Chapter 8: Tough Advice to Take
"Is that thing really it?" Cassius asked in a hushed voice as he knelt on a hassock. Buck rolled his eyes.
"Yes, that's really the Omphalos. I know it looks weird, but that's it."
Cassius frowned at the pie-looking stone sculpture for a few moments before speaking again. "You want to go, or should I?"
Buck hesitated before answering. "I... You should go." He decided.
"Are you sure? I don't really know what I'm doing and I'm still kind of out of it..." As if to prove his point, Cassius lapsed into a fit of coughing, each cough making him gasp for air and his breath rattling alarmingly.
Buck couldn't meet his eyes. "You'll be fine, it's an out-of-body thing. Just go."
Cassius looked at his cousin for a beat, trying to get a read on his expression. "Okay," He nodded. "If you think so, I'll go. Keep an eye on my body, okay?"
"Sure." Buck muttered, an*d as he heard Cassius mumble
"APOGEOTROPICAL," under his breath, he glanced over at Cassius' slightly slumped and now unoccupied body that knelt as though in prayer. Maybe he was; after all, Golden Boy was essentially God's grandson, why shouldn't he pray?
He wasn't like Buck. Cassius hadn't seen evil lurking within himself. Buck still remembered those distant days, three years ago when he'd been thirteen- when he'd started noticing his soul becoming tarnished, noticing that there was nothing he could do about it because he was the son of the most notorious Ifrit out there. And when he'd been crushed- literally crushed- by his evil side and sent to purgatory, he'd given up all hope. Death had been simple then. Easy to accept. It wasn't like he hadn't been seriously considering suicide before, since he'd lost his powers. What was the point of being a djinn if you couldn't even turn into smoke? He hadn't wanted to live without power, but somehow he'd gotten dragged back into the land of the living. Somehow he'd regained what he'd lost, but at what cost?
True he had wished his evil self out of existence, but why then did he feel so uneasy all the time? Why then did he not trust himself to leave his body?
Maybe he was afraid. That could be it: he'd spent time as a ghost and had no desire to go back to that state. But being in his own body now felt somehow... somehow as if he was wearing a glove that no longer fit. When he came back as a ghost, he still felt like he was thirteen years old, despite three years having gone by without him. And this body- his body, Buck had to remind himself,- was sixteen now, but he didn't feel like he was sixteen. He felt like he'd been forced to grow up in a hurry, that he'd been cheated out of three years that he could have spent like any teenager- having fun, hanging out with friends, going to high school.
Buck leaned back and looked up at the high ceilings illuminated sparsely by candles that made the many shadows dance eerily. He'd always felt like he didn't belong. He'd always felt like he was doing something wrong, just by existing.
And the root of that matter was... well, if he was honest with himself, the problem was his mother.
She was his mother and he knew she loved him, just as he knew he loved her, but things had always been... off between them. The first argument with her that he could remember had happened around the time when he was six, and it was about his name. He'd just discovered the meaning of it and wanted so badly to change it because he wasn't like a dybbuk, not at all why are you always so mean to me. Everything came back to that hateful name: Dybbuk. Who would name their child after a wicked demon? Well, who besides the Ifrit?
His name was how he knew that Jenny Sachertorte had always resented him, no matter how much she might say that she loved him. Iblis Teer Senior had been telling the truth, as far as that went.
Even when he started going by Buck in an effort to change his image, even just a little, his mother had never called him that. It was always "Dybbuk is troublesome when he has too much salt," and "Dybbuk is a troubled boy," and never once had she asked him "Buck, what's going on?"
If Jenny Sachertorte had even once asked him that, she would have gotten an honest answer, Buck knew it.
He would have told her about the terrible guilt he had felt when Mr. Sachertorte had divorced Jenny: even then, Buck had known that that rift had been caused by him. He would have told her about how, even then, the murders of his friend Brad and his father Mr. Blennerhassit haunted him. He would have told his mother that he was scared to death of falling into the path that his father had tread, the path of unquestionable evil. He would have told her that he was most scared of the idea that she, his own mother, didn't love him.
But Jenny Sachertorte had never asked him any such questions, and Buck was certainly not willing to initiate such conversation without some sort of catalyst, so he remained silent: which was as much his fault as it was Jenny's.
Buck pulled back on Cassius' ponytail as his head began to droop forward and sighed. What was it that was keeping him from doing as he wished? He had power, certainly. The Pachacuti ritual was to thank for that, he supposed. It may have been terribly dangerous and radioactive, but it had somehow restored his lost power, even if that power wasn't quite the same as it had been. And when he'd been in the reaches of his own mind, in that strange rainforest-like place that both was and wasn't Paititi, he'd wished his evil self out of existence, right?
So why did he feel so scared of it still?
As Cassius swirled his atoms carefully into the small hole at the top of the stone omphalos, he wondered how helpful this Voice of Wisdom was going to be. After all, it had been Iblis Teer Sr. who had pointed them this way. How much could he be trusted?
Sure, the snake has a forked tongue for a reason. A quiet voice pointed out, as though attuned to his thoughts.
Cassius looked around. "Who's there?" He asked into the darkness, already feeling his claustrophobia and nyctophobia acting up, even though he was nothing but a spirit.
Fortune favors the bold, you know.
A hole is more honorable than a patch.
A friend's eye is a good mirror.
Your feet will bring you to where your heart lies.
A coconut shell full of water is a sea to an ant.
A roaring lion catches no game.
Cassius blinked. There was a voice in the darkness, whispering endlessly into his ear, proverb after proverb. Some he'd heard, but many he'd never encountered, despite the inordinate amount of books he read.
As if hearing him, the voice changed its theme.
A book is like a garden in the pocket.
Knowledge is like a garden: if not cultivated, it cannot be harvested.
The pen is mightier than the sword.
Knowledge without wisdom is like water in the sand.
"Excuse me, are you the Voice of Wisdom? I'd like to ask you a few things."
The voice sighed and stopped reciting proverbs.
Yes, that's me. I can't say I'm surprised, people always want to ask me things. What is it you need, child of the lamp?
"I... um... My friend Holly came here a couple months ago and got a cryptic message about something concerning me and my cousin, and we're pretty stumped on what it means. Could you help us?"
You know Holly? The voice perked up. Holly Godwin, the Prophet of this age? The voice asked eagerly. How is she doing? She fixed that demon-fire problem she had, yes?
"Uh, yeah." Cassius said awkwardly. "I haven't seen her since then, though."
Oh, right, of course. You and your cousin Buck have been on your road trip trying to figure out who it is that you both are. The voice of Wisdom agreed. And on that note, I entreat you to remember that "human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.*" Is that all you wanted?
"No, it's the whole thing about... what was it again? Finding the stardust on the path to the stars or something like that."
Oh, yes, I remember. What, you want more clues? I thought I was very clever and quite clear if you thought about it- though, come to think of it, I suppose that djinn Nimrod wouldn't remember that one time, since it didn't actually happen when all was said and done. Don't get me started on time paradoxes, they're a headache for everyone involved. And technically speaking, I don't even have a head.
"A time paradox? What time paradox?" Cassius asked, his interest piqued.
No, no, never mind. It's irrelevant anyway. Now, as for the place you should head for... well, let's see, you remember the bit about it being between a rock and a hard place, yes?
"I guess it sounds familiar," Cassius admitted. "I've sort of had this cold for awhile and It's getting so I can't remember what I've heard before."
You should drink some tea for that, The voice of Wisdom suggested, in a surprisingly motherly fashion. Cassius could hear Mrs. Malone- his adoptive and very unfortunately dead mother- in those words. In any case, to begin your journey proper, seek out the modest domes of Kolkata, where a green man will tell you what you must know, as long as you bring him jelly beans.
"Wait, that's it?" Cassius asked, rather nonplussed. "That's a lot more... straightforward... than I was led to believe."
I've learned that the best way of conveying wisdom and information these days is to be less cryptic unless it's clear that the recipient can handle it. Besides, having met your brother not too long ago, I would have thought that you'd be in quite a similar state as him. He was quite out of sorts as well.
Cassius' blood went cold. "You mean... Azazel came here, too?" He asked, his voice trembling despite himself.
Well, yes. Everyone needs wisdom, don't they? I don't play favourites. Not like that moron up in Rome. The Mouth of Truth wouldn't know wisdom if it bit him in the beard.
"What was he doing?" Cassius asked, feeling a pit of dread forming in his stomach.
Oh, he came to me moping and doping, like a lot of djinn do. The Voice of Wisdom said conversationally. He wanted to know about Good and Evil, as I recall, and what the point is of conflict. I gave him some sound advice on the matter and sent him on his way. Oh, and I also mentioned that that little plan of his wasn't as huge of a failure as he'd thought. It cheered him up considerably.
If it was possible, Cassius's blood went even colder. "What plan?" He asked tremulously.
Didn't you know? Beelzebub woke up. He's around somewhere. Aren't you happy, too? He is your father, after all.
"Why would I be happy?!" Cassius demanded, his voice cracking with a mixture of fear and outrage. "He's a demon- he wants to destroy the world! What kind of a Voice of Wisdom are you?!"
All right all right, no need to snap. The Voice of Wisdom sniffed haughtily. Wisdom doesn't change based on moral persuasion, you know. Despite what you might think, I don't pick favourites. Solomon may have answered to God, but I'm not God. I'm as impartial as you get, kid. Anyone can learn.
"Anyone isn't Azazel!" Cassius said desperately. "How do we stop Beelzebub?"
First of all, you can't. The Voice of Wisdom snapped. You're nothing but a djinn, and a pretty poor one at that. You're practically useless as long as you have that cold, and even if you get better, you'll be useless until you know who you are and rid yourself of that fear and doubt strangling your soul. Leave the demon-smiting to the professionals: our mutual friend Holly and her angel friends will be more than enough to take care of demon problems.
Cassius stared into the darkness with faint disbelief. "But this is my screwed up family!" He protested. "I'm the only one who works for good- I have to do something!"
You're still only a djinn, child of the lamp. Wisdom reminded him. Djinn and angels do not generally mix. And another thing: what makes you think you're so special? Alignment with Good or Evil is never a simple matter of who you are born to, it is a culmination of the choices you make. So go and make some choices and find out where you truly stand. The answers may take you by surprise.
Cassius gritted his teeth, deciding that he most emphatically did not like this Voice of Wisdom. "I've made this choice before, you know. I decided to stick with Good through thick and thin, no matter the cost. I'm not going back on that choice."
There was a slight pause, as though Wisdom had a slight smile. Yes, what will be the cost of your decision? The price of fate can be much steeper than you realize, child.
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Cassius demanded.
"May those who accept their fate be granted happiness. May those who defy their fate be granted glory.*" Which will you choose?
Cassius had more to say, more to find out, more to argue, but he found his spirit being pushed out of the dark inner sanctum of the omphalos.
Remember, the modest domes and the green man of Kolkata. And don't forget the jelly beans! Came Wisdom's parting words as Cassius was flung from the Omphalos and slammed violently back into his body.
"What the hell!" Buck yelped as Cassius fell off the hassock, off balance and certainly out of sorts.
Cassius scowled darkly, his face red both from his cold and from the anger that roiled hotly around his insides. "We're going to Kolkata." He announced moodily. "But we gotta stop somewhere for jelly beans on the way."
Buck frowned. "...Okay, I guess. What happened in there?" He asked. Cassius shook his head and stood up.
After a brief pause, he looked Buck in the eyes and told him, "My dad woke up."
"Shit," Buck whispered.
Cassius nodded. "Agreed."
Their footsteps reverberated through the church as they hurried away under the watchful gaze of gilded statues.
Author's Notes: Okay, I looked up waaay too many proverbs for this chapter. Like waaaaaaaaaaaaay too many. Also, the quotes I have starred are from (in order) 1. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and 2. this anime called "Princess Tutu" (it's way more epic than the title would lead you to believe).
Pip pip and all that
~Lucinda :)
