And right now I didn't have time to psychoanalyze, even if I were capable of it. I had enough issues of my own.
I had a hard time sleeping, and not just because of the new info on prophecies—good, bad, and potentially worthless. Every time I started to drift off, the wind howled like a furious woman, rattling the window so loudly there were times I thought it might shatter. Since I thought there was a furious woman out there trying to break the protective spell Sawyer had cast over us, I had my doubts that what I heard was the wind.
And then there were my unvoiced fears. Would we win? Could we win? Who would die and how many?
I finally fell into an exhausted and fitful rest. I should have known that Ruthie would come.
I opened the white gate, walked up the pristine sidewalk, caught the scent of summer wind and burgeoning flowers. In Ruthie's heaven, the sun always shone, and the rains never came. It was heaven, after all.
She was in the backyard with the kids, at least a dozen. Had they all come from Lake Vista? Did it even matter? I hated when Ruthie had a full house. It was like a big guilt party thrown just for me.
I sat next to her on a bench near the wall, where the overhang cast a bit of shade. Our arms brushed. She was solid; so was I. Everything here was just the same as it was on earth, even when it was different.
For instance, Ruthie looked the same, but she was dead. The house looked different from the place she'd died, yet it was still her house. These visions were like dreams—a combination of the familiar and the bizarre. Yet, somehow, I understood they were also real.
"Do you know anything about a book of Satanic prophesies?"
"Mmm-hmm," Ruthie murmured, eyes closed, head resting against the white aluminum siding.
"This wasn't something you thought I should be clued in to?"
"What for?" Ruthie opened one eye. "No one's ever found the thing."
"How do you know?"
"You think if they had it, we'd still be breathin'?"
"You're not breathing," I pointed out.
"Not because of the Book of Samyaza."
"I suppose Samyaza is just another name for Satan."
"Yes." Ruthie opened both eyes and sat up, casting a quick glance at the children.
They'd begun playing king of the mountain on a grass-covered hill that hadn't been there five minutes ago. When I'd arrived they'd been playing softball on a diamond that had now disappeared. Talk about a heavenly playground.
"Samyaza was the leader of the earthly angels," Ruthie continued. "His name means 'adversary' in Hebrew."
"Adversary, destructor. What's Hebrew for 'asshole'?"
Ruthie turned her head. She wasn't above smacking me in the mouth if the occasion warranted it. I could tell by her expression, I was skating perilously close to such an occasion.
"Why all the different names?" I asked in a respectful and contrite voice.
Ruthie's attention returned to the children. They all played together—toddlers and tweens. Whenever we'd tried to start a game of king of the mountain, on the mammoth snowpiles left behind by the city plows, Ruthie had always put the kibosh on it as too dangerous.
Someone's gonna get hurt and then there'll be trouble.
Social services took a dim view of broken arms in foster care. Sadly, they were rarely an accident.
I doubted arms could be broken here no matter what these kids did. So a game of king of the mountain, even with someone three times your age and five times your weight, wasn't going to be dangerous at all. I'd envy them, except they were dead.
"The true name of the Devil is known only to God," Ruthie answered, "who stripped Satan of all identity when he rebelled."
"Then where did the word 'Satan' come from?"
"Hebrew term for the Devil was Ha Satan. Lucifer is the name given to him by the Babylonians. He said he was the angel of light, the morning star."
"When, exactly, did he claim this?"
" 'How you have fallen from heaven, O star of morning, son of the dawn!'" Ruthie quoted. "Isaiah—chapter fourteen, verse twelve."
"I don't remember that one."
Ruthie's eyes narrowed. "Mebe you should have paid better attention in church."
"I knew I was going to regret that." Perhaps not then, but I sure did now. Wasn't that always the way? Church never seemed like a good idea until it was too late.
"The evil one was called different things by different prophets." Ruthie paused, tilting her head until the sun sparked a halo around her graying Afro. "I believe John used the term 'evil one' Matthew, Mark, and Luke called him 'Beelzebub,' Prince of Demons. In second Corinthians, Paul calls him 'Belial,' or worthless."
Despite Ruthie's admonition, I had a hard time believing I'd zoned out during a sermon on the multiple names of Satan. I doubted the info would be of much use to a layman.
"I still don't understand what purpose is served by confusing everyone with all these names."
"Having too many names is worse than having no name at all. Who are you? No one knows. No one cares,"