doesn’t want to know.”
“A boy.” Max nodded. “I can rock with that. A little nephew/god son. He got to smoke with Uncle Max.”
“Don’t make me shoot you.”
Chapter 20
A History of Stars and Blood
Emily
In the limo, I pulled out the book from the bag. It was all black with gold lettering. The words Knights of Babylon covered the front. There appeared to be no author. I opened it. In pen, someone had written a paragraph in Russian on the first blank page. It looked like a personal message one person would put down when they gave a book to another. I was horrible with anything to do with the Russian alphabet. While I slowly got down listening and speaking, reading would take me much longer to figure out.
I’ll ask Kaz what this says.
I flipped to the next page. “I wonder how Fatuma got this book.”
“She probably stole it.”
“No. Not Fatuma. You think so?”
“Definitely. It didn’t look like someone gave it to her. Plus, she didn’t want to tell you the story.”
“I hope she tells me the story one day.”
“I’m digging this district. I see why you’re into it.” Max looked out the window. “I love that there’s a lot of brown faces here. Leave it to you to find the one black ghetto in Russia.”
“It’s not all Africans.”
“But it’s more black people than I’ve seen since we got on the plane with your lion. Where are they all from?”
“Some are kids from interracial relationships during the Cold War, when the Soviet Union had African and Caribbean students come to college for free.”
“I can see that.”
“Currently, Boris said that the African population is growing again due to asylum seekers, refugees, and economic migrants. Many are in Moscow illegally.” I checked out the next page. “Some in Kapotnya are undocumented migrants from the Ivory Coast and the Democratic Republic of Congo.”
“Why?”
“Lots of political and civil unrest. Then, there’s a few from Angola. Fatuma’s neighbors are from there. It’s about a hundred thousand blacks in this country. Many fit the descriptions I’ve just said. And some just moved here.”
“A hundred thousand blacks? That’s not much with how big Russia is.”
“Yep.” I looked at the odd image on the page.
A female wore a black cloak with a hood on it. An eye was drawn on her forehead. Seven stars outlined the hood. No labels helped to understand who she was.
I turned to the next page. The symbol from yesterday showed—the star with the eye in the center. A paragraph followed. I checked it out.
Max disrupted my reading. “Anything interesting?”
“This star is supposed to represent the truth of our world. And the position in center is to represent the underworld.”
“Which means what?”
“I don’t know. I’m still reading.” I turned the page. “This book is about the group, but not necessarily written by the group. The author said he gathered information from several people who didn’t want to give their names. He also thinks that he may be dead once the book is published.”
“So, you think the people putting the gorilla heads up have something to do with this group?”
“That’s the theory due to the symbol.” I checked the next page. “The author is trying to understand why they’re using the star. He points to Christians using the star to represent the five wounds of Jesus Christ. And then, some pagan groups refer to a star as a witch’s foot or a charm to guard against evil.”
He leaned my way.
I skipped some of the pages and stopped at an image of a large red square and yellow star in the center. “Later, a 5-pointed red star is used as a symbol of communism and represents the five fingers of the worker's hand.”
I moved on.
The second section was titled Sacrifices.
There was a picture of a naked woman spread out on the floor. The 5-point star was drawn out on the ground with white chalk. Men stood around her in a circle, wearing white cloaks with pointed hoods.
Max continued to check out the page. “What the fuck is that?”
“The author said that they kidnap a woman, drag her into the place, and tie her down on the floor to be sacrificed.”
“Yo, this shit is crazy.”
“They brand the star and eye on her forehead.”
“And then they kill her?”
“Yeah. They cut her neck and wrists, then drink her blood.”
“How many times do they do this?”
“Every full moon.”
“Why are they doing it?”
“Something about sharing the woman’s life and taking on her energy.”
Max scratched his head. “Do you think this book is going