The Binding

Chapter Seven

Two weeks passed drearily. My days had become a deluge of monotony as I worked on the manuscript diligently. It was a constant effort not to wonder which of the descriptions of gods and angels I was translating were corrupted legends of living, breathing Avati. Was Nike, the winged Goddess of Victory, or Mut, the Egyptian Mother Goddess, quietly living in Beijing or Buenos Aires? Perhaps Hermes was slinging back cocktails at a resort in Colombia. I was nearly finished translating the manuscript, and I was beginning to worry. I wouldn't have anything left to occupy my time.

   I woke up feeling immobile, willing the morning to last longer. Eventually, I threw back the covers and sat up. I still had a job I had to do. I had to make up my mind not to allow myself to think about Ezra and Leif.

   I had been working every day at the café Ezra had shown me. There was a table open next to the fireplace. I settled into it and pulled out my laptop. The barista smiled warmly at me. Another fantastic element to this café was they never minded a customer occupying a table to work. Instead, the reverse as they seemed to enjoy the camaraderie and familiar presence of their regulars. I ordered a latte and a bagel then set to work. The chapter discussed the ancient world's worship of death. The Roman god Mors was the personification of death and was often seen as pale and skeletal. The Norse goddess Hel ruled over Niflheim, a realm of mists and ice, where those who did not die a hero but of old age or sickness were sent.

   The angel Azrael was ubiquitously worshipped as the angel of death, destruction, the embodiment of evil, justice, punishment, and conversely brought comfort to the grieving, sick, and dying. The chapter continued discussing Azrael's counterpart with the Hindu god Yama, the lord of death, and its modern embodiment as the scythe-wielding Grim Reaper. My mind wandered... if Mors was the cloaked skeletal figure that it described it also appeared to be a prototype to our Grim Reaper.   

   Musing Mor the Reaper, I stretched my arms as I abandoned my table to order another cup. The rich coffee aroma swirled around me, taunting and inviting. I had to close my eyes. When the barista placed the coffee on the counter, I picked up the cup and drank its contents straight down without thinking. The girl's eyes widened as I drained it, and it took me a few moments to realize what I had done. I smiled sheepishly, and she laughed as she made me another. I returned to the manuscript to continue reading about the various gods and guardians of Hades, Sheol, Valhalla, and the many other underworlds.

   Three hours and as many cups of coffee later, I sat back, stretching my back into an arch. I groaned loudly, and several people stopped what they were doing to look at me. I looked down at my arms, wishing I would feel tiny fingers of electricity crawl along my skin.

   Stop. I closed my mind and breathed. I wouldn't do any good to think about it.

   I was coming closer to finishing the manuscript. Without work to focus my concentration, I wasn't sure what I would do with my time... and thoughts. I only had a few pages left, and I knew I'd probably finish it in a couple hours.

   I took my time with the pages, enjoying the warmth radiating from the fire. It would start getting warmer, and soon they wouldn't need to light it. But winter was still lingering, and it had rained the night before, leaving a deep chill in its wake.  

   The smell of the cracking wood was equally inviting. It blended with the scent of fresh coffee beans, tantalizing my adrenaline-laced senses. I fantasized about the smell and sound of wood popping and cracking in a bonfire on the beach. Feeling the cool sand beneath my fingers. My eyes drifted out the window, my thoughts sliding through memories. I had once spent several nights on a beach near the Black Sea coast with some friends. We shared a bonfire with a group of American actors who were in the country filming some B horror film... Sins of the Dead... or Undead... or some such nonsense.