pumping her veins with chemicals to fry her back into existence, but she was beyond their reach now. She saw a dark-robed figure crouch at the edge of the precipice, heard its breath suck in, saw it lick its lips and pounce. The pain of her body stopped. She kept falling. She knew she was dead, and she screamed as the torture of her soul began. She was falling.. . then she was trapped.. . then she was caught in thick skins from which she could not tear her way out. She was pelted on every side by a vicious swirling wind and what felt like hard boiling rain. The dark-robed form caught her, pinned her down and started to laugh. lmim + PASSING The Sabbath was well over by the time they were hungry enough again for a light dinner. Deb took a phone call upstairs and never came down, though, so they started “The phone in the prison,” be about her to them over a dinner of simple combread, beans, greens and rice. “She often fasts for the prisoners, especially the dying. She hopes to take on their suffering so that their pain will not carry over too much into the next life and their souls might pass on free of anger.” W h e n a woman is dying there, her family cannot come to comfort her,” she went on. “And they can’t sit with the body because the prison leaves her in chains for a day in case she’s faking death in an attempt to escape. But Deb, as chaplain, is permitted to sit with the bodies of the Jewish women and say the psalms and prayers for the dead. Among the Jews of the Chorus, Deb is the tanking member of Chevra Kedisha.” ‘The Chevra Kedisha?” Jeremiah asked. &IThe society Of those who care for the dead,” Susannah said quietly. “This one was Jewish but she didn’t have a family,” Deb’s voice interrupted, coming down the stairs. “Her name was Nona. She died alone, and because she hadn’t been a practicing Jew, they’re not going to let me sit with her. Tonight, though, we’ll watch with her spirit from here until her soul is ready to move on.” Susannah sighed, put down her fork and went to begin covering the mirrors. Of the through the plaintive chanting like a stone through a window. The four of them finished and gathered with Deb in her study. There she lit olive-oil lamps and placed them around the darkened room. She set a large white cloth in the middle of her desk, opened a book and began to chant in Hebrew. Susannah set out little bowls of water and lit incense. Deborah dipped her hand in the water, touching it to the white cloth. “Come Nona,” she said, speaking the dead woman’s name. “Though you died there, come and rest the night here. There, you will find only forgetfulness and hate. Come where you will hear love.” She began to chant again in Hebrew. Susannah joined the chanting, and the smoke from the incense grew thicker, hovering over the white cloth. Muriel and Jeremiah stood and stared as the smoke formed itself into patterns, seemingly random at first, but Jeremiah could swear that he saw something like a face slowly taking shape in the swirling smoke and dim light. Then Jeremiah heard what he swore was a voice, although it was very dim and at once quite loud, cutting “No,” Deb whispered. The face opened its mouth as if to scream and then the shape was gone. A trick of the shadows. One lamp sputtered and went out. Deb‘s voice faded. “Nona?” she whispered. There was no answer. Muriel lit the lamp again. “Hear me, Nona. We cannot sit with you there, so we sit with you here. Come and hear us pray for you.” There was only silence. The smoke from the incense simply dissipated into the dark of the room. Deborah nodded, and Susannah returned to chanting. She motioned for Muriel and Jeremiah to follow her out of the room. “Son of a bitch!” Deb whispered. “Albertus has her.” She sighed and calmed. “She won’t get free unless we slap him back into place.” The four stared at her a moment. “We’ll keep watch with her, then?” Muriel asked. “Yes, here. Muriel first. I’ll wake the rest of you when it’s time.” “But she isn’t here, what can we do?” Martha protested. Deb looked at her sternly. “We keep calling her here until he lets go.” And with that Deb, who looked very tired, simply sat and stared at the empty space. Muriel nodded and began to whisper prayers. Martha swallowed turned and went to her room. For a minute, Susannah only clutched Jeremiah‘s hand. Then she led him to his own room. “Can I stay here?” she asked in a whisper. “Who is Albertus?” he asked almost at the same time. She blinked, touched her face, and sat down on the bed, finally letting his hand go. “Someone Deb knew a long time ago. She says he had a fair mind and good insights. Some said he went mad, others say he Fell. Deb thinks both. Some time ago, aChorus council banished him. He calls himself the high priest of the dead.” She sighed. Jeremiah realized that she hadn’t laughed for several hours. “Deb hoped the Storm would cut him off from the world for good.” He touched her hand. “Please stay here,” he said. “Here,” she said, taking a small medal out of her pocket and placing it around his neck. “May Mary, Michael and St. Martha - who was a dragon-slayer long before St. George - guard your dreams.” She closed her eyes, lay down and sighed. He crawled in next to her and was soon asleep. He dreamed that a slowly growing spot of light was singing a song, but he couldn’t hear it yet. Then he heard Martha say, “And the darkness has not comprehended it.”
Celestial Chorus · Mage