Chapter Ten #3
There was a flurry of movement as the Hermanas continued, striking poses in which all three aligned at various angles.
The chanting grew quicker and louder, and the sisters’ poses responded to the increasing intensity until the chanting reached its climax.
Sister Superiora raised her head, her glowing olive skin and deep brown eyes shining out, as she brought her hands to prayer position.
The other two followed suit, and together they opened their mouths, harmonizing with a single note that matched the chanting around them, which softened as the prayer ended.
The two Hermanas then exited without a word.
“Schuyler!”
The rigidness and control Sister Superiora displayed in her limbs during the prayer melted away as she relaxed and moved forward with graceful motions, sweeping Schuyler into a deep, maternal embrace.
“I have missed you, Papito. There are not words enough to express this. I sensed your return weeks ago, and Papi, I felt so much displacement, so much sadness. I wondered why you’d not come to see me, so I could help.
” She pushed him slightly away from her, taking a good look.
“But it is clear now, that it is fading. Bueno, bueno.”
“I’ve missed you,” he replied before introducing Issac. “I should have come sooner, and for a social visit to show Issac all the wonders of the convent, but we need a favor.”
“A favor? Solo necesitas preguntar,” she exclaimed. “Tell me, what is it you need, and I will help in any way.”
“Issac is set to perform a spell left for him by his uncle on the upcoming full moon, and there is a component I cannot place. I would research this more thoroughly if I had the time to spare, but if anyone knows, it’s you. What can you tell me about La Medianoche del Diablo?”
Sister Superiora needed no time to even think, but Schuyler noted a sense of concern on her beautiful face.
“I do indeed, though your translation is incorrect. It is, La flor de la medianoche del diablo,” she advised.
“The Flower of the Devil’s Midnight. It is a flowering desert tree, and you are muy afortunado, for we have the flower here in the garden. ”
“It is?” Schuyler only expected information and a point in the right direction. “May we impose upon you to collect one for our spell?”
“Absolutamente, no imposition at all. Please follow.” Sister Superiora turned with dramatic flair, allowing the billowing train of her habit to fan out behind her.
Her habit was far more ornate than the others, her hat wider and taller, adorned with small diamonds and jewels on thin golden strings, as was the bodice of her habit, also dripping with jewels that made soft shuffling sounds as she moved.
Her hands were gloved, and the nails on each finger were bejeweled.
Her train flowed, fluttered, and sparkled behind her as she led them through the corridors to the garden.
Only a few turns from the holy center of the convent, at the end of a hall, was a large circular stone door. “You remember the rules of the garden?” she asked, facing the stone door.
Schuyler turned to Issac. “Touch absolutely nothing, unless she approves you too,” he said with all seriousness as he kicked off his sneakers and motioned for Issac to do the same. “We’re ready.”
Upon Schuyler’s word, Sister Superiora, with an impressive series of hand movements, unlocked the stone door, which slid aside, blinding them with a hit of bright midday sun. As they followed Sister Superiora across the threshold, she raised both of her hands, and they were lifted off their feet.
“What’s happening?” Issac asked, kicking his feet wildly as he was pulled off the ground.
“I told you, we aren’t permitted to touch anything. Goes for our feet, too.”
They floated like balloons she held by stings a hundred feet above the ground, seeing the expansive, unending garden laid out all around them.
Beneath them, plots of bright colored roses, tulips, rhododendrons, poppies, lavender, and sunflowers went on for miles, and Sister Superiora’s black draped figure marched through the lush green and vibrant colors, her train growing longer, stretching from the door they entered.
As they approached the end of the flower field, their feet touched the ground in front of the stone path to the Nocturnal Nursery.
The greenhouse plunged in darkness, except for the floating mini moons which floated over every species of night-blooming plant contained in the nursery.
The sweet, flowery scent of Jasmine and Night Queen blossoms filled the nursery’s air.
They moved along a labyrinth of stone walkways lit by bioluminescence until she stopped them.
“She is there,” Sister Superiora said, pointing to the darkened alcove in front of them.
She then turned her hand, illuminating the mini moon which hung over the small desert plant which resembled a Joshua tree.
“Once copious throughout the world, its powerful flowers were overharvested,” she remarked sadly, “but a couple still remain.”
When the mini moon was a quarter full, the tree’s flowers, the size of footballs, opened, revealing their gorgeous swirl of black, red, and indigo colored petals.
They stood for a moment, bewitched by its gothic beauty, and Schuyler admitted he could feel the power emanating off the tree.
Issac confessed he did not, and Schuyler spotted another look of concern arise on the Sister’s face.
“He wasn’t born in Bairwick,” Schuyler interjected. “His family hid the truth from him.”
“Ay! That’s it!” She exclaimed, looking relieved.
“Since your arrival, I’ve felt your power is off, very…
apretado…pressed. Compressed. Sí. Now it’s clear.
I see why. Shame upon your family for withholding your truth.
May your gifts blossom.” She extended her hand to Issac, and within a swirling glowing mist above her palm, a pair of garden sheers appeared.
“You must collect the flower. Carefully. At the stem, leave one inch, so it may regrow. No more, no less. Cut incorrectly and the tree will die.”
“Isn’t it like the last one in existence?” Issac asked, his voice cracking as a look of sheer terror danced across his face. “The pressure.” He swallowed hard, refusing to move forward.
“This is your spell, so you must obtain the flower. There is the faintest green line on the stem—that will be where you cut. And thank the tree once you’ve removed the flower.”
Issac stepped into the alcove, approaching the tree. “Nice tree…very pretty tree,” he said playfully. “I’m going to borrow a flower.” As he neared with his hand and the sheers, a piercing scream erupted from the tree, sending him jumping back.
Schuyler swooned when Issac looked to him for support. You got this, he mouthed.
Issac attempted to get closer, yet every time the tree screamed, he retracted his hand.
Realizing it would occur every time, he found a steady approach.
He checked for the faint line, and when certain he had it, he cut the flower from the tree.
Thanking it, which he did before rushing back to Schuyler, stopped the screaming.
“That tree screamed!” he exclaimed, shaken from the experience.
“They all do,” Sister Superiora solemnly confirmed, taking the flower from him.
In her hands, a bright glow appeared; the flower shrank, encased in a small, clear ball, like a trinket, which she handed to Issac.
“This will open when needed for your spell. With all blessings. And with that gentleman, I must make my exit.”
Schuyler hugged her. “Frances, I cannot thank you enough for this. I will be back soon.”
“My pleasure, especially after all you’ve done for us.
I miss you being here, sitting in corners, writing.
” She released their embrace, smiling warmly at both of them.
“Buenos Noches.” With a wave of her arms the world melted around them.
The Nocturnal Nursery faded, and they found themselves standing at the start of the path that led to the convent.
“Okay,” Issac said excitedly, “definitely living for the voguing nuns.” He admired the ball in his hands.
Schuyler laughed as he took them back to Issac’s room at the Inn. Amped up from his experience with the Hermanas and the garden, Schuyler further made Issac’s evening when he used a floating spell while they made love