Chapter 54 #2
I frowned. His words were almost incomprehensible to my ears.
In a world full of suffering, I couldn’t understand why the waters would not be utilized.
“Are you telling me waters that can make us all immortal and cure almost anything are just sitting in the mountains? No wonder Jefferson and Cole were desperate to get in.”
Albert took another loud slurp of tea and settled his cup on the table. “No, not quite. You see, not long after the first battle Salam was killed, his head was removed and sat on a pole outside the cave as a warning to others. The spell lost its powers upon his death, the waters no longer worked.”
“Who killed him?”
He looked out the window speculatively. “We don’t know, some say the boy, some say the natives, some say it was another immortal. It could have been the witches themselves.”
Vanessa handed out homemade chocolate chip cookies. I took one, I wasn’t hungry, but I needed the energy. I took a bite and the cookie melted in my mouth, filing it with a burst of chocolate and sugar. I stifled a sigh of pleasure.
Albert shook his head at the offer of the cookie. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some paper and a little old fashioned tin box. He opened the box, pulled out tobacco, placed it in the paper and began to roll it in his fingers.
“The story goes on, Amy.” This time his voice sounded different, gone was the eagerness.
Something dire rolled in his eyes. “As it turns out, the Native Americans were right, those who drank from the waters did pay a price. Those who consumed it became infertile, nature’s way of balancing the odds, I guess.
The witches cast a spell so that the women may once again bear children.
Everything seemed alright for a while, but as the children got a little older, some still only toddlers, they were prone to uncontrollable violence, with a strength that couldn’t be matched by grown adults.
Tantrums or childhood fights meant death for anyone not already spelled by the water, and even for some that were.
It was said the children were cursed, they were the reincarnation of the devil himself.
Their eyes would glow, and their anger couldn’t be controlled.
They were ruthless beasts with a primal urge to kill, with teeth like fangs and a taste for human blood. ”
Now I knew how Karson had come to be, he was the son of a woman and a man who drank from the waters. A whispering cold shivered through my body. I forced myself not to look at him, not to give away his secret, although I noticed Albert glanced at him with a dark look.
BJ sat forward. “What, like vampires?” His voice was hoarse, his eyes fixed suspiciously on Karson.
Albert nodded. “Yes, they are where all the Hollywood tales originated from. The people revolted and whole families, including the children, were hunted and slaughtered with the help of the witches, without mercy.”
The story hit at my heart, as horrible as anything I’d ever heard. To hunt and kill children. Christ. I sat back, recoiling at the thought of what Karson must have been through.
The cookie seemed to lodge in my throat. I caught his look out of the corner of my eye. His face was blank, but his eyes were tortured whirlpools.
I swallowed. “Those poor kids, how many survived?”
“No one knows, they stay largely hidden, for obvious reasons, but quite a few got away in the early days. It’s safe to assume most of those are still alive.”
“Cole must know to be so desperate to get access. “BJ mused. “But, if the waters have sat hidden in the hills all these years, how did Cole and Jefferson find out about them now?”
Albert paused and licked along the lines of the paper. “We don’t even know if they know, not really. We’re only guessing. But someone knows, and if they find the grimoire . . .”
“The grimoire, what’s that?” I asked.
“The book with the spell in it, Amy, they need it to spell the waters again. Without it those that drink the water will be a little stronger and faster for a short time, but not immortal,” Wendy said.
“Don’t the stories mention who has the book?” BJ asked.
Albert shook his head. “No, it was kept secret. The only person who knows is the one who has it. It’s not a book we can allow anyone to get a hold of. In the wrong hands the water, with the skills it can give . . . thousands of innocent people may die.”
“Perhaps it was destroyed,” I offered.
“Maybe, but unlikely. It was kept in case, at some stage, a mass disease threatened the human race. It could be used then, and only then, if it was needed.” Albert twirled the unlit cigarette in his fingers.
“The wolf hasn’t been seen for over three-hundred years. The last time he was here there was a massive battle, a lot of deaths, but the waters were kept safe,” Wendy said.
I turned to look at Karson. “Did you know all this?”
“I did, but I did not know if Jefferson and Cole knew. The plans for development were legitimate. Or at least they seemed to be. I had no reason to think they knew about the waters. Regardless, I think it’s safe to assume he doesn’t have the grimoire, or he would be up there by now.”
Albert stood up and pulled matches out of his red check shirt pocket.
“So, what do we do now?” I asked.
“We make sure he doesn’t get the grimoire,” he said solemnly. He turned and walked out the door.
“Surely they won’t find it if it’s been hidden safely for over three hundred years,” BJ said.
“We hope not, BJ,” Wendy said kindly, “We will need to be ready to move if they do.”
I turned to Karson. “Is that what Dahlia meant by training me, do they need all the help they can get, and everyone has to train?”
Karson frowned. “I’m not certain, it could be a little more than that, Amelia. I wasn’t here at the last battle, I only heard rumours after, but it was said one witch was somehow the key to helping stop it. I imagine you will find out more from Dahlia tomorrow.”
One witch!
It sounded like a bad omen.
Vanessa noticed the concern on my face. “Don’t worry, Amy, you’re a warrior, born to fight. You’re not the one witch; no one knows who he or she is, or what their role is. All that information is in the grimoire.”
A fighter seemed a better alternative than being the ‘one witch,’ but barely.
“Surely the first place you’d look would be with the founding families—some of the bloodlines of those who were here when it all started?” BJ’s face was poised in thought.
“That’s right, BJ.” I looked up to see Matt walk in the room, a serious expression on his face. “They already have.”
“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” Karson sat forward, agitated.
Matt ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He sunk into the armchair Albert had just left.
“Because, Karson, I wasn’t sure for a while whether it was just common thieves looking to target the dead—the Tolle’s’ and Jefferson’s houses were trashed after their deaths.
It was only after the Smith’s and the Bentley’s homes were also targeted that I began to realise this was no simple thief, they were looking for something.
Albert told me about the grimoire, we better all be on alert. ”