Chapter Twenty-Five
U nderneath the cathedral, you would never suspect a well-built library with long tables carved from oak with matching chairs scattered around. The space was packed with rows and rows of hardback copies of religious texts, the binding worn down from excessive use.
Before I dove into my studies, I took a mini tour around, checking through the aisles of the bookshelves. Alphabetical order of every author known to have written about the history of The Order of the Scarlet Quill sat comfortably in its spot on the shelves. Some of the artifacts that occupied a few spaces were old daggers and arrows, even photos of ancient convents from around the world.
From the stack Collin provided, I picked a soft brown leather hardback titled Demonist of the New World by Cynthia Waters, written in elegant gold front. The blurb indicated past Scarlets fighting certain demons of great power with a handmade dagger of brimstone and iron. Both pieces must be Blessed by an anointed High Priest before they’re forged.
I dove deep into the world of Magidoz demons and how they blinded their prey in order to gain the upper hand in battle. It took two centuries for the Order to discover how it happened and win a war. One Tutelary Saint named Jacobson Baird captured the Magidoz using only a candlestick and a piece of rope. Apparently, it didn’t take a liking to fire. But only a Scarlet could slay the creature. Regardless of both being Blessed, a Scarlet had to destroy what evil had been created in order to return to its place of birth. If others attempted to, it would revive and continue to kill.
Because Juniper was the first to do so, her bloodline must follow with the slaying.
Sitting back in the cushioned chair, I rubbed my eyes, taking deep, calming breaths through my nose. I had so many questions; so many stupid questions. My goal had been to bide my time until Heather’s recovery, get us out, and get this shit shut down, but instead, I continued to fall further into the rabbit hole of all this utter nonsense and became somewhat interested in their crazy stories.
But what didn’t make sense, and I tried desperately to rack my brain to understand why, was Grams’ involvement. How did she have the time? Especially with creating her own family. How did she manage this double life when Aiden and I were born? My Papa died when I was five, but was it from something medical… or supernatural? And now the real question, the one that had bothered me for the last hour, sitting here going through text after text…
Was my mother’s anger warranted because she knew the whole time and wanted to protect me? Did she have to choose between my brother and me? Did she choose my brother to protect thinking she wasn’t going to have a second child? Did my father know as well?
Behind my eyes, a pounding headache began to form. This was too much in just one day. My world as I knew it might very well be something else entirely, and I had been living oblivious to it all since my birth.
I stared at the pile of notes I’d compiled in the last hour, rubbing my hands together. Writing with the quill wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, it was just trying to remember when to dip for more ink. A couple of ink splotches were scattered around the area, but I found it quite enjoyable to write with.
Sealing the ink pot and gathering my belongings, I decided that was enough for the night and proceeded to make my way to the exit, when Kal stood at the bottom step.
I halted just before touching the railing, our eyes locked. He wore the familiar all-black fighting gear, the scarlet S embroidered over his heart, a bow strapped securely over his chest, and a quiver equipped with Blessed arrows the same color as the scarlet cape.
His eyes scanned my face as he rubbed his neck. “I was told you would be down here.”
“Here I am.” Honestly, I would rather run into Thatcher than deal with Kal right now. After our last encounter, it took every ounce of my willpower not to pummel him to the ground.
Kal hesitated on the last step. “It’s Heather.”
A warning bell went off inside my head. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine now, but her levels kept dropping. The Aces are unsure why the Blessing wasn’t as successful as yours.” Kal looked just as confused as I felt. Heather passed the purification ceremony with flying colors, and yet she was the one who failed.
Nothing else mattered but Heather in that moment, and I gripped Kal’s arm, desperation in my eyes. “I want to see her.”
He covered my hand with his and nodded. “I’ll take you to her now.”
No argument, no favor, only a simple request that he gave to me willingly. Josh’s warning rang in my ear, but right then, all I wanted was to see Heather. To see for myself that what they said was true.
Without another word exchanged, I followed Kal to the opposite end of the library, where a door was hidden behind one of the bookshelves. We walked in silence, only our footsteps ricocheting off the empty walls, until we came to one of the doors labeled ‘infirmary’ and pushed our way inside. Not a single bed was occupied except one, where a curtain shrouded the only patient, Heather.
Bright lights illuminated the space before us, and the smell of sterilized products and loud machine noises filtered through the small room, which held a couple of twin-sized beds with matching white sheets like the infirmary I had awoken in. The bed, blocked by a white curtain, made my heart crack.
“She’s behind here,” he murmured.
Kal pulled aside the white fabric, and that’s when my heart split in two.
Heather’s face showed no sign of color; her lips held no pigment, as if I were staring at a corpse. Breathing tubes funneled through her nose. The machines buzzed on, keeping her stable, and when I reached for her hand, I found her temperature slightly chilled.
“Why does she look so…” I stopped, my throat constricting with emotion. This shouldn’t have happened.
“It’s rare. Only one other Scarlet has gone through stasis,” said Kal.
I squeezed her limp hand, praying some of my warmth could spark something, anything to jolt her awake. Tears welled in my eyes, a few escaping down my cheeks, staining the bed sheet that covered her comatose body.
I felt useless, only able to hold her hand for comfort she might not even feel. None of this was right. “It should’ve been me.”
Kal gasped. “Remi, that’s not true.”
I squeezed her hand one last time before placing it gently on the bed. “I had no desire to become a Scarlet. That night, Heather was so proud to go through the ceremony.”
Kal’s hand touched my shoulder. “Don’t blame your—”
I turned, tears falling freely now, cutting him off. “I do blame myself,” I shake off his touch, “for not telling her sooner about my invitation. For not talking to her about it. For not… saving her from this nightmare.”
His face fell. “Remi…”
“I’m ready to leave.”
Without another word, Kal moved the curtain for me to leave, but not until I looked back at Heather one more time, wishing there was some way to wake her up.