Field of Blood by Wilson, Eric (pdf e book reader .TXT) 📕

“Hello. Good to have you.”

“I’m sorry to drop in so unexpectedly,” Megiste said. “But I simply had to see my dear, uh, Ukrainian friend while passing through your wondrous city. She’s sent e-mails about this new husband and life of hers. To be honest, I’m rather jealous.”

Erota saw her husband eating up every word. It was disgusting, in the extreme. She hooked her arm into Megiste’s and told Ray-Ban that they would be on the screened back porch, watching the storm. His lascivious glances followed them with all the subtlety of a goggle-eyed teenage boy.

The female revenants sat with hips touching on the swing made for two. Wind curled through the yard, shaking leaves from the trees and spit-ting them against the fence, while the storm’s electricity flashed above the quivering branches.

“What’re you doing here, Megiste?”

“More appropriately, Erota, what are you doing, here in this new land of yours? Ariston suspects you’ve been busier pursuing your own pleasures than staying true to the goals of our cluster.”

“I won’t deny I’ve pursued happiness. It’s the American way.”

“Happiness. A fleeting concept, don’t you think?”

“I found one of them,” Erota said. “One of the Nistarim. That’s what I’ve been up to, if you must know. I trailed the mother of this unborn male, after verifying the presence of the Letter on her head. She gave birth only last month.”

“Why didn’t you speak of this to us?” Megiste said. “I could’ve helped you.”

“I took care of it myself.” Erota pushed herself to her feet and let Megiste sway beneath the creaking chains. “I planted a bomb.”

“And yet we’re still here? I’m sorry, doll, but these excuses pale in light of the troubles to which I’ve been attending. While you’ve been playing at your charades, our cluster has fallen into disarray.”

“What’re you saying?”

“First, both of Ariston’s sons are gone, and that means he is without a successor. Sol has been banished—deservedly so, I might add. It happened on a night back in August. And Natira, well, he would be next in line, but as you know, his ossuary was empty and his whereabouts unknown.”

“If a successor becomes necessary, I’m sure my dad would fill that role.”

“Eros? No, that’s also out of the question.”

Erota turned to face the swinging chair. “What?”

“For a short time now, the House of Eros has been without a leader.”

“You mean . . .”

“Your father, yes. I’m sorry.”

Megiste recounted for Erota that terrible episode in the vineyard warehouse. She told of the human casualties, which Barabbas had been quick to bury in the foothills—deep enough to evade not only digging animals, but the suspicious local constabulary as well. She told of the spike through Eros’s temple. Of the child who had escaped.

Erota pressed her hands back against the screen room’s white aluminum framing and swayed on her feet, her head split apart by the oppressive humidity and buzzing of insects. The pain was physical. Tangible. She clung to this undeniably human experience to avoid the even more cutting sensations of sorrow and dread.

Her father? Removed from this earth?

Yet he was only a shell, a carbon casing for a nameless Collector. There was no reason to be enslaved by any emotion. Give and take. Die and let die.

So why this knot of anger in her breast?

“I’ll find the child,” she said. “I’ll wrap him in vines and tear him apart, thorn by thorn.”

“This boy, Dov, he was only protecting his mother with the implements on hand. I don’t believe he attacked with any foreknowledge of the specific devastation he could inflict.”

“I remember him,” Erota said. “Quiet. No backbone to speak of.”

“Although he did use a mallet and spike with great effect.”

“Hmm.”

“Not that you should concern yourself with him. He’s grown very quiet now. Barabbas and I found a tent a few days ago, in the forest five kilometers north of the vineyard. We believe he was hiding out, fearful and undoubtedly heartbroken. There was evidence of a struggle, perhaps with a wolf. Those mountains are rife with carnivores, the largest collection anywhere in Europe. Barabbas also found shreds of bloody clothing, a torn shoe, even a toe—a child-sized toe, mind you. Too grimy, in my opinion, to belong to a girl.”

“It could’ve been a runaway. A gypsy child, perhaps.”

“No,” Megiste said. “We found an old photo in the tent. Mr. Amit and son Dov, side by side, holding up fish they had caught on the Sea of Galilee.”

“Kinneret? Don’t even mention that lake.”

“We’re now thinking of regrouping back there. In Israel.”

“We? Meaning who?”

“Our household. We’ll form our own cluster, free from the restrictions of Ariston and his paltry crew. Barabbas has agreed to come along and lead us.”

“He’s a mindless acolyte.”

“A puppet, yes. What more could we ask for? Dear Erota, I know all this comes as a shock, but I believe it’s for the best.”

“I guess, then, you won’t be any further away than you are already.”

“You fail to see my point.” Megiste stood and joined her at the screen, where flies and bugs were clinging to the mesh. Beyond, the storm was moving eastward, herded by high winds. “You will be going back with me tomorrow so that you can join us in our return to the Negev, in Israel.”

“I’m married, Megiste. I’m established here.”

“But this would’ve been your father’s wish. Surely, you can see that.”

“He’s gone,” Erota spit out. “He’s nothing to me now, is he?”

“Think of the role you can play in the void he has left. In fact, when we return I intend to elevate your status within the household. You and I, we can enjoy the preening of others over us—especially the male Collectors. They’re so simpleminded, don’t you think?”

“What does Lord Ariston think of this decision to part ways?”

“Oh, well, he’s not in favor of it. He’s lost control, though, that’s clear. A cluster leader is in no position to dispense judgment when he cannot keep things in order. Let him fume. It won’t stop us from moving forward.”

Erota wanted