Jezebel

Part One: 34

Donkeys were the stupidest creatures on the surface of the earth. Once Harel rode past the gates, the animal had charged on a path of its own. And it galloped quite fast—almost as fast as a horse. What made Harel nearly pass out from terror was the direction the animal was barrelling toward. With every passing moment, the temple loomed closer and closer and he grew even more spineless, unable to throw himself off the creature and bolt in the opposite direction.

"Stop." He pulled the bit, tugging the rope like a mad man. "Stop, you accursed animal. You would get me killed."

Deaf. The donkey was a stupid deaf beast. Rage boiled in Harel so hot, the air around his face heated.

He would have to throw himself off. That was the only way. But when Harel summoned the courage to leap off, the donkey took a hard right. He cursed when his sandaled feet nearly scraped against a stone wall.

Gritting his teeth, Harel resolved to try again. As if the animal sensed his intent, it took a sharp turn into a partially lit street. Harel held on for dear life, all the while swearing to deliver a terrible beating when it tired itself out.

As the animal sped along, Harel saw it was taking the same route he had used when he snuck into the temple that one time. It had been a thing of luck. He could hardly believe it, even as he thought of it now. That night, he had been a trembling mess, certain he would die in the hands of the queen or her loyalists. To his surprise the back door had been unguarded and on the first step was a folded cloak—one identical to those the worshippers wore.

Even with the chaos that had become his life, his conscience had been taking a brutal beating lately. Atrocities he had committed in the past seemed to suddenly surge from their graves and haunt him with the persistence of a fly. Every life that ended under his watch and prodding. Every person he deceived. Even the last boy—the one the queen rescued from him—had eventually died because of him. He started it all; his obsession with physical evidence of the supernatural had been the catalyst that sent him hurtling down.

It had taken little to be converted to the ways of Dhaw. Very easy in fact.

The woman—stunning to behold and very much out of place in the smelly sea side fish market—had approached him, offering to read his palm for a sum. He knew it was against the Jewish law to seek a diviner, but then, stupid as he was, he had allowed it. He had reasoned that he was not the one who did the seeking. Stupid.

The hook had been easy to swallow—a bright colourful painting of the future placed before him. She told him he would be a leader, a person who wielded great power. At first he had scoffed, until she touched his forehead with two fingers and like that, the vision had burst before his eyes. Since that day, he had been unable to un-see it. It was like a beacon luring him to follow. For the first time in his life he felt like a man with a purpose. He had never seen the woman again.

His father had died not too long after the encounter. The much he had owned was divided between himself and his elder brother, Jehu. Harel had abandoned his fishing business without a second thought and used his inheritance to learn more about the art of divining; Jehu, on the other hand, had run off to join the king's army. His brother was a wild soul who gave their father much cause for grief while he was alive. Harel was mostly glad Jehu never attempted to awaken whatever dead sense of kinship they shared.

When the temple loomed even closer, Harel's heart sunk then slammed against his ribs. Desperate, he snapped the bit again in a useless attempt to stop the animal... and to his shock it stopped, nearly whiplashing him off the weatherbeaten saddle.

Panting heavily, Harel leapt off the crazed animal like it was on fire. The donkey flicked its ear and shifted on its feet—looking all energetic and satisfied with itself.