leaned toward the barrier. “So, how do we get in? I never found the scarlet key the gatekeeper told me I needed.”
“Look at your hand. The key is already in your grasp.”
Elam opened his fingers and stared at his palm. “What do you mean? I’m not carrying anything.”
“Oh, but you are. You bear the marks of righteousness.”
Elam flexed his fingers. His hand ached, still oozing blood from the cuts and scrapes he earned on the bridge. “I think I see what you mean.”
Naamah reached forward and showed him her palm. “Mine is bloodstained, but the blood is not my own.”
“Nor does the blood on Elam’s palm belong to him.” Dikaios bobbed his head at the horizon. “Touch the shield, both of you. The righteous may enter immediately, and the contrite may plead for a new heart.”
Elam slid off and helped Naamah dismount. He edged close to the blue boundary, reaching out with his hand. As his fingers neared the expanse, he felt a tingling sensation and drew back.
“Go ahead,” Dikaios said. “It will not harm you. You have the key.”
Elam touched the border and flattened his palm against it. A hand-shaped set of tiny waves rode away from his skin, like ripples on a pond, yet they looked more like wrinkles of light—sparkling, multiple shades of blue. The sensation tickled, sending a warm flow up his arm and into his chest. His heart felt ablaze, a good, soothing heat that emanated into his brain and ignited a surge of emotion—intense, passionate feeling that couldn’t be suppressed.
“Dikaios,” Elam said loudly, “you are magnificent. You are a worthy servant to your master, and he will be pleased to have you at his side forever.”
Dikaios bowed his head but said nothing.
Elam turned to Naamah and smiled. Words poured forth unbidden as the surge of passion continued. “Your harlotries are forgiven, O daughter of the ancient days. Touch the shield of Heaven, sing a psalm to your blessed Savior, and fear not to shed your cloak, for you will be clothed with righteousness.”
Reaching out a petite, trembling hand, Naamah leaned toward the shield. As soon as her fingers touched the blue light, a radiant white halo enveloped her body. Her skin glowed, and her face shone like that of an angel. A glorious smile spread across her face, and she began jumping up and down on her toes, a beautiful song trilling from her lips.
The fruit of Eden’s ancient tree,
The seeds I plucked so long ago,
To plant and harvest scarlet sins
Are now forgiven, white as snow.
Forgiven! Shout the joyful truth!
This harlot’s wanton flesh is slain.
Forever bound unto my Lord,
I cast aside the devil’s chains!
Pulling back from the shield, Naamah stripped off the cloak, revealing a dazzling gown—a dress as white as the brightest stars. The flowers in her garland multiplied, the blossoms doubling in size, whiter than ever. She lifted her hands to the sky and twirled in a slow pirouette, but this time no song came out as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. She just laughed and laughed.
Elam lowered his hand and looked down at his own clothes. He, too, now wore white—a radiant tunic lapping over equally radiant breeches that were tied at the waist by a golden cord. He rubbed one of the tunic’s elbow-length sleeves. “It’s soft as silk!”
A low, wispy buzz, like a breeze chasing leaves on a path, sounded from the shield. The blue canvas parted in the center. A light split the two partitions, too bright to gaze upon.
Elam shielded his eyes and looked at Dikaios.
“You may enter,” the horse said. “You have been found true and thus dressed according to your character. I will watch from here for the storm and stand ready in case you need me.”
Elam bowed. “Thank you, noble horse.” He reached for Naamah’s hand. “For both of us.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Naamah curtsied. “I hope to see your master someday, face-to-face.” Rising again, she took Elam’s hand, and the two passed through the shining divide.
Chapter 17
A TALE OF TWO DAUGHTERS
Gabriel led Walter into a huge room inside the power plant’s office building. Light from a row of windows illuminated several rectangular control panels that stood on the floor, their tops reaching head-high. Lit up with flat-panel monitors and covered with dozens of switches and dials, the place looked like a computer geek’s dream come true.
“I saw someone come in here,” Gabriel said, “so I followed him.”
“An employee?”
“I don’t think so. He wore sandals and a calf-length tunic tied with a leather