Page 53 of Deck of Scarlets
I blinked several times, trying to comprehend what he spewed. “Unholy creatures?”
“Demons,” he clarified, then added, “Demons that can only be seen by the Blessed.”
“There’s no way stuff like that exists,” I scoffed.
“You would do well to hold your tongue,” advised Nora. The harshness in her tone set me on edge.
Dean Poverly waited until the room was quiet again. “Now that you have gone through the purification ceremony and been Blessed, you have been given the sight and strength to fight these—”
“But demons? Surely this is some sick joke.”
Ignoring my second outburst, he walked graciously around the room, the white cape trailing behind. From left to right, every Ace lowered their hoods. “We have days set aside for your history lessons of our Order, but for now, I will explain your role. The females are gifted from birth, passed down from generations of warriors' dormant powers until they’re Blessed. The Tutelary Saints, known as the guardians to our Scarlets, have their separate gene that allows them to be Blessed as well.” He halted and monitored the room, making sure he had my undivided attention before continuing. “We must make sure we give all potentials an opportunity.”
“The others from the purification ceremony?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying. It was all just too much. Demons? But my gut had been clenched since he uttered the word, something in me whispering caution, and the memory of the nightmarish creature that night at the club flittered through my mind.
“They retained the gene but were not chosen to continue. The Lord is very specific on which bloodlines are strongest to defend against the demonic.”
The idea of either parent of mine possessing such a gene left me with more questions. Could they have known before sending me here?
“Why did the water turn black?” I questioned. I realized this was my opportunity to get answers, to make some sense of all this.
“To fight demonic entities, one must be pure.”
My head spun around like a carousel, slow and tortuous. Not only did I have apparently the gene, but I passed every step through the purification process. And again, the image of the beast, dripping black ichor, stalking me through the night flashed through my mind. The inevitable sank in, and I realized I was now on a path I wished never to take but had no choice in. At least Heather and I were in this chaotic mess together.
“So, I carry the gene, passed the purification ceremony and the Blessing, as you call it. What now? I’m supposed to ignore my studies and slay demons?” I guessed. Though I tossed it out like a joke, there was something in me that responded to the notion… a part of me that I hadn’t met before.
He toyed with the cuff on his sleeve. “Your studies will cease to exist from here on out. A false schedule will be made to help disguise your actions from outside peers. You will, however, live on campus for your training to commence.”
Dean Poverly gestured with his hand at the others in their white capes, stone faces to match their stiff personalities. “Professor Nora Thatcher.” Her nod was cold like her, that familiar silver hair flowing out from under the hood. Nora Thatcher, the woman who demanded I follow the Lord’s plan. Poverly then moved on to a man of darker complexion, skin smooth as silk and eyes as black as the night sky. “Professor Callum Adler.” His smile was welcoming, the first since my arrival from anyone in the Order. Poverly laid a hand on another female’s shoulder and said, “Professor Ophelia Levine.” She gave a slight nod, her eyes green as the leaves of spring. “Professor Raven Stoll,” he introduced next. A petite woman with crimson lips. “And Professor Archer Toke.” Poverly motioned dramatically to the last gentleman on the left. Professor Toke nodded once, a serious expression plastered to his face. A scar was nearly invisible over his bottom lip.
Toke. Why did that name sound so familiar? I must’ve heard it before, but I couldn’t quite place where. And Professor Levine, were they the same Levine as my best friend, Jeremy? Didn’t he say one of his aunts was a professor at a local college?
Dean Poverly found his seat again, observing me with his beady little eyes.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“There’s more to explain,” he answered. “Father Benedict will begin your history studies of the Order on Monday. Training with your guardian will begin on Tuesday.”
“And I’m supposed to go on as normal? How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I exclaimed, though I knew it was. I did, as my gut was clenched, and my bones told me all he said was truth. But I resisted. For that too was in my bones.
Poverly’s expression turned dark, a cloud of doom circling his stature. “Those who have not been Blessed cannot see the wicked. From here on out, you will encounter many demons of all shapes and sizes. It is up to us to train and prepare you for what will come.”
Unaware that Josh had left, he returned to where I sat, a scroll and red quill in hand. Gently unfolding the scroll and laying it down before me, Josh placed the red quill on top, hiding the text underneath. I lifted the quill and gasped at what I read. Names upon names written in scarlet ink were signed, along with dates, as far back as the 1800s. Names of people who belonged to the Order.
Like Elizabeth Jones. My grandmother. Her familiar scrawl glistened in scarlet ink, and my heart hammered behind my ribcage as the reality of the situation set in.
“All the women who have served the Lord in our Order have signed this scroll. He has chosen you, Remi, to help us undo all the wrongs in this world,” explained Poverly.
With clammy hands, I hovered the scarlet quill over the line at the bottom of the names, the ink creating tiny droplets on the scroll-like blood-spatter. Grams’ name stood out among the rest, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from it as my mind raced. Even before passing, she never mentioned her extracurricular activities when attending Columbia University. Never cared to give me a heads-up about what my future would entail.
Not even my own mother shared what was behind closed doors.
“It’s okay to be afraid. I just want you to know I’m here for you,” Josh whispered.
His breath tickled my neck, the hairs standing on end. “What if this was a mistake?” I whispered back, the quill mere inches from the line.
“I refuse to let you believe that. You will succeed, Remi.”