Chapter 51
Harper stood and stretched. Leaving the materials on the desktop, she walked slowly around the perimeter of the top balcony.
Below her, she could see the grand library.
No one sat at Nora Grey’s table. Lady Bell must be at work elsewhere in the manor.
Harper felt a buzz in her pocket. It was an alert from Akiel:
Harper stared at the text. She had at least three more nights in Bell Manor at this rate. She quickly texted Murphy:
Boston says storm lasting at least through Tuesday night. All good down in the village?
The respond signal blinked and Murphy’s message came through:
Nothing to report, some minor flooding in town, Hedy’s cat is missing, she’s been all but charging out in the storm to find her.
Harper quickly replied:
Tell her not to worry. There are a million cats up here right now, it’s like they all knew and ran to high ground, I bet Hedy’s cat is among them.
Murphy’s reply was short and to the point:
Weird. I’ll let her know, stay safe, see you Wednesday? Maybe.
Harper stared at the phone for a moment and then texted Carli:
Thank you for being such a good friend. You’ve seen me through a lot, and I appreciate it. I wish you could see this place.
The little dots wavered and Carli’s reply appeared:
The rain here is brutal—can only imagine what’s going down on Bell. Stay safe out there—love you.
Harper stared at the message and quickly typed:
Love you back—now get back to work Dr. Felling;)
She returned the phone to her pocket and finished her walk around the space. As she returned to the little desk, she stretched her arms over her head and sat back down. She carefully flipped through the pages to find where she had left off.
Sister Perne passed to our Lord’s Kingdom late last night.
She suffered the same fever that took my Rory.
I could hear the wails of my sisters through the door and Sister Constance unlocked my prison so I might join my sisters as we washed and prepared her body as best we could.
Her form was so emaciated, her skin an unnatural hue, and there was a tinge of blood around her mouth.
Father Taine was up above on the deck, praying.
He would not have consented to allow me to be free from my bondage even for this piteous feat, but my sisters needed my prayer and communion.
Sister Perne was never kind to me, and I tried to silence these wicked thoughts as I washed her skin with salt water.
My injured finger screaming with the pain of the salt, but I kept silent and performed the task.
I was but fourteen when Father chose me as bride.
It was at the time of our spring planting.
My goodly mother and father had been whispering amongst themselves every night when the moon was high.
They thought me asleep, but I leaned close to the thin wall that separated my bedchamber from theirs and heard them conspiring to leave Loch Lomond, to take me to Glasgow and then to Blackpool, far from the Loch, far from Father Taine.
But on that spring day, as we sat in congregation, his wives silent in their obedience and piety, Father stood before us and read from the Holy Book.
‘Babylon, that great city, is become the habitation of Devils, and the hold of all foul spirits, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird.’ He went on to say that our Loch had become fouled with spirits and suspicion and then he cast his eyes on my mother and father, whose treacherous words must have taken flight from our cabin and sailed to our Lord’s very heart.
I shook with fear as Father raised his great voice in a mournful wail and announced that our Lord had shown pity on our Loch, had shown him how this most grievous tear in the fabric of our faith could be mended.
It was then he announced his intention that we would be wed, and that I would join his wives as their sister.
In this Father stated, ye be not partakers of sins, receive not of her plagues.
My father and mother broke down in tears, and the rest of the Loch looked on in confusion and fear.
They did not question Father Taine’s word, as I did not at that time, either.
I beg our Lord forgiveness for the wickednesse in my thoughts of my father and mother in this time.
I thought them to be as Father Taine stated, a plague, and by becoming bride and sister, myself the redemption.
This, I know now is the Devil’s pride. I soon learned that the only true wickednesse was Father himself.
I was taken from my home in the Loch that very night and brought to my sisters, where they stayed adjacent to Father’s cottage.
He lived in grand style, with his choice of the finest carved chairs and table, and a stone fireplace built by the labor of the Loch.
His table was full of food and drink, his walls thick and warm.
My sisters, though, did not share in this blessing.
Their cottage was smaller in size than that I lived in with only my father and mother.
Here, we were many, with only straw on the bare floor to comfort our sleep, our small hearth provided scant heat, and there was no chimney crane for the cauldron to hang.
Sister Perne spat in my porridge on the first night, and watched as I ate, knowing I had no choice as there is no crime such as to ingratitude of food when others go hungry.
I thought of this as I wiped the dirt from her still form, the spiteful look in her eyes, and the way her lips would curl in cruel delight whenever she carried out any of her petty tyrannies against my person.
The sea creatures that swirled in the ocean beneath the ship, right under my very feet, whispered to me to forgive these cruelties.
They whispered that Sister Perne was once a young girl like myself, that her poison was born of grief, and to extend to her the charity that had been denied myself.
They whispered to me to keep my faith, to stay alive until the moonless night.
Later, Sister Constance had locked me away once again with guilty eyes and a heavy heart.
The rats, once barred entry to my prison by the ring of black salt and mint, have been drawn forward by the scent of blood from my piteous and torn finger and the raw lashes on my back.
I hear them gathering strength to defy the Fae magic of the salt line, to cross the threshold and feast on my flesh.
As fear threatened to overtake me, I heard the sea creatures singing, my Rory dancing among them.
They sang of a place beyond the mist where there was no more suffering, not heaven, but earth and salt.
Harper looked up from the text. She closed her eyes and could see the women, just out of girlhood, standing next to the pallid form.
She could smell the sick and death in the air, she could feel the pull of the sea creatures beneath her feet.
Harper felt a silky light touch at the base of her neck and her body instantly calmed, phosphorescent tentacles wrapped gently up her neck into her hair, and along her shoulders, a gentle clicking in her ears.
They knew her, they spoke to her as they had to Meg.
They saw her and all that had come before this moment.
Harper released a breath that held all the fear and tension in her muscles.
The tentacles released their hold and the sensation slowly dissipated.
Harper reached to feel the back of her neck, her skin was cool to the touch.
As she opened her eyes, her vision was blurred, not with tears, but a perfect exhaustion that permeated her soul.
She carefully closed Meg’s journal and lay her head down atop her crossed arms on the desk, giving in to the call.