Chapter 22 Their Version #2
The Meister studied my features, his eyes slightly narrowed in confusion.
“Well, Dahlia, now you know the origins of Tarot, from where you and all of us derive our powers. By embodying the Universal Truths, we can tap into the illusion of the material world. And change it, even,” he said.
“This should make your research topic a little easier, hm?”
I suppressed a scoff. The origins of Tarot were the subconscious mind. But I recognized the power of saying what people wanted to hear. And so, I contained my true thoughts and instead spun sugar into his ear.
“These are the most beautiful words I’ve ever read,” I said, fixing my eyes on the Book in awe. “Thank you for allowing me to read them,” I added, bile rising to my throat. No one ever said I enjoyed lying.
“We are happy to have you a part of us, Dahlia. Your natural gifts of divination will restore power to the House,” he said.
My brows twitched, wanting to furrow, but I didn’t let them budge. “I do have one question,” I said carefully. I couldn’t let on any of my skepticism, but I needed to understand how exactly they thought this so-called magick worked. The Meister nodded for me to go on.
“If we only need to tap into these Universal Truths to access the power, then why the elixirs? Why dull our senses to do so? Wouldn’t the strongest magick be elicited from our full sensing minds and bodies?”
My gaze drifted to Nina, the residential potion mixer. She gave me a familiar smile, as if knowing I’d ask that very question.
But the Meister answered instead. “It’s true our magick is stronger when we are, but that’s where the paradox lies.
Our physical bodies and senses are a cruel trick created by the demiurge.
By dulling our mortal senses, we allow our spiritual ones to awaken.
We suppress our humanity in order to access divinity.
That is where we create true magick, true art.
“You might have guessed now the connection between peculiarities at Foresyth Conservatory and our belief system. We adorn ourselves in bright, rich colors to remind ourselves that the material world is but a beautiful illusion. Same goes for our food.”
Holy hell. The beautiful, tasteless food. The ornate House, and its gorgeous inhabitants. They were all a constructed reminder that the world was a co-created illusion.
I nestled these new findings into the story I had built around Foresyth thus far. An arts Conservatory dedicated to the study—no practice, of the deadliest art of all: magick.
Wasn’t that what the Meister said about art? That it allowed for the transcendence of the soul? And then there was Sophia’s Circle. Of course. The Tramping Ground itself was a testament to transcendence. No material form, or at least organics, could exist there.
I thought of Sequoia in the bathtub, ghastly white. Even now, though her parlor had improved, she was looking shyly at her feet, the faint trace of near death still fresh on her. She had killed herself to transcend into this state of spiritual awakening as the text had suggested.
And then there was Aspen’s dagger at my throat. I didn’t need any further explanation of how that had challenged my material form.
Transcendence of the Soul, Foresyth’s very motto. How could I have missed it, when it had been in plain sight all along? It all made sense now. The single thread that connected everything. Escaping the material plane and using the cards to access the metaphysical one.
And then there was Julian. Had he also been trying to transcend?
To access Sophia’s power? This question burned on my lips, but I knew it was too dangerous to speak.
Julian had warned me that secrets lurked even deeper in Foresyth.
There was a feeling in the back of my mind that this only scratched the surface.
“I’ll need some time with this,” I said, clutching the Book in my arms.
“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible,” the Meister said. “The Book is a holy relic, the Council loans it out on an hourly basis. Its only here now so you can feel its powers.” The Meister paused, studying my reaction. “You can feel it, can’t you?”
My gaze drifted back to the obsidian Book. Its cover was glossy, such that I could see my own reflection. What I could feel scared me. But the fact that I couldn’t explain it terrified me even more.
“Yes, I can,” I conceded. At least I was telling the truth.
Sequoia’s gaze jerked up and caught my eye.
“You should work on cultivating your connection to the Shattered Mother.” She covered her mouth with her hands, almost embarrassed.
“I’m sorry Meister, I know it’s not in the Socratic form, but I just wanted to share a piece of advice with Dahlia.
The way I accessed my connection with the Mother was through embodying her in the form of the cards.
” The Empress. The essence of female divinity. And with it, a dangerous allure.
“I’m well aware of that,” I said curtly. The last time I saw her accessing the cards she almost died. I had no interest in doing that. I very well couldn’t solve a murder case that way.
“There are safe ways to do it, of course. We could do it here, if you’d like,” Sequoia said, her eyes twinkling. I kept mine level with hers but said nothing. Was she insane?
“That’s enough. You know that we don’t practice magick during Circle.
We only exchange thoughts, ideas, and teachings here.
There is a time and place for everything.
” The Meister turned to me. “And ritual is strictly forbidden unless authorized by me. That being said, Sequoia is right. If you still have any hesitations about our philosophy, it’s best you speak to the Mother yourself. She’s spoken to you, hasn’t she?”
I thought back to the Initiation. To the feeling of her breath on my neck, and her hand reaching inside my chest.
“I think so, but it’s hazy,” I said. Hadn’t she said we prayed to a false God, echoing Julian’s words?
“You will now understand that your research prompt—deciphering the origins of Tarot—has been an ongoing group project. Skorn is the predecessor to Tarot and the one true magick. Everyone here has collected experiential case studies concerning their own lives of how they have seen the Shattered Mother’s powers manifested in them.
You are the last piece, Dahlia. Your experience is the last case study we are waiting for, before presenting the findings to the Council,” the Meister said with a gravity that unsettled me.
The last piece. Was that why the Meister had brought me here to Foresyth?
Not for investigating Julian’s death, but helping with this research project?
Embarrassment burned bright on my chest and neck.
I had been so foolish, thinking his offer was genuine.
But I had been so desperate and impressionable.
Anger replaced shame and burned through me.
He might have welcomed me to the lion’s den, but that didn’t mean I would leave here without raising hell.
I nodded in acceptance, trying my best for a sweet smile.
“I know you won’t disappoint us.”
*
When Circle broke, I felt so exhausted I could have slept for a week straight.
Perhaps the Book had siphoned my energy.
No, I broke the train of thought. I was tired because I had been through an exhausting ordeal of pretending to say all the right things and not revealing my true feelings. Lying was tiresome.
I stepped out of the sitting room and started down the hall. It pleasantly surprised me that dusk had not fallen yet, despite it being after Circle. I hesitated by the window in the dining room, watching the pinks and purples in the clouds intertwine behind the blossoming trees.
“Beautiful sunset,” Aspen said, coming up behind me. His eyes were fixated on me, despite remarking at the view. I instinctively jerked back.
“So, I guess you’re not keen on knives,” he said, raising both his hands up.
“I’m unarmed, I promise,” he added, raising his hands in defense.
“And besides, it wouldn’t be hard to pin you to the wall, knife or no.
” His smile beamed, showing his teeth in a way that made my heart skip.
A low laugh rumbled from his chest. “Relax, Dahlia. Only joking.”
“Why are you always following me?” I asked, heat rising to my face.
“Not much else to do in this old, boring House. And you’re pretty interesting.” He shrugged his shoulders in a way that made me believe him. “I think Koi would agree.”
I narrowed my eyes at the insinuation. “Your idea of alleviating your boredom is to threaten me?” I asked.
He paused, considering. He traced a finger across his bottom lip in thought and my eyes followed. The motion was aggravating. Was he using the cards on me right now? I wanted to blame them for the curling knot of heat in my stomach.
“Well, no. Not quite. I came here to apologize,” he said, moving closer.
I took a step back, and he lifted his hands again.
“I’m just trying to keep my voice low,” he said, his eyes glancing at the open door of the dining room.
We were only a few feet away from the hall.
He stepped closer and this time I didn’t move.
“What part? Kidnapping me, or threatening to slice my throat?” I shot back, but the harshness of the intended words was lost in the quiver at my throat. Tears threatened at the corner of my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. Shit, I was losing it.
Aspen’s features softened, and he stepped closer to the window. “For all of it. Koi was right. We should have let you in much earlier. Prepared you better.”
“If it hadn’t been for the vow of silence toward non-Initiatives,” I mocked. “I never took you as a rule follower,” I said.
“I’m not,” he said. “and telling you too much, too soon—well, you’re hard to convince of anything you can’t rationalize.”
“Everyone should be.”
His brows furrowed. “Just because you can’t rationalize something doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
“It isn’t real to me.” He was so close to me I could smell the musk from his skin, clover and pine, and something earthy like beeswax. For a moment I forgot what we were talking about.
“What isn’t real?” He teased, sensing my confusion.
“I saw it on you,” I said, my mind flashing to when he held me against his chest, knife in hand.
That smile, oozing satisfaction. It was unmistakable.
I might be good at reading books, but I was damn prodigious at reading people.
“You looked so satisfied, holding that athame to my neck,” I said, my voice light.
I meant it to be accusatory, but it had come out as if I was remembering a dream.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I can’t deny that I like being close to you, no matter the circumstances.
” His mouth was so close to my neck, I could feel the breath on the same spot where he had held the dagger just a few days before.
His hand jerked upward, as if to brush my hair, but then fell to his side.
Snap out of it, a distant voice screamed in my mind. He’s using the cards on you. Even though the thought was ludicrous, it broke me out of whatever trance I had found myself in.
He sensed my shift and took a step back.
“You’re using the cards,” I said, my eyes narrowing like darts.
“To get close to me. Funny for someone who’s such a shameless flirt, you need to rely on magick to get close to people.
” I was satisfied by how harshly the words had come out.
Hurt flashed across his features, and I knew my words had hit their mark.
“That’s not true.” His jaw tightened. “I have never used the cards on you.”
I searched him for a tell but couldn’t come up with one. Though that didn’t mean much given he was a prodigious liar.
“Admit it. You’re manipulating me.” I pressed harder, wanting him to give in. I might not be reading his cards, but I could still read his features.
He laughed but the sound came out hollow. “That’s rich. Coming from the master manipulator. I’ve heard how you read for people. How you read for Koi,” he said. The words stung because they were true.
“That’s—” The words stopped coming out. I couldn’t even deny it. The lies exhausted me.
“I’m not even blaming you for it,” he said, running his hands through his hair.
“I just— damn, I just want something true. And you’re the closest thing I’ve ever seen to the truth.
And what’s so funny is that you don’t even know,” he said.
“You try to hide your feelings, you try to manipulate us, but the truth is written all over that precious face of yours. You’re the truest thing I’ve ever seen. ”
Red burst across my cheeks. Knowing that he could see it made me blush even harder.
I swallowed hard before finding my words.
How was it that my enemy saw me for who I was, when so many others never could?
Either he was perceptive, or I had been a complete failure at hiding myself.
Regardless of which it was, there was still a part of me that saw this as an opportunity.
I wanted to prove him wrong. I wasn’t truth; I was a liar, just like him.
I’d lie my way to find the truth about Julian, and I’d use whatever means were necessary.
In a moment of reckless bravery, I gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him close into me so that my lips touched the outer edge of his ears.
“Fine, you want the truth? Then why don’t you start, tell me something real,” I said, letting the wind of my breath fan his flames.
I knew he couldn’t deny a challenge. I’d get the truth about Julian out of him one way or another.
Aspen’s features mixed with surprise and delight, pulling his head back up to look me squarely in the eyes.
His pupils dilated with excitement, green and brown streaks being swallowed up by black.
“I would love to,” he said, almost too eagerly, like he’d been waiting for the invitation.
He put his hand over mine where I still held a clump of his shirt.
Why did it feel like I’d already lost, even as he stepped willingly into my trap?
I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore how naturally his fingers threaded with mine, like they had with Sequoia’s.
I tried to ignore how the heat of his coarse palms flush against mine soothed the cold inside of me.
I tried to ignore how his eyes, like burning embers, found mine equally transfixed to his. I really tried.
But I still followed him, out of the dining room and down the hallway, as if I had no choice at all.