Page 68 of Dawn Caravan
“That’s not a thing, Tenzin.”
Ben and Tenzin walked through the small door and under an archway, only to be immediately assaulted by the scent of incense.
Tenzin sniffed. “Yep. Definitely an Orthodox Christian living here.”
“Okay.” Ben spun in the middle of the intimate chapel, the floor tiled in an intricate mosaic and the ceiling painted with sacred art. “What are we looking for?”
Tenzin began gently pressing on walls. “We’re looking for the real chapel.”
Ben began to copy her movements, and within a few minutes he heard a quiet click behind him.
“Tenzin?” Ben looked over his shoulder, then turned to scan the room.
She was gone.
18
Tenzin waited a few minutes in the sacred silence of the private chapel. She turned in the center of the room, enjoying the scent of incense and wax. She spotted a familiar face in the far corner and walked over to greet her.
“Hello, Kali Ma.” Tenzin put her right hand over her heart and bowed. “It has been too long, mother.”
The painting hanging on the wall was a relatively modern depiction of the goddess, her skin the color of charcoal ash and her four arms round and fat with bounty. One of her right hands was up in a position of blessing and the other held a handful of pink flowers. In the left hands, she carried a curved sword and a bloody severed head.
Her long black hair fell down her naked body in a wild, untamed waterfall. Delicate fangs peeked from behind her lips, and a golden crown adorned her head. The painting was framed in gold and an altar had been built beneath it.
Mother and devourer. It wasn’t the first time Tenzin had encountered the goddess, and it wouldn’t be the last. Kali was beyond time. Some vampires believed shewastime.
Tenzin looked at the Christian sister whose picture they had come for, resting patiently in her golden frame, her eyes only hinting at the sacred and ferocious feminine she represented to her devotees. As Tenzin surveyed the chapel, she recognized other familiar faces.
Parvati and Durga.
Dana.
Kybele.
Pele.
Ala and Ishtar.
Tenzin glanced back at Kali Ma before she went to fetch Benjamin. “I haven’t forgotten you, Kali Ma. But you haven’t caught me yet.”
She pushed on the panel leading out to the chapel and invited Ben inside.
“Hey.” His eyes widened when he poked his head inside the chapel. “Oh wow.”
“This is the place he truly worships.” Even as she said it, Tenzin knew it wasn’t true. This place wasn’t for Gergo Farkas. There was a profoundly feminine energy in the space, and it came from both the worshippers and the worshipped.
She gestured to the small icon hanging near Kali’s right hands. “I believe we’ve found your icon.”
Ben stepped inside the room, and his vibrant, masculine energy filled the space.
Tenzin glanced at Kali Ma, pleased that she felt no imbalance. Ben was the best kind of male, utterly confident in who he was while humble enough to respect the feminine.
Ben stood in front of Sara-la-Kali. The icon was modest next to the gilt-edged painting of Kali. The woman was depicted in the flat perspective common in Eastern European art. Her skin was medium brown and her eyes large, dark, and round. She wore a soft pink scarf around her hair, the base knotted at her nape, and her right hand was raised in a gentle blessing.
“There she is.” Ben’s voice was soft. “Damn.”
“What’s wrong?”
