“Free will is an illusion. What are you if not the master of illusions?”
Sal was correct. However, Luc hated the idea of conning Nadia. Gaining her devotion free of deceit was the ultimate goal. Anything less would never do.
“Nadia won’t be in this week. She needs time to mourn her friends. Make the necessary arrangements and see she has paid leave,” he ordered. Pretending, for the time being, to be ignorant of Sal’s hand in the tragedy, he said, “I want the name of the person or persons responsible for killing Dina and Raziel before the day’s end.”
“It will be done, my liege.”
He hung up on Salvokos’s syrupy assurances.
14
From the moment Nadia developed an understanding of souls, it seemed as if a war was being waged for hers. Good versus Evil. God versus the Devil. There had never truly been anything to bolster her belief. No, merely a gut feeling. Odd coincidences throughout life had tested her, constantly making her question whether taking the path with the least resistance might’ve resulted in a better outcome. By being “good” and only doing the expected, had she hobbled herself? Would it really have hurt to cut corners now and again?
She didn’t believe so.
Yet her foster mother had subscribed to “doing the right thing” in all instances, instilling the same behavior in Nadia. Learned behavior from each generation before hers. Was it because religion was entrenched so heavily in their lives, thereby allowing themselves to be policed by it? Was the Bible merely a tool to control the masses, making others devout because they were fearful of stepping outside the boundaries of what was considered proper?
Based on the various relics and scrolls she’d uncovered throughout her career, it seemed so.
As a result, Nadia had shied away from all things holy as they pertained to her personal self. If she refused to believe in organized religion, then she couldn’t be tormented about any bad decisions she made. Ancient texts fascinated the academic in her, but those weren’t found in the current printed versions sold on bookshelves or recommended by the collective Church.
Lately, the conflict came to her in dreams, more vivid than any she’d experienced.
Phantoms and demons chased her, paralyzing her with fear. Angels spoke to her, revealing the future and promising paradise. And finally, a dark, mysterious lover—who bore an uncanny resemblance to Luc—made her burn with too many emotions, stirring desire and the urge to procreate. But mostly, he made her want to throw away her Polly Perfect persona. He took her to the edge with his touch, yet never followed through, leaving her feeling incomplete and lonely.
In the daylight hours, she dismissed the dreams as flights of fancy. Yet, on rare occasions, when she met a truly beautiful soul like Dina, or heard about a heinous crime, such as the one this week, she had her doubts about shunning religion. Maybe peace could be found in blind faith.
The only thing stopping her? The horrific events done in the name of God—torture, shootings, starvation, withholding healthcare, conning hardworking people out of money to build opulent buildings in His or Her name, to say nothing of war.
Every side was quick to blame the ugliness on the Devil. But Nadia wasn’t so sure. Her findings refuted his evilness, claiming he’d simply been a rebellious soldier, questioning orders rather than enforcing them without conscience.
Still, she resisted buying into the whole scene. It wasn’t her gig, and an argument could be made for both sides. In her thirty-four years, she’d done an exceptional job of avoiding committing to one side or the other. When pressed, she’d claimed she was agnostic.
Perhaps God did exist.
Nadia, however, required stronger proof than a book pieced together by a group of men thousands of years ago, translated from its original language. True meanings tended to get lost in adaptation, with some words having no English equivalent at all. And facts were facts; carbon dating had proven animals and people existed long before Jesus was a sparkle in his daddy’s omnipotent eye.
Plenty would consider her sacrilegious, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. Setting foot in a church for ceremonial purposes was inevitable and highly disturbing. Marriages, christenings, and memorial services, like the one being held today for Dina and Raz, all made her uncomfortable and caused her to sweat.
“Enough, Nadia. Just get on with it, or you’ll be late,” she scolded herself.
She tugged up the bodice of her black dress and smoothed the skirt. She cast a critical eye over her image in the full-length mirror. A humorless snort escaped.
“I look like the Angel of Death.”
In the reflection of the glass, she caught Ariel pacing behind her.
“What’s up, baby girl?” She bent to rub under her beloved pet’s chin. “What has you so agitated today?”
A hoarse meow was her response.
Nadia had no clue as to what the cat attempted to relay, so she figured she’d start with the basics.
“Let’s go check your food bowl, okay?”
As she pivoted toward the doorway, a dark figure filled the space. Sheer terror rose up, pulling a scream from the very depths of her soul.
“Nadia, it’s me,” Luc said in a soothing tone.
