Reluctant Gods



  Reluctant Gods

  The First of the Reluctant Gods Series

  Copyright 2011 by A.J. Aaron

  Revised September 2015 – Fourth edition

  “The illiterate of the twenty-first century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn.”

  Alvin Toffler

  Copyright 2011 A.J. Aaron

  Revised - Sept 2015 Fourth Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher and author do not have any control over, and does not assume responsibility for third party websites.

  To purchase another copy of this book, or to see other books by A.J., go to:

  https://www.AjAaronOnline.com

  Other books by A.J. include:

  Reluctant Gods II-The Demon Seth

  Reluctant Gods III – Reset

  Reluctant Gods IV - Aysel - The Prequel

  Reluctant Gods - Books One Through Four

  A New Reality-A Wake Up Call to Life’s Mysteries

  Power, Control, Conformance

  The Hawk, or Other Worlds

  Cover Image Copyright Guryanov Andrey used under license from Shutterstock.com.

  Editing done by Christine Winsor

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 1 of Relcutant Gods II – The Demon Seth

  “All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we enter another.”

  Anatole France

  1

  Snow was falling beyond the porch of the mansion as I stood in front of the twelve-foot-tall, carved oak door, and heard Boccherini’s “Minuet” playing inside. I brushed the snow off my coat and stomped my boots. As I reached to ring the bell, the door opened.

  “Sevi. Come in, my dear. She’s waiting for you. She’s so excited today.” Emily’s eyes beamed from the folds of her skin as if they were the sky itself. Her hands, like dried twigs, removed my scarf and coat then pointed to a room.

  “She’s in the parlor, dear. Please go in and I’ll get you some tea. You look like your back hurts, are you okay?”

  “Just a muscle pull, that’s all, the tea would be welcome.” Emily tottered away to hang my things in the closet and I yelled after her, “Thanks, Emily, you’re very kind!”

  “I can hear, dear! Just ‘cause I look like I can’t, don’t think I can’t.” She chortled and her body shook. “I know with that string quartet music, you’d think I couldn’t hear a thing. Go ahead and follow it and you’ll find her, Sevi dear.”

  The mansion’s aroma was like so many aged homes: embedded fireplace smoke, food smells, old paints, floor wax—homey. Layered on that smell was a fragrance I remembered from childhood—a combination of lavender and frankincense. I tried to breathe it in deeper, but after a few good sniffs, it seemed the smell was more in my brain than in my nose. I seemed to sense it rather than smell it—very odd, I thought. Maybe I imagined it from memory.

  I passed through the arched double doorway into the impressive parlor with oriental rugs, horsehair furniture, a massive fireplace flanked by statues of lions, and windows from the floor to the twelve-foot ceiling. Sunbeams glittered off floating dust specks.

  She was swaying to the music in a violet and white lace gown. Her five foot two frame rose to about five foot six in her heels. She was said to be one hundred and six years old and, from behind, she looked like she could be much younger. I remembered her at my sixteenth birthday when she was supposed to be eighty, but looked fifty or so. A rush of lavender and frankincense filled my senses.

  I called out to her, “Boccherini’s Minuet, very uplifting.”

  She turned and faced me. She looked forty.

  “I’m sorry, Sevi. I get so wrapped up in my music, sometimes the world disappears. I didn’t even know you came in. Why do you look so shocked? Am I too young looking? This is about as young as I can get away with now, or I’d be younger still. I don’t want to shock you too much all at once, do I?” She grinned.

  She moved toward me so fluidly, it was as if she floated—like a ghost in a movie. Her arms rose for a big hug and I became aware of her solid body. No ghost. I tried to smell perfume on her, but my nose gave me no result. Yet I sensed it somehow.

  “Yes, you look fabulous. I would have thought someone one hundred and six years old would look different. What’s your secret?”

  “Ah secrets…yes, we all have them, don’t we? Though you have no secrets from me, do you, Sevilen? How does your back feel now?”

  “No secrets with you, Ninee…my back? Uh, now that you mention it, it’s fine, doesn’t hurt at all. It hurt like heck when I arrived. I slipped on the ice getting the paper this morning. Did you hear Emily mention it?”

  “Really, Sevilen, how could anyone hear what was said at the door with this music?” Ninee shook her head, took my hand, and brought me over to the horsehair couch. The couch never seemed to age either. I remembered playing on it as a child. Its woodwork and Louis XVI legs looked like they were carved yesterday.

  In came Emily, carrying a silver tray and teapot with translucent china teacups on it. She placed them on the coffee table, smiled, winked at me, and took off again.

  Ninee filled our cups. The music shifted to a loud violin piece that seemed to mimic the cry of love lost. “The music is a bit loud, isn’t it?”

  Ninee looked at the stereo equipment for a moment and the volume dropped to quiet background music. She handed me my cup; Jasmine wafted from the fine china. The warmth of it felt comforting, as comforting as Ninee has always been for me as a child.

  “Dear Sevilen, there is so much you have to learn yet. Suffice it to say, I know everything I need to know, everything about you, about anything. Same as you shall.”

  Glittering green eyes sparkled at me. She placed her hand on mine. Reddish brown hair framed her creamy complexion and made her look like an angel. Her delicately sculpted ears had two sets of piercings. Diamonds dangled from the lower hole, glittering as she moved.

  She continued as the violins quietly cried in the background. “Sevi, I have a gift for you. It’s the last task I have to fulfill here before I go. I’ve been waiting, watching you grow and experience life, until you were ready for this. This gift is nothing to ignore. It is your destiny, your purpose, your supreme calling. It comes through time from a person who was here many, many years and generations ago. My father handed me the objects before he left. He left me no instructions, but as soon as I touched them, I knew they were for you, although you were not yet born.”

  Ninee Aysel let go of my hand, sipped her tea, and watched me quietly. She crossed her delicate legs beneath the lace and bounced her foot as she sipped her tea. I was a little apprehensive, never having encount
ered Aysel speaking about mysterious things this way. She sipped and watched me. Why wasn’t she saying anything?

  My engineering mind was trying to put together what she’d said, what happened to my back and the music, her scent of lavender and frankincense, her apparent youth, the way she moved—I couldn’t make sense of it. Seeming to have read my thoughts, she spoke.

  “Sevi, everything is as it should be. You’ll see, dear. Trust me, and all your questions will one day be answered. You are protected and will be guided.”

  Aysel leaned over, kissed me on the forehead, took my hand, and stood.

  “Come, let me show you something.”

  We walked hand in hand. She no longer floated, but rather, her heels clicked humanly across the hardwood floors then went silent on the oriental carpet.

  She lifted her dress hem as we climbed the long staircase, and then dropped it to flow on the floor as we walked the long hall to the end.

  She passed her hand over the center of an oak door with carvings of triangles, stars, snakes, and lotus petals. A loud clunk signaled it was unlocked. Aysel turned the crystal knob and the door swung open.

  The room was paneled in framed, dark wood squares and the floors covered with thick, ancient carpets. There were paintings I recognized of Isaac Newton, Thomas Jefferson, and countless other faces I didn’t recognize. There were drawers and cabinet doors built into the walls.

  “This is our museum, so to speak. Something to spark memory, or to inform those who need to know. You need not go through all of it, but I’ll show you what you need. When your journey is complete, you’ll know all of this anyway.”

  Aysel passed by what appeared to be a humidity and temperature display that had a “CLOSE DOOR” light flashing on the panel.

  “Ninee, the display says to close the door.”

  “Yes, Sevi, please go close it. This room is environmentally regulated with special lighting and atmosphere controls.”

  I closed the door. I passed by an ancient, but clear painting of a raven-haired beauty, but what caught my eye the most was next to it where Aysel stood. Another painting as old as the raven-haired woman’s and equally as clear.

  “Do you recognize this person?” Aysel smiled knowingly, watching my eyes.

  I studied the painting. It could have been me, except for the ancient clothing and long hair. I took in every detail. My heart pounded from the extraordinary likeness to me.

  Sparkling gold highlights were woven into his shoulder-length blond hair. He wore two rings. On the little finger of the right hand, which held a scepter with a large crystal on top, was a snake ring with a ruby in its mouth between the fangs. On the middle finger of the left hand, the heavy gold ring appeared to be the face of a man, but with horns. It almost looked like…

  “Yes, Sevi, Christians call it Satan. It’s not. It is called Cernunnos, the male aspect of God. The snake represents the female aspect. The snake is also symbolic of Kundalini—the energy that awakens the god within by rising from the bottom chakra to the top.”

  “You’re not Catholic? The way you said ‘Christians’…”

  “People think I am. It’s a good way to fit in. I was raised Catholic. I am nothing religious anymore. That is, of any formalized kind. That’s unimportant. What is important here is that you see you were this man in a time past. You won’t believe me, but as I said, trust me.

  “His name was Sevilen as well and, no, I didn’t influence anyone in naming you. Your name being Sevilen was a marker for me to be certain, and keep me here this long. You are my main task and why I have held my position.”

  “Position?”

  “My responsibility. My one goal in this life. I am here because of you. To get you started.”

  Aysel looked at me blankly, waiting for my response.

  I looked at her as my mind raced. Position, responsibility, goal in her life? I don’t see her for years and now I’m her responsibility? What kind of crap is this?

  “Not crap. Please, Sevi. Have patience and you will learn everything soon enough. Back to the painting.”

  How the hell was she reading my mind?

  “Answers will come, dear.”

  She pointed at the painting that looked so much like me.

  “He’s where the power of the family comes from.” Aysel waved her hand at the painting. “He’s Turkish.”

  “I thought Turks had dark hair and skin and were Muslims.”

  “Most do, he was a Tatar. A Caucasian Tatar and had European blood in him as well. However, he was no Muslim or Christian. You see, once you have access to the Akashic records you’ll know the true purposes of all the religions, as did this Sevilen, as did Jesus.”

  Aysel looked at me lovingly as I stared at the painting trying to take this all in.

  I felt as if I knew this man. Or was this man. I swore I could feel what he wore as if I were wearing the identical attire right then.

  His shirt-like clothing felt smooth and slid easily on my skin. The gold, seven-pointed star dangling from his left earlobe tugged gently on the diamond stud holding it in place. The crescent moon tugged less on the right earlobe, held in place with a ruby red stud. The blue gemstone on his right nostril matched his eyes; I sensed it reminded him of communication for some reason. Even though he looked so much like me, he looked different, more powerful, and wiser.

  “You will be powerful and wise as well, Sevilen. You are here, on this earth, on this plane or realm, to learn what he knew.”

  Again, she heard what I had thought. How can that be?

  “Now this way.”

  Aysel walked over to a wall panel and passed her special ring over the finely carved wood. A hiss of wood sliding on wood, then a clunk. The panel popped free and cracked slightly open.

  Aysel opened the panel the rest of the way with her tiny hands and long glassy white fingernails. Her rings glinted in the light. She waved a hand over one breadbox-sized drawer and it hissed, clicked, and opened. Aysel withdrew a box as ancient as the painting we just saw. She handed it to me.

  It was heavy for its size. There were carvings on it of what would today be the symbol for medicine—snakes wrapped around a staff and an eagle at the top. As I held it, she opened it.

  “Turn it toward you, dear.”

  I turned it and inside were both rings from the painting, each set in a purple velvet mound with gold threads that spiraled from the base to where the rings sat. Between the two rings sat a broken, glistening, multicolored stone. It appeared to be half of a heart broken down the middle.

  “Pick them up. They belong to you. The stone is a combination of Phenacite, Tourmaline, and Jet. Very rare. This combination doesn’t normally occur in nature.”

  I stared in wonderment.

  She giggled like a little girl as I handed her the box, took the rings, and put them on the fingers they fit, the same fingers as in the painting.

  I looked at the stone closely. It had been in a setting at one time, since it had marks on the outer edges from a clasp. Multicolored with a predominance of purple and white, it had every color in the rainbow, plus gold and silver.

  Aysel continued, “This stone was not split accidentally. An immense amount of power went into it. The archangels and the man in the painting cast a spell that broke the stone and caused you to be here today. There’s another half in this realm somewhere. You’ll find it, or it will find you, and you will meet the person who has it.”

  Aysel paused and touched my hand. “Close your eyes.”

  As I closed them, I saw an image like a movie playing in flashes. A funeral pyre with the raven-haired woman dead upon it. Her necklace, with this stone on it, was removed from her by the man in the painting. Lightning. A storm. A temple with four archangels, one on every side. I was there as the man in the painting and held my arms out in the center of the temple. I smelled the incense burning in the temple. I cried out, “Mote it be!” A blast of energy surged and the image went black.

  Aysel let go of my han
ds. “That was you and the stone was hers. You brought yourself here today without realizing it.”

  How did I see those images? Some kind of telekinetic mind control? What was in that tea? Is Aysel human?

  “Oh, Sevilen. Relax. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered showing you those images in your mind. Anyway, the important thing is you must wear these rings and carry this stone from now on. Of course, you can take the rings off to work on things, or wash and so on, but you should wear them any other time. Likewise, keep the stone with you at all times. In its own way, it will alert you to things.”

  “Ninee, this is crazy. I have so many questions. Please, please tell me more. Tell me about this man, these rings, this stone and why you look like you’re fortysomething and how you know so much. How are you reading my mind? Are you really my great grandmother? Are you human? Ninee, I need to know. I need answers.”

  “Sevi, please stop calling me Ninee. Aysel will suffice. Ninee makes me feel so old.”

  She laughed and touched me tenderly on the shoulder then continued. “Yes, yes, yes, beautiful Sevilen, you’ll get all the answers. You became an engineer so you would ask for answers. If you weren’t in search of answers, the rings and the stone would lie dormant in a drawer somewhere or end up in a pawnshop. It would take years—generations maybe—for the time to be right for this to happen again. Things are exactly as they should be at this moment. All the answers will come. Now, take them and go home. I have to get things in order for my trip.”

  Aysel closed the box and gave it to me. She shut the drawer and the panel. The bolts hissed and clunked again. She stood on her toes and kissed me gently on my cheek. She spun, went to the door, and waited for me to open it.

  “Thank you, dear.”

  She led me to the front door, her lavender and frankincense scent was as I always remembered. Emily reappeared with my coat and scarf and wrapped me in them. She hugged me as she said, “Enjoy this life. You’re special. Believe it. Follow your heart.” Emily stepped back.

  Aysel came forward, gave me a big hug with tears in her eyes. “I should know better than to cry, but it’s hard to do this. Be Sevilen, my dear, Sevilen that is inside you, not what they have taught you, not what they say you are, or you should be. Break your paradigms; trust in me and in the objects I gave you.” Aysel backed away.

  “When will I see you again, Ninee, uh, Aysel?”

  “I don’t know. We will meet again. We always will. You have things to do and so do I. I love you, Sevilen, and wish you well.”

  “I love you, too. I trust you. I’ll do my best, though I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  Aysel turned and walked away with Emily. I closed the huge door of the beautiful mansion, and stepped off the porch, down the stairs, and into the snow. I wiped my watery eyes. Ravens covered the yard. They squawked as if I were someone they wanted to see.

  They flew by gracefully, almost in slow motion, and then spiraled up into the falling snow. I looked back at the griffin statues on each side of the staircase and they were replaced with angels, smiling at me. I wiped my eyes again and felt a lump in my throat for fear I wouldn’t see Aysel again.

  My boots squeaked through the crisp snow as I made my way to my car. I felt like I was losing someone so dear to me. She helped my parents and me greatly over the years. Now that I finally was able to see her again, she’s going away. Who, or what, is my great grandmother Aysel? Is she really my great grandmother? Why is she the way she is? What was she talking about? Why do I feel she’s going to die?

  I started the car, wiped my face with my scarf, and drove home. Somehow, I had a hunch my life was never going to be the same again.