From the Quran…
Every soul will taste death, and you will only be given your compensation on the Day of Resurrection. So he who is drawn away from the Fire and admitted to Paradise has attained. And what is the life of this world except the enjoyment of delusion.
(Quran 3:185)
Prologue
“Sonia, do you take this oath willingly?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Will you promise not to use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this work?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Sonia, if you fulfill this oath and do not violate it, you will be granted the right to enjoy life and art, being honored with fame among men for all time to come.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“And will you do no harm, save your father?”
“My father? He is not part of this oath.”
“Ah, but Sonia, you have violated the most sacred of oaths. Thou shalt not kill and yet you continue to try. For this, you have been found guilty and your penalty is… death.”
“No, no, you don’t understand.”
“What is it, Sonia? How can an oath be taken but ignored when it favors you to do so? Death, Sonia. It will come first to those around you, and eventually, you will be released from the suffering you have caused. Death, Sonia, death will be yours to claim.”
Sonia
Chapter 1
“No!” My feet were caught in the folds of the comforter as it suddenly became imperative that I break free from the dream and turn on some lights. I wanted diversion—something I could focus on that would push away the ominous suffocation of the dream. Fresh air was my salvation—as critical as surfacing in a depth of gray waters. I felt a warm tongue lap at my ankle as Tessa followed me across the floor. I reached down to pet Tessa 2, the Belgian Malinois I’d adopted when the first Tessa had said her final goodnight. Tessa’s death had occurred shortly after I’d lost Melody. I knew their souls were united somewhere between the gates of heaven and the rainbow bridge. My eyes billed with tears as I thought of them.
I reached for the slider on my bedroom door. I needed air. The slider opened easily against my hand as I plunged into the balmy, late summer air that bathed me in familiarity. It was not the intense, dry heat of my childhood in Syria, laced with the strange odors from cooking pots and incense. Nor was it the fresh, salty air I remembered from my home on the coast where Carter and Jen grew up living with me. This air gave the same sensation as Melody’s soft palm as she petted my hair, rejoicing that I had again found my way back to America, escaping from my Syrian father’s wicked regime. Melody, my dear mother, who had felt guilty for having failed me until the moment she passed in her sleep so recently, followed soon after by my faithful, beloved dog. My first Tessa and my mother had loved each other completely and the two were inseparable and totally devoted to each other. They’d spent a lot of time together as I’d gone about the business of doctoring and soldiering. Tessa, who’d been my war dog when I was active military, had served as a support animal for Melody in the end and had guided her through her abyss into dementia. Tessa been with her and faithful to the end. I think when Melody had died, Tessa had decided that it was time for her to go as well. Perhaps Tessa didn’t think Melody could navigate the ever after.
I paused for a moment and brushed back tears. I looked down at my dog. What was wonderful about Tessa 2, is that she was the split image of my first Tessa. They shared bloodlines and it seemed to me she was well versed in her ancestor’s adventures. I leaned over and abstractly ruffled her ears and the fur around her neck. Already I loved this new Belgian who I was sure was my old Tessa in a new body. Her fur gleamed in the sunlight. The younger Tessa’s mind was a carbon copy of my first beloved dog and the eyes that stared at me were wise.
I fancied my mother’s hand was pulling my hair back from my forehead, using the breeze to touch what she could not. I felt comforted, reassured, and then resigned to the knowledge that I would forever be haunted, if not hunted, in my dreams. That was the power of the Emir. That was the power of my father. It was a power that I could not, as hard as I have tried, allow him to have.
I couldn’t ignore the fact that the dream had forced guilt to the surface. Time and again I questioned how it was that I had come to hate the man who had contributed to who I was. Was it his relentless hatred of Christians and the America he saw as a conquest? Was it his jealousy that I had chosen Melody over him, or was it the regret that I had been born a female and could not take over all that he had built? It mattered little for evil was his tool and I stood for everything but that. In fact, I stood against everything he stood for. I felt Tessa 2 standing with me. She lay on the bedcover I’d dragged out to the deck. Her warm tongue lapped at my hand. Her moist, understanding eyes looked up at me. She knew. Tessa knew what was in my heart. She knew my soul.
I found my phone lodged inside a fold of the tousled covers. I tapped his face and like magic, his voice answered. “I had another one. Can you come?”
“On my way.” The voice was quiet, but definitive. He would come and I loved him for it. I called Tessa and we walked into the dining room.
The single row of LED lights in the back of the liquor cabinet reflected merrily between the backsplash mirror and the myriad of colored bottles. Choosing brandy, I palmed two snifters and tipped in a healthy dose. I had a late morning schedule and no surgeries—I was allowed. I forced myself to wait before I drank. It would taste differently folded in his arms. I moved toward the sofas in the living room and Tessa followed me and took her place on the floor.
There was a tap on the screen door and then the inner door gushed open with yet another hand from the balmy wind I’d found on the deck. Trey Pullen, my current love, was at the door. His jacket slid off his arm and landed on the kitchen island. “Hey…” he murmured as his arms folded me against his chest. “Another one, huh?”
I nodded and the little girl in me wanted him to make them all go away. Instead, I handed him a snifter and he pulled me into that fortress built of his chest, arms, sinew and muscle. I whispered what I’d dreamed between sips of the potent liquid. We’d done it before, and I didn’t doubt we’d do it again. Perhaps I wouldn’t find release until I, too, slipped away in my sleep.
“Shh…” he urged, brushing back my hair where Melody’s hand had faded. “I’m here now. You know it’s just a dream and that it has no basis in truth. You know this better than anyone.” His voice comforted me.
“I feel so tired, Trey. So tired of it all. Always on alert, always the sentry and the woman expected to have some sort of terrorist precognition like an early warning system.” Tessa whined softly. She knew my pain.
“You know that’s not entirely true, Sonia. They don’t demand these things. You demand them of yourself, and always have. Why not let yourself go? Be free of this self-imposed guilt and obligation that keeps him in power over you.”
“I wish I could. I wish to God I could.”
“C’mon, another sip and then let’s go lie down. I have to be in early and I didn’t bring clothes, so I can’t stay—at least not all night. I won’t leave until you’re asleep. I promise.”
Loyal, faithful Trey. By day he was the Assistant to the Deputy Director of SAC and by night he was my love and my lover. He wanted more of me and I knew it, but I held him off. Bad things happened to men who were close to me. Truly bad things. Men who loved me and swore to keep me safe somehow died in the effort. I wouldn’t let that happen again—and yet, there I was—his soft, even breaths on the back of my neck and I took refuge in his sanity while mine felt as though it was raging out of control.
I felt him leave the bed later, even though I swore to myself I hadn’t noticed. It was easier that way. I heard Tessa’s tail thump a good-bye to Trey. By nine a.m. I’d finally kicked the comforter to the floor and made my way to the shower. A cup of coffee and thirty minutes later I emerged into the sunlight, like a butterfly who shrugged off her cocoon. To the world I was Dr. Sonia Anon, a retired major in the U.S. Army, a renown battlefield surgeon, and a former and still frequent CIA operative. But, I was the daughter of a terrorist and mother to two of what had to be the world’s finest children. To me, I was just a hamster, trekking the nights away on that wheel of a nightmare that never ended. Trying to avoid the trauma and strain that living with the world’s most feared terrorist had inflicted upon my soul at a tender age.
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