Resurrection (Blood of the Lamb) (15 page)

The question pierced Maryam like a thorn as she remembered her own desperate urge to end her life after Joseph's death. And, too, that dreadful night at the camp when she'd fought with Lazarus as he had tried to end his life. Such a seductive idea in times of grief.

“Myself, I believe it was Father Jonah's death that unravelled her,” Brother Kokoria said. “She was not herself—in fact she left a letter claiming that the spilling of her blood was atonement for the Apostles’ sins.”

Maryam and Lazarus exchanged a knowing look. Poor Mother Deborah, Maryam thought, the spilling of the Sisters’ blood was not her sin to bear.

“And just what did my esteemed father say to that?” Lazarus asked.

Brother Kokoria rocked on his heels as he chose his words. “He sent forth a decree saying that Lucifer had been unleashed
among us. That you, Sister—” he glanced at Maryam—“had not only stolen both body and soul of young Joseph and Lazarus here, and another poor innocent Sister, but also taken Mother Deborah's mind.”

Maryam leapt to her feet. “That's ridiculous. I—”

“Tell me, Koko,” Lazarus broke in, holding up a hand to halt her. “We need to get this clear. Does my father believe all four of us are dead?”

“Indeed,” the old man assured him. “You and Joseph and Mother Deborah were suitably farewelled as martyrs in the battle against evil, and now the Lord's chosen shepherds watch over their flock with extra care. And since the omen—”

“Omen? What do you mean?”

“It was the eve of the new moon when, from the heavens, came a monster—a giant black locust—as ferocious in its roar as a thousand thunderclaps. It circled the whole island before hanging over the Holy City until our Holy Father banished it with prayer and much shaking of fists. He said it had been sent by Lucifer to warn us of a new Tribulation if we did not repent our sins and submit to the will of the Lord's Apostles with willingness and joy.”

Maryam shook Lazarus's arm urgently. “I know what that was! I saw it on the ship!”

“Indeed, Sister,” Brother Kokoria broke back in. “The Holy Father linked the monster to you. He said it was a warning to all the treacherous disbelievers who rebelled against the Lord, and then he cursed your name.”

“He blames the Territorials’ flying machine on me?”

“I know not the monster's name, but Holy Father Joshua made his instructions plain. If any are suspected of being in
league with Lucifer, no time will be wasted to invoke Rule Number Ten.”

The words chimed inside Maryam's head.
Let any who reject the word of the Apostles of the Lamb be cast from the flock and punished in the name of the Lord
. This was even worse than she'd imagined. Much, much worse. Lazarus's involvement in their disappearance had upped the stakes, just as she'd feared right from the start—his father using her to explain away his son's escape. And now this omen…If there was ever anything to frighten the people of Onewēre into unquestioning submission, the sight of this flying machine would do the trick. It was outside of their realm of comprehension, the stuff of nightmares. In one sweep of the island the Territorials had achieved exactly what Ruth and Lazarus had feared: not rescuing the people, just making things worse.

“You can explain this?” Lazarus asked her, his eyes wide with puzzlement.

Maryam nodded frantically. “It was a flying machine with a man driving it inside. I saw him land it on the ship after we reached Marawa Island. I gather they used it to check my claims that no one else lived there.” She swallowed back a wobble in her voice and turned to Brother Kokoria.
Must not cry
. “I promise you, it had nothing to do with me.”

“You must swear, Koko, you won't yet tell anyone that we are here,” Lazarus said.

“But the Holy Father will be—”

“No! Please, you must trust me. We need time to think this through.”

“So be it, son of Joshua. Just for you.” Brother Kokoria's face lit with an obviously happier thought. “And Joseph? Is he, too, about to miraculously reappear?”

Lazarus shook his head. “Sadly, no. My cousin was taken by Te Matee Iai.”

Now the old man looked truly rattled. “That cannot be! Not my young friend Joseph. The Lord protects his own.”

Lazarus took the old man's hand and held it so tenderly Maryam's mouth dropped open in shock. She would've expected this from Joseph, but not Lazarus…

“Koko, you must believe me. Nothing is as it seems.” Now he sandwiched his other hand over Brother Kokoria's, as if sealing a pledge. “Whatever you are told, know this: Sister Maryam is innocent of whatever crimes my father accuses her of—in fact, she's here to set you free.” At Maryam's audible gasp he glanced over at her. “It's all right. Koko and my aunt were close, and you already know his brother Hushai…”

“You are Hushai's brother?” As soon as she said it, she could see the resemblance. “Is he still—” She couldn't bring herself to finish when already her heart was so full of grief at Mother Deborah's death.

“My brother is slower but still survives to serve.”

“You have seen him recently?”

“He tried to make contact with me around the time of your disappearance, but all communication between the villages and the Holy City is now controlled by the Holy Father. I know my brother hinted of deep concerns about what was going on there, but he did not have a chance to tell me before communication stopped. It worries me greatly, as he is very frail.”

“I will try to bring him to you somehow,” Lazarus said. “It's time he had a chance to rest.”

The old man shook his head again, as though it was all too much to take in, but then his focus shifted and he studied
Lazarus openly, his hooded eyes soaking in his appearance from head to foot. “Whatever happened to you, boy, it seems you've come back to yourself.” Then he addressed Maryam again. “If somehow you have helped him exorcise the angry taimonio that had possessed him, I am glad—and grateful too.” He smiled at Lazarus. “You used to be such a sweet boy.” His face crumpled and tears filmed his eyes. “Already I have grieved for Joseph, but now I feel the pain anew.”

Maryam couldn't bear to watch the old man collapse into his misery all alone. She squatted next to him and wrapped her arms around him to soothe him as he cried, finding her own tears for Joseph and his mother mingling with his. For Mother Deborah to end her life like that was such a waste, yet Maryam couldn't condemn her—Deborah would have known she'd never see her son again, and the finality of it must have seemed too hard to abide. Besides, knowing now that Father Joshua had evicted his brother Jonah and his family on pain of death, perhaps Mother Deborah felt she had no one left to protect her from his unpredictable wrath.

When Brother Kokoria had finally recovered himself, Maryam burst out with a new question. “Tell me, what news is there of Natau from Aneaba?” Even saying her father's name aloud was hard. His rejection sat inside her like a festering sore.

“There is talk of replacing him as village chief since his accident—”

“Accident? What happened?”

Brother Kokoria's eyes met hers. “Yes, I see now the resemblance.” He cleared his throat. “He was helping cut flax for weaving when he slipped and his machete slashed his leg. He lost a lot of blood but, worse than that, the wound refuses to heal.”

“Have they treated him with tabunea moss?” She pictured his limbs, so fine and fragile like her own. There was little flesh there to protect the bone.

“The old healer, Umatu, has been tending him, but the younger men in the village say his time as chief has passed.”

Maryam tried to hold herself together. She needed to know who she could rely on now Mother Deborah was gone. “And the woman, Vanesse? Is she still there?” Surely she would help, given Joseph had already told her of the Apostles’ theft of blood. And she'd been so kind, befriending Maryam even as her father cast her out.

“Vanesse, daughter of Tebaatei?” Brother Kokoria nodded. “Yes, she stays in Aneaba, though her family comes from here. She nurses her cousin Lesuna who, since word of her daughter's death, has been stricken by Te Matee Iai. They say she'll not last more than another week at most.”

“Oh no!” Maryam's hand shot to her mouth. This was her fault. Hers alone. She never should've told Vanesse that her niece Sarah—Tekeaa to her family—had died at the Apostles’ hands.

Then realisation surfaced like a joyous dolphin, and she remembered how she could help. She knew the cure!

Her heart bounding with excitement, she hardly noticed Lazarus and Brother Kokoria go off in search of bedding and food. This would be her first test—a chance to find out if old Filza spoke the truth. She would save Lesuna, and in the process prove to the people of Aneaba that she could cure Te Matee Iai…But she would have to take this first step slowly and secretly, just in case Filza's recipe failed. As for her father, if it was infection that was eating him, perhaps Vanesse could persuade
him to take the antibiotics stashed in Charlie's bag. He need never know they came from her.

Lazarus returned with two sleeping mats and old blankets, plus enough bread and goat's cheese for them to have breakfast as well. They ate hungrily as Maryam told Lazarus all about the flying machine and then revealed her newly hatched plan, pleased that he agreed it was as good a place as any to start.

“We can stay here as long as we like,” he assured her. “Koko will keep our secret safe.”

“You really trust him?”

“Do you trust his brother Hushai?”

“With my life.”

Lazarus laughed. “Then you are answered, for the two are one. They were born only ten minutes apart.”

“They are twins?” No wonder she felt so safe with him. “Did you know Hushai was blinded by the Apostles—your grandfather, I suppose—for trying to escape?”

He didn't answer for a moment, and Maryam realised how tired he looked, with deep shadows forming under his eyes. “So I've heard, although my father denies it—he says Hushai was struck down by the Lord.”

Maryam thought back to Brother Kokoria's claim that Lazarus had been possessed by a taimonio—a demon—and it struck her now that in a way he was. His demon of a father, who took the truth and twisted it to his own ends. It comforted her to know that old Brother Kokoria backed up Joseph's assertion that Lazarus had not always been as brutal and difficult as she first thought him to be. But how insidious the poison Father Joshua and his disciples dripped into the mind. It scared her that he had not been content to know she was gone and would
cause no more trouble. He had vilified her, blaming her for Lazarus's and Joseph's disappearance and, now, for the monster from the skies as well. Had her father heard these claims? The Sisters on the atoll?

How, she wondered, would she be able to convince the villagers the cure was safe and real if she and Lucifer—and flying omens—could all be spoken of in the same breath? She turned to Lazarus for his thoughts, but the long day had taken its toll and sleep had hijacked him. Maryam had no choice but to curl up by the embers of the dying fire and try to welcome sleep as well. As it tiptoed toward her, skittish and resistant, words from the Book of Judges swirled inside her head and spoke the sorrow of her heart.
Awake, awake, Deborah: Awake, awake, utter a song…

When Maryam awoke, warm fingers of sunlight reached in through the thatched shutters to caress her cheek. Lazarus lay beside her, tousled but only half asleep.

He rose up on one elbow and reached across, tucking a tangle of her wiry hair behind her ear as his proximity put her senses onto high alert. “How did you do that?” he asked, indicating to the scar on the tip of her ear.

“I had a fight with a rock,” she answered, recalling the night she and Joseph had hidden in the cleft behind the waterfall, his body crammed so close to hers she'd felt his every breath.

“Someone threw a rock at you?” Lazarus sounded outraged.

“No.” She laughed. “It was my own clumsiness. I have scars all over me!” She sat and drew up her legs, pointing to the many
tiny purple marks that pitted her knees. “Look! Here and here…and here…” His eyes tracked her finger, and all at once she realised just how intently he was studying her skin. A wave of heat flooded her and she pulled the blanket back across her legs, shrugging as casually as she could. “See. Just plain old clumsy.”

Now Lazarus sat up as well. “Once, when I was ten,” he said, “I tried to climb this really tall coconut palm to prove to Joseph I wasn't afraid. I was doing quite well until my aunt spotted me. As soon as she called out, warning me not to fall, I did! Here, look!” He dragged his unkempt hair back from his forehead and leaned forward to show her the crescent-shaped scar. “I was knocked out for about five minutes. Poor Aunt Deborah nearly died of fright—and my mother was so angry she stopped me visiting here on my own.”

“Did that upset you?”

“I seem to recall locking myself in my room and refusing to speak to her for at least a week. In the end Father broke the lock and caned me for causing her distress.”

“He beat you?”

“All the time. Two strikes were normal—good parental discipline, he called it—I think the most I ever had in one session was six…no, eight. That hurts.”