Disclaimer: see Verse 1.
The Everblack Bible
Verse 11
Off the Beaten Path
By Random1377
"Ahh, Naples."
Margarete threw her arms to the side, looking down at the Italian city with a look of fondness reminiscent of an adoring mother watching her favorite child at play. She drew in a deep breath, laughing out loud at the clean, sweet taste of the air.
"We're there, Yuri!"
"Yeah," came the grunted reply, "now if it's not too much trouble – can you give me a HAND?!"
Laughing once more, the spy dropped onto her stomach, reaching out with her right hand and grinning as Yuri struggled to reach the top of the cliff she was standing on. "I thought you were in better shape," she teased, clasping his forearm and helping him scramble to the summit.
Yuri grumbled darkly as he knelt on the rough stone, shooting the blonde a scathing glare as she continued smiling. "You try climbing with this much gear and see how well YOU do," he grumbled, slipping off the backpack stuffed with his and Alice's equipment with a thankful groan.
"Always the gentleman," Margarete mused, offering him a hand up as he finally caught his breath.
Taking her hand, Yuri started to say, "And a good thing too – gentlemen don't hit ladies!" but before he had gotten 'and' past his lips, Margarete's arms were around him and his back was up against the cliff-face. "Umm… Margarete," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "What are you doing?"
Margarete hummed, resting her head against his shoulder as the wind picked up, whipping her golden hair all around her face as she murmured something too quiet for him to hear.
"What was that?" Yuri asked, "I couldn't hear you."
When no answer was forthcoming, Yuri sighed, slowly wrapping his arms around the woman's thin frame.
'I'll go into town first,' Alice's voice echoed in his mind, 'No, Yuri – trust me on this! One of my father's friends used to live here, and I want to see if she's still around.'
'Well, why can't we go with you?' he had asked, ignoring the sly grin on Margarete's face as she quickly agreed that this was the best course of action.
'It's… hard to explain,' Alice had replied, totally flustered, 'but I'll be alright… trust me, I've got the Everblack with me – it won't let me be hurt.'
Now, standing on the top of the cliff that supposedly held the shrine they were looking for, Yuri seriously regretted his decision to listen – doubly so because Margarete was once again acting as if she were possessed.
Didn't I tell them both that I don't have time to think about this?? he asked himself angrily, Sure, I still DO, but they should know that I-
"Yuri."
Blinking, Yuri looked down into Margarete's eyes. "Yes, my darling wife?" he asked dryly, hoping she would take the hint and let him go.
Honestly, how a man is ever supposed to choose between two women is beyond me!
As if reading his mind, Margarete murmured, "I know you said you weren't even thinking about relationships right now, but…"
"But?" he prompted tiredly as she trailed off.
Frowning, Margarete averted her eyes. "Forget it," she whispered, "it's… no, wait." She brought her eyes back up to his, forcing herself to continue. "You love Alice, don't you?"
Yuri looked around the windswept cliff, wishing that he had a reasonable excuse to change the subject… but as they had promised to wait for Alice on this very spot, and she was not due for another three hours, he really had nowhere to go.
"I… I don't know," he admitted reluctantly, "I haven't really had time to figure everything out yet."
"But you might," Margarete pressed.
"Yeah, I might."
"Ok," the blonde took a deep breath, clearly not happy with his reply, "well then… is there any chance you… might, with me too?"
Yuri squirmed, wondering why he suddenly wished that a swarm of Wind Shearers or a Yamaraja or two would suddenly turn up. Realizing that he had absolutely nowhere to go, he forced his back to straighten, meeting her gaze head-on as he replied – firmly, "…maybe."
Abruptly, Margarete released him, stepping back and nodding to herself as she looked him up and down. "You're trying to decide which one you want to keep and which one to throw away aren't you?" she asked bluntly, raising a hand before he could say a word. "Wait, don't answer that. Just… do me a favor – before you do anything stupid – and remember this: some puzzles have more than one solution. Do you understand?"
"Er, what the HELL are you talking about?!" Yuri asked, completely baffled.
Rolling her eyes, the blonde smiled. "Just remember what I said," she said levelly, folding her arms and looking out over the city.
Yuri tried several times to get her to elaborate, but she simply shook her head, keeping her eyes on the city and smiling that small, satisfied smile until he gave up and dropped onto the ground, grumbling about stubborn women as he folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes to take a nap.
She's up to something, he thought firmly, his lips pursing as he imagined what half-baked scheme the wily blonde might be concocting. Well, at least she didn't try to get me to swear that she was the only one for m-
"I love you."
With a start, Yuri's eyes snapped open. "Wh-what?! What was that??"
Margarete was standing exactly as she had been when he closed his eyes, but Yuri was sure that her smile was ever so slightly wider as she murmured, "What was what? Are you hearing voices again, sonny-boy?"
Yuri stared at her profile for a moment longer, trying to decide if he had really heard what he thought he had heard. With a disgusted snort, he snapped his eyes closed, listening carefully for any other words the blonde might have to offer.
- - - - -
Sister Moira O'Sullivan kept her hands pressed firmly together in prayer as the door to the church swung open, then closed, her lips moving nonstop as she offered up her evening benediction to God. She had been in the church for twenty-two years, and it was only on the dreariest, dullest days that she regretted her decision to serve the Lord.
It's only the hardest days, Lord, she consoled herself, and I know it is my test… so I welcome it. 'I shall give as the Lord offers.'
She felt the visitor cross to the altar and kneel at her side, her hard shoes click-click-clacking across the simple wooden floor of the chapel. Moira had always hated that sound… but better to have the out-of-towners with their hard traveling shoes come in and pray than to ignore God altogether.
Thank you, Lord, she thought, automatically giving praise for any extra worshipers the small church might draw. Please guide this soul as you guide mine, with kindness, love, and-
"Ex…excuse me…"
Moira heaved an internal sigh as her prayer was interrupted. "Yes, my child?" she murmured, opening her eyes and crossing herself with the rosary around her neck.
"I'm… looking for someone," the girl – it was clearly a girl, or possibly a very young boy – said. "She… she used to live here. Can you help me?"
Turning her head towards the sound of the voice, Moira offered a kind smile. "I will try," she said serenely, "though many have come and gone through these doors, and I'm afraid I haven't seen much of them."
The girl seemed taken aback by the sight of Moira's cloudy blue eyes, but recovered quickly, saying, "She was a friend of my father… a long time ago."
A shiver ran up and down Moira's spine. That voice, she thought, shrugging uncomfortably in her habit, it's… ALMOST familiar… but it can't be – he's dea-
Clearing her thought and cutting the dark thought off, Moira replied, "You'll have to be a little more specific, child. Do you have her name?"
"N-no, I don't," the girl admitted, "my father only mentioned her in passing."
"Ah," Moira nodded sagely, "well, that does make it more complicated."
The girl sounded flustered. "I know, I know it does, sister," she said quickly, "but… but she used to LIVE here… and I think… I think she might have helped open the church… I think."
Again, a chill ran down Moira's spine – as if someone was stepping over her grave. "Indeed?" she whispered, "Well, little one… I had a hand in opening this place…"
"Really?" the girl asked hopefully.
"Unless my memories have truly betrayed me," Moira said coolly, "though I don't know what service I might be able to offer you, miss…?"
The girl hesitated.
"Elliot."
Moira drew in a sharp breath, feeling as if a heavy weight had settled onto her chest.
"Alice Elliot."
Lord… Moira thought, feeling her head spinning as the floor came up to meet her, Why… must you continue to test me so…?
The last sound she heard before fainting was the girl – Alice – calling, "Sister? SISTER??"
No… she thought, not sister…
- - - - -
"Damnation!"
"Problem?" the shorter man wheezed, glancing up from the newspaper he had been perusing as his companion cursed into his tea.
The taller man cast his cup aside in disgust. "Well, they have reached Naples, as planned," he said bitterly, "But Miss Elliot, it seems, has ventured into the city on her own, and seeing as how she is carrying the Bible with her…"
"…you are unable to Scry for her," the shorter man completed. "Unexpected, but not insurmountable. She will turn up soon enough, I am sure. And her companions?"
"Exactly where they should be," the taller man shrugged, quickly regaining his composure. "They will reach the shrine within a day… but they seem to be waiting for Miss Elliot before proceeding."
The shorter man nodded, his watery eyes returning to scanning the paper for news on the war. "Excellent."
After a brief pause, the taller man murmured, "You're still… SURE about what will happen when they reach the shrine?"
"Oh yes," the shorter man nodded without looking up, "all of my research says there can be only one conclusion. There is less than a half a percent chance that my theorem is inaccurate in any detail."
"Excellent!" The taller man smiled, showing all of his teeth. "I wish I could be there when they put that book into the holy waters of the shrine," he lamented.
Glancing over the top of the paper, the shorter man whispered, "No… you don't."
- - - - -
"Uhhh…"
"Sister?"
Moira's head swam as she opened her eyes, the same gray haziness she had been seeing for the last twenty-two years greeting her as she groaned and tried to stand up.
"Oh, don't move!" the voice of the girl in the church said quickly, "You… you bumped your head when you fell and I… I didn't know if you…"
"You didn't know if I would accept healing," Moira supplied, forcing herself to her feet with a grunt.
"You… know what I am?"
Moira put a hand to her temple, wincing as she felt a small lump rising under her skin. "If you are your father's daughter… yes."
The Girl – Alice, Moira reminded herself – hesitated. "So you… are the one," she said softly, sounding awe-stricken, "you knew my father."
That's… one way to put it, Moira thought tiredly. To Alice, she said, "I did. Word of his passing reached me quickly… my condolences."
"Thank you," Alice said quietly.
A strangely companionable silence fell as the two women remembered Alice's father. "So," Moira said quietly, "tell me, young Exorcist… what brings you to me today?"
There was a rustling of fabric. "Well, my father said that you have a certain… ability, Sister…" Alice said reluctantly.
Moira chuckled. "There is no need for shame, child," she said soothingly, "I did not think you had come simply to introduce yourself. What is it you would like me to 'see' for you?"
This term always brought a wry smile to Moira's lips. The Sight… the ability to read the past or nature of an item by laying her hands on it, had been hers since she had taken her own sight years before in a fit of jealous rage. She was sure that it was the Lord's greatest joke to the world… but she never questioned His judgment, she simply went about her daily tasks, patiently waiting for the next lost soul seeking to 'see' something only she could show them.
After all – what more suitable punishment could there be for blinding one's self than being used by the Lord to help others see?
"It's… an artifact," Alice said slowly, "it's very powerful. Maybe this isn't such a good idea…"
Moira smiled. Worried about a stranger, she thought warmly, yes, you are your father's child, aren't you, my Alice?
"I have lain my hands upon countless objects, my child," she said, resisting the urge to reach out and find Alice's face, "I am sure it will be f-"
"It's called the Everblack Bible, Sister," Alice blurted.
Moira's mouth slowly swung closed. "I see," she whispered, "a name only a few know."
"You've heard of it?" Alice asked, sounding suddenly hopeful, "How much do you know about it? Can you tell me how to destr-"
"Easy, child," Moira cut in softly, "I only know OF it, I'm afraid… but I know enough to be wary."
Alice sighed. "Then… you don't want to touch it," she said softly, "I understand."
Moira smiled gently. "Oh, I don't want to," she said easily, "but I know I must. The Lord guides his flock to me as he sees fit – who am I to pick and choose whom to help?" She held her hand out. "A warning, though, before we begin."
"Yes, Sister?"
"When you hand it to me, step back," Moira said coolly, "Items of… evil nature tend to leave an impression on me when I first touch them, and I would hate to lash out." She chuckled softly as she added, "Of course… I am not as fast or strong as I was in my younger days, so a step or two should be more than adequate."
"I understand."
Moira held out her right hand, trying to clear her mind in preparation for the Seeing.
Lord, I know this is my punishment, she thought honestly, but must you be so cruel?? To send HER to me like this is… ahh, Father, it is days like this when I know you must punish me for my transgressions, but-
"Ok Sister, here it is…"
HATE!!!
Moira gasped as the word, the emotion, exploded in her mind, knocking the breath from her. She tried to open her hand and release the warm leather trapped between her fingers, but it was too late – images and feelings were tearing through her mind like a Tsunami, washing her in rage and anger as the book told her its tale.
A man sits on a small altar, his head bowed in prayer as a young boy and girl – twins, by the looks of them – play around him. "Father," the boy asks, his words in a language unknown to Moira, but understandable all the same, "Why must we be quiet for so long?" The man does not reply, but a small smile lights his face as his hands – moving, Moira realizes – continue to scratch out lines of text on a small scrap of parchment.
"T-take it… back…" Moira gasped. "Alice…"
The man, his hair now threaded with gray, sips from a glass of wine. The boy and the girl, both in their twenties, sit back to back, reading books with characters Moira has never seen. "It is done," the man declares, drawing his children's attention. Slowly, the man rises from his seat and walks to a raised dais, picking up a small, snow-white book and holding it to the light, marveling at its purity and brightness. "It is done…"
"Alice… p-please…!"
The man stands over the body of the boy, his jaw slack with amazement. "Y-you…!" The girl looks up at him, her eyes wide and scared as she looks down at the short ax in her hand, the blood and brain matter so fresh and bright on its blade that Moira can almost smell it. "Father, no!" the girl cries, licking her lips as her eyes flash to the white book in his hands. "I was only-" "YOOUU!!"
PAIN/ANGER/HATE/HATE/HATE!!!
Faster… faster the images came…
Two gravestones, unreadable in the dark of night.
The spine of a gray-hued book, wrapped in thick cloth.
A crazed mob, chasing the man, howling for blood.
The sound of something heavy hitting the pavement… a hand, uncurling from the book, its grey cover growing darker even as Moira watches.
A child's doll, a man with weak, watery eyes, a young woman with blonde hair and a simple silver crucifix.
One after another, the images slammed into Moira, but it was the final image that stuck in her mind. The girl's face was pale with shock as a hand wrapped cruelly around her throat, choking her as insane laughter filled the air.
"Sis… ter…"
Moira screamed as reality dropped back over her, her eyes, sightless for so many years, showing her the rapidly purpling face of Alice Elliot as a hand – HER hand – ruthlessly strangled the life from her.
NO, LORD!! Moira tried to cry out, but her voice would not work, Please – not her! Take my sight, take my health, take my life – but please… please don't take HER!
Alice collapsed to the floor of the church, hacking and gasping for breath as Moira's hand finally uncurled from her throat.
"N… no…" Moira sobbed, falling to her knees, "Child – Alice!!"
"I'm… I'm alright," Alice rasped, rolling onto her back and covering her bruised neck with her hands, "I… understand." She coughed again, spiting out a small amount of blood before she managed to ask, "What… did you see… Sister…?"
Tears filled Moira's eyes as the veil of gray she had grown so used to swept back over her vision. Oh thank you, Lord, she thought, too overcome to speak, thank you… thank you…
Sobbing, filled with love for a God that had deigned to allow this girl to live, Moira spoke of what she had seen.
Continued…
Author's Notes: yes, yes, another big break between chapters, sorrysorry and all that. …wow that was insincere. Oh well :P I hope it was worth waiting for, and in case anyone was wondering about Moira – no, I really wasn't trying to be THAT subtle.
Pre-read was done by Aegis.
…what, you were expecting some snotty/snide comment? Sorry, I'm too tired to invent things for her to say right now. Heh.
Feedback is always welcome on any site with reviewing capabilities or by e-mailing me directly at random1377yahoo.com