The Cold Smell Of Sacred Stone

'I take that as a compliment, and I thank you.'

'It's just an observation, Marl.'

'What you observe on the outside is not necessarily a reflection of what's going on inside.'

'That's true of many people.'

'With me … I don't act out. Not in here. But Dr. Wong-he's my therapist-understands what could happen if I were let out of here. He's the only person besides Garth who fully appreciates the relationship between me and my maid of constant sorrows.'

'You've told Garth about your maid of constant sorrows?'

'Oh, yes. Garth knows everything about me.'

'Your maid of constant sorrows is your madness?'

'No. It's personal, Mongo, and I don't want to talk about her with you.'

'I'm sorry, Marl. I didn't mean to pry.'

'Don't apologize; I told you I'd like you to feel free to ask me anything you'd like. When you ask me a question I don't want to answer, I'll just let you know.'

I smiled, nodded. 'Like I said; you don't seem all that crazy to me.'

'You seemed a bit nervous when you first walked into the unit. You don't now.'

'I was never nervous for myself. Frankly, I don't much like the idea of Garth hanging out in here. All of the patients in this unit, including you, are potentially violent. I'm afraid Garth could be hurt-if not by you, then by somebody like Mama Baker, who doesn't have your kind of control.'

'If Garth had been in here last night, Mama wouldn't have gone off.'

My response was to shrug.

Braxton smiled, continued: 'Don't you think your brother can take care of himself? He certainly has in the past. In fact, he came within a punch or two of busting up Jake Bolesh and a jailful of deputies when Bolesh had you locked up in Nebraska. I believe that was just before Bolesh injected you with the stuff that caused your bodies to change.'

'Obviously, Garth has gone through some radical changes,' I said, ignoring the clear invitation to discuss Valhalla-while taking note of the fact that Garth had indeed been telling Marl Braxton all about it, in detail. 'He's a bit mellower now, to say the least. If he was attacked, I'm not even sure he would make a move to defend himself.'

'Don't worry. I'd never let anything or anybody hurt Garth. But he won't be attacked; it's not meant that he should be harmed.'

Something in the other man's voice made me sit up straighter. 'Why not?'

Marl Braxton set his half-empty bottle of beer down on the floor, then folded his hands in his lap. 'Because Garth is the son of God.'

I was sorry I'd asked, and I tried to cover my embarrassment by taking a long swallow of beer.

'Garth is the Messiah,' Braxton continued evenly. 'He's been sent by God to save us from ourselves.'

'Oh,' I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. And I couldn't resist adding, 'Son-of-a-bitch.'

Marl Braxton laughed loudly and easily. 'All of a sudden I'm seeming a little crazier to you, aren't I, Mongo?'

'Yep. That you are.'

'Well, at least you're not trying to patronize me by denying it. I can see that what I've said comes as a shock to you; it came as a shock to me when I first realized the enormity of just what it was Garth represented.'

'It will come as a shock to my mother and father. Listen, Marl, I've got a flash for you. Garth doesn't even believe in God.'

'I know that,' Braxton said evenly, apparently unperturbed by my revelation. 'Garth told me. It doesn't make any difference.'

'It doesn't make any difference that the man you believe is a messiah doesn't even believe in God?'

Braxton shook his head, ran his hand back over his widow's peak. 'Garth is still God's messenger, the Messiah, whether he chooses to believe it or not. Do you believe in God, Mongo?'

'I certainly don't believe in messiahs, or divine intervention. I consider them primitive notions-answers to human longing, fear, and suffering that have always been a big part of the problem. Garth's got one thing right; any help we get is going to have to come from ourselves.'

'Can you see his aura?'

'Whose aura? Garth's?”

'So you can't. There's a blue-white light all around him; he literally glows with holiness. Eventually you'll be able to see it, as will others.'

Marl Braxton paused and looked at me, as if waiting for a response. His casual assertion that my brother was some kind of divine messenger had indeed shocked me, precisely because he had seemed so rational up to that point. I did not want to begin to condescend to Braxton's insanity, or appear to be mocking him, so I decided it was best to leave the subjects of my brother's divinity and his blue-white aura alone. I said nothing.

'But you've certainly witnessed Garth's healing powers,' Braxton continued.

'I'm not sure what you mean by 'healing powers.' '

'Oh, I think you do. You just don't want to talk any more because I've made you uncomfortable, and you're no longer certain how to deal with me. You shouldn't feel that way. Everyone around here has witnessed Garth's healing powers; they just don't understand where his gift comes from. Like you. It occurs to me that you're now caught in a curious kind of netherworld between this world of madness and the other world of madness you come from. Garth will tell anyone who cares to listen about the Triage Parabola and the Valhalla Project. They don't believe him, but you know that everything he says is true. The fact that Garth is the Messiah is obvious, and it's just as true as the things that were done to you by Siegmund Loge. But you can't accept it.'

'You're confusing two different things.'

'Am I? The kind of healing power Garth displays could only come from God; there's no one else on earth who can bring about the changes in people the way he does, with a few simple words or a gesture. I believe he's healed me; because of Garth, I believe I can now escape from my maid of constant sorrows and function away from here. I'm in no hurry to prove it, and I don't even intend to tell Dr. Wong. Garth's in no hurry to carry out his mission, and his time is my time.'

'What's Garth's reaction to this belief of yours that he's the Messiah?'

Again, Marl Braxton laughed. 'He says I'm crazy.'

Suddenly I felt a wave of affection for the other man, and my unease fell away from me. It didn't matter what he believed; what he believed might be insane, in my view, but in my view it was no more insane than the religious fantasies of millions of other people around the globe. The only difference was that the others banded together and received tax waivers.

I grinned, cocked my thumb and forefinger like a gun, pointed it at him. 'There you go.'

Braxton stood up and stretched. 'You want another beer, Mongo?'

'I'm still working on this one. Thanks.'

'You know, the proof of what Garth is can be seen in what he says and does, but it's also easy to see a pattern in Garth's life over the past few years as God was preparing him for his mission.'

'What pattern?'

'First, his trials at the hands of Siegmund Loge, and then his involvement in the hunt for Veil Kendry- Archangel.'

'So he's told you all about Archangel, too,' I said with a sigh.

'Yes.'

'You know, Marl, I just happened to be slightly involved in those matters, too.'

'Yes,' Braxton replied easily, 'but it's also now clear that your involvement was incidental to God's plan for awakening His son. You're not the Messiah; Garth is.'

'Loge's Valhalla Project and the Archangel affair had nothing to do with each other,' I replied, aware that I was probably crazy for carrying on such a crazy conversation with a bona fide, card-carrying crazy man. Yet, I not only found myself liking and respecting Marl Braxton, but increasingly curious about the pathology he was now clearly displaying. I remembered Chris Yardley, and my inability to convince him that it was in his best interests not