43. Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Three
The Custodian
RAFA
Days Ago
Auden instructed Rafa to meet at Hearthstone Library, and as soon as the taxi crossed into town, Rafa witnessed what he never thought possible in St. Stephenshire—it was hailing.
St. Stephenshire was experiencing snow and hail for the first time in nearly a century.
He peered through the taxi window in disbelief.
The town seemed deserted. Autumn Town was closed when he passed by, though he couldn’t see past the howling wind to be certain.
“What happened here?” he asked the taxi driver
“I dunno, sir. I don’t go here much, but it’s strange that there’s a snowstorm here,” he commented, turning up the car heater.
The taxi dropped him in front of Hearthstone, where inches of snow greeted him on the way up the steps of their beloved town library.
The howling, icy wind was the kind of cold that felt like it could frost your bones.
The weight of the snow against the library door was heavy against his shoulder as he pushed through the snow blanketing his feet.
When he entered, the library’s warmth embraced him.
An exhale escaped his lips. Hearthstone felt like an old friend greeting him from the cold.
It welcomed him with its soaring halls and long mahogany tables generously adorned with vintage lamps.
He noticed four people gathered around the table nearest the fireplace. He recognized three of them at once: Vicky, covered from head to toe in waffle knits; Auden in a beanie, heat-tech and snow boots; and Mayor Fayemoore clad in a thick coat.
“I’m here,” Rafa announced as he approached.
“Thank God,” said Vicky.
Mayor Fayemoore greeted him with a weary grin and a nod.
“Rafa!” Auden said as she hugged him tight. “You didn’t bring the grimoire with you?”
“No,” he answered. “Do you know what’s happening to the town?”
“The grimoire is the reason, Mr. Tovar,” said the fourth person in the group.
Auden motioned to the middle-aged gentleman. “Rafa, this is Mr. Picard. He’s an acquaintance of my professor, and he specializes in occult archives and research.”
“Call me Pic,” he said. Then, lowering his voice slightly, he went on, “You unearthed a book that is not just an ordinary book. It’s bound with magica in perpetua, or perpetual magic, magic that can’t be broken.
The book is tied to ancient, protective magic.
” The man pulled out a thick folder with the pictures of the grimoire that Auden had taken a month ago.
He pointed to the inscription carved on the metal buckle and the patterns stamped on the burgundy leather.
“England keeps the only other tome with the same inscription.”
“Well, what’s the difference between the one in England and the one here?” Vicky asked.
Looking at Rafa and then at Vicky, Pic said, “The difference is in the use. The one in England protects a valuable treasure. The one Mr. Tovar unearthed protects the land it occupied using whatever conditions the caster required.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Rafa said, arms crossed over his chest. Practically speaking, he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation on three hours of sleep, and halfway across the globe from Sal, but with what he had just seen outside, he would indulge him.
“If it’s supposed to protect the land, then why is the magic acting against St. Stephenshire?
Have you seen the blizzard outside?” Rafa challenged him.
“All magic has limits. From what I understand, Ambrosine Aster created this,” he said. “I need to see the place where you found the book so we can understand what we’re dealing with.”
“I’ll sit this one out, kids,” said Vicky, sitting snugly in her coat. “You go ahead. Chaplin and I will wait here.”
Rafa checked his watch. It was already dark out, and there was no way he was going to Cedarthorne at the dead of the night. “Tomorrow, first thing. But for now, I need to rest and get a cup of coffee.”
***
The next morning, Mr. Briggs greeted their party of four with a chattering smile. “H-hello,” he stammered, fully clothed in black winter wear, no doubt paired with his suit underneath. “We’ve been eager to receive you all, and welcome, M-Mayor Fayemoore.”
Mr. Briggs opened the front door to an icy receiving hall. “I’m sorry for the cold; the manor doesn’t have the right equipment for snow or hail. We can all go by the fireplace,” he said, closing the door behind them. None of them bothered to remove their coats.
“There’s no time to warm up,” said the mayor. “Rafa, if you could please show us now before it gets any worse…” He gestured for Rafa to take the lead.
Rafa walked past everyone and eyed the grandfather clock standing against a wall.
“It’s behind this clock.” He put all his weight into pulling it, but the rusty hinges made opening the door difficult.
After a few heavy pulls, the smell of mildew came through a gaping dark entryway no larger than the grandfather clock itself.
It lay open there ominously, as if beckoning them to enter.
Mr. Briggs let out an astonished gasp.
Rafa wiped the cold sweat off his forehead and dusted the dirt off his fingertips. He looked back at them, his deep breaths condensing in the air like steam. “Shall we?” he said, turning on a flashlight and leading them into the darkness.
It was easier to trek back to the chamber compared to the first time. He pushed open the door once they reached it, and once again the pungent smell of herbs came forth. “Cover your noses. The odor stings for a bit, but then you get used to it.”
“Oh my God,” said Auden, tiptoeing around the room with her own flashlight in hand. “Did someone actually stay here?” she asked, flashing her light on a mattress on the floor.
Pic walked near the mattress, and then silently strode toward the old wooden desk next to it. “Is this where you found the grimoire?” he asked, tracing the wood. “It has carvings too.”
Rafa and the others waited for Pic to finish taking photos and scribbling down notes. He let out brief comments and murmurs as he ambled around the room.
Their combined lights made the chamber easier to see.
Rafa thought about the three crones. Based on the size of the room, it was big enough to house a person, but not a group of three. He wondered if they hid out here while hunted by the townsfolk and crept into the house at night when people were asleep. It sent shivers down his spine.
“Can you show me how you got in?” Pic asked Rafa.
Rafa obliged, leading them through the long, dark tunnel on the opposite side of the room, and then up the muddy steps.
A bit of snow had entered through the cellar door, which lay slightly ajar.
They stepped out into the freezing cold, leaving Pic with his notes.
The chain that once embraced the cellar door now lay on the ground, its heavy inscriptions glinting faintly in the daylight beneath the snow.
The older gentleman bent to inspect it. After a silent huff, he slipped it into his bag. “For studying,” he muttered.
Rafa recalled that afternoon with Aveline when they first discovered the cellar. It hadn’t been apparent then, but now the air felt thick in a way he couldn’t describe—like static all around them, an intangible force pressing in as they waited for Pic to finish his investigation.
Pic joined their group after half an hour, taking notes. He massaged his chin while looking down at his notebook, and said, “I didn’t memorize the early carvings and incantations from all the books, but it looks to me that these were all powerful incantations for protection.”
“Protection against what?” Auden asked.
Pic narrowed his eyes pensively. “Let’s convene at Hearthstone.”
And so to Hearthstone they went.
***
Vicky sat close to the fireplace in the inglenook, and Chaplin, her old tuxedo cat with bright eyes, stared at Rafa as they gathered at the table nearest the fire.
Pic pulled the etched chain from his bag, and all the books and pictures of the grimoire, and then started mumbling to himself again.
Everyone waited in silence until after about two hours of him keeping to himself, they had all but helped themselves to pre-packed lunch thanks to Vicky, and some snuggles from Chaplin the cat.
From the corner of his eye, Rafa spotted Auden eating snacks quickly to pass the time, while the mayor paced back and forth trying to make conversation with everyone, and then giving up when he couldn’t think of anything more to talk about.
Rafa sat next to the fireplace, looking mindlessly at the flames when Pic finally said in an echoing voice, “I’ve put things together.”
They grouped around him like children listening to a fairytale being told by the fire. In Rafa’s head, it felt very much like that, only this time the fairytale was real life.
“I will need a few more days to understand what we need to do. But I can say with certainty that the grimoire has influenced this bad weather and everything happening in this town.” He pointed toward the inscription.
“I found the same markings on all the items Rafa has touched and opened without issue. They’re all ancient, powerful, and protective magic, meant only for one person to access…
” He paused, as if searching for the words.
“More like a custodian, rather,” he explained.