Page 61 of Deck of Scarlets
“Did she write it herself?”
“No, but I will get to that if you let me.”
I kept my mouth shut and let him continue the lesson.
Father Benedict gazed back down at the old book and began again. “Eighteen-year-old Juniper Findlay of Scotland was the first but would not be the last. Living on the outskirts of Edinburgh, she was one of ten siblings. All of her sisters before her were either spinners, parchment makers, or stayed with their husbands to tend to their family farm. Her brothers were either weavers, masons, or farmers. Juniper would be the first to enter St. Maria’s Convent—”
“How come?” Father Benedict silenced me with a finger to his lips, freezing my words as my mouth hung open. Collin snickered behind him, clearly amused by our interaction.
How could he expect me to remain silent when every word from his mouth seemed so farfetched? It felt like he was reading directly from a script.
The only thing that kept me hanging on that rocky boat was sleeping five feet below. And if sitting here and enduring the most obscure bullshit that had ever graced my ears meant saving Heather, then so be it.
“On her eighteenth birthday, she left for the convent. The journey would be rough, considering her parents could not afford proper transportation. Her mother packed her food, warm clothes, and a handmade scarlet cape to battle cold nights. Her father gave her only a small dagger to protect her on the journey.” Father turned the page, the sound somewhat comforting in the quiet cathedral, “Each of her siblings said their goodbyes, wishing her safe travels to her new life.”
He turned the page once more, licking his lips. “Juniper used her scarlet cape against the frigid wind as she trekked up the most prominent hill in the village…” Time seemed to slow down, and Father Benedict’s words faded into the background as an image of a woman in scarlet came to the forefront of my mind, traveling up a winding path to an old building with giant double wood doors. Sconces burned in the night, casting a soft glow at the front door. The familiarity played out like a time reel, and I felt stuck in its endless replay. But I somehow knew her. Almost like a roadblock was placed inside my brain, unable to pass and see what lay beyond. Ever since the night of the Blessing, my memory of what transpired had been hazy.
All at once, the image dispersed, leaving a voice in its wake. “Remember when you need to.”
I shook my head and scratched the inside of my ears, looking from left to right, trying to find out where it came from.
Father Benedict’s voice came back in place of the memory and whispered command. “The convent was welcoming, and Juniper knew her life would be fulfilled as she had always wanted it.” Marking the page, he closed the thick, leatherbound book, looking at me over the podium.
I shifted nervously in the pew. “That’s it?” Did I miss something when I faded out?
He smiled. “For now. There is much to learn, and we have plenty of time to listen and discuss, but first, I want to take you to the study room downstairs.”
Collin took the book from Father and wrapped it back up with the cloth, setting it on the table along with the stunning chalice.
Gesturing for me to follow, Father in front with Collin not too far behind, we entered a side door behind the dais, where a set of stairs led to ground level.
Soft lights illuminated the way, until we reached the bottom, where the space opened to a decent-sized room holding a few long, solid wood tables and dark-blue cushioned chairs. Rows of shelves loaded with books and odd objects lined either side of the room. The smell of basement and stale air clung to the furniture and shelves. Walking by one of the many shelves, I brushed my fingers over thick, leather bindings, surprised to find it completely free of dust particles.
At one table sat Baron, head bent as he scribbled with a quill on some paper. Didn’t anyone use normal writing material here?
He spotted us from where we stood and greeted, “Good evening, everyone.” Baron had such a contagious smile I couldn’t help but return the gesture.
“Baron, what text are you studying today?” asked Father, leaning over his shoulder to observe his work.
“Going over notes from today’s report on the giant nest in Upstate New York. Olemak demons are a little trickier than Magidoz.” He held the piece of paper to Father to look over.
His eyes roamed over the text. “Yes, quite tricky to fight.”
I looked between the two of them, somewhat intrigued. If I were to play along, I should at least ask the right questions. “What is an Ole… mark?”
“O-le-MACK, and that is what brings us to our next lesson. The two demons you discussed with Thatcher today that have been nesting in the city; you’re going to learn their strengths and weaknesses.” Father disappeared behind the shelves, only to return with two small, black books. Plopping them down next to Baron, he patted the cushioned seat. “Shall we begin?”
Baron barked a laugh and got up from his place at the table, materials in hand. “And that is my cue to leave. Good luck, Remi.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, sauntering over with a scowl on my face.
“Magidoz and Olemak demons are the most common. Magidoz blind their victims, while Olemak’s venom paralyzes them before they feast.” Father pointed at the first page, a drawing of a Magidoz in black and white.
I shuddered, taking my seat as I looked down at the drawing. Its body of gangly limbs, with a head of three horns and rows of needle-shaped teeth, covered the off-white page completely. Some weird substance coated its flesh, its body half turned, with a hand of long talons ready to swipe out from the page.
The same grotesque creature I saw while tripping out on Mitch Lester’s fucking drugs.
My gut swirled again, an instinctual response building in my core.