In Service to a Goddess
Book V
Copyright©2006 by Ed Howdershelt
ISBN 1-932693-30-0
Caution: Some Erotic Content
Note: I'm not going to re-introduce everybody.
Read my other ISTAG books before starting Book V.
Chapter One
Like I told the cops; she'd just stopped by my sidewalk table at Cafe Marseilles and asked me the time, then started across the street. I didn't know her, but I wish I had, because -- if for no other reason -- I'd be pleased and honored to tell anyone who'd listen about her last moments on Earth.
Watching the Israeli cops, fire, and other emergency personnel mill around the bus stop across from the cafe, I was amazed at how much damage one strap-on bomb can do.
The big red and white tour bus was riddled with holes. All but two of its windows were gone or shattered and it listed to the right because all of the tires on that side were flat.
Fifty or so men, women, and children on some kind of day tour had been waiting within the terminal lounge and had started filing out the glass double doors to meet the bus.
My eyes had been on the thirtyish brunette who'd asked me the time as she'd crossed the street toward the terminal. She'd kept herself fairly fit, though not the level of fitness you see in aerobics. Her tan was the kind you can't get in a tanning booth and it looked damned good on her long, shorts-clad legs.
She'd suddenly stopped cold in the middle of the street, glanced both ways as she'd dropped her two shopping bags, and then she'd sprinted like a track star directly at some guy coming out of the bus terminal bathroom alcove.
He'd looked up from fumbling with something in his left hand and seen her just before she'd slammed into him with a loud scream and driven him backward into the concrete alcove and out of my line of sight.
There'd been a bright flash, an explosion louder than any I'd ever heard in a war zone, and the block wall directly across the outdoor walkway from the alcove had seemed to fly apart before a twenty-foot section of it collapsed.
The amount of damage in the immediate vicinity was flatly phenomenal. Car and building windows as far as a block away were missing or shattered. A big aluminum 'no parking' sign near the walkway now looked like a colorful cheese grater due to shrapnel punching through it.
My table and others near it had been knocked over by a concussion wave. Window glass littered the sidewalk and people were screaming and yelling in what seemed like three or four languages. I reflexively checked myself for damage, got up, and circulated among them to see if I could help.
Half a dozen people had been injured, but nobody seemed to be in critical condition and a few people who looked as if they knew what they were doing had begun tending them with napkins, strips of tablecloths, and whatever else came to hand.
That's when a cop grabbed my arm and gabbled at me in Hebrew far too quickly for me to understand more than a few words. I asked him to talk slower.
A man in his fifties looked up from holding a napkin compress to a woman's arm and said, "He wants your papers. Someone told him you were the last person to speak with the woman who ran across the street."
Nodding, I showed my passport and said, "She wanted to know the time. I told her and she headed toward the bus. Those two bags in the middle of the street are hers."
He translated for the cop, who was writing down my info. That was a good sign. If a lone cop is taking notes, he doesn't consider you a dangerous suspect.
After a few more questions, the cop gave me a card along with my passport and moved on. I looked at the Hebrew I couldn't read, then looked at the guy who'd translated.
"It's an instruction card," he said, "It basically says you're to stay here until someone has taken your report." Returning his gaze to the woman's arm, he added quietly, "I have three of them."
Emergency vehicles arrived and authorities took over the scene. Another cop who was talking with a fireman glanced in my direction and I held up the card. He pointed at another cop and sent him over to me. Fifteen minutes later, with the help of the man who'd translated for me before, I was free to go.
As I turned to thank my translator, the wall and roof of the bus terminal's walkway collapsed on two firemen and I ran over there to help dig them out. They were shaken and bruised, but not seriously hurt. I looked toward the alcove, but a section of the roof had completely covered it.
Another fireman thanked me, but rather insistently took my arm to lead me out of the debris. All I was able to make out was "... our sort of work. Not for civilians..."
Yeah, fine. I went with him beyond the taped-off perimeter the cops had set up and took a last look at the devastation, then walked down the street to the beach.
Chapter One
Two blocks later, a strong presence to my right made me look in that direction. It got stronger, so I stopped to really examine the area and saw a blonde woman leaning on a second-floor windowsill of some stucco-walled building.
Her impassive gaze met mine and I studied her face. Maybe thirty, plus or minus a few years. Nice features. No smile, just the sort of mildly interested expression you'd see on someone's face as they examined a unique rock or seashell.
On general principles I smiled and gave her a little wave, then headed down stone steps carved out of the rock that had formed the low cliff at the edge of the Mediterranean Sea.
Sitting on a bench near a snack wagon, I pondered what to do with my last couple of days in Israel. I didn't really have a fixed schedule; I'd seen what I'd wanted to see and didn't really have a good reason to stay.
That same sense of presence returned, this time directly behind me. I turned to see the blonde descending the stone steps in jeans and a white blouse that billowed a bit in the breeze. She stopped at the snack wagon and chatted with the guy inside, then headed in my direction.
A few feet from my bench, she stopped and studied me for a few moments, then asked, "Did they send you to find me?"
I stood up and looked her up and down once. Tall, blonde, fit as hell, apparently, and generally gorgeous in her own right, but something told me not to try a glib answer on her.
Shaking my head, I said, "Nobody sent me here. Care to join me? I'm trying to figure out where to go next. By the way, you speak English very well."
Making no move to sit, she said, "Yes, I know. Next?"
Sitting back down, I replied, "Yeah. Next. I've been here two months. Saw what I wanted to see, and I'm not quite ready to head back to the States, but there's nowhere else over here I really want to go."
Joining me on the bench, she asked, "By 'over here', should I take that to mean 'the Middle East'?"
"Yeah. And Europe. Been there for the last couple of years. Don't have much interest in seeing Asia again, so I'm kind of running out of places to visit."
After a few moments, she asked, "So you're just a tourist on a two-year holiday? Do you expect me to believe that?"
I chuckled, "You can believe whatever you want, ma'am. Won't matter a rat's rump to anyone but you."
Leaning back on the bench, she said, "You don't look very much like a tourist, you know." Reaching to pluck at the sleeve of my green Army shirt, she said, "You look as if you're dressed for work. What kind of work do you do?"
"I'm retired."
"From what?"
Again meeting her gaze, I replied, "At the moment, from everything. There's nothing I really want to do."
Her hand fell away from my sleeve. "I find that hard to believe."
Shrugging, I said, "Believe it. I write a bit now and then, but that's more for my benefit than anyone else's."
"Are you published?"
Fishing one of my Abintra Press cards out of the rain-proof plastic baggie in my shirt pocket, I handed it to her. "Yes. Feel free to drop by my website."
Reading my card, she said, "I may do that," then she looked at her watch and said, "It's been nice talking with you," as she stood up.
I stood up as well and said, "Thanks for the company," then she turned and headed for the stone steps.
Watching her fine figure as she stepped away across the sand, I felt a sense of loss. No, not loss, exactly; more like an opportunity missed. But an opportunity for what? She hadn't seemed too interested in me other than why I might be visiting her neighborhood.
From above came the sounds of an argument. I looked up and saw a man and woman yelling at each other on the walkway in front of the parking area near the low cliff. The man yelled a last time and left the woman standing there, then I heard a car start.
People do stupid things when they're pissed off. In this case, he gunned the engine and put the car in reverse without looking behind, then rammed into a van passing behind his car.
Apparently trying to correct matters, he put his car in drive and gave it too much gas. It plunged over the curb and through the low concrete wall lining the edge of the cliff.
As the car teetered on the edge of falling, I muttered something like, "Well, shit," and flew up there to shove the car back a few feet into the parking space.
The guy in the car stared at me in open-mouthed shock and his bikini-clad ladyfriend had a similar expression. Glancing around, I didn't see the blonde anywhere, but other people were approaching.
Leaving the errant driver and his beach bunny friend to their own devices, I flew back to my hotel, landed on the roof, and tried the stairwell door.
It was locked, of course. Israelis were nothing if not security conscious. Looking over the side of the ten-story building, I saw nowhere to hop down without being seen.
Since it didn't really matter if I was seen because I wasn't staying anyway, I hopped over the edge to land in the rear parking lot and walked into my hotel past half a dozen people who seemed somewhat startled.
When I got to my room, I started gathering stuff to pack and realized I was wearing my last semi-clean shirt, so I decided to do laundry in the basement washers I'd discovered on my second day there.
Wadding everything into a hotel trash bag, I headed downstairs with a stop for change at the lobby. While I waited for my coins, I again felt a sense of presence nearby, but didn't see the blonde or anyone else who looked capable of evoking that sensation.
That sense of being watched came and went a few more times as I did laundry and watched the news on the TV in the corner of the laundry room. No point in being concerned about it; it could have been hotel security making the rounds. I'd met one of their security people; she was a tubby, fiftyish woman with a quick smile, a cheerful personality, and a small 9mm pistol in a shoulder rig under her hotel services jacket.
Some time later, I was in my room, putting stuff in my backpack to be ready to leave in the morning, when someone knocked at my door. I opened it to find the blonde from the beach and simply held the door open for her as I gestured her into the room with a flourish.
After a moment, she strode in past me and looked around as she said, "I called some... friends... about you. They've been wondering where you'd disappeared to."
Hm. The Israeli cops had me on file from two rescue incidents and the bombing and the State Department tracked passport records, to include hotel stays and such. I also kept in touch with April, Sara, and Doris on a fairly regular basis. If anyone had a valid reason to know my whereabouts, they'd have been able to find me fairly easily.
I closed the door without locking it and asked, "Your friends, ma'am?"
Eyeing my stuff on the bed, she remarked, "Don't sound so surprised that I have some."
"I'm surprised that they might give a damn where I am."
Looking up, she said, "They didn't, until I asked about you. Did you know there's almost nothing on file about you?"
The blonde went back to examining my stuff as I mentally linked with Doris and asked, 'Got a minute, cop lady?'
She replied, 'Sure, what's up?'
Letting her see the blonde through my eyes, I asked, 'Got any idea who she is?'
'No. Should I?'
'Guess not. I'll try April and Sara. Later, ma'am. Thanks.'
April's response to seeing the woman was a surge of shock that made me ask, 'What's the matter?'
In a flat tone, April replied, 'Ed, if she's who I think she is, be careful. Be damned careful. We don't know where she's been for the past forty years.' I felt her link out as she almost yelled, 'Sara!' and Sara joined our link.
You can feel someone turn pale over a telepathic link, and if you aren't careful, your empathic reaction will parallel theirs. As an echo of Sara's shock washed through me, of course, the blonde turned to face me again.
She saw my reaction and seemed somewhat concerned.
"Are you all right?"
"Um. Yeah, I'm fine, I think. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"
He left eyebrow went up, then she gave me a peering, piercing look and replied simply, "Yes. I'm told frequently. Are you sure you're all right?"
Nodding, I walked to the bureau to retrieve my coffee mug and sent, 'So who the hell is she, please?' to April and Sara as I took a long sip.
April said, 'If it's really her, her name is Shalina. Nobody's seen her since 1967. She just disappeared, Ed. She didn't return from a mission. Everyone thought she'd left Earth. Ed, we're on our way. Keep her talking until we get there.'
'Shalina,' I replied, 'Okay, now what is she? A convertee? She wouldn't look that delicious after forty years unless...'
'No,' said Sara, 'She's one of us. Oh, hell, more than that. She was sent to Earth in 1758 to deal with one of the first Aktion incursions in this sector.'
Blink. Stare. 1758? Damn! She was holding up pretty goddamned well for a little old lady. Her peering gaze continued. I sent the ladies, 'Okay. Enough for now. Thanks,' and dropped the mental link.
The woman asked, "Why are you staring at me?"
My automatic response was, "You're gorgeous, ma'am."
She didn't buy that for a moment. I'd imagine my expression hadn't matched my words very well.
Stepping to within a couple of feet of me, she said in a quiet, ominous tone, "I want to know why you're here. Now."
Setting my coffee down, I draped my arms across the top edge of the tall bureau and replied, "Well, ma'am, it's like this; I'm here because I'm not somewhere else. That's all there is and it's the truth. And I didn't come here looking for you, if that's what you think."
She snapped, "Yes, that's what I think."
Her left hand flashed out and grabbed my right shoulder in what would have been a truly crushing grip if I hadn't been converted. Her right fist cocked back as she prepared to say something else. I didn't give her a chance to say it.
Lifting my legs, I planted both feet in her gut and shoved. She was pushed back several feet and the look of total surprise on her face let me know she hadn't in the least expected me to be able to do that. Her surprise morphed to rage.
When she launched herself at me, I sidestepped just a bit, got a grip on her left arm, twisted it up and tripped her at the same time, and wound up kneeling on her back briefly before I hopped up and backed away from her. She was back on her feet almost instantly.
"Either listen to me or leave," I said, "Just go the hell away, okay? I know what you are and I'm just a convertee. I didn't come here looking for you and the lady who converted me knows I'm here. If you bust me up, I promise she'll be on your trail for real."
Although she'd looked ready to come at me again, she heard my words and froze, eyeing me like a prizefighter.
"No convertee can do what you just did."
"This one can. I taught Tai Kwon Do to a lady like you. Her name is April."
Shaking her head, she snapped, "I've been watching you. You've contacted no one since I met you at the beach. You never went near a phone and you don't have a radio."
"Yeah, but I had to use my passport to check in and I had to show it to the cops today. She may get here too late, but she'll damned well get here."
She seemed to be calming down a bit as she asked, "Where's April now?"
"Damned if I know, but she and Sara work out of a lab in New Mexico, and you know they can be here in minutes. What's the problem, lady? Why'd you come at me like that?"
Eyeing me tightly, she replied, "Never mind. Maybe I made a mistake. Or not. Why haven't you asked me who I am?"
"Maybe because you didn't seem very friendly?"
Shaking her head, she growled, "No games, damn it. Do you know who I am?"
"Yes. I think so, anyway. Shalina. Missing since '67 and presumed to have left Earth. So what? Stay missing if you want. As far as I know, they've been getting along fine without you."
Looking ready to pounce again, she snapped, "If you didn't come here looking for me, how do you know my name?"
Linking to April and Sara, I met Shalina's gaze and held out my hand. "Touch me," I said, "Take my hand."
Suddenly very cautious, she replied, "Oh, I really don't think so. Given your training, you might..."
"Might what?" I cut in, "Might what... that you couldn't handle? Don't tell me you really think I could take you down again now that you're ready for something like that. Just touch my fingertips. Any contact at all's good enough."
"Good enough for what?"
"You'll see. If you have the nerve to touch me, that is."
Looking truly pissed, Shalina sighed her irritation and reached to let her fingertips touch mine. As soon as we made contact, April almost shouted through our link, 'It is her! Shalina! Don't hurt him! He...'
Her eyes big and her mouth open, Shalina yanked her hand back and retreated a few paces as she hissed, "What... what the hell are you?!"
Shrugging, I said, "Like I said, a tourist."
"You know what I mean, goddamnit!"
"Yeah, okay. April, Sara, Doris, and I can talk to each other. Anytime, anywhere."
"Doris?! Who the hell's Doris?!"
"Another convertee. How about taking a breath and calming down a bit, ma'am? It's just a form of communication."
Through our link, April said, 'We're almost there, Ed. Just hang on another minute.'
Hang on? What did she think was happening?
'Yes'm. Hanging on, ma'am. The room door's unlocked. No need to break it down.'
"Shalina," I said, "My friends are worried about me. Why? Did you do something before you disappeared?"
Her eyes turned hard. "Everyone thought so, and I couldn't prove I didn't."
"Uh, huh. Could they prove you did?"
"There were witnesses. Nobody would listen, so I... didn't return to the office. Some of the witnesses died violently or simply disappeared. They thought I had something to do with that, too."
Shrugging, I replied, "Yeah, that's how people tend to think. But we could probably fix that. All you'd have to do is show us your memories of whatever happened."
Shalina suddenly grew alarmed and glanced first at the door, then the open window. Screaming "NO!" she launched herself at the window, but April was already coming through it as Sara opened the room's door and darted forward.
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