Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Prayers said and nightly candle extinguished, Lilith was sound asleep when I returned to my room. I stuffed the dildo under my pillow and quickly changed before forcing my eyes closed and begging my mind to quiet so that I might manage a few hours’ sleep.
No sooner had it felt like I’d closed my eyes did my bed shake and then sag with weight towards my feet.
I cracked open an eyelid. Dim green light of morning filtered into the room, illuminating Sister Pandorian, still in her nightgown, perched on the corner of my bed, biting her nails.
“Quincy is in a state of disarray. Something bad is going to happen.”
Sister Lilith wasn’t in her bed.
“What time is it?”
“Did you hear me?” Sister Pandorian’s red hair furled out, wild and wavy around her.
It was the greatest shame that with our vows she couldn’t wear it out.
She was truly very pretty. Pretty in the way an untamed garden sports scattered blooms. Untended, yet more remarkable than if each flower had been manicured to perfection.
I let out a groan and pulled my pillow over my head. “How can a bug be in a state of disarray, Sister Pandorian?”
“Do you think I don’t know my own pet? And a snail is not a bug—they’re mollusks, specifically, gastropods.”
“Pandorian,” I whined through the pillow. “It’s five in the morning. Is there an actual reason you’re in my bed right now?”
She tapped her foot and continued gnawing at her thumbnail. “I’m worried about Delilyx. It started with the bats, now she’s on about beasts and ripped bibles.”
I reluctantly pulled myself up and rubbed my eyes. “Before the bats, it’s been odd numbers—all in-between sewing rouge hearts in our tunics.” I shrugged. “Our Sister in Christ is fantastical and quirky. It’s why we love her.”
Sister Pandorian smiled weakly, looking above me at the cross that hung over my headboard. “I’ve always loved how she brings magic with her everywhere she goes. It hasn’t been easy for her, you know, to find a place where she can be… who she is… be who she is with someone—with me.”
I’d only picked up bits and pieces of Sister Delilyx’s past over my time at Altar Church.
“Her own family cast her out,” Sister Pandorian continued, rocking back and forth in an anxious sort of way that had anxiety infecting me along with her.
“Nine brothers and sisters, a mother, a horrid stepfather. Church was her escape… her path to acceptance. Only she found a bad convent before coming here. They were terrible to her. They spoke to her much like that newcomer did.” Sister Pandorian cast a withered stare at Sister Lilith’s empty bed.
“Sister Lilith was only trying to be helpful.”
“You’re blinded by your desire for her.” Pandorian’s jaw tightened. “Since Lilith’s gotten here, Deliliyx’s mind is teetering towards shadow. You’re preoccupied, Reverend Mother is on edge, and even Bernard hates her. Bernard loves every nun, even the mean ones who visit.”
“Bernard is a dog and he’s blind. He’s alarmed by the scent of someone new, that’s all.” I hugged my knees, searching Sister Pandorian’s emerald gaze. “Why don’t we do something today after the women’s needlework circle? You, me, and Dee. Us three.”
The nun considered a moment, finally pulling her fingertips away from her mouth. “Perhaps some friendship time would be good for her. The weather will be nice this afternoon. We could go for a walk through the trails.”
“That sounds lovely.” My stomach growled. “You know what else sounds lovely?”
Sister Pandorian arched an auburn eyebrow. “Hot tea and some sort of baked good?”
I nodded sleepily.
“If I go in the kitchen this early, I’ll undoubtedly run into Father Benedict.”
“Please? You woke me up over a snail.”
My friend let out a long sigh. “Fine, but if I’m not back in an hour, you best come rescue me with urgent nun business or something.”
“You can count on me.” I smiled.
Hours later, I grew concerned as I hadn’t seen Sister Lilith all morning.
Sister Delilyx looped her arm in mine as we walked down the hill and into town. She tried and failed to reassure me. “The new nun is probably with Reverend Mother. Maybe they’re having prayer together.”
My stomach lurched at that. I’d never shared the details of my own prayer sessions with Reverend Mother with my sisters.
I wasn’t permitted to speak of it. I’d always adhered to Reverend Mother’s rules around our sessions for fear of losing her trust and therefore losing our time together.
Yet the idea of letting Sister Lilith slip through my grasp began to weigh heavier than the possibility of no longer being disiplined by my prioress.
After catching Delilyx and Pandorian in the prayer closet, confirming their relationship, which evidently Reverend Mother was already privy to, it felt a small, unspoken wall had come down between my fellow nuns and me.
Curiosity chewed at my mind just as Pandorian had nibbled at her nails on my bed that morning.
“Sister, when you first came here… did you have prayer sessions with Reverend Mother?”
“We all do,” Sister Delilyx kicked a stone from the grass and onto the cobblestone of Howl Moor. “Not as early in the morning as yours, though.”
“What I mean is… did you have any…” I searched for a way to pry while still being discreet. “Special prayer meetings.”
“All prayer is special, silly. We’re blessed to commune with the divine without the encumberments of typical life.” Sister Delilyx spun, swirling out her tunic. “Pandy said the weather will be lovely this afternoon, so I bet needlework circle will be outdoors today. What a blessing, is it not?”
A sigh left my throat, letting go with it the hope that my Sister in Christ caught my insinuation in the slightest. “I see them gathered by the fountain.” I gestured, hauling our tote of supplies over my shoulder. “By the way, how’s it been with the bats?”
We strolled arm in arm nearer to the gathering of women in the middle of town. “Since the bible page incident, there’s been no more bat activity.” She shrugged. “Perhaps because I finally fixed my chest of drawers to have even-numbered knobs.”
“That must be it.” I smiled to comfort her, though something clawed within my chest. Sister Pandorian was accurate in her assessment.
Something felt… off in Howl Moor, though I couldn’t quite place it.
Like furls of smoke from the chimney stacks, I couldn’t grab onto anything tangible to point to, only a feeling, a swirl of grey from some invisible fire.
Pandorian and Delilyx found each other and grabbed their supplies from the tote I’d hauled down.
Nearly a dozen women joined us, gathering around the fountain on blankets and probing their needlework while chatting.
Thursday’s circle was certainly more enjoyable and lighthearted than Tuesday’s elderly visits, though I was fond of any reason to come into Howl Moor and be around its people.
Lingering by the fountain of stone wolves seemingly howling towards the moon and erupting in a cascade of water, I scanned the crowd and took note of the missing women. A hand touched my back, and I startled, whipping around with a quick breath.
Batilda raised her palms. “Sorry about that, Sister, I didn’t mean to scare ya.”
Finding a seat on the fountain’s edge, I held my chest. “All is well, Batilda. How are you? How are the ducks?”
Aside from running the town’s tavern, Batilda boasted a pond she’d dug herself on the edge of town where she’d somehow amassed an adopted flock of ducklings and geese.
“Honestly?” Batilda sat next to me with a grunt, taking up the whole other half of the stone seat. “They’re a little spooked after what happened the other night.”
“What happened the other night?”
“You didn’t hear? I would have thought Sister Veilentine would have told you all so you could stay clear of the forest.”
A cold breath froze in my lungs. “Wh-what’s the matter with the woods?”
“It’s what’s in the woods.” Batilda said lowly, resting her hands on her knees and looking out past the town. “Happened about ten years ago, too. This kind of thing is what keeps the ghost stories going. You’ve heard them, I reckon?”
“Only whispers here and there of monsters and the like. I always figured parents made those kinds of tales up to keep their small children from wandering too far from home.”
“That could be true,” Batilda admitted. “Could be wrong, too. Sure was something strange that took my swans.”
“What happened to your swans?” I asked, but I didn’t want the answer.
The hairs on my arms pricked in icy anticipation of the barkeep’s account.
Something about hearing it from such a strong and solid individual made it worse by tenfold.
A scary story from Delilyx, who was mesmerized by her own shadow most days, was one thing.
An odd tale that seemingly rattled such a mountainous woman was a jarring experience in itself.
But then there were her words. The words from someone who was unafraid of brazen, drunken men.
The woman who’s thrown out two six-foot tall men out of her bar and onto their asses in the streets when they’d gotten handsy with a patron.
This wasn’t someone afraid of anything. Yet the tenor of her voice wavered in a way that unsettled my bones beneath my layers of garb.