Page 67 of He Who Sleeps

He set out dishes of mezze and flatbreads, before adding kefta and grilled lamb and eggs poached in spicy tomato sauce. There was couscous and grilled halloumi and fresh tabbouleh... He'd probably gone totally overboard, but it was all fresh and he was glad to know she'd have food for the next few days. He'd just finished setting up the table when she returned, looking fresher and less tired than before.

Dressed in lounge shorts and a tank top, clearly no bra, she smiled at him as she pulled her hair up into a bun. “It smells yummy,” she said. “What’s vegetarian? I’m not really sure about what it all is.”

"Everything except the brochettes, those are kefta," he told her. "You can eat everything that's not on a stick. This is lemon-flavored rice wrapped in vine leaves. This is a whipped feta spread. This is aubergine with fresh garlic and sesame paste. This is grilled halloumi with warm sun blush tomatoes. This is..." He continued listing all of the dishes and what was in them until her eyes were glazing over, and eventually he just made her up a plate with some of everything and let her taste it.

“Ooh...yummy,” she said softly and smiled. “This is perfect...good choice.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. She did a little food dance in her chair and closed her eyes as she chewed. “So how was your day? I mean after you came like a firehose?”

"Not bad," he replied, settling into his chair now that he was sure she was okay with his food choices. "I don't think I need to ask how yours went..."

“It was the best workday ever.” She giggled and sipped her drink. “You making headway with work?”

"Yes and no." He set down his fork and sighed. "I have meetings with my lawyers next week. We're getting some pushback from big pharma over hospitals hosting our studies. Antidepressants are such big revenue earners because people take them for sustained periods of time. Us finding a ‘cure’ for depression," he quoted it with his fingers, "takes a big chunk out of their bottom line. So they're leaning on hospitals and clinics to refuse to participate in the study. If we can't legally persuade them to back off, we'll have to start looking at setting up our own clinics in collaboration with private practices that actually have their patients' best interests at heart instead of lining their own pockets." He shook his head, but then remembered a couple of good pieces of news and smiled at her.

"Our neuroscientists had a breakthrough, though. One of the reasons the FDA has dragged their feet over approving these drugs as a treatment is because we've never been sure how they work. We were aware it had something to do with neural plasticity, but my team have developed a new technique to actually watch it happening in real time in mice and it's incredible. We also got approached by a university this week looking to run research on using the EMDR technique in conjunction with psilocybin low and micro-dosing, so that's exciting, too.

“It means new funding, new staff, new grants we can apply for... But best of all, if it works, it will be an incredibly effective treatment protocol that can be offered at lower cost than expensive psychiatrists and long-term medications." He cut himself off and forced himself to pick up his fork again. "Sorry. I got carried away."

“No, it sounds fabulous! Whywouldn’tI want to hear about your team saving the world? And with what He has given you this year, I think you are onto all good things.” She smiled. “I like listening to you talk about it. It feels...normal and domestic.”

He chuckled. "I've never been normal and I'm probably more feral than domesticated, but it is nice to just hang out with you. It's true." He paused, chewing thoughtfully. "It's interesting that He Who Sleeps lets us use the gifts He gives for things like this. You'd think that a God that feeds on murder would be all for chaos and destruction and misery. Yet here we are, making art, curing depression, rescuing animals... Sometimes I wish we could actually communicate with Him for real, you know? Ask Him if this is really what He wants or expects from His followers. You should ask Finn his theories on gods sometime. When he's not being a kinky fucker, he actually has some pretty deep thoughts about them."

“Theological conversations? That could be enlightening,” she said and then was quiet for long moments. “You know, I think that He allows for this because of balance. But is He truly dark? I mean, humanity is not of use to Him if they aren’t in a measure of comfort. You need a baseline from which to hurt someone. If they’re already in pain, a little bit of torture isn’t going to do a whole lot. And animals? Honestly, any god that would willingly hurt innocents...” She shook her head. “Humans are not innocent. Animals are.”

He snorted. "If you really think that, you've never met a goat. Cantankerous little fuckers, every one of them. They're cute when they're babies, but the minute they get big, they're out to destroy you and everything you love."

“Yes, but they are innocent. They don’t harm like humans do. Theyareassholes, but it’s their nature, given to them by nature. Humans are corruptible. Goats justare.” She smiled. “Goat eyes freak me out.”

"I think if you have enough sentience to have a sense of humor, which goats definitely do, and a desire to prank the people that feed you, which goats also definitely do, there's some wickedness in there. And yes, they have freaky eyes. Little weirdos." He shuddered.

"Anyway, the gist of Finn's deep theories about any organized religion is that barely any fraction of it is actually based on, or endorsed by, the god or gods that inspired it. We know there's a God. We have proof of it. So, you know, it stands to reason that other gods exist, or at least they used to exist. But the god-human axis is inherently corrupt and it has thetelephoneeffect of errors getting magnified down the generations. I guess what I'm saying is that, theoretically, The Order might be as wrong about the Dark God's needs as the Christian Church is about their faith."

“Oh yes...tenets , unless given directly by the god, are the wants and desires of man. We could go into that all night. My friend is a theology student, doing her master’s right now,” she offered. “Her thesis is on organized religion and its need for human control.”

"Obviously they have some things right, or we wouldn't be able to feed Him," Leo said, really enjoying being able to have an intelligent conversation with someone outside their little brotherhood. At work it was all science this and money that. He was too driven and, of necessity, too secretive to have many friends. The Order was like a jealous lover.

"They knew the tattoos would work, so that we don't have to bleed you. But what's really interesting is that tattoos have been around since the ice age, right? But up until we asked about it and the ritual tattoos were suggested, they used to brand Order members who found someone that agreed to the pact."

“Control?” she suggested. “I mean control through despair, and agony, and pain. It’s the same they did with the inquisition.” She paused as something occurred to her. “Oh, you need to meet Victoria. I mean, I can talk about this to some degree, but she knows so much.” She grinned. “Is it possible, and forgive me if it seems farfetched, ‘cos I am not initiated, but is it possible that there has been sinister workings with the need for control in your order for longer than you think? That they have their own agenda? How did you guys find out about the tattoos?”

"Oh, I'm quite sure that's an aspect of it. And I'm certain the Elders have mostly their own power on their agenda. We weren't even supposed to offer the pact—it fell out of common use and we only stumbled across it in an old journal and thought it would be funny to try it. We never saw you coming, that's for sure." He laughed again, shaking his head at the craziness of it all.

"We didn't have a fucking clue what we were doing, so we went to the Lore-Keepers when we got back from that first year with you. It's this little group of priests that are supposed to just guard the history and traditions of The Order and they're supposed to be completely impartial."

“Maybe they are? I mean they probably don’t mean to hold shit away, but they aren’t going to offer information, which probably keeps them safe as well.”

"The priesthood is sacred. Even the Elders respect that," he disagreed. "It's hard to explain to someone who didn't grow up with it. For an Elder to make an assault on the priesthood would be the worst kind of blasphemy. Any member of The Order would kill them on sight. And when we asked about the pact, they gave us the knowledge and the tools to use it, even though it was probably some Elder or other that decided to retire it as an option."

“Which is what I mean. That they won’t volunteer the information in their arsenal until asked about it,” she said. “But I can see how that would work. It’s all very interesting. I mean as a mortal woman that is just...taking this all on faith.” She looked to him. “And I have faith.”

"Their function is only to teach when asked," he shrugged. "I suspect back in the day, it was expected that the Elders would take the teachings of the priests and spread them. But yeah...thanks to human fallibility, the Elders went their own way. But if they do something expressly against the teachings of the first priests, the current priests have the power to strip them of their power and their skin. They are the judge, jury and executioner. The Elders can skirt the teachings and maybe retire them, but they can't go directly against them. Anyway, you'll learn all this when you join up. And I'd be surprised if you didn't have faith now that you've seen the well and the magic rising out of it. You can't argue with your own two eyes." He blinked. "Unless you're looking at an optical illusion, in which case fuck your eyes."

She grinned. “I’m not saying I have faith in Him. I have faith in you, and Easton, Jack, Finn, Carter, Emerson and Kendrix. I have faith in who you are together, and who you are with me.” Finishing her food, she sat back. “Today has been awesome. Fuck fest at work, dinner with my favorite needle happy lunatic, wonderful conversation...” She smiled at him. “Though Rix said something about seeing me soon.” She shivered.

"Yeah, I was supposed to ask you about that." He'd forgotten in all the talk of other things. "It's Emerson's birthday next weekend. We're planning a weekend trip away. You're coming."

“I am?” She laughed. “And it’s Emerson’s birthday?! Why didn’t he say anything? Oh, I have to figure out a present.”

"We don't celebrate birthdays," he told her. "Not since we lost our parents. Until now, anyway. We thought you'd enjoy a weekend away from the city with all of us together. So it's been arranged with your boss at the shelter and the lanky dude at the gallery and we'll pick you up at lunchtime on Friday."

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