Aekhem

Isabella

II

At sixteen, her father told her they had to make a trip without telling her where they were going and she did not ask because she actually did not care.

Traveling with her father could be very entertaining or totally boring. But, since this time Paolo stayed at the mansion in Rome, she knew the latter was a fact.

Her school and teachings could be interrupted at her will. She was usually smarter than her teachers. All Isabella had to do was to take a book and start reading it and she seemed to somehow remember what the book was about, as she had read it before or lived it.

For Isabella, the name of a book or its contents were some kind of reminders of what she already knew and the first words she read off of them made her realize she had either read them before or knew what the book was about.

Her father had his own personal library with over three thousand books on all kinds of subjects. Old books and new books about old subjects. Some in languages from her natural Italian and others in signs or hieroglyphics that she could read without knowing why she could.

Even at her young age, her life was boring and her father realize this. She was old enough now and had all the knowledge she needed to learn about her real origin. She had to be instructed on how to proceed before her own origin got to her and took control over her life.

When they landed at Syria's airport, different vehicles were expecting for them to the Palmira ruins where hundreds of luxury cars of all kinds were parked.

As many people as cars were around, all dressed in dark red robes and ropes at their waists. They all look like some kind of sect monks. They were all walking in line towards a set of stairs heading down below the ground under the ruins.

She ignored there was actually something under the Palmira ruins, the books did not mention anything about it. Whatever it was down below, she did not care, for her everything was boring.

She remembered a book her father had hidden in his study in a secret drawer in his desk. It was about rituals and chants, and she was pretty sure her father assisted to these events continuously.

She could not but mock internally at her father's stupid beliefs.

She never thought her father would bring her to one of his rituals without telling her first. She hoped not to be one of the virgins at those sacrifices she read in the rituals. How could she tell her father her virginity left with one of those handsome servants that worked eventually every other summer at their Toscana home?. Same handsome young man they kept looking for and nobody seemed to know where he was or where he went to ... they never bother to look at the rose garden where Enrico buried him for her after she hit him on the head with the shovel. She missed, she actually wanted rip his head from his neck with the shovel's sharp end but he turned around to look at her while standing naked after he had made her his or she made him hers. Renatto was good for one thing and that is exactly what he did.

If this group of whoknowswhat followers started chanting for the virgin they might think she was, it was just simply not going to happen.

She was deep thinking about this situation when a woman in her early thirties approached her with evident good manners and probably from a good family as well.

Rich and fancy, Isabella thought, always acting as something they were not. For sure this woman was at church the day before.

The woman, still smiling at her, took her by her hand towards a different entrance. Another stairway heading down to a hallway with electric lamps on the sides of the corridor. The proper illumination for such a place should have been torches and fire.

She took Isabella to a little room where there was only a table and a chair. Over the table the ridiculous dark red robe and the rope as a belt, in this case the rope was white. Isabella smiled to herself. Purity and innocence, predictable and stupid.

The lady started undressing her and helped her changed. If the woman knew that only by the slight touch of her hands over her naked skin excited her and she corresponded her, this could turn out to be a more interesting night for Isabella.

The woman kept chanting words in another language which Isabella recognized as old Sumerian satanic pray. She laughed again to herself over the ignorance of this person. After the woman finished she said:

"You come from a long line of special beings and unique and divine gifts. With you and your child we will obtain the victory

our Master demands"

"So" Isabella said "no virgin sacrifice tonight? Son? Who's son are you talking about?"

Rossana, the woman speaking to her, answered:

"No dear, we just want everybody to meet you, to know who you are and for the Master to be present before us" then she added "you a virgin?" while smiling "we are well aware of all of your mischievousness and naughty games and we are fascinated by you, in fact, after the ceremony, if you wish ... I could wait for you here ..."

"Rossana dear" she responded to her suggestion "as it seems I am the chosen one here, and as such, why would I want to be with you when I can be with anybody I want. Why would I want to be with an old hag like yourself? I can have anybody!, be careful, if you insist, I will bring the Master himself and then he will make you his"

Rossana responded:

"Really? Would you that for me?" Isabella thought she would be scared but she was excited "if you were to bring him here and he would take me, I would not wait for anything else in my life, my life would be fulfilled. Please do! I beg of you. I will stay here waiting"

Isabella just thought:

"Irremediable fanatics" she walked out of the littleroom and left crazy and happy Rossana inside ... waiting.