Unable to shake off the fingers entwined with mine, I couldn’t give him the swat he deserved. “That is not what I meant.”
“But you wouldn’t blush if I didn’t tease. And I adore the way you blush.”
Wriggling to get away only got me more encumbered. “Are you an octopus? Where did all these arms come from?”
“Can’t a man give his wife an extra hand or two?”
He was impossible. “For the love of all that is holy. Can you be serious for five seconds?”
“I am the embodiment of seriousness.” Lips brushed over mine the instant he spoke those words. Which was impossible, as I was still resting on his chest and nowhere near that mouth. “Drab as he is, Yeshua, is the only person, outside of myself, who can tell you of our time in the desert. Since we both know you won’t believe a word out of my mouth, I’ll arrange for you to spend time together. Though sometimes it’s better to hold on to our delusions than face the truth of the world. Consider that should you really want to speak with him.”
“Jesus is in heaven!” My snarl earned me another phantom peck.
“Many people do consider Brazil heaven.”
“I will not lose my faith.” By God, I would not.
“Your faith?” Playfulness drained from the monster, fingers that had been tickling ceased movement. Form curling even more around me, like a centipede eating a bug, razor-sharp fangs found my throat. Scraping oh so softly over that tender place. They dragged from neck to my earlobe. Where he nipped, yet drew no blood. Where he whispered, “Your faith, you say? Was it your choice to be abandoned on the doorstep of a mission? Did you have a say in the education those monks graced you with? The beatings, the labor, the abuses of a particular priest? Did they not tell you to fear God and obey? Did they not take advantage of a dependent child with nowhere to go in a world that was savage and dirty, crawling with prospectors looking for gold? At no time was it your faith. It was and is your shackles, imposed upon you by a world that use religion as means of control. And if there is this God you imagine, she would agree with me.”
“God is not a woman.” Women were creatures born of sin. The reason humanity fell from grace.
Wing lifting, all touch retreated. Brightness broke through our private circle, causing me to squint at the unwelcome intrusion. Leaving me with the face of a man who looked disturbed, a bit angry, and even sad.
A man with his outstretched wing folding at his back as if he were an angel, even though the wing was that of a creature from the pit. One propped up on an elbow, watching me in silence, bathed in sunlight.
Minutes passed, with each tick of the clock my shame growing, though I was unsure what sin I had committed. Endless hanging silence that left me fidgeting and unable to hold his gaze.
Unable to beat it another second, I muttered, “God cannot be a woman.”
“And the world cannot be round. And humans cannot land on the moon. And evolution is not factually based because the most popular creation myth of this era had everything burst into life in seven days. But you don’t know that word, because you were raised as a practical slave under starvation conditions. It took you decades to learn how to write, picking up snatches here and there while you wandered from city to city. Famished for education, but female, weak, poor, and frightened. There is nothing evil about you. But there is evil in ignorance. Ask me how many verses of that bible I could quote to support my argument?” He reared back, haughty and grim. “Actually don’t. I have no interest in wasting my breath. You can’t hear, because you are broken. And I am gravely insulted by all you have said.”
Why was I crying? Why were hot tears falling down flushed cheeks? “But you don’t understand. God cannot be a woman. He filled Mary with child.”
“The immaculate conception? Winged angels in the sky at the birth of Christ?” Unfolding the wings at his back, Vladislov beat them against the air, raising himself from the bed as if to take flight. “Gift from kings who’d traveled far. Gold, frankincense, myrrh. All priceless items left at the feet of a peasant woman and her swaddled baby.”
My mouth opened, but I was cut off by another beating of his wings and a louder riposte. “Just to make it clear in case you are not picking up on the subtle hints I’ve layered through this chat. Mary enjoyed my cock when we lay together. For birthing my offspring, she was rewarded with riches. And to many, I am a God. But the only God I worship has a cunny. And I know this, because I have seen you gloriously naked. Wordplay or no, I will not have you insult my Goddess, my love, or my tireless devotion. You will be educated, starting tonight. And you will meet with Yeshua in time and find yourself in a world so far beyond what you allow your mind to comprehend that you will hate me for it.”