Free The Wayward Godking by Brendan Carroll Page B

rest. Secondly, I took her because I am a thief. I have always been a thief. I stole the Ark from my father, not once, but twice. I stole your braid and your Dragon’s Blood. I stole my first wife from you. I stole my second wife’s life through selfish love, and I lost my third wife to a thief and my twelfth son’s life was stolen from him by my foolish cowardice. I took my fourth wife from my brother. If I could steal my way to Heaven, I would be there now.”
    Simon paused and waved his hands about the room. “I said that my father collected this stuff, but most of it I stole.”
    “That is a touching story.” Mark nodded. “Quite believable. In fact, I believe every word of it.”
    “I said I was a thief, not a liar.” Simon looked up at the dark ceiling of the vault. “Now tell me why you saved me from my father’s knife.”
    “First of all, I don’t believe in human sacrifice,” Mark told him. “I never did and many have learned that the hard way. Ironically, the sacrificer became the sacrifice. But I also saved you for another, more personal, more selfish reason. You are a son of Israel. A direct descendent of Jacob, I believe?”
    “Supposedly so, but I don’t know how my father fit into that line exactly.”
    “The human bodies he occupies from time to time have lineages, Simon. Even if Nathanael or Nebo wished to take human form and become David’s son, Solomon, he had to have a vehicle. He either entered Solomon before he was born or shortly after. There are a number of ways to accomplish such a feat. It was much easier in the olden days. It is entirely possible Solomon was not David’s son at all.”
    “Holy Mary,” Simon’s eyes widened.
    “It is possible your father had contact with Bath-Sheba when she went to the Temple to make her sacrifices.” Mark shrugged. “She was not Jewish. She was the wife of a Hittite. She was most likely a worshipper of Bel or even Nebo, himself.”
    Simon’s jaw went slack, and he had to catch himself on the table. “So that is why you saved me?”
    “No. That is not why I saved you.” Mark’s smile took on a decidedly evil shadow. “You are my own descendent.”
    “How so?” Simon’s voice was barely audible.
    “If you are descended directly from Jacob, then you are one of my great-great-etcetera-grandsons. I was the angel Jacob wrestled with. Surely your father told you that?” Mark advanced on the Healer once more and Simon could not move. “Jacob lost that particular match.”
    The image of a stuffy council room from years ago returned to the Healer’s head and he heard the voice of Montague. Montague had told them Mark Andrew was most likely the angel with whom Jacob had wrestled and Montague had suggested, as Uriel, Mark had taken over the body of Jacob, becoming, in effect, the father of the Israelites. If Simon had lived first as one of Jacob’s sons, as his father had once told him, then he had been one of Mark’s sons in that time in the far distant past.
    Mark had to catch the Healer when he lost consciousness as the situation became too much for his muddled brain to comprehend. Mark lowered him to the floor and then pressed his right hand to his smooth forehead under the shock of blonde hair.
    “ To thee I give understanding. To thee I give the Light. To thee I give the knowledge that pushes back the night ,” Mark whispered the words and then stood up. “ Arise Son of the Morning and look upon the face of your ancestor without fear. Son of Night. Son of Darkness, come into the Light .”
    Simon opened his eyes and moved them back and forth as if searching out his surroundings before he attempted to get up. Mark gave him a hand up and the Healer stood rubbing the back of his head.
    “What happened?” He asked after a few moments. “I must have fainted. I often faint, when I try to use the stone too often or too long. I’m sorry, Brother. I embarrass myself.”
    “Nae tribble atoll,” Mark said brightly, and then pretended