Blood Money

Exzentrius Mead was a man who intentionally avoided giving to others. His good fortune had never stirred his curiosity for goodwill. To him, poor circumstances simply related weakness, and deserved neither empathy nor vindication. Maggie had discerned all this of her father from their first and only encounter. She was sixteen then, and despite the tremor in her mother’s voice-when she spoke of him-and the cryptic warnings to keep away from the man, Maggie’s fears and lessons on discretion had been eclipsed by desperation, the desperation of an illegitimate, girl trying to save her sick mother. Now, twenty years later, the same man who had berated and threatened her during that encounter, was now begging her not to hang up.

“Maggie—Maggie are you still there?”

This softer, pleading tone of his was foreign to her, but she had suspected he would reach out. Twenty-thousand dollars, the reconciled portion of her husband’s medical bills had been “anonymously” paid; and being James’ only family, she could not think of anyone else who could afford to be anonymous.

“How is John?”

“James—His name is James,” Maggie corrected.

She wasn’t surprised by his blunder. She and her mother had always been something to dismiss, like gum underneath a shoe. He had never been interested in any aspect of their lives. So, why now? He wants something. Her mother’s voice chimed in Maggie’s head.

“James. I meant James,” He noted.

Exzentrius paused to briefly berate himself, but his family’s wealth covered his shortcomings, fueled his confidence, and, now, was his means of penance.

“Well, I hope the gift helped. Medical bills can be overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming? My mom’s illness was also ‘overwhelming’. I guess I should have put that on her headstone.”

She could hear him suck in a deep breath as if this was the moment he’d anticipated, had practiced for.

“Maggie, I swear; I’m not that man anymore, and I’ve regretted that moment of cowardice every day of my life—“

“Moments—moments of cowardice,” Maggie interrupted, “And I never asked you to help with James; so what do you want?”

He took in another drag of air, giving her time to vent, time to feel as if she had shamed him; it was a tactic he used with women.

“You are still my daughter, my blood.”

Her mouth began to water from nausea. The man, who upon seeing her for the first time had personally escorted her from his home, was finally claiming her. Now, it was her turn to take a deep breath, practice the calm James had taught her.

“I’m hanging up now,” she concluded.

“Maggie! I—It’s about your Mother and something that will help James…please, I need to see you.”

It had been their “thing” long before James had gotten sick, a light kiss on the forehead, followed by a soft squeeze of the hand. Maggie had continued this ritual, but tonight, added something new, a desperate plea for help.

“What to do Babe?”

She placed her head on her husband’s chest, closed her eyes and imagined how he might respond. She could see him chewing on the soft of his bottom lip in deep thought, and then his signature smile whenever the solution presented itself.

“Mrs. Magee, can we talk?”

Maggie blinked a few times before fully opening her eyes. In front of her stood a young woman whose outfit might have been a size too large for her petit frame. Her hair was pushed back tightly in a bun. As she moved closer, she squinted as if she’d forgotten her glasses, which probably accounted for the bad fashion choices.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but there are some financial matters to discuss.” The young woman squinted even more as she struggled for a compassionate segue to ask for more money.

“Tomorrow,” said Maggie, “I promise, tomorrow.”

She gave James’ hand another gentle squeeze and briskly left for her meeting with the devil.

The Mead family mansion, from what Maggie remembered, had changed dramatically. The massive wooden doors which still aligned a lingering hallway were now engraved with strange symbols, while heavy curtains draped the windows with little allowance for sunlight. Twenty years ago, she had been led along this great hall like Dorthy being taken to render her request to Oz. She recalled feeling sorry that this glorious structure housed such miserable beings.

The housekeeper exited quickly from the room. Maggie had to suppress the urge to follow. Besides, her father was already present and standing by a tall fireplace with carvings similar to the ones on the doors. She hadn’t remembered the fireplace from her first visit, but the stranger standing by it hadn’t aged much, except his hair, although still full, was now completely white, and piercing brown eyes seemed black now, but still his appearance seemed youthful. How time could be so kind to such a cruel man was beyond her. Breathe, Maggie. She could hear James’ voice trying to calm her, strengthen her.

“Maggie, I was afraid—“

“I don’t have time for small talk, “ she interrupted, “ I have to get back to the hospital soon. So…”

Exzentrius bowed his head in concession and reached into his pocket to produce a little black book. Maggie stared in bewilderment as he motioned her to take a seat.

“What is it?” Maggie asked, her curiosity slowly overcoming her fear.

Exzentrius’ dark eyes were now fixated on the book as if it were made of gold instead of leather.

“What if I told you, this little book could grant your every desire? But, you’ll need to have an open mind. Can you do that?”

Maggie made a mental check of where the exit was before nodding in agreement. Exzentrius placed the black book on the table between them. It had no title or author, only engravings of different symbols like on the doors in the hallway and the fireplace.

“Maggie, ancient Mayans tell of a man, a sort of prophet, who like Lazarus, was also raised from the dead. This book holds his account of what he saw and the secrets he discovered during his time in the afterlife.”

“This book doesn’t look ancient; it barely looks used,” Maggie surmised, “and what does this have to do with my mother or helping James?”

He wasn’t bothered by her skepticism; he didn’t need her faith only her participation.

“Very observant,” Exzentrius interjected, “Overtime, the writings have been translated and transcribed, but unlike the Bible, this is the only copy of that account on earth.” He slid the book closer to her. “Maggie, I can send you there, to that world…to your mother.”

So, he’s crazy. Maggie determined, again checking for the exit.

From her expression, Exzentrius could deduce he was losing her.

“Maggie, I’m not some eccentric old man. With this book,You can enter the afterlife and see your mom again, but not as you last saw her, younger, healthier and happier”

Every thought told her to run, but what if he wasn’t crazy? Well, he was crazy, she reassessed, but what if he was telling the truth.A thousand questions flooded her mind, but only one resounded.

“Why?” She asked him, “why now?”

“Maggie, I owe it to you; I owe it to you both.”

She remembered the last time she had seen her Mom alive. With no money or insurance, she had been unable to stay in the hospital for treatment; it had been up to Maggie to keep her comfortable. The experience had almost proven too much for her, but then she met James. He had pulled her from a dark place, and now she might lose him too.

“I still don’t know how this helps James--the medical bills?”

Exzentrius pointed again to the book.

“You’ll pass rooms before you see your mother. Each one will contain numerous artifacts. Any one of these pieces is worth millions, enough to provide for you and James for the rest-rest of your lives.”

“What’s in this for you?” Asked Maggie.

Exzentrius turned and stared into the fire, his normal pallor returning.

“Redemption,” he related, his tone almost melancholy.

Maggie’s mind was reeling; This was insane, but what if it was all true? She took in a deep breath and tried to steady her pulse, while her eyes roamed her surroundings. Strange artifacts and paintings landscaped the room. Her mom had once mentioned Exzentrius had been some great explorer. She scoffed at the irony of it. He had traveled the world in search of rare finds, but had never searched the city for his only child. But, she would have to stifle any animosity she felt for him. The thought of seeing her mother again, holding her, telling her about James. Her mind raced from all the possibilities.

“Let’s say I buy into this fairytale; When would this happen?”

“Maggie, I’m desperate to help you and you’re desperate to help James; You could see Penelope tonight.”

It was the first time he had mentioned her mother’s name. Maggie’s mouth began to water again.This reoccurrence of nausea should have put things back into perspective, but despite her best poker face, Exzentrius could sense how eager she was.

“I’ll do it,” she relented.

As soon as she uttered her compliance, the housekeeper reentered the room. A satin, red chemise flowed from outstretched arms and was then placed on a nearby chaise. Again, just as quickly as she had entered, the housekeeper darted from the room once more.

Maggie walked over to the chaise to retrieve the gown. She stared in bewilderment.

“It’s ceremonial,” Exzentrius stated.

Surprisingly, this statement didn’t unnerve her. She had calmly resigned that there was no other choice, and despite her father’s true intentions, she would find a way obtain what she needed, no matter the cost.

Maggie stared at her reflection. The chemise fit perfectly. How did he know she would buy into this fantastical story? There were so many questions she had let go unanswered, but there was no time now. She stepped into the hallway, among the massive doors. Exzentrius moved closer, the black book in hand.

“Don’t worry, while you are there, time will stop here. Now your instructions?”

She took a deep breath and rattled off her instructions.

“The third door is connected to my bloodline. Once I past through, take only one artifact.”

“And what did I tell you about the stone?” His voice was agitated and the dark crept back into his eyes. Maggie paused, but then resumed instructions.

“Place my hand on the red stone before I leave, or I-I won’t be able to return here.” She turned to him like a student who had mastered what was taught.

“This is vital, Maggie.” She nodded in affirmation.

She suddenly felt as though she was being ushered to the gallows. As they approached the third door, he opened the little black book and began chanting incoherently. Slowly, the door opened voluntarily. He motioned Maggie to enter. As soon as she had fully entered the room, the door slammed shut.

“Hello? Exzentrius?” Maggie yelled.

“Hello,”a voice from behind her echoed.

Maggie turned to see a gaunt face with bulging red eyes.

“M--Mom?” Maggie stared in horror.

“Your mother is not here. This is your bloodline; don’t destroy the bloodline.” The woman pointed a bony finger at Maggie, a large diamond bracelet dangling from her thin wrist. Maggie tried to scream, but nothing came out.

“Don’t scream,” the gaunt woman warned as she placed her decrepit hands on Maggie’s shoulders.

It’s a dream. Maggie prayed.

“Yes, a dream,” repeated James from his hospital bed, “Just breathe.” She opened her eyes in disbelief.

“James!” She cried as her arms encircled him. Her husband laughed softly and planted a kiss on her forehead. He reached to squeeze her hand, but paused upon seeing a diamond bracelet dangling from her wrist.