PREPARATIONS

Present Day

"Yes, Mother, I'll go," Leven spat indignantly. "Yes, Mother, I understand." She held the phone away from her ear. She was no more listening to her mother than her mother was listening to her. Her mother never spoke to her, only issued demands and complaints. Her mind began to drift and she was afraid she would nod off. She laughed a little at the thought. Wouldn't her mother just love that? She hadn't been sleeping very well. In fact, she was almost afraid to go to sleep. She no longer wanted to dream of her strange lover. Mother yakked on and on about her grandfather. He was ancient, hovering close to one hundred years of age and had been sent to live in a nursing home close to Tunica. Since Mother lived so far away, she couldn't check on him. Whipping out her guilt card, she told Leven that she had promised her father as he lay dying of colon cancer that she would look after Grandpa Q. Leven knew very little about her great-grandfather, only that he had some weird illness that had left his mind as sharp as a tack, but the rest of his body was useless to him. There was no medical reason for what was going on inside him, and no psychiatrist could find anything mentally wrong. His body was no more than a wasted carcass with a sharp, young mind. Leven had only seen Grandpa Q twice in her entire life. Both times had been when she was a very small child. Even then, he was ancient [to her anyway]. He was probably around eighty or so, but she never took a shine to him. He gave her the creeps. There was something in his black eyes that sent shivers down her spine. Most kids her age dreamed of the boogeyman, not little Leven. She dreamt Grandpa Q was waiting in her closet to jump out and nail her when she least expected it. He had told his granddaughter time and time again that Leven was too independent, much like her great-grandmother. Leven had heard him say more than once that she needed to be 'tamed.' Now, she had promised her bellyaching mother that she would check on Grandpa once in a while before work. It was only a few miles out of her way, but if it kept her mother from nagging, she'd do it.

A sharp, acid voice barked: "Are you listening to me, young lady?"

Leven snapped up suddenly, as if her veins had been injected with a massive amount of speed. Damn it. She had been dozing. "Yes, Mother, I'm listening." No, Mother, actually I'm not. I could care less about Grandpa Q. She loved her parents, but she was afraid her mother was following her grandfather's footsteps, the same footsteps that her father had followed. They had become as evil spirited as Grandpa Q. Leven had never met her own grandfather. He died a few years before she was born. However, she heard her mother speak of him often. As a child, Leven had snuck into her mother's parlor where she took her lady visitors. The conversation had begun lightly [and boringly] enough. Eventually, Jay Medlem brought the conversation back to herself and her life. For some reason, she began speaking about her father, and the fact that he was a great man. Of course, her reminiscing brought on tears. Jay's friends began trying to comfort her as she sobbed quietly. She then told them a very bizarre and horrifying story. According to Jay, Grandfather had ranted and raved at the end, telling his daughter that his whole bloodline was cursed. His body was wasted by cancer, but he kept insisting that it would lose all functioning. He had gained some type of weird strength reserve before he took his last breath, taking Jay by her shoulders, and Leven listened as her mother repeated her father's words, words that haunted Leven her entire life: Betrayal begets betrayal…we will pay for what my father did…we will pay. He said we were cursed, Jay had cried. My poor, poor father. He was so very sick and delusional. Had he been? Had he really been? A million times or more, Leven longed to go back in time to meet with her grandfather so that he could explain his terrifying words. When Leven approached her mother about it years later, she denied she ever said anything about a curse or mentioned betrayal. Why are you lying to me, Mother, she had asked. Why must you lie? I heard you and your friends, Mother. You specifically mentioned a curse. What was Grandfather talking about? Of course, her demanding questions were met with the backside of her mother's hand. After that, Jay Medlem had begun to change. Although she had never met her grandfather and had only seen Grandpa Q a couple of times, she was certain her mother was slowly becoming just like them. Would the same fate befall her? Impossible. I'm nothing like them. I refuse to be like them.

After listening to her mother nag, moan, and spit for another half hour, Leven promised that she would see Grandpa Q today before her shift at the casino. The thought of lying came to her. How would she know? Her mother was over a thousand miles away. However, Jay Medlem wasn't stupid. She knew her daughter and had learned to gauge her moods. Not only that, but her mother would also call and make sure someone had visited poor old ailing Q. If Leven didn't fulfill her duties, she would see and hear the sharp side of Jay's tongue for many months to come. Sighing heavily, she grabbed her bag and made her way out the door. She went out to her piece of shit car, holding her breath as she inserted the key into the ignition. Any day now, she expected the crappy vehicle to fall apart on her. If it did, she had no idea what she would do. She released the breath she held as the engine turned over. Thank you God. She drove in silence, barely paying attention to the wicked traffic and longed to have a radio. It seemed as if nothing in her car worked. She had no interior lights, no radio, nothing. Her car begged to be put out of its misery. Yet, she kept pushing it, as if she were punishing it for costing her a fortune to maintain. She had had to leave home an extra hour early just to check in on her great-grandfather. She wasn't looking forward to it at all. He would only stare at her, cursing her probably, telling her that she needed to submit to a man and live a proper life. She didn't know if she could tolerate hearing that. Not today. Hearing it when she was a little girl was bad enough, but to hear it now? Jesus.

Traffic being the bitch that it was, it took her about thirty minutes to reach her destination. She parked her car in a slot about a billion miles away from the front door. Steeling herself, she got out of the car and slowly approached the building. It looked like any other nursing home, homey on the outside and institutional on the inside. She hated these places and would never put her father here. The automatic door slid open before she could touch the knob. The reception area of the home was nice and comfortable. It was decorated with overstuffed furniture and live plants. She could imagine that the rest of the home didn't look so nice. She moved forward toward a smiling receptionist and signed in; waiting impatiently for someone to tell Grandpa she was here. Finally, after five minutes, she was given the all clear and shown where his room was. Just as she had thought, the rest of the home was more like a hospital. Most of the residents were the oldest and sickest of the elderly. Leven slipped inside Grandpa's room and immediately noticed that dozens of machines were hooked into him, taking care of some bodily function he could no longer control. He was very thin and wasted; there was no way he could eat solid food. He subsisted on IV feeds and liquefied meals given to him through a straw. He apparently couldn't digest anything else. How horrible a fate he had. She couldn't imagine living life as he. She laid her bag into a chair sitting nearby and carefully approached the bedside. It had been nearly twenty years since he saw her last, and she wasn't sure he'd remember her. However, as she drew closer, his eyes followed her progression toward him. He was looking at her with great interest. Oh yes. He recognized her all right. She thought she saw the old man smiling, or what he could manage for a smile. The smile wasn't pleasant; it was vicious and biting. She didn't want to be here anymore. She could clearly see his hatred flooding out through his cruel, bitter eyes. She never understood what she had done to deserve such ire. He whispered something to her, but she couldn't quite make it out. Instead of asking him to repeat it, she leaned closer to him. Wusikh walad. Wusikh walad. [Dirty child. Dirty child]. She backed away with a look of horror on her face. Where had she heard that language before? She knew what he said. He had called her a 'dirty child.'

"Laish kullma 'azzar," she asked before she knew what she was saying. ["Why the insult?"] Even after the words left her mouth, she no idea she wasn't speaking English. She had gone into some kind of weird trance.

She watched as his eyes widened in horror. How would she know the words? Who taught her? Surely, it wasn't his granddaughter. Even she didn't know. Standing before him was a tainted woman, impure, and he couldn't stand the sight of her. She made him think of a woman he dared not think of again. He wondered why she had come to him? He hadn't seen this dirty, dirty little girl in years. He didn't miss her at all. He wondered if she had come to take his life. Would she exact the revenge her bloodline sought? He thought of his granddaughter and son. Neither of them was attached to his lineage [or so he thought], and he didn't understand why he suffered as he did. Shouldn't it be another? Shouldn't it be her? She descended from a long line of fallen women. Her punishment should have been harsher than his. He was very tempted to give her the legacy she deserved, but he remained quiet. His son was weak and succumbed to insanity, blurting out the words he should have carried to his death. He would say nothing. He would allow his great-granddaughter to stumble upon her fate as much as he did. He saw the strength in her; saw that she would live a long, long life. Perhaps she would live longer than he. She didn't know that her children and grandchildren would come to see her in the same type of bed in which he now lay. He would let the dirty child discover her fate on her own and spare her no mercy.

Leven was held transfixed by her grandfather's eyes for a moment. It seemed as if he were transmitting his hatred for her without saying a word. She backed away even more, bumping into a tall chest of drawers, sending little glass figurines atop it crashing to the floor. He was sending a message that she wasn't ready to receive. She didn't understand. It made less sense than her dreams. Normally fiery, Leven would have laid into him, telling him what she thought of his stodgy attitude and caveman ways, but today she was too shocked. The only thought running through her was escape. She couldn't stay with this evil man any longer. Leaving the shattered figurines behind, she ran out the door, zooming past personnel, until she was outside close to the safety of her car. Once inside the vehicle, she leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. An alien thought entered her mind. It came to her in the same strange language she had heard her grandfather speak. Oh maHabbi. Wainak? [Oh love. Where are you?].

After the hurt left her, she sat behind the wheel of her car and wondered where she had gone the fifteen minutes she could not remember. She didn't dream, but words came to her. Alien words. She glanced over her shoulder back at the hospital. When she spoke to her mother again, she would tell her what Grandpa Q had done. She had no intention of returning to this place, returning to the verbal abuse he meted out so cruelly. She keyed the ignition, brought the engine to life with a roar, and pulled away from the hospital, her tires screaming in her wake. By the time she made it to the casino, she felt halfway normal. It was the first work night she had spent actually focused on her job since the dreams began. She made a killing in tips that night.

* * *

Sharr's god was very unhappy with him. When he prayed to Set, he presented the dagger to his lord. His task completed, he expected his reward, to finally be allowed to die. Yet, Set wasn't satisfied. Sharr was sent on another mission. He was to take the dagger to the great pyramid to ensure he had found the right key. Why did his god test him so? Why could he not come back in human form and do the dirty work Himself? He was ancient and tired. He wanted to rest in peace. Having eternal life was more of a curse than a gift. The next day at sunrise, he made his way to the great pyramid. He had to be very careful because he knew the place was closely guarded. Set instructed him to seek an opening at the base of the pyramid and step inside. Once the key was introduced to the open space, the portal door would glow, making his task obvious and easy. Glancing around at his surroundings, he checked for the guards he had seen here roaming around. There were none. He found the opening and slid carefully inside. Expecting a great flood of energy he braced himself against a giant metal pillar. He held the dagger by its blade with the tiger's eye pointed away from him, carefully making a wide arc back and forth. The portal door did not greet him, only darkness did. Angered, he swept the dagger out again, and again, nothing happened. With all his infinite wisdom and thousand of years of life, he had chosen the wrong key. It was impossible. His lord had made it plain that the golden-eyed girl would have the key. The dagger was the only ornamental knife in the collection. Perhaps she had it on her person or in her home? He growled angrily. He would have to face the woman again. Set would not be pleased with this slight complication. One way or another, he would find the key and end his curse.

* * *

Leven entered her apartment at midnight. When she worked at the pawnshop, she didn't usually get in any earlier than three. However, since she had the day off from the shop, she was allowed to go in to work at the casino early and come in early. She loved those rare days. Of course, the other thing she loved about getting home at this time was that it would allow her to call her mother and thoroughly chew her out. She threw her keys down and dove for her phone. Oddly, she noticed that her message light was blinking. She hadn't expected to have any messages awaiting her. Most of the people who knew her were working themselves and had no time to waste on phone calls. She hit the 'play' button and waited patiently. A silky voice, one she recognized, came over the tinny speaker: "This is Caldo. I'm back in town staying at the Peabody again. I'd like to see you. Please call." She hit the stop button before rewinding the tape. Why would he call her? How had he found her? Of course, when she last saw him, she had been too drunk to remember what they talked about. Perhaps she had given him her phone number sometime during the night's festivities. She had no desire to see the man. She realized that he frightened her almost as much as her grandfather did. A sudden chill began creeping through her and she shivered violently. The unexpected call nearly drove thoughts of calling her mother out of her mind. However, she shook it off and focused her attention back on the phone. Angrily, she swiped it up and dialed her mother's number. Jay answered on the seventh ring.

"Mother," Leven spat.

"Leven? What in the hell are you doing calling so late?" Jay's voice was irritated without the slightest bit of concern.

"Mother, please. It's not as late there as it is here. I saw your grandfather today. Let's say he definitely still has some unspoken grudge against me. I was there barely five minutes before he started calling me names. He said I was…was dirty." There were unwanted tears threatening to leak from her eyes. Earlier, Grandpa Q's words had angered her, but now she was hurt. She was hurt and she wanted her mother. "Why does he hate me, Mother? What did I do to him? I don't know him!" She heard her mother sigh. It was not a sympathetic sound. She had no idea what was wrong with her mother. She had once been so loving and giving. Now, she was selfish and gruff.

"Leven, he's an old man. He probably doesn't know what he's doing or saying. He's ill, you know?" [As if you would let me forget, Leven thought]. "Besides, darling, the way you live your life is different than how he lived his. In his eyes, dirty just means you're not…well…a virgin. Plus, Granddad lived in a time and place where women weren't…like you. They married, became wives and mothers."

She held the phone away from her ear and stared down at it incredulously. Jay had intended the words to be comforting, but they didn't come out that way at all. She sounded as if she was basically agreeing with her grandfather's cruel assessment of her lifestyle. Her mother had never been such a prude before. She could almost see Jay's face pinking. "You mean they gave up their individuality to submit to a man. Isn't that what you really meant, Mother? I can't believe you're defending him. It doesn't matter, Mother. I won't see him again, not after this. If you want to honor your father's wishes, then you'll have to fly down to Mississippi and see him yourself."

"Leven, you completely misconstrued what I was trying to say," she began, sighing again. "I'm not defending him at all. He's a hundred years old, Leven, and he won't live very much longer. My father made me promise and I intend to keep the promise. You're part of the family, Leven, and the one with access to Granddad. It's not feasible for me to fly down there every week. Is this so much to ask?"

"Yes, Mother, it is," she said coldly. "You're making excuses for him, defending him, and I can't believe what you're doing. I'm crushed. I'm really crushed. If taking insults is part of being in this family, I don't want to be in it anymore." Was she crying now? Was she? She didn't care. She couldn't believe she was allowing her fucked up grandfather to hurt her so.

"Daughter, you're being selfish," Jay spat. "Selfish, selfish, selfish. Would you feel this way if it were I in that home? If it were Dad?"

"I'm selfish? Me? Whatever, Mother. So what. I'm selfish. Goodbye."

She stabbed the 'talk' button and hung up on her mother. She shut off the ringer in case she wanted to call back. Leven leaned back and covered her eyes with one hand. What was happening to her mother? What was happening to the family? The thought which had entered her mind earlier came back: Oh maHabbi. Wainak? [Oh love. Where are you?].

* * *

1931

Ardeth was in his quarters preparing for the ritual that would send him to the future. He was only a few hours away and he tried to clear his mind of all external stimuli. However, a thought so clear and loud hit him with the force of a hundred fists. It seemed to have been transmitted through time. Oh maHabbi. Wainak? [Oh love. Where are you?]. The voice was that of a woman and the words were more of a plea than a stray thought. Whoever uttered the words was desperate. At first, he thought he was hallucinating. However, he hadn't fasted long enough for it to affect his mental clarity at all. He recognized the voice, didn't he? Hadn't he heard it speaking softly to him for many weeks? Was it the woman who invaded his thoughts, shaking him, and driving him mad with unrequited need? No. He could not think of it, could not summon the images from his vision. He had no doubt she existed, but he had to remember Hazz's words. She had no effect whatsoever on this curse. She had no role to play. She wasn't a significant player. As he thought it, as he repeated the words aloud, he realized he was betraying his own heart. He believed none of it, not one single word.