His Other Face
by Loren W. Cooper
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 |
part 5
Sara pulled away from the screen and looked around the room. She could have sworn she’d heard her name. She rose to her feet, checked to make sure the door was secured, feeling a little nervous, a little self-conscious. Everything was fine.
She went back to the computer, thinking about what Marcus had told her. Persian religion. Nietzsche’s book. She searched on Nietzsche, never a favorite of hers back in freshman Philosophy, and found references to Also Sprach Zarathustra. She plowed through a couple of reviews before deciding that the immoral moralist of Nietzsche’s book might appeal to a killer, but saw no connection. She searched on Zarathustra and Persian religion. She found ideas quite different from the German philosopher’s, but still saw no connection.
She did lose herself in some of the core concepts outlined on one of the sites she explored on Zoroastrianism. Asha, the ordering principle of creation, or doing what is right. Vohu Manah, the good mind, or clarity of thinking. Aramaiti, or serenity. In Sara’s opinion, the world could benefit from more of all of these, but she still saw no link to the killings.
Certainly she saw no way a faith holding such values could be involved in murder. And she saw no direct link to the statuette, or the four faces it bore.
“Sara.”
She looked away from the screen and toward the window sill, where she had put the ring. The glow of the setting sun washed the metal in bloody light. The four faces stared back at her.
Sara stood, drew closer to the ring. The metal had become translucent, burning with an inner flame. She picked it up, cupped it in her hands, and stared at the faces. The fire within brightened, eyes opened and burned into her own, and then the ring expanded and became nebulous, until it became a coil of living flame that rose up around her, wrapping her in smoky fire.
Sara recoiled, closing her eyes, stumbling back away from the window.
“Sara.”
She heard her name clearly, though it spoke in a still, small voice. “Sara, it is the time for judging.”
The fire collapsed around her. The ring was gone from her hand.
“Who are you?” Sara asked unsteadily, looking around the room and finding no one.
“Go to a high place.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
“What?” Sara asked. “A high place? What do you mean? Who are you?”
“Sara, you must listen. It is the time for judging. Go to a high place. They will come to you there. Sara, do not hesitate. The choice must be made. If you do not choose, nature will act. Another will be selected. And another will judge.”
Madness. Now she was hearing voices.
Sara jumped when a loud thump came at the window. She looked over at the window, and the light of the setting sun painted a ruddy cast on the feathers of a large black bird. Another bird landed beside it with a businesslike flutter of wings, this one smaller, the feathers painted in lighter shades than the first.
A crow and a what? Sparrow maybe? Swallow? Sitting next to a crow and staring at her? Sara had never seen anything like that before. She walked slowly to the window and looked out. Past the glass, above the bare branches of the trees in the courtyard below, a mixed flock of birds filled the air with motion, like a cloud given life and purpose. Sara recoiled, the image of the birds in the alley filling her mind’s eye, flapping up from Richard’s body.
“Nature will act,” the voice had told her.
What else had it said? The time of choosing? What did that mean?
“Go to a high place.” She couldn’t have said if she heard the voice speaking again, or the memory came so powerfully that it merely seemed as if she heard the words again.
Another bird landed on the ledge. Another crow. It joined the first two birds, staring in at her.
Sara backed away from the window. She laughed nervously. Weird.
Another smaller bird dropped in to join the others.
“Don’t you guys fly south for the winter?” Sara asked. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Don’t you?”
Sara spun, but saw nothing and no one in the room. Someone was trying to drive her crazy.
She thought about Richard. “The world has gone crazy,” he’d said. “I’ve heard things,” he’d said.
She knew how he must have felt. The ring had disappeared, but it had disappeared in smoke and fire. How could he have not known it was missing? Or had he simply refused to believe?
She thought of when she had first found the ring on the street. She thought about the voice she’d heard behind the flames. She’d heard a voice, but she couldn’t make out the words then. How much had Richard not heard? And how much had he denied?
She looked back at the window. The ledge was lined with birds, all staring into the room.
Nature will act. The choice must be made. Go to a high place. They will come to you there.
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Copyright © 2018 by Loren W. Cooper
