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Well, today Cherry would quicken the
process.  She would slit the other wrist.

But it is too late.  The pain in her left
hand is too much, she can’t hold the blade.

‘Cherry!’

It is Hester.  She is running in.  She is
binding the wound.  It is too late.  Again Cherry’s life has been spared.

No.

Why couldn’t she be left alone and be
allowed to die?

………………………………………

There is a jolt and...

………………………………………

Cherry looks into the eyes of the man she
has come to love.  She knows that she wants him so much and she knows that he
has rejected her.  Why today, of all days?

He did not even give her the chance to say
what had happened.  What her mother and she had learned about Dad.  Dad . .
.Oh, Dad.

It was all so senseless.  A boating
accident they called it.  Fifty people dead, drowned and Dad is among them.

Dad.

And now that she needs him, Shmueli tells
her this.  Their relationship seeming to be the one island in a turbulent sea
and now even that has been taken from her.

Shmueli gently touches his forefinger to
her chin.  He smiles sheepishly.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.’

She wants to plead with him to beg him to
stay with her.  To provide her with the emotional support she needs but she
knows that he will not.  She cannot demean herself further.

‘Oh, Sam.’

There is nothing she can do.  Everything
that could be said has already been said.

His hand drops.

‘Please.  I’ve got to do this.  I had to
make a choice.’

‘And you did not choose me.’

No, she is crying now.  She has to be
strong.  She cannot allow him to see her like this.

‘I’m sorry...’

‘Oh, stop telling me you’re sorry.  If you
were really sorry then this would never have happened.’

Again Sam looks at her.  His eyes are
tender but he is resolute.

He smiles again.

‘I’ve got to go.  I’m sorry.’

He tries to kiss her but Cherry pulls
away.  No, that would be the ultimate humiliation.  She says nothing and
watches as he turns about.

Damn him, and damn that Rabbi Tashlich who
has made him this way.  She loves that boy, she loves him with every ounce of
her being and he has thrown that love into her face, rejected her and her life
suddenly feels very empty.

Today not only has the man who has
inspired her throughout her life been killed but so the man she loves has left
her.

She wants to go home.  She wants to do
something reckless.  Anything.  She does not care what...and she is there.

Home.

She is alone.

The house is empty.

She pours herself a full tumbler of vodka
and drinks it as if it is water.

Her head swims and a thought surfaces. 
She does not want to live without Sam.  He is her life.  Without him there is
no life...

And she knows what she must do.

The bathroom, upstairs.  Dad’s shaving
tackle.  It is still there long after he left home and Cherry knows just what
she wants.

She opens the mirrored cabinet and removes
the leather case.  Inside, as expected, is a paper package and, within, three
unused razor blades.  She hardly thinks what she is doing as she takes one of
the blades and swiftly draws it across the artery at her wrist.  The blade is
sharp, she feels nothing other than a slight tingling but she flips back her
wrist to open the wound.  The blood spurts satisfyingly as if a tap had been
turned and Cherry happily watches the crimson liquid as it pours onto the
floor.

This time she will do it right.

This time.

And then she knows.  This has happened
before.  She had been wrong.  Her mother had not gone out.  Hester had been
merely resting on her bed and she had come in in time to save her daughter’s
life.

Well, today Cherry would quicken the
process.  She would slit the other wrist.

But it is too late.  The pain in her left
hand is too much, she can’t hold the blade.

‘Cherry!’

It is Hester.  She is running in.  She is
binding the wound.  It is too late.  Again Cherry’s life has been spared.

No.

Why couldn’t she be left alone and be
allowed to die?

………………………………………

There is a jolt and...

………………………………………

Faivish felt like he was walking through
treacle.  He was surrounded by the viscous dreaming images that were the
nightmares of the poor devils who were destined to spend eternity in this
place.  They swirled and eddied in every direction in a cacophony of colours as
if they were swimming over the surface of a soap bubble and Faivish wondered
when it would end.

There was nothing that he could use to
gain his bearings but he knew that he had to find Jake before he became
submerged within his own dream.  Then there was the crystal, the Achlamah, this
too lay within the endless dream of one of the eternal dreamers and it was
essential that he located it before Mitch and the En Sof  defeated Lilith’s
minions.

But how?

‘Who are you?’

The voice was speaking in his own
language.  It seemed to come from the way ahead.

‘Hello,’ he responded, ‘Who’s there?’

The visions parted and an ancient human
figure emerged.  A man of Heled obviously but he was not one who was part of
the living world.

‘We do not have many visitors to this
place and now we are deluged by you all.’

‘Who are you?’

‘I am called Korach.  I was cast alive
into the pit by the Lord for my sins.’

‘Ah, Korach.  I know of you.  You
challenged Moshe Rabeinu’s right to lead the B’nai Yisroel from Egypt to the Promised
Land.  It is so told in the Torah.’

‘It is true.  In my younger days I was a
hot-head, a rebel and I have learnt my lesson.  The Torah is true and Moshe is
the Lord’s prophet.’

‘Then.  Help me Korach.  There is a High
Priest of Israel here.  He searches for the Achlamah.  Do you know where he
is?’

‘Ah.  This is the man of Heled who has
entered this place voluntarily.  He is casting his sins aside.’

‘There is no time for that.  Even now the
forces of darkness are approaching.  They too seek the Achlamah.  If you know
where the man is, take me to him.’

Korach nodded and turned about.  Faivish
followed.

…………………………………………

Jake is again within his parents’ house
but he knows that it is many years before his previous visit.  He is at the top
of the stairs and there is a child-proof gate blocking the way down.  He
realises that he is barely taller than the gate and that he has returned to his
childhood...but why the gate?

He reaches for it and releases the
mechanism.  It is so easy for him.  Obviously the gate is not to protect him. 
Then who?

He is an only child.

There is his bedroom, just as he remembers
it.  The door shut.  A poster of Simon le Bon facing him.

And then there is a crash within the room
and a small cry.

Sara!

Who?

Sara.  His sister.

But he never had a sister.

Of course he did.

And a great flood of memory returns.  His
whole life flashes before his eyes like a drowning man and the gaps are finally
completed.

He recalls his meeting with Ben Tiferet;
how he crossed into Tevel to save Cherry.  There is nothing missing.

He remembers his childhood.  So happy. 
His parents loved him, both of them.  Even his father.  And then when he was
six they had his sister but two years later something happened to Sara.  She...

And that is the final piece of the puzzle.

But he still cannot remember.

Is this the day?

There is another noise from his room.  His
toys.  She is playing with his toys.  He can hear the train.  She has somehow
turned on the current and Jake panics as only an eight and a half year old boy
can when he realises that his train-set is in trouble.

In an instant all trace of Jake’s thirty-eight
years are as insubstantial as a waking dream and Jake is a child again.  He
feels anger, he feels rage, he knows that Sara can do untold harm to his treasured
possessions.  That is why he bars her from his room and locks the door.  Then
how did she get inside?

Wildly, he crashes through the door and
sees that which he most fears.  Two engines had crashed head on and it is clear
that the Hornby plastic was no match for the two year old’s lack of sense.

There is no control to Jake’s wrath as he
sees his sister surrounded by the mess she has made.  He screams his anger and
lashes out.

He is crying and so is she.

‘I hate you.’

‘No, Cake.’  She can never say ‘J’.

‘I hate you,’ and he punches her arm.

She screams and runs across the rest of
the railway, tripping over the lovingly built scale model houses that Jake and
his father had laboured over for months and smashes them flat.

Jake chases.  So livid, mad with anger,
and pursues her to the top of the staircase where lies the still open gate.  He
gives a bellow of rage and...

‘Jake,’ came the cry that pierced through
the dream like an alarm clock.

Instantly he found himself transported to
another place where he was surrounded by shapeless drifting forms.  He was an
adult again and he knew that he is in Sheol.

To his amazement Faivish is standing there
which meant that Lilith had kept her promise but there is another person with
Faivish whom he did not recognise.  It was an elderly man in tattered robes
that seemed almost biblical in appearance; and Jake tried to clear his head.

Now he knew what happened all those years
ago.

He could still see that terrible image in
his mind’s eye, the memory he had repressed all of his life.  There she is;
poor battered little Sara lying there at the bottom of the stairs like a broken
doll, her head lolling back, her neck broken.  He had killed her, he must have
pushed her down the stairs; now he knew.

Now he understood.  That was when his
father had turned against him.  That was the event that had coloured his life. 
The trauma of that day was buried deep within his subconscious but had provided
him with the aversion to the thought of having children.  If not for that
aversion Fiona would never have had the abortion which had proved the catalyst
for her hatred of him.  She would not have gone off with Mitch which, in turn,
meant that Lapski would not have found it so easy to influence his dreams.

Would he even have married outside the
faith if his relationship with Dad were not better?  Now he realised what would
have been so obvious to an outsider.  There was only one reason that he had
dated non-Jewish girls and that was to spite his father for whom the very
concept was anathema.  Everything could have been so different... but it was
too late.  He had murdered his sister.

‘Jake, come on.  We must hurry.’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘But the En Sof is close behind.  We must
reach the Achlamah before Mitch.’

‘I’m sorry.  I can’t go on.’

‘You must.  You are the only hope.’

‘But you don’t understand.  I am nothing. 
I am worse than nothing.  I’m a murderer.  I killed my sister.’

Jake felt drained and quite incapable of
saying anything more.  He looked from Faivish to the stranger and could see
that his one-time friend was as lost for words as was he.  It was the other who
first radiated compassion and seemed ready to offer comfort.

‘Listen to me Jacob.  You do not know me
but I know you.  I am Korach.  I have been in this place for thousands of
years.  I have seen what Sheol can do to a spirit.  It can destroy one and it
is doing that to you.  If you truly belonged here then you would not have the
freedom that has been granted you.  So, you killed your sister - how?’

‘I pushed her down the stairs.’

‘When you were how old?’

‘Eight, nine.’

‘And barely responsible for your actions,
I imagine.  No, if you killed, then your guilt is a burden you will have to
carry throughout your life but it is a guilt you must learn to accept for you
have a task to perform.’

‘But I am not worthy.’

‘Who are you to say whether you are worthy
or not?  If the Lord has chosen you then you are his tool.  Do not waste time
by wallowing in your despair.  Go with Faivish and defeat the evil that is
loosed upon the world.  That is your destiny.’

And Jake knew that Korach spoke truth.  He
did have his destiny and despite the fact he now wanted nothing more than to
drown in his self-pity he knew that he had to remain resolute, however hard
that might be.

‘Come,’ he said, forcing himself, ‘Take me
to the Achlamah,’ and he wondered if the others could hear how broken his voice
seemed to sound.

It was Korach who led the way through the
endless dreams of the damned.  Somehow he seemed to know exactly where he was
and then, at last, he stopped.

‘That which you seek lies within.’

To Jake and Faivish it was nothing more
than another of the swirling images but Korach seemed adamant.

‘You, Jacob Tranton, must enter.  There is
one who awaits your coming to gain redemption.’

‘Cherry?’ but he knew it was too much to
hope for.

‘No.  You must enter the eternal dream of
your ancestor Jacob Cordozo who experiences that day when he celebrated the
forbidden ritual.’

Jake shuddered as he understood that which
was being asked of him.  Jacob Cordozo who had been destroyed when he had
attempted to bring the Light to Earth.  Jacob Cordozo who had inadvertently
unleashed the En Sof.  So now Jake had the opportunity of learning what had
gone wrong that day and of saving his ancestor from his eternal damnation.

So, why did he hesitate?

‘I can’t do it,’ and he realised that he
had spoken his thoughts aloud.

‘You must.  You are the only one.’

‘Let me wait, please.’

‘No Jake.  There is no time.  The En Sof
could be here at any moment.’

‘But...’

Jake could see that it was useless to
protest further.  In wonder he watched as Korach reached to the dancing visions
and pulled them apart as if they were curtains.

‘Enter.’

Jake took a deep breath.  He had to summon
his courage.  He had to fight the guilt that gnawed at him.  He felt so little
prepared for what was to come.

‘How do I contact Jacob Cordozo?’

‘He will not see you but you must impinge
yourself upon his consciousness before the dream ends.  If you fail then, when
the Light comes to destroy, you will be swallowed by it.  Only Cordozo will
return to begin the dream anew.

‘Once you have made him aware of you, the
dream will be broken and you will be able to send him on the next stage of his
journey.

‘Good luck.’

But how?  How could he impinge himself on
Cordozo’s consciousness?  Jake tried not to show his uncertainty.  Faivish
looked up to him.  Somehow he could not disappoint.

Nervously, he entered the dream.

……………………………………………

Before him was the wine-cellar of some
building, just as he had imagined it.  It was dark with a few strategically
placed flaming torches providing what little light there was.  At least their
glow was warm.

There were three bearded men within.  All
of them were garbed in loose fitting robes of their period, the seventeenth
century.  The eldest was standing at a podium facing ahead and the other two
were watching this man, obviously their leader.

Jake wondered whether he should
interrupt.  Clearly the ritual had already begun.  If his ancestor was to be
rescued from the nightmare, did that not mean that he had to discover for
himself that it was not real?

Jake coughed.

No-one reacted and Cordozo continued his
dangerous chant.

So how could he make his presence felt?

Damn it.  If only he could think straight.

How could he have killed Sara?

No, stop it.  Stop dwelling on the
past.  Jacob Cordozo needs you now.

But that was so easy to say.

Don’t be a shmock.  You are strong. 
Prove it.

Jake clenched his fists as he tried to
fight the urge that made him want to give up.  He remembered the En Sof.  He
remembered how it had controlled his dreams when he was on Earth.  He
remembered what it planned.

He had to find the Achlamah.  Of course he
did.  So where would it be hidden in this vision?

As he scanned the cellar he could see
nothing.  So he wandered around so that he was standing before his ancestor who
was still quite oblivious to his presence.  And then he saw it.

Jacob Cordozo was wearing a replica of the
original Choshen Mishpat and it was set with all the twelve stones.  There, two
rows up, a faint purple colour, like wine, was the Achlamah and it was the only
stone that truly seemed to catch the light.  Of course.  This was the real
thing.  The rest were just illusions.

He had to remove it.

His ancestor was coming to the end of the
ritual and Jake knew that if he was to act, it would have to be now.  Any delay
and the ritual would reach the same horrifying conclusion it had all those
centuries before.  Presumably he too would be caught just as had been
Cordozo...but what had gone wrong?

The breastplate was as it should be, a
perfect replica.  It should have protected its wearer from the divine force
that would be released.  The original would have.

But this was not the original.  Of
course.  For the ritual to succeed only the original would suffice.  So, when
the divine Light had come it had destroyed those that had called it and Jake
knew that, trapped as he was within the dream he was amongst them.

‘Jacob Cordozo,’ he called but no-one
heard.

Undaunted, he grabbed for the breastplate
but his hands seemed to pass right through.  It was then he felt the force
enter the room.  This was not the Light.  This was the purest evil imaginable. 
The En Sof had arrived.

Instantly he held Cherry’s crystal in his
left hand and pointed the stone of his ring high into the air and called upon
the Lord to protect him.

Insane laughter filled the room.

‘No, Jake Tranton,’ screamed the invisible
entity, ‘Now you have the ability to protect yourself from me but soon my
servant will have three stones and then your power will be as naught.’

The image of the breastplate flew into the
air and seemed to dissipate.  There, floating was the single crystal, the
Achlamah, well beyond Jake’s reach, and the En Sof gloated as it took
possession of the crystal.

With a pop the stone was pulled from the
dream.

Now, Jacob Cordozo stood alone, forlorn. 
His two companions faded away.  It was clear that the dream was over.  He
looked at his descendant and shook his head in wonder.

‘Come,’ said Jake gently, ‘You are free.’

‘Free?’

‘Yes.  You have done your penance.  Sheol
has finished with you.  Paradise awaits.’

Ahead a silver light seemed to form within
the ether and Jacob Cordozo slowly walked towards it.  Jake wanted to follow
but he knew that it would be presumptuous of him to try.

Even as Cordozo was swallowed by the light
the dream began to shimmer and evaporate and Jake saw Faivish and Korach
awaiting him.

‘I have failed.  Mitch has the Achlamah. 
I told you that I was unworthy.’

‘You are being foolish,’ Korach advised,
‘This is just one battle.  You know there are two more stones to find and in
the Adamah to which you will come you will have the advantage.

‘The En Sof will not dare to enter that
world that lies so close to the magnificence of heaven without Mitch having the
protection of the entire breast-plate.  There he will be just a mortal whilst
you will have all of your knowledge to combat him.

‘Now I can go no farther.  That way lies
the gateway to the Adamah.  It is guarded by fiery angels who prevent us from
leaving.  I wish you luck.’

Jake thanked their guide and led the way. 
He knew that his heart was no longer in the adventure.  Once more he had failed
and he had lost his confidence.

He knew that the fact that he was a
murderer meant that he could not possibly be the one who had been chosen. 
There had to be another but who?

All right, he told himself, for now in him
lay the only hope and he would do his best not to let anyone down.

So, he attempted to recover his inner
strength that now seemed so insubstantial and they passed through the last of
the dreams until they were in a cave; dank and dark like the Pit of Emptiness;
but ahead was daylight.  There it was.  The gateway.

The path seemed clear and they forged
ahead.  It seemed that the Angels were not on duty today or else they knew that
Jake and Faivish were entitled to pass.

This was so easy.  Soon they would be in
the Adamah and then the daylight seemed to vanish as if a switch had been
pulled.

Something huge was filling the exit from
Sheol.

It began to glow.  First a faint yellow,
then a pale orange until ultimately it became a mass of dancing flames that
writhed about themselves in endless fury.

An Angel of Destruction.

Even before Jake could react it shot
towards them like a fireball and then it stopped within feet of them and he
could see it for what it was.  Within the swirling mass of flames was a manlike
figure who seemed to flit and flow.  The angel was brandishing a monstrous
fiery broadsword.

It was clear that it would not let them
pass and Jake was at a loss.

‘I am Jacob Tranton,’ he called, hoping
that it would listen to him, ‘I am a High Priest of the House of Israel.  In me
flows the blood of Aaron, of Elijah and of Pinchas.’

The angel did not retreat.  Quite the
reverse.  Now its heat was increasing and Jake knew that if he did not act fast
he would be consumed.

There had to be something that he could
do, but what?

Wait.  Didn’t Lilith tell him something of
the Angels of Destruction?  Yes, he was certain of it.

God, if only he could remember.  He had to
clear his head.  He knew he had the answer if he could think about it but all
he could think about was what he had learnt of his childhood.

Come on.  Now was not the time.  He had to
put his trauma from his mind.  For almost twenty years he had repressed the
memory.  Well, so he could again.  It was just a question of willpower.

The heat was becoming unbearable.

He concentrated.  He forced his mind back
to recent events.

His clothes were beginning to smoulder.

And then it came.  He had been told what
to say by Lilith, herself.

‘I come at the command of Lilith,’ Jake
called as he had been instructed.

Instantly the Angel withdrew and with a
feeling of relief Jake felt the temperature drop.

Mesmerised, he watched as the fires dulled
to a faint glow and finally vanished as if the Angel had never existed.