OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3 Read online

  Exiting the cave and muttering under her breath of how much she’d like to deliver Alena to Nicco instead of Onya, she set out to find the woman who was causing her so much upset. Passing the guards she walked down the small path and, as everyone seemed to do, out of habit she looked toward the sea.

  On the beach was the bitch and,

  “Apollo. What are you doing here old friend? What are you up to?” Kat quietly asked herself as she took in the sight of the two of them sitting in the shade of a large fig tree near the sand. It was bad enough she had Ares’ full attention, did she really need the attention of Apollo as well? Standing there looking down furiously, she wondered if she should go down there and check out the cozy situation, but she decided against it. “Whatever it is, keep her busy, I’ve got my own business to attend today.”

  Kat had a good head of steam and boatload of anger with no target. Storming back to the entrance of the cave, she grabbed Nicco by his arm. “The cave below, twenty minutes. Bring a friend.” With that, she let him go and went to retrieve Onya so she could work off some of her anger.

  4

  The man standing just outside the gate was large enough to block out the sun and had the distinct air of danger about him but if he knew of Maggie then she would risk it. Sister Augustine stood back and allowed him to enter the gates before locking them behind him. “Ares is it?” she said as the corner of her wrinkled lips turned upward. “God works in mysterious ways.” She led him through what passed as a small courtyard filled with many one-armed children amusing themselves with tattered balls, sticks and rocks and into the nearby building and the shade. Each of them stopped doing whatever they were doing to look up at the giant stranger passing by them. Ares stared back knowing that at such tender ages they had already seen far too much. “Go and get Father Murphy, will you?” Sister Augustine said to a boy who was lucky still to have both his arms. The boy went off to do as he was told.

  Looking around, the interior was just as rudimentary as the exterior but it sufficed. It kept the sun and rain off their heads, the wind off their backs. In an empty classroom, she sat behind a rough desk and he stood. “Where is Maggie? What did you do with her?”

  “I come with good news; Maggie as you call her is fine. I am taking care of her, Sister. She is on a beautiful island where she wants for nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you. If she’s fine then where is she? Why didn’t you bring her with you?”

  “To this place?” he asked in disgust. “Why would I bring her back to this godforsaken place?”

  “It’s her home.”

  “It’s a pit,” Ares declared and then lightened his tone. “She washed up on my shore and I want to know how she got there. She told me that she, along with you and Father Murphy, were on a ship bound for Rome at the request of the Pope…”

  “Rome? Pope?” Sister Augustine interrupted. “We’re not even Catholic.” That was true but more than that there wasn’t even any Order associated with this Mission.

  “Then pardon me, Sister, but what are you?” Ares inquired sternly. “Is this place a Mission or not?”

  “Yes, it is, but, well,” she stammered not wanting to tip her hand and let the stranger in on such a well-kept secret. “Ah, here’s Father Murphy,” the woman said in a brighter tone as the worry eased away from her wrinkles and she smiled. In that moment, Ares could see the young woman she used to be.

  A middle-aged man with a balding head and thick glasses came into the room. She introduced him to their new visitor and watched as the two men shook hands and exchanged greetings. From the way the bald man was looking at the woman, Ares would venture a guess that they were married or at least knocking boots. “What can we do for you, Mr. Ares? We don’t often receive visitors here, so you’ll have to forgive Sister Augustine if she’s been short with you. Outsiders are always treated with suspicion.”

  “Good policy,” Ares said lightly. He sat there looking at both of them and their bewildered faces knowing that the whole ‘shipwrecked by menacing pirates’ thing truly was a lie. Confirmation was always a good thing even if it was disquieting. “I am not here to cause you trouble, Father, I am only here to find out more about Maggie. She seems to have a memory problem. She doesn’t know where she came from or how she came to be on my island last week,” Ares assured as the man hesitantly shook his hand.

  “Last week!” Sister Augustine cried in a shrill voice. “She went missing over a month ago! What have you done with her? Where is Maggie?” Her voice grew so loud that the children in the courtyard stopped playing and fell silent. Ares didn’t have to turn around to know they were hovering on both sides of the door.

  “Now, now, Sister,” Father Murphy reached out and patted her liver-spotted hand and then held it between his own. “Calm yourself. There’s no evidence that our visitor here, strange though he may be, is up to nefarious deeds. You’ll have to forgive our rudeness, Mr. Ares, but why should we tell you anything? For all we know you’re working for him, and you killed her or you’re holding her against her will.” Yet, the idea that Maggie was alive and well was welcome news. Long had they feared that Jaakim had finally made good on his threats upon Maggie’s life.

  “If I killed her, why would I be here? She is well,” Ares assured once more but he wasn’t in the mood to pussyfoot around the bush. He came for answers and he wasn’t leaving without them. “Working for whom? Why would anyone want her dead?” That wasn’t a new concept to Ares, who still believed that whoever dropped Alena into the sea had meant for her to drown. Taking in the scene across from him, Ares once again thought they were married. “The Good Sister here was about to tell me what this place really is when you came in, Father. Is it Father, or should I be calling you something else?”

  “Dae’Jave, close the door, if you please,” Father Murphy called out and waited until he heard it close before he spoke. The Good Father and the Good Sister exchanged a worried glance as Father Murphy sat on the roughshod desk. “Michael will do just fine. As you can see, this is a school and an orphanage,” he said as he gestured at his surroundings with a wave of his hand.

  “Are you associated with a church, temple, synagogue or other religious organization in anyway, Michael?”

  “Technically….no.” Michael went on to explain about this place. The adults here, fourteen in all, were merely a handful of well-meaning people brought together here because they didn’t fit in out there anywhere. In that, they had much in common with those who had come to reside on Ares’ island, except those misfits here were bound by the desire to help the war torn and ravaged masses. The best to accomplish that was under the guise of the church as so many of the refugees were deeply superstitious. It didn’t offer them complete immunity from threats, but even the worst of the warlords here had to be driven to extremes before chancing killing a messenger of any God. “Does that satisfy you?”

  Yes, it did and Ares could see the logic in it. Not only that, he agreed with it. In a place like this, one could never have too many safety nets no matter how bizarre they may be. “No, you haven’t told me who would want her dead or why.”

  “She’s somewhat of a rebel, Mr. Ares. Strange name, isn’t it?” While danger lingered all around him, he believed the man hadn’t come here to cause chaos or harm. When he said Maggie was alive he was telling the truth, perhaps she wasn’t living it up on an island paradise, but she wasn’t dead. Although the man in front of him appeared capable of doing great harm, there was no logical reason he would be here if that were the case.

  “Mine is a very old Greek family,” Ares offered sincerely.

  “No doubt,” Sister Augustine muttered under her breath.

  “Please, Michael, continue and tell me who would want to do your Maggie harm.”

  “Jaakim.” He was the local gang leader, the one all of the other thugs and brutes bowed down to and pledged their allegiance. He was ruthless to the core, without feeling or remorse. Maggie had been nothing but trouble for him since the day
she arrived. Jaakim, who ruled from a wheelchair with an iron fist, was infamous for making the children suffer and do his bidding in the camp and the nearby diamond mines. From her very first day here, Maggie got in his face and she got in his way every chance she got. She stood between him and the children by offering them this safe haven. She stood between him and the sparse food drops the UN gave out. Jaakim’s men would run to the drops in their trucks and gather up all of the supplies, killing anyone who tried to get in their way. Later they would sell or trade the supplies to those in the camp at very high prices. “She was with us for seven years, did you know that? One day she just appeared here, a gift from God.” Father Murphy went to tell the stranger about Sister Maggie, how she had always been different from the rest who came here. They were all looking for a haven, a way to make a mark in this world, but Maggie was what one could have truly called a Hippie in another place and time. She believed she could make everything better, no matter what it was, if she just tried hard enough. Try she did. With her herbs and her potions, her flowers and her plants, her incense and her candles, she tended the wounded and the sick. With her hands and her heart, she built this place. Augustine and Michael had been here in Ceres Agar for nearly twenty years and it had always been their dream to build shelter for the children. Maggie made it happen.

  It wasn’t as though one could just open up a Casino Night in the church basement for a fundraiser or two. The materials cost money. Little by little, they arrived here; tools and plans, wood and plaster, metal framed beds and mattresses, second-hand desks and third-hand chalkboards. Augustine and Michael never knew exactly where any of it came from, they decided that they would only be very grateful that it was here at all and that their dream was taking shape after so many years.

  Here in this pseudo-mission, religion was a shield but Maggie used it as a tool. She lived whatever it was that she believed and honored it with every chance she received. In this desolate place, Maggie had been a true blessing from God to all who lived here, except Jaakim.

  At Jaakim’s hands, Sister Maggie had paid a high price for her defiance and then, one day, she disappeared.

  “What did he do to her?” Ares asked, believing he already knew the answer in those rather recent hideous welted scars on Alena’s thighs.

  “I can’t say because she never spoke of it,” Michael said in a thoughtful tone, “though I could guess, I suppose I don’t want to. Who would? All I know for sure is that when she finally returned she was beaten beyond recognition; she wouldn’t let anyone take care of her. She took to her bed for over a week, she wouldn’t see anyone and she wouldn’t talk to anyone.”

  “What did she do to finally piss off this Jaakim so much?”

  Sister Augustine pointed to the door, more in particular the hazy window within it. “You see that girl? The one with the braids and the purple dress?” Ares turned toward the door to look and saw several children with their faces pressed against the dirty glass; he saw the one in question without problem. She was young, cute, and malnourished—she could use a steak or two. With a nod, he turned back to Augustine. “Her name is Sha’Quanda and she’s eleven years old. They said she was caught stealing diamonds from the mine, but Maggie didn’t believe it. She hid the girl for a while, a few days. Then when they found her, she killed the man Jaakim sent to retrieve her, cut off Sha’Quanda’s arm, and relieve her of her virtue. The man was Jaakim’s brother, and he didn’t take very kindly to Maggie’s action.”

  Although Sister Augustine thought Maggie’s acts the highest of bravery and foolishness she’d ever seen, she couldn’t help but admire the woman and shudder at what she endured. “They kept her for two days,” the older woman whispered with a heavy touch of guilt. Everyone knew where Maggie was those two days and what was happening to her, but no one dared to stand up to Jaakim. No one tried to rescue her; they only stood by and listened to her scream. When she finally stumbled through the door after two days in the evil grasp of Jaakim and his men, she was soaked with her own blood, sweat, urine, and tears. Her nose was broken, her arm was broken—it hung wrong at her side. Once her bloodstained clothes had been a blouse and long skirt but then they were mere shreds. That was the first and only time anyone had seen the gold around Maggie’s waist. Augustine saw the engraving and the strange writing; she tried to ask Maggie about it but it didn’t seem an appropriate time. Likewise, Maggie didn’t seem interested in answering any questions regarding it or for any company at all. She just lay in her bed, hardly moving, for the next week.

  Ares could do a lot to a woman—chastity belt or not—in the space of two days. At that moment, Ares decided that before he left this place he would kill the man and all who followed him. “Diamonds? Is that what this war is about?”

  Michael and Augustine looked from one to the other with questioning eyes. Certainly no matter where he’d come from, the stranger knew about the war and the atrocities here. “Mainly, yes,” Michael answered.

  “I thought that war was long over.” Other than that, Ares also thought the mortals prized diamonds. Shouldn’t that bring them here? Wouldn’t they want to ensure their supply of shiny baubles went uninterrupted? Then again, diamonds were nice but nothing was as good as oil these days. He doubted he’d find a single drop under these dry dusty sands.

  “So does the rest of the world,” Michael chimed. “Those who can’t afford them don’t know what’s happening here, and those that can don’t care about ruthless unscrupulous men who are willing to make a buck off the pain and suffering of children, the torment and killing of the old.”

  Stroking the beard on his chin, Ares let out a long sigh. “Aren’t there always such men?” he mused and then came back to the present before his memories could take him away to wars long fought, won or lost. “How did she go missing?”

  “Neither of us was there when it happened.” Augustine looked up the large man, hoping against hope he was telling the truth before she looked to Michael. He nodded and she called out in a loud voice, “Sha’Quanda!” At the sound of her voice the door opened, and the young girl who had been the subject of conversation appeared near the door. “Bring Dae’Jave and come here.” The story the two children were about to tell the stranger was incredible and both Michael and Augustine would rather the stranger hear it from the children as they swore it was the truth and exactly what they witnessed. No matter how improbable it was.

  Introducing the two to their new guest, “Maggie!” the girl asked as her eyes lit up and a smile came to her sullen face. “Is she all right, Mr. Ares? I miss her, so much.”

  The boy, who might have been a year or two older than his sister, put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. “We all miss Maggie,” he said softly.

  “I imagine she misses you as well,” he told them. Alena never went into much detail about this place but once or twice she had told him about a brother and sister that she wished she could adopt and give a good life. Most assuredly, she was talking about these two. “Will you tell me your story?”

  The young brother and sister looked to each other, seemed to have a silent conversation before shrugging their shoulders and nodding in time. “I tell it best,” Dae’Jave said and began the tale.

  Maggie and her two constant companions, Sha’Quanda and Dae’Jave, had been out gathering water from a pool three or four miles from here. The children loved Maggie greatly and were happy to accompany her, especially Sha’Quanda, who realized she owed Maggie a great debt and, so did not want her to have to carry the heavy jugs full of life-giving—but not necessarily clean—water.

  Upon arriving at the pool, they had to wait for a herd of zebra to pass by and they sat in the shade playing a game with string. Cat’s In the Cradle, Maggie called it. When the herd passed and they went to the water’s edge to begin filling the large clay jugs, a huge bird flew overhead. Its wings flapped loudly in the sky as it circled above and its shadow blocked out the sun. Never in their lives had they seen such a bird and they stood there, awe
struck, staring up at it until it suddenly swooped down from the heavens and snatched Maggie away. Just before it picked her up, they both saw that it was not a bird at all. It was a man with bronze skin and golden wings. He flew her high into the sky and far away from all of them, never to return.

  The children fell silent and then looked at each other before their eyes dropped to their feet, the toes of which were wiggling inside dirty white sneakers. “Such tales children tell, Mr. Ares.” Michael broke the silence. “Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Such a tale indeed,” Ares mused. The outside world would never believe such a fantastical tale, they would think the children outright liars, or they were covering for something or someone. It was lucky for them that Ares was very well acquainted with a man with bronze skin and golden wings.

  Eros.

  “No one believes us,” Sha’Quanda muttered with quiet sadness.

  “Ah, but I do believe you,” Ares countered and smiled at the girl who could be pretty if she only had enough to eat and clean water to drink. He turned back to the adults in the room. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with these two further. Also, I would like to see Maggie’s room.”

  “Room?” Augustine asked with a little laugh as though such luxuries as one’s own room were an everyday occurrence here. “Maggie slept in the girls’ dorm.”

  Thinking briefly of the communal room his women shared back on his island, Ares let out a rush of air that was almost a laugh as the irony of it settled in. “Of course she did. Would you allow them to take me there?”

  “All right,” Michael agreed. “She had a small footlocker and a nightstand; they may have personal items in them that she would like to have. Please take them to her.” He still wasn’t sure the strange man was telling the whole truth but he did believe Maggie was alive and the stranger was doing her no harm. “They may have more information they’re willing to share with you.” The Good Father stood up and extended his hand. He watched as the man calling himself Mr. Ares stood up and towered over him. Ares reached into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and produced a small sack made of black velvet.