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Chapter Nine
The elixir of Elements, refined from the Prima Materia has been shock-acivated. The internal cohesion between Elements now brings a denser, more solid form, to unify and integrate them and enables the new compound to isolate out of the flux of things.
Certain Elements draw and cohere to each other into new combinations, products of the Work's special conditions and intentions.
Now is a moment for me to help these gather and set, to congeal and become concrete, a means of holding particular concerns and qualities together in unique atterns.
This form giving process in the Alchemical Work we call:
COAGULA and CONCRETIZE
Someone had left the wooden blinds open so the afternoon's melting rays had been beaming into their room. Jason went right for the shower. When he came out, some 15 or 20 minutes later, the blinds were closed, the fan was going. Melissa was curled up on the bed. That was fine with him. Just then some rest sounded good. He knew their reckoning was soon to come. But for now.... He sat in the rattan chair with just the towel on and watched the overhead fan blade like a wooden airplane prop. Whoosh... whoosh... As if he hadn't a care in the world, he lit a cigarette with his ever-present lighter and pleasurably returned to watching the curls of blue-grey smoke spiral through the fans updraft till his mind became smoke itself. These portrayals of the Call touched him to the roots. Witnessing them showed him the many times he'd used violence and deathing to foster his own aliveness, and as a sacrament. Wallowing in luxury and license to hide from himself so that he didn't feel his own self-failure and worthlessness. He carefully laid down on the far side of the bed. Out over the afternoon's stillness, he heard a call to prayer from a nearby mosque. He wondered, if he were to take the part as a penitent, could he draw blood without needing to kill? Here he was again, out at the edge of disaster, of mortality, doing his little death dance. Those penitents showed him that the meaning of his life and his suffering were in his hands. After he finished his cigarette, he napped some more. He awoke to find the sunlight had softened to mellow goldened slats across his face and the sound of the shower going. He was out of bed and dressing when Melissa came out with a towel tightly wrapped around her. She narrowed her eyes at him like they'd just had bitter words. Tense and uncomfortable, they went through getting ready like boarders forced to share a common room. She had something to say so I'd wait till she broke the silence. He felt patient. It was only 4:27 p.m. She was on the phone when he came out from another quick rinse. "... and a bottle of cold soda water," she said. Sounded like she was thinking of doing some more drinking. She brusquely put the phone in its crib and turned to him. "Maybe we need a little chat, a clearing, as the Order has it." Had she talked with the Abbott? Melissa responded to the knock at the door. It was the grandmotherly barkeep with two bottles and two glasses. She got a tip but no pleasant smile from Melissa. They were both soon lustily on seconds. Jason sat in the rattan chair and waited. She turned to look at him, shook her head, looked again. She rose from the bed and began to pace back and forth between the tall mirrored dresser, where she often glanced as they spoke, and the foot of the bed. she looked like a sprite in the light, flowery blouse she wore and mini-shorts. As usual in private, she was barefooted. She looked for finger nail edges to bite as they talked, agitated but determined. "You're still upset about the Ceremony? "he suggested. "I'm upset about a couple of things..." she answered after a bit. Uh-huh, he thought. There she blows. He lit up a cigarette and played patience with the lighter, weaving it through and over fingers, hand to hand, soothingly. The whole day had been so together for him, so focused on these deep inner stirrings, he didn't feel there was much that she could do to throw it off. He knew pretty well what cards she could toss, what canonical pressures. It seemed it was time to break his ties with the Order. They might still be willing to give him dispensation from his commitment to avoid more problems. But clearly, as she and he talked, he saw that excommunication would be the least they'd be after. Maybe even make a martyr of me, Jason thought with a half- serious laugh. "That Ceremony ..." she shuddered, as a cold gust of abhorrence went through her. "And you got some kind of kick out of it. That topped it all. "Yes, that always was one of the fine points of your ministry. No wet- stuff. All your E.U.s delivered in a neat and humane way," he carefully expressed it. "And you think you're the damn Pushu, don't you?" she continued vehemently. "Like a little god, you start the suffering, but ultimately everybody bleeds but you!" That was a blow to his gut. It was going to be close in fighting. She was going for his vitals. She made herself yawn and stretch. "Anyway, it's finished with. The investigation part of the assignment is done. All that's left is to deliver the Sacraments. Then you can go your way, and I'll go mine." He looked her in the eye, halfway across the room, the lighter paused in its mercurial sliding between his thumb and forefinger. He saw her brace. "The Abbot directed us to look for any connection between the suspect and our armaments not working." Her tone and stance were brittle. "He's given confession and others besides confirm that Plang's responsible. He's a clear candidate for the Extreme Unction." She started pacing the same path again, balcony door to mirror, regularly pausing at the table for refills. "Melissa, he said he cast a spell. Can you believe that?... Could the Abbot? If every doddering old man who said he could perform miracles were killed..." Jason kept his voice and manner as smooth as he could, as if they'd only had an easily patched up misunderstanding. "Even though you believe he has some special powers that you imagine might help you, I'm trying to tell you that's not our business here. We were told what to look for, so we are obliged, now that we've found it, to give him the E.U Because we follow orders, not because of our personal inclinations." She paraphrased the Order's creed about obedience as if she were squeezing it into his mind like a cooky-cutter. "We're here to find out what we've found, deliver, and go." She was reminding him of the Order's gospel so there wouldn't be any misunderstandings later on. Laying out battle lines. "Why do you want to delay?" she asked with honest confusion and some hurt in her voice. He eyes looked suddenly soft and vulnerable. He had to reflect some moments. He knew his past and future were at a grappling point. "This is such a complicated one, Melissa. He's not just any old man, crank or not. He's a very crucial part of this country's religious and political life. Besides which," he found myself musing with a grin, "he really might be a Wizard." He was excited with the possibilities. " That would make him all the more dangerous to us, Jason!" she insisted impatiently. "It's clear what our job is. And it's stupid to stick our necks out like this. Maybe you think he can do something for you, whatever in hell it is you're after. But all this horsing around means," her voice softened, touched with the nearness of danger, "is that they're getting plenty of time to set us up." Some half-formed fear showed in her voice. "And this place gets to me. It did from the start. I say we deliver the Sacrament, and we get the hell out of here. Tonight!" She went from her vulnerable and needy tone to her 'don't-push-me-any-further' tone in a breath. It was startling for Jason to see her mind so naked and brutal. The mind of an assassin -like his own- that could fit an impersonal killing into a separate, closed portion of the mind. The seeds of the war machine. Could she grasp what possibilities Plang might hold for him. He didn't think so. The only way she could see things was that the way to end the threat of danger was to destroy it. Both of them, destitute cripples trained to be killers. He wondered at the bonds there had been between them. During the last years he'd lost sight of that and found myself only noticing and reacting to what he liked least in her -the emotional garbage she put in the way of our really being close, her angry compulsions masquerading as honesty. Jason looked at her, sliding an ice cube down into the tumber. There's Still a lot to see on her. Light boned, bosomy, and not shy about it. Habitually twisting at her auburn hair. Her eyes soft with some questioning. "I'll tell you the truth," she said, stopping by the foot of the bed to look down at him. She took a long drink from her glass then continued to pace with a slow, soft step, dresser to porch, porch to dresser. "I've never seen you get so blindly involved on an assignment before. So caught in your own take on things. So careless about the directives. But maybe this time apart left me better able to see you. Some things I didn't see before. Time by myself has given me the chance to learn how I feel. I mean..," she paused to connect with that place in herself, "some awareness of what I need and want. "You knew I was really an innocent when we met." Her laugh had some hurt in it. "Couldn't help but be. The nuns at the boarding school I grew up in saw to that. You found me to entice me into the world, I remember you're telling me. I'm not so innocent now. Maybe that helps me, too, to see who you are. Being so close all that time together, really, I never could. "When we were lovers, we really did have everything we needed to be happy, to be really satisfied. You wanted me, and there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for you." She gave a raspy, shuddering sigh. "But it was never enough. Like a bottomless pit, an abyss in you that swallows everything. Do you really think what Plang has to offer is enough fill it?" Her sharp laugh sounded despondent. His body tightened as though punched in the solar plexus. He quickly rose and sat hunched on the side of the bed, and withdrew even more. "You know I cared for you deeply," he muttered, retasting the longing that had turned toxic. "But I could never get through your layers and layers of defensiveness. Always like walking shard's of glass." "How could I not be defensive when you were so critical, so demanding," she sobbed back. "I could never be or do the right thing for you. And never enough!" "And I tried to do for you, Jason. I tried to give you everything I could. But it was never enough," she waited to catch her breath. "No, matter what. It could never be enough. You're an awesome black hole. Universes and galaxies could disappear into your open maw, and it wouldn't slack your ravenous hunger a drop." She paused to chuckle and sob. "He better have a way to connect you with the Infinite!"
What had been nebulous is given form, the hidden feeling finds its word. As Alchemist I know this gathering of possibility into being some thing prepares for resolve.
Rage took over to cover and block out his hurt. "As ever, the one with the dick is to blame!" he yelled, louder and rougher than he needed to. The oldest hurt and bitterness between them, desperate hopefulness but never getting what you need. "That's how I've come to see you," she said apologetically. "Please don't get upset, Jason. I have a lot to be grateful to you for, too. But I was always surprised there was so much hurt in things for us, between us." She stopped pacing and sat at the foot of the bed, half-turned towards him. "It's good for me to be able to say these things, Jason. I want you to know that I have got myself free of you during this time. Now, at least, we don't have to be enemies. What I'm saying is out of concern for you. I don't want to see you hurt. Did you ever think that maybe I'm also upset because you're putting yourself in such a dangerous position. I still care about you." Her voice was half-choked. "Oh, "Jason, they'll all be there tonight after the Talk, Abernathy, Tussaud, Bapu and God knows who else," she said anxiously. "Please, we don't know what might happen. We won't have a chance!" With a maudlin, pleading smile, she leaned towards him across the bed to touch his hand. He answered with no movement, no change of expression. Complete containment. "You're not talking with me..." She began to tighten, as if she were being ignored, belittled. She couldn't tolerate feeling treated as if she didn't matter. Jason knew that to her, being so outspoken as she was felt like a liberating flow of her new found powers. But to him she felt like an unleashed bitch-demon. And it must have showed. She sat back, her brow furrowed. "Why do you despise me so? It pours out of your eyes. Its in that fist of your face." He stared at her long and hard, not sure what to do with his feelings. Because nothing had ever really been dealt with between them, when the wound was touched, there was an avalanche of hurt feelings and unrequited longings. Jason had bitterness at the way that sweet innocence of hers had been corrupted into this sharp cunning, though he certainly had contributed to that too. Grief, over all the wonder they had found with each other and couldn't keep. The old wound began to flow at the touch. He quickly wrapped a protective blanket of rage around it. "I don't despise you, Melissa. But I certainly know enough to be cautious and guarded. Like you said, I need to be aware of my needs and hurts too." He considered at his watch, brain storming for some diversion. "5:32 p.m.," he reported. "Listen, Melissa. We still have plenty of time here. Why don't we find a fancy restaurant and treat ourselves to a nice meal. Yes, a little getaway. We can talk this through more calmly. And, maybe afterwards, afterwards we'll have time to walk to Victoria Hall." Her pout turned into scowl, dark and ready to lash out. He was really keeping her at the edge. "All right. We'll go to his Talk, to help settle your mind about this. Just make sure the hit is tonight, afterwards. I'm not getting paid enough to sit in this stinking hole any longer, especially when waiting is just suicidal. And I'll tell you the truth, I don't know what it is about that old man," her anger became harsh and rasping, "but I hate that little.., little..." "Is gook the word you're looking for, dear?" he goaded her. "I thought you two were getting along last night at the feast. What turned you off so strongly?" "Last night was new and exotic. There was strange food and drink and lots of interesting costumes to look at. He had nothing to do with my feeling good. But today, with his endless twaddle and those masses of hungry, tortured people. He's done everything to make me feel miserable. And he talks down to me!" Indignation tightened her throat. "I think you're taking your anger at me out on him. It's me you're hating." "Yeh, that is the part that's upsetting me most, seeing you so clearly for the first time. You know, I always used to be impressed with you. Even the way you walked was so sure, like you knew exactly where you were going, aware and confident. I really liked that -and your eyes, of course. That clear blue, open and unflinching. Took me till now to see the mania is to cover up your purposelessness. Here's some new special gimmick you can use for that. You think you're Called, don't you." She said it like describing a disease. "For me, Melissa, this whole thing stands or falls by that Enlightour. If it works for me, then I don't care what else he's done. Melissa, please, give me one day. Sit tight for one day to check this thing out. Then we'll do what you think is right." "No," she snapped, "if you delay that long, it means you've already backed out, Jason." She told him very seriously, "You know, if anyone else were concelebrating this mission with you, you would have been long gone." She stared at him for some long moments, bitter pain on her face. "You really have lost all perspective, haven't you? No wonder the Order considers your Vocation at risk. "Knowing you were in trouble, I volunteered so I could try to give you every chance for you to get past this thing. But that stubborn, belligerent nature of yours just gets the upper hand all the time, doesn't it." She talked like she was his saving Medea, but his suspicions had been right. She was really a plant. "Plang's already caught on to you, hasn't he. He may be crazy, but he's not as stupid as he sounds. That thing about the dream you're always telling yourself. I know what that dream is, from first hand experience. You believe that you are the only person in the world who has feelings, who's real? That's your delusion that nothing can cure. Then you'd have to face what you are really like. All the outer drama is only an excuse to justify your bottomless self-entrancement. You could never give that up! And he sees right through that too, doesn't he. "Fool that I was, I believed for the longest time that it was my fatal fascination for you that let you drag me down and down. Took a long time to see I was mesmerized by that seething caldron in you ready to consume the world. I thought it was aliveness. From beginning to end, it was hopeless. Jason, you are hopeless!" He watched her congeal into an ice-bitch, edges like blades that went keen to the nerve. Her retrospect condemnation of all that he'd been to her was a knot of pain. "You're going off on this fantasy trip of having 'the Call', when the only reason you're here is because you're a good killer. Look at you, your face clenched and the hate pouring out of you. Go on, I'm used to it by now. You kept it nicely covered for a long time with me, didn't you? Smoothed it over so your fangs didn't show. But, at last, you let me see them. For real! You took me for the whole trip. From a convent schoolgirl --to what?" She smiled sadly at the floor and shook her head in wonder. "You were like a white-slaver to me, putting me in the Formation. You know what it's like for a lady-monk in training at the Abbey, don't you. Everybody with rank contributes to her formation." He knew, but he didn't respond. "But that's the way you always are with women, a predator, if they'll let you. My god, how many times have I watched. That poor old woman in Bagota. She thought she' come home safe, and had found a new lover in the bargain. How did you deliver the Sacraments to her?" She paused for effect. "Lethal penis pellet!" she jabbed at him. "Some way or other you've got to do your thing on every one, don't you. Your special little touches. It's against the Order's guidelines, but the Abbot turned a blind eye as long as you kept things together. He thinks you're odd, unprofessional, but well worth keeping for your talents. If you can be kept in line. Yes, you're done up well on the outside, clothes, manners, education. Other good ways to disguise the ugly parts of yourself. But I know you for real, don't I, lover?" She asked him very slowly and waited for awhile, as if he could answer. Jason knew in his heart that, really, all they'd wanted from one another was simple, kind caring. It would have been a blessing to them both. But, though they'd had delicious tastes of it, they couldn't sustain it. And here they were threatening each other. The grief went deeper in him than the anger. "You know, that was the thing that finally freed me from your grip. I realized that nobody could be so selfish, so totally consuming, so without conscience, unless they were evil. You enjoyed that Ceremony this morning," she said accusingly. "I know you did." She stopped suddenly to glare at him, her face filled with disgust. " "You pretend to be human, but you're really a viscous beast. I know you." She checked his reaction. Seeing she was getting nowhere, she continued tearing at him. "You pretend this is a spiritual quest? You honestly believe that old man can give you answers? I'll give you an answer. You are evil!" she spat the words at him. "I've slept with the devil. Jason Bardow!"
In this Procedure other Procedures are fulfilled. The Seperatum that started earlier is now complete. Upsetting Shock finds expression. Differences are objectified preparing for the next Procedure.
Her lashing out to change my mind or force my hand was of no use, Jason growled to himself. He sauntered across the room to the chair where he'd left his jacket. His cool indifference fanned her furry, as expected. "Yes, if you want the truth of it, that's what your spiritual quest is about. Filling your abyss. You can't disguise that from me any more. And what magic could even a Wizard do to fill a ravenous beast like you? Even Judas' teachings couldn't do that." She sat expectantly at the edge of the bed and hurled her words at him. He stopped midway in putting on his jacket, his attention seized by her expression, petulant aggressiveness, jagged and alien. No, no more entrancements over him. Clearly that was finished. He just smiled, knowing it was over. The old was gone and the new just beginning. "I'm sorry you've got to pressure me rather than letting me work this out." He needed to be explicit "And I understand if you feel you must contact the Abbot. But if anybody goes for Plang Mengli, they better be ready to deal with me." "I'll mention that to the Abbot. Right now, I'd be glad to deliver on you both," she said from deep down. "A personal pleasure and a service to humanity." She sprung from the bed and headed for the phone. His jaw braced even tighter. A fist squeezed down through his chest into his guts. The lighter in his hand felt like the fang of his hate, ready to bite, to tear into her. He was suddenly aware of the Cosmic Whirlpool and him caught up in it. His rage instantly dissolved. That's the old way, he resolved. He stood, his lighter held facing her. He motioned with his eyebrows for her to come sit. She looked at him cooly but then, as if she remembered seeing him use it a number of times, came right over, an extra swing to her hips. It turned erotic. His dick quivered. Was he going to fuck her first? He smiled at his self-deluding. "More sparklies in the Whirlpool," He joked with himself. She sat in the rattan chair, limp and completely compliant while he tied her up with the thick cord from the wooden blinds and gagged her with the silk kerchief she wore. Without any resistance from her. At the door he turned and found her still looking at him, aghast, perhaps sensing how close she'd come to being brutally fucked, killed, or both. "It fact, let me put it to you this way," he said, sarcastically mocking he Abbot, but with convincing force, "till further notice, consider me his bodyguard. His only real danger is if he fails me." Jason locked the door after him and disconnected the room's telephone from the linen room junction-box. She was a professional and he knew nothing would slow her down. It was just to hassle her.
Click on the chapters from the list on top left. Copyright Nathaniel Schwartz 2010 |
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