then laughed. "Just my luck to find out at the end of my life."

"This life."

Before Constance could respond, she felt a sharp pain shoot across her chest and down her arm. Gasping, she bent forward and pressed her hand against her abdomen just below her breasts. Seeing her distress, Lynara stood and picked up the frail woman and placed her gently on the bed. Both knew the end was near.

"Lynara..." she gasped, barely able to catch her breath. "You must... do something... for me."

"Anything."

Constance pointed to a set of manuscripts on a small stand in the corner.

"You must take... take them to Dakota Dev... Devereaux."

"What are they?"

"The his...history of my... people."

"Okay. Where will I find her?"

The historian's breathing became more labored.

"Add... ress inside."

"I'll take care of it. You just rest now."

Lying next to her lover, Lynara gathered the slender body in her arms and held her tight. She could feel the life force slowly slipping away.

"I'll be... doing that s... soon enough. I wish we... had... more time together."

"I could give it to you," Lynara offered. "I could make you well."

As a demon, she had the ability to extend mortal lives. Other demons used the power to manipulate mortals into doing what they wanted.

Shaking her head, Constance knew this wasn't like before. It was one thing for the demoness to choose life. To her, dying wasn't real. For the historian, it was a natural progression even if she was long lived. Changing her destiny wouldn't just impact her but would alter the future for a lot of people. It wasn't something she was willing to do, even if it meant sacrificing her and Lynara's happiness.

"The price... too high."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take if it gives us a little more time."

"But I'm not. This isn't... just about us." Constance took a few quick breaths. "It's about what's... right. What... we decide... to... tonight affects more than just us." Again she hesitated, inhaling deeply. "It's my time.... I will ful... fill my destiny."

"So we do this again," Lynara said sadly.

Constance laughed and then started coughing, her body racked with spasms. Although forbidden to interfere with the death process, the demoness decided there was no reason for her lover to suffer unnecessarily. The pain and shortness of breath subsided.

"You didn't do anything...."

"No, I didn't heal you. I would never go against your wishes."

"Thank you."

They lay quietly together for a few minutes until Lynara remembered the manuscripts.

"Tell me about your people."

Constance chuckled.

"It would take a lifetime."

"Then tell me about the manuscripts. That's why you came here isn't it? To give them to this Devereaux? Why her?"

"I trust her to protect them. To protect the secret of my people."

"Is she one of you?"

"No. She's human, but she's special."

"What will happen to those records when she dies? Humans have such short lives."

"I don't know. I'm hoping she'll find someone to give them to. It'll be out of my control by then."

Lynara knew Constance was worried about the papers and her people's future. If the manuscripts fell in the wrong hands, it would be disastrous for the Gebians.

"I can take them if she doesn't," the demoness offered.

"And what would you do with them?" Constance teased. "They wouldn't last very long where you're from."

"Yeah, I can see where that might be a problem. I promise not to take them to the Underworld, although you'd be surprised at the technology we have there. Some of us even have ice for our drinks."

"Ice! In Hell! I don't believe it."

"Like I said. We're quite advanced."

They both laughed thinking of the old adage about snowballs in hell.

"Seriously. I will make sure they're protected. Your people will be safe."

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

Relieved, Constance relaxed in the warm embrace. Although the pain was gone, she felt the cold fingers of death closing in on her. Shivering, she tried to burrow deeper in her lover's arms, remembering the heat and passion of long ago.

Lynara knew Death intimately. She understood its cold touch. Raising her core heat, she increased her skin temperature several degrees.

"Is that better?" she asked.

"Yes, much. Your arms are so warm. Do you still have those tattoos?" The shivering stopped.

"They are a part of me. Dis, himself, bestowed them upon me. Only two others bear the royal symbol of my Lord."

"He still holds your allegiance?" Constance sounded surprised, stiffening slightly.

"He has my respect and my loyalty. He isn't my master now. I owe my allegiance to no one... but you."

"I'm glad. No one should own another."

"Dis has never owned me, Constance. I pledged myself freely to him. He has never forced any of his Legion to follow him."

"Not the devil I've heard about then," the historian in her rising to the surface.

"He never was what mortals thought. Dis is Dis. Arrogant... Self-centered... Imperfect... but always fair to those who serve him."

Constance shifted to a more comfortable position and relaxed, relishing the warmth of Lynara's embrace.

"Lynara?"

"What, my love?"

"What happens to my soul when I die?"

"I'm not sure. I think you'll go to the Underworld. Most souls go there."

Constance laughed.

"I've done a lot of things I regret, but I didn't think I was that bad."

The demoness chuckled and gave her a squeeze with her arms. Constance was unaware that the tattoos were searing her skin, leaving identical impressions on her withered skin. Lynara was making sure that all others in the Underworld knew Constance was hers.

"It's not about being bad, at least for some. It's just that the Overworld usually takes only those that have led exemplary lives or humans who make great sacrifices."

"That leaves me out."

A sudden tiredness overwhelmed Constance. Feeling lethargic, she knew her time had come and closed her eyes. Lynara waited, knowing she could do nothing more to ease her lover's passage into Death's hands. Placing her cheek against the silver hair, she began to rock her back and forth, humming a soothing song from her own world. She made sure to keep her body heat high enough to keep Constance warm.

"It's okay, my love," she whispered. "I'm here with you."

"Lynara? Will you join me after I'm dead?"

"As if you needed to ask. We'll finally have a life together."

"Longer than the last two," Constance said and smiled.

"Longer than the last two," Lynara agreed. "An eternity."

Constance sighed. Death had arrived. Normally impatient, it recognized the demoness and hesitated.

"What would you have me do?" it asked, giving Sabnock a choice.

Looking at her lover, Lynara felt the tears streaming down her cheeks and hugged the frail body tenderly.

"What you must. She welcomes your arrival."

"Sobeit!"

The historian's heart beat slower and slower. Constance felt her life force slipping away. Taking her final breath, she struggled to speak.

"Thank... you... for finding... me," she gasped. "I... love... you. I... will al... ways love..."

"You," Lynara said, finishing the sentence. "Don't be afraid, my love. I'll be there to catch you."