22. Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Herbs hung on one side of the room over a workstation.
On the other side was a small wooden writing desk; behind the desk was a mattress on the floor that looked like a makeshift bed.
Scattered tinctures and vials lay on top the work station and on the shelves above it.
The walls, though made of stone, were perfectly in place, with moss seeping through the edges of the gray stones.
The light somehow helped dissipate the thick smell in the air, or maybe just opening a shut door had helped with the ventilation.
Rafa was just relieved he could take his hand off his mouth for a moment.
They both circled the room in silence. To Rafa’s eye, it was around a hundred square feet in size.
Though he couldn’t be certain as to the exact size, since darkness shrouded some of the room’s corners.
“This looks like an herbalist’s workroom…” Aveline peered over the small worktable. “Which would explain the smell.”
Rafa drifted to the small, unassuming study table on the other side of the room.
He opened the drawers, but there was nothing of value inside, just scribbles on paper and more empty vials.
He rested his weight on the table. We came here for nothing; he thought.
Just then, the top of the wooden study table moved slightly.
Rafa paused, his breath caught in his throat.
Grasping the edge of the table, he gently lifted, and to his surprise, it opened with a creak.
Aveline walked over to him. “Did you find something?” she asked.
In a hidden compartment within the small desk was a large leather-bound book in a stunning deep violet color. “It’s a book…”
“Rafa…” Aveline gasped. “That looks like a grimoire.” Aveline gripped his arm, perhaps out of fear.
The book looked old, but it was beautiful, like it was the only part of the room that remained perfectly preserved. Something in him made him want to hold it.
“Don’t touch it!” Aveline yanked at his arm.
But Rafa patted his sister’s hand as though to say he knew what he was doing.
The book somehow called to him. A buckle latched it shut.
His thoughts traveled to the mysterious padlock that had opened for him just hours ago.
As soon as his fingertips touched the leather, a voice as gentle as the wind spoke to him.
‘Welcome, child…’ And the little buckle opened.
His eyes widened as he lifted the book. It was heavy and required that he sit to study its contents lest he topple over from its sheer weight.
They sat on the mattress on the mossy floor and leafed through the book.
There were scribbles and instructions, and after the first few pages, they came upon handwritten poems.
“Enchantments,” Aveline whispered. “Look at the titles…” she urged him as she jabbed a finger at an entry that said: A Spell for Preservation. It came with instructions on when to say the spell, how to create the perfect tincture, and what was required to activate it.
This can’t be real. Rafa never considered himself to be a believer in the occult.
He was raised Catholic, and his family didn’t discuss such things at home.
He believed these occurrences would only happen in the movies he watched and the video games he would sometimes play—all fiction.
Never did it occur to him he’d be right smack in the middle of it in real life.
Aveline must be feeling the same thing, he surmised, as his sister leafed through the pages with him.
She gasped when she came upon one spell, which they knew all too well from their childhood.
It said, A Spell for Eternal Fall. The list included ingredients and requirements; one requirement was that the caster perform the spell on their own land.
Rafa closed the book, reading no further.
This was it; this was what he needed to help Sal. This book would be the best piece of history uncovered. And he would hand-deliver it to the Philippines.
***
“Rafa, you are delusional if you think stealing this grimoire is going to help you deal with whatever savior complex you have with Sal,” she said, hands on her hips. Aveline’s voice picked up in decibels and speed as she spoke.
Rafa jammed the book into his empty satchel. “It’s not stealing if it’s been unclaimed for over a century,” he said, annoyed. “You agreed to help me, so be more supportive, yeah?”
“That was before we discovered a possibly magical grimoire that could be the very reason St. Stephenshire is the way it is!”
“Come on, Achi, don’t tell me that big brain of yours can’t piece together that this could be Sal’s big break. She’d be famous and well-known for this, and everything would be fine,” he spoke, trying to convince himself.
Aveline paused. “Is that what this is all about?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Rafa remained silent. To him, it was a finished conversation. Nothing would make him change his mind. But he allowed his sister to have her gripes about it; he could at least offer her the space to express her disapproval. But then, Rafa felt a cool draft come from somewhere.
“Achi, do you feel that?”
Aveline nodded; she walked to a painting at the far end of the room. “The draft is coming from here,” she said.
He noticed a painting oddly placed in the far corner. As he got closer, he felt a draft coming from the painting’s corners. His fingers gripped the edge of the painting, and it moved as a door would. It opened onto another staircase.
“Achi…” He looked at the steps before him, this time leading upward. The draft was strong, and light was coming from the top of the stone steps. Aveline stood beside him, quieted by the reality that their bravery had somehow paid off.
They both started the ascent, and moments later, the wind quieted, and muffled voices could be heard. They reached the end of the stone steps at a dusty old landing in front of a wooden panel. Was this a dead end?
The muffled voices became clearer, and when they stood on the landing, they realized they were behind a wall of sorts. Rafa felt the sides of the wooden panel and felt the hinges. It wasn’t a wall; it was a hidden door.
Aveline was breathing quietly, maybe realizing it wasn’t wise to let anyone know they were there, especially since she considered Rafa’s claiming of the grimoire as theft. Categorically, it wasn’t, but they would duke it out later on.
As soon as the voices drifted away, Rafa moved closer and peered into the little sliver of light emanating from the crack in the hidden door.
It was a strangely familiar and ornately designed drawing room, with Persian rugs and fine woodwork.
They were at Cedarthorne Mansion! If his memory served him well, they were just a few paces from the front door.
He signaled Aveline, and they both put their weight against the panel.
It was surprisingly heavy, but opened slowly, and when the opening was large enough to allow them to squeeze out, they did.
Once they were free, Rafa realized the grandfather clock, which he and Sal had spotted upon their first visit, concealed the hidden door.
That was probably why no one noticed it.
He threw his entire weight on it again to put it back in place after Aveline slipped through.
Aveline checked to be sure the coast was clear. She looked out the front door and saw that nobody was there. She turned to Rafa and signaled him. As though their lives depended on it, both Rafa and Aveline snuck out of the front door and bolted.
1.
. Gwapo is Tagalog for “handsome”