21
Believ
The basement is as immense as the abbey that conceals it. Perhaps even more so. And I haven”t visited a quarter of it.
Once I”m far enough away from the amphitheater, I slip on my shoes and tighten them as much as I can. In this way, I hope to reduce the echo of my footsteps on the slippery slabs without risking a fall.
By the light of Ember”s lantern, I hurry along, poking my head in at every door I come across, to establish a sort of mental map of the place in case I have to come back. Given the time available, it”s more than likely that I”ll have to walk these icy corridors again, even if I would prefer not to.
Rhythmic footsteps approach. I have just enough time to duck behind a door and watch a handful of silent monks pass by. I imagine that the night is drawing to a close and that soon there will be so many of them that I won”t be able to avoid them.
Now that I know they have cold-blooded killers in their ranks, the prospect of running into them is nipping at my heels. Since they”ve been eliminating our own since the dawn of time to preserve the secrecy of their hold, how many of them are ready to eliminate an unwelcome Sin Eater without batting an eye? My situation is like a kind of Russian roulette: at any moment, I could find myself face to face with a devoted lamb or a determined executioner. I would much rather not play.
When silence returns, I slip out of my hiding place and dart down the corridor. I have to finish my scouting as quickly as possible. I tiptoe along, keeping to the shadows, my hard-shelled rucksack as protection. Cells follow work and prayer rooms, and I feel as if I”ve traveled back in time to an unenviable medieval past. There’s no trace of modern comfort; not even electricity in most of the rooms.
Suddenly, I change dimensions. A rusted metal grate stands in the middle of the corridor, between two forks. Behind it, the path continues in darkness. What is it trying to protect? How do I get past it?
Above the passageway, a tightly packed row of strange gargoyles stare at me with piercing eyes. Do they mark the entrance to the catacombs? To the crypt? The mere fact that this passageway is restricted is enough to arouse my curiosity. What I”m looking for is probably there, but how do I get in?
I grasp the cold, rusty bars and shake the door, torn between urgency and the need to make no sound that would betray my presence. It barely moves. And yet, no matter how hard I inspect it, I can”t find a lock or any mechanism designed to open it. At the same time, if an access pass had to be distributed to each religious person authorized to cross this junction, a mountain of keys would have been needed. There”s got to be a way, I”m sure!
“So, girls, what”s the secret?” I murmur, my eyes fixed on the motionless gargoyles.
“What secret?”
I jump. As if I”d been expecting an answer! Who is it? I can”t make out anyone, especially as I hastily turned off my lantern at the sound of the voice.
What to do?
I have nowhere to escape and nowhere to hide. I have to face it.
“The one that opens this door,” I whisper, my breathing suspended.
“Ah, that one! Just—”
My interlocutor, still invisible, doesn”t have time to finish his sentence before a flock of religious people rush into a nearby corridor.
“There”s someone on this side!”
A movement grazes me, both light and powerful. This guy”s no light-weight! In a matter of seconds, even though we”re still in the dark, I hear the gate open.
How did he do it?
“Go ahead, I”ll catch up.”
Although his manner surprises me and his motivation remains obscure, I don”t hesitate and rush into the passage, taking care to close the gate. Absorbed by the darkness, I press on, my hand glued to the wall. It”s only when I hear nothing more that I stop to catch my breath.
Where does this endless corridor lead? How come nobody tried to chase me? Have I actually gone unnoticed? Could this stranger have saved my ass?
After making sure I”m alone, I turn on my lantern and take in the surroundings. I”m in a stone tunnel, similar to those I”ve already visited, except that there are no doors along its smooth walls. There”s obviously only one destination, which must be at the end of the tunnel.
A shiver runs through me.
Either I find what I”m looking for, or I”m done in like a rat. Maybe even both, who knows?
Although the outcome of this mission has never been in doubt, I”m struck by the prospect of a fatal result. Even if I find Ember”s body, my story ends here. For good. Without ever again being able to see the one for whom I”ve made all these sacrifices. My love, my son: Lewis.
I tremble from head to toe, remembering the moments of fulfillment spent by his side; the same ones that come back to me every night before turning into unbearable nightmares. How happy I was to have him with me! He was a ray of sunshine in the winter of my life. Thanks to him, I”d had no trouble overcoming his father”s abandonment, even though he had been the main cause.
We were both happy, until it was ripped away from me.
I had hoped one day to find him, but now I know that it will only be after his death—which I hope will be a long time off—that we will be reunited. Not before. We won”t share anything while we”re still alive. I won”t be the support I had hoped to be for him. Never again.
I”m not even sure right now that he”s okay. What if I”ve been chasing fantasies all this time? What if he”s already gone, and my impending death brings us together, without further ado?
I”m rambling, shaking with tremors that could be the result of so many factors: fear, cold, lack...
I”ll have the answers to my questions soon enough.
I take a deep breath, shake out my stiffened muscles, and sink into the gloom, swallowed by cold and nothingness. My heart beats between my ears, and I’m aware that this is where it all hangs out. Not my inevitable end, but Ember”s fate, and probably that of the magic of our world.
The magic...
To think I had believed it was confined to a few divine mission orders. It was so simplistic and so far from reality! If only I had been able to grasp its scope and enjoy its virtues. Once again, the truth comes too late.
After an uncertain time, a bright light appears in the darkness of the tunnel. The end is nigh.
Although anxious, I press on. The sensation of leaving my body and becoming a spectator of what”s happening to me grips me. It”s as if I”m in the middle of a cottony cloud, guiding my steps from a distance.
I enter an immense dome which, although underground, is strangely luminous. Frozen on the threshold, I observe the stone vault, covered with a luminescent material that radiates with such vigor that it”s as if the place were bathed in daylight.
Rows of metal tables follow rows of metal tables, and on one wall, silver death chests, typical of a classic morgue. The image of the police morgue comes back to me. It was ridiculously cramped compared to the facility opposite me. Here, the refrigerated compartments run right up to the ceiling. A kind of forklift, designed to convey the remains, is parked at the bottom of the wall.
How many bodies can they store here?
Is it necessary to keep so many at the same time? What is the reason for this? Why here?
“We have orders to try everything,” says a voice hidden behind an opaque screen.
“What else can we try?”
Crouching down, I discreetly step forward to try and catch a snatch of what they”re talking about.
“Let”s recap,” begins the first voice, accompanied by the sound of crumpling paper. “According to Brother Stefan”s notes, the body has undergone no natural alterations since death. The flesh has remained intact and firm, barely discolored, suggesting that its owner still inhabits it.”
“But he”s really dead!”
“Of course he”s dead; that”s the point of the spell! Well, almost...”
What does he mean, “almost”?
Is this guy dead or not?
“We need to start from the beginning to understand what makes this case different from the others.”
“His identity, perhaps?”
“I doubt that’s enough.”
“After all, this is Ember Crow we”re talking about! Not just any magical creature, he”s—”
“That”s enough of this! Never speak his name again! He’s dead!”
“If you say so...” He frowns.
So it”s my ghost they”re so worried about?
“As I was saying,” resumes the first, whose voice betrays his annoyance, “his body remained frozen in a state similar to a simple sleep. However, the body was studied and then cremated, as required by procedure. Nevertheless, it refused to be consumed.”
“You mean it didn”t burn when placed in the crematorium? Do you think his particular nature would have interfered with the process?”
Couldn”t he be more specific with his thoughts? What exactly does “his nature” refer to? How can I understand what”s going on if I only have bits and pieces of information?
In any case, it confirms one thing: Ember is a magical creature, despite his ordinary appearance. As to which one, it”s impossible to say, especially as I don”t know which species really exist. However, I find it hard to imagine him as a fairy or a korrigan. A kelpie perhaps?
I suppress a giggle. No, really, my stiff doesn”t look the part. At the same time, I have no idea what he really looks like, which doesn”t help me in my speculations.
I continue to make progress toward the forensic team, in the hope of finally discovering what happened to Ember and, above all, how to reverse the effects.
“How should I know?” demands the first voice.
“Let”s go back over the chronology,” suggests the one I imagine to be an assistant.
“Let”s hear it.”
“According to the report, the squadron lured our subject into an ambush, immobilized him, froze his gifts, and cast the death spell on him.”
“That”s it.” The first nods, taut as a string. “Three spells in a row.”
How can anyone remain so calm in the face of such a violent enumeration? Ember was framed and murdered!
“Stripped of his psyche and magic, a prisoner of our world, his body, which had adopted its human form for the encounter, remained captive. Strange. I”d have thought his flesh would have spontaneously turned into... you know.”
“It”s a step I can”t quite explain myself, to tell you the truth. Not all creatures are shapeshifters, you know. For some, a transformation spell is required to subject them to the—”
“Sin Eaters. I was just getting to that. The report is silent on the subject. Do you know more?”
“The Brotherhood commissioned one of its own. A woman, if I understood correctly.”
“So, he was freed of his sins, transported to the morgue, and returned to the abbey. Is this correct?”
“Absolutely. Nothing abnormal, then.”
“Nothing. And yet, the situation suffices to demonstrate the contrary.”
They fall silent for a moment.
“Do you believe he”s still here?”the assistant asks thoughtfully.
“I don”t believe anything. This situation is completely beyond me. With the exception of the state of his remains, there”s nothing to indicate that the procedure failed. In fact, there”s every reason to believe that it had the desired effect. That said, we mustn”t discount this hypothesis, as he could well be out there...”
“How have we managed to keep him away from his body so far?”
“Like the abbey, his body is protected by a repulsive enchantment, materialized by these blessed stones. Perhaps, in his case, this is what is interfering with his firm and definitive death.”
“But if I follow your demonstration, if we take them off, he”s liable to repossess it! So there”s no way we can”t use them!” rages the young monk, suddenly frightened.
“I”m afraid we”ve reached a dead end...”
So much the better!
I keep moving forward, but just as I”m about to duck behind a cupboard, I stumble. To avoid crashing headfirst into the doors, I hold out my hands. I escape mashing my brain but fail to conceal my fall against the metal panels, which resonate under the dome, alerting the forensic monks, whom I hear leaping simultaneously from their armchairs.
“Sound the alarm!”