The Paradise Prophecy

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The version Batty now held in his hands, dictated to Milton’s daughter, held the original ten chapters, and several of its pages showed additions and corrections, and marks in the margins.

Maybe this was where the secret lay.

But in leafing through it, his mind nearly frozen with awe, Batty frowned as he came to the end of the last chapter-Book X. Something looked off here. A subtle but unmistakable anomaly in the binding. And on closer inspection, he saw what may well have been torn edges, as if several pages had been removed.

Could he be mistaken?

He didn’t think so.

So was this Ozan’s doing?

When he read through it, however, there seemed to be nothing amiss. The verses flowed just as they should, from Michael’s revelation of the future to Adam and Eve’s departure from Paradise.

Then the missing pages. If he wasn’t imagining things.

So what had been removed?

He was pondering the significance of this when the jet suddenly bucked, a violent jolt of turbulence that dropped them several feet, leaving Batty’s stomach behind in the process. He quickly set the manuscript onto the table beside him and tightened his seat belt.

Outside his window, a storm was brewing, threatening to make the previous bit of turbulence seem like child’s play.

He glanced over at Callahan, but she was asleep. Lucky her. Then the plane buckled again and Batty grabbed his armrests, wishing to hell he had a parachute strapped to his back, because this wasn’t looking good.

Suddenly aware of the smell of sulfur, he glanced again at Callahan, surprised to find her fully awake now and looking right back at him. Her gaze was unsettling in its directness.

“What’s the matter, Sebastian? You afraid of a little turbulence?”

Her eyes didn’t flinch, and that gaze was mesmerizing.

“You shouldn’t be afraid, darling. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’d never let anything happen to you. You mean too much to me.”

Darling?

What the hell was going on with her? Batty tried to look away, but he couldn’t. His eyeballs seemed frozen. His head wouldn’t move.

Callahan unbuckled her seat belt now. “It hurt me to see you so angry, Sebastian. To see that hate in your eyes. You don’t really hate me, do you? I only did what had to be done.”

And all at once Batty realized that this wasn’t Callahan at all.

This was the redhead.

She got to her feet and crossed the aisle toward him. “After all, it wasn’t my fault, was it? Rebecca was the one who invited me into your home. Rebecca was the one who called. All I did was answer. So if you have to blame someone, don’t blame me. Blame her.”

Smiling now, she stood over him and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Besides, she could never give you a night like I did. She would never surrender herself, let you use her body the way I let you use mine.”

The jet bucked wildly, but she barely seemed to notice, sidestepping only slightly as she dropped her shirt to the floor. “It’s yours for the taking, my darling. Touch me anywhere you want.”

Batty’s mind was racing. He again tried to look away but he couldn’t. Her gaze was too hard to resist. And now she was moving forward, straddling him, reaching her hands back to unhook her bra.

“Tell me you want me, Sebastian. I’m yours for the taking.”

The engines began to scream, and the jet tilted into a dive, but suddenly Batty didn’t care. He just wanted to lose himself in Callahan’s gaze, to feel her flesh in his hands . . .

“Show me how much you want me, my darling. Feel me. Taste me. Put your lips on me. Let me feel your tongue.”

A rush of pleasure washed through Batty’s body and he still couldn’t look away. And then, to his utter surprise, he saw Rebecca’s face, smiling down at him, speaking in that subtle Louisiana drawl, “Show me how much you want me, Batty.”

Then she leaned toward him, her tongue creasing his lips as she brushed her hand against his crotch, her fingers finding him, kneading him.

He couldn’t believe it was her. Two long years without her, and now here she was, alive and vibrant, working her fingers until he grew hard against them.

Then the jet bucked again, knocking them sideways, and Rebecca reached out to steady herself. Her hand touched the Milton manuscript and she hissed, jerking it away.

Batty felt as if he’d been slapped in the face.

He blinked and looked at her, abruptly coming to his senses. And he was once again looking at Callahan’s face.

But in that moment, he saw what truly lay behind her eyes:

The mind of a beast. A hideous, feral beast.

Thrusting his arms out, he shoved her away, knocking her backwards into the aisle as the jet continued its rapid dive.

She hissed at him and pulled herself upright, starting to rise as-

– Batty flung his seat belt off and sprang from his seat, knocking her back down, sending her sprawling, shouting, “Callahan! Wake up!”

But she couldn’t hear him, didn’t respond, again getting to her feet, coming toward him with her teeth bared, her face curled up in a snarl. “You’re fucking mine, you little insect.”

Batty started to back away, glancing around him, trying to think what he could use to fight her off. But there was nothing.

Then his gaze shifted to the manuscript and he remembered how she had reacted when she’d touched it. It suddenly occurred to him that if it truly was the original manuscript, and it truly was the divine word of God . . .

Scooping it up off the table, he got it between both hands, and as Callahan advanced, he shoved it toward her, pressing it against her breasts. She howled as if it burned, her eyes filling with agony as she stumbled back.

And now she was really mad.

With a deep, animal growl, she surged forward again, coming at Batty at full speed. He threw his hands up, holding the book out, and she slammed into it, howling as it touched her flesh. They crashed into the aisle and Batty scrambled, getting on top of her, keeping the book pressed against her chest.

“Wake up!” he shouted.

She continued to howl and hiss and moan, writhing beneath him, the whites of her eyes turning red, as if the blood vessels were starting to burst. She hammered at him with her fists, landing several solid blows to his ribs-

– but Batty didn’t let up. Kept the manuscript in place.

“Wake up, Callahan! Wake the fuck up!”

Then suddenly her eyes went blank and she stopped. Her arms fell to her sides and she was still.

Then the jet leveled off, steadying itself, the storm now behind them.

Batty pulled the manuscript from Callahan’s breasts, and stared down at her half-naked form, relieved, but barely able to catch his breath.

Then Callahan blinked, the life coming back into her eyes.

And when she realized Batty was straddling her, she glanced down at her exposed body, then back up at him in horror and said, “What the fuck?”

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