Hello all you awesome readers!
I am truly overwhelmed by all your support for this story! I have been having such a good time writing this and I'm just thrilled that other people are enjoying it too. Thank you all for taking the time to review, favorite and follow. I appreciate it more than I can express. :)
If you're getting this as an update again, sorry! Colorful Crayola was good enough to point out that i didn't have my usual section breaks (Thanks so much!). That was a total oversight on my part. I hope this makes the chapter better. :)
psyche b
4. Just Curious
Sara sat in the nearly empty church with the nuns and the dozen or so girls who were left at the school. Less than six hours ago she had been chatting with the King of Hell, now she was sitting there listening to Father Gordon's homily about how they should use this quiet time in the summer to contemplate God's plan for them. She tuned out all but the droning of it and let herself get lost in her own thoughts.
It was strange. Until she met Crowley she had never really believed in God. Of course she knew all the words to all the prayers. She knew how to fake her way through a confession, how to relish the time after communion to think without interruption and how to quietly tune out while appearing to be deep in prayerful contemplation. Sara knew how to do religion. Belief was another matter entirely.
The benevolent, ever-present father who was always willing to forgive was an appealing story. It meant that one didn't have to suffer any trial alone. That bad things could be explained as tests to be overcome in the right way and that good things were gifts and miracles. The fact that both were doled out on roughly the same schedule as a slot machine went conveniently unnoticed. Sara still didn't think any of that was true, but every coin had two sides. She was certain about the existence of demons. She'd had a late dinner with one. After that it made sense that God had to exist to balance things out.
Sara was sure that God wasn't the ubiquitous being that her years of religious instruction had implied. She caressed the heel of her hand, the one that Crowley had traced just a few hours before. The sensation of his touch still lingered, making the absence of God all the more palpable. Though it did leave the options more open than they had been a scant twelve hours before.
She looked at the statue of St. Augustin in the alcove to the left of the altar, one hand raised in silent benediction. Saints? Sara doubted it. They made impossible virtue seem possible. Without those models logic would have too easily prevailed. She glanced at the window with the guardian angel. Angels seemed more plausible, though she doubted they were like the one in the window. Where that doubt came from Sara couldn't say.
The doubt ended her musings and Father Gordon showed no signs of being finished.
Whispers slid over and around each other as they always did when her mind was unoccupied. It was always slightly different, but today it was a sound akin to furtive conversations and the hiss and click of wooden knitting needles wielded in experienced hands. Perhaps her hours in the company of the King of Hell had emboldened her. Sara began to sort through the impressions in a way she hadn't considered doing before. Sara was just beginning to look for a way to unravel the sinuous threads when she sensed the change in the group around her.
"Let us rise and profess our faith." Father Gordon said. Her thoughts scattered.
Sara stood with everyone else and recited the words. At that moment she believed in God in the same way that she believed in the rings of Saturn or the craters of the moon. She believed in God's existence, and that was all.
#
After the service, Sara went back to her room and changed. For a moment she looked at her bed, considering the benefits of a nap. She sighed. Napping now meant that she would get to the library late and that would draw attention. She picked up the list of ten saints she'd been assigned to study for the summer. Sara had never heard of any of them, but that didn't matter. She was sure that they were all people born to wealth who decided to give up the comforts of the world and enter religious life. At least that had been the theme every previous summer. There was no reason that this year would be any different. Sara put her phone in her pocket and picked up her keys, making sure that the brand new library key was on it. She grabbed a pen and notebook and took several post-it notes off the stack and stuck them to the inside cover of the notebook.
During the summer the library hours were limited. If there were any girls left in the college they were issued keys along with their lists of the saints. Of course it also came with a lecture about responsibility and how much trust was being placed in them, but that was easy enough to tune out. She had to admit though, for once Sara's actual task had been made easier. She started off across the quad toward a two story brick building that was built in the same plain but pleasing style as the rest of the buildings on campus.
Sister Julia was coming the other way. She smiled and pointed to the list sticking out of Sara's notebook. "Starting your reading?"
"Yes Sister." Sara spoke up so the middle aged nun could hear her.
"Good. Too many of you girls leave things for the last minute. Who's on your list this year?"
Sara handed it over. The nun scanned it and her eyes lit up. "You'll enjoy St. Frances of Rome. She shows us so clearly how the will of God manifests itself in the wishes of our parents." Sister Julia handed the list back.
Sara forced a smile and took the page.
"Remember to put any books you take out on the list on the desk. Title first, then author."
"I will." Sara said.
"And don't spend all day in there. It's far too nice a day to spend it all inside."
"Yes Sister."
The nun continued on her way and so did Sara. She opened the door and stepped into the cool, dim interior of the building. Motion-sensing lights flickered and then came on. At least she was fairly certain that there was no one on the first floor. The pleasant scent of books teased her nose. Sara closed her eyes and inhaled. She glanced at the curving wooden desk and saw a blank sheet of paper on a clipboard. Maybe what Sister Julia had said about procrastination was right.
The spacious first floor held books on history, the sciences and other academic subjects as well as all the novels and poetry that the nuns had deemed appropriate for their sheltered charges. They were better than Ambien. Sara wandered through the shelves, making certain that she was really alone. Once she was sure she started up the wide stairs to the second floor. She waited at the top of the stairs for the lights to flicker and come on.
The second floor was devoted to religious works. It had always bothered Sara. Not so much the contents, those were dull but inoffensive enough. She had always been bothered by the shape. The wide staircase rose from the exact center of the first floor, but on the second floor there was more space on the right side than the left side. For years it had just felt wrong, but Sara didn't have a good reason why.
She had noticed the door last September. The second floor was almost always quiet and Sara had desperately needed quiet that day. She had sat on the floor with her back resting against the end of one of the shelves and tried to concentrate on the intricacies of the trig proofs she'd been struggling with. Even in that silence Sara had been distracted and sines and cosines tumbled from their precarious perches. She'd lifted her eyes and saw the door tucked between the shelves. The words 'Cleaning Supplies' were stenciled on the door in a dark beige tone that was only slightly different than the cream shade of the door and surrounding wall.
Sara had stared at it, suddenly certain why the proportion of the room was wrong. She was also certain that as large as the library was, it didn't need so many cleaning supplies that it required a closet the entire length and a quarter of the width of the building. Sara had glanced over her shoulder and begun working on the lock.
She did the same careful tour of the second floor that she'd made of the first, then she stood and listened. All that came to her ears was the soft buzz of the lighting. Sara made her way to the inconspicuous door and took a pin from her hair. She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on the tumblers clicking into place. A moment later the knob turned and Sara slipped into the long narrow room. The stagnant air was far too warm and Sara wished she had another layer she could take off. She made sure that the door was safely shut before she turned on the light.
The yellowish glow illuminated leatherbound volumes of all shapes and sizes arrayed on utilitarian metal shelves. Most of the spines were unmarked, but a few bore symbols or titles. Some of those titles were in Greek or other tongues that were equally mysterious to Sara. She hadn't been able to explore the shelves as thoroughly as she would have liked, but from what she could tell there was no means of organization. At least not one that she had been able to discern.
On her previous visits to the narrow room Sara had simply been exploring. Now she wanted to know why Hell needed a king and she needed a source that was not a demon, agreement or no agreement.
She located the book where she'd found the summoning spell and started there. She put one of the post-it notes on the shelf where the book went just to be sure that it got back into the same place. Sara sat on the floor and started to read the hand lettered text on heavy pages, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the script and the Latin. It read more like the ravings of a lunatic instead of information. The author rambled about dreams and trials and spells. It couldn't have made less sense if she had pulled it all apart and disarranged all the pages. She decided to read to the end of the section and then take her chances with another source. She turned the page and was struck by the symbol that had been drawn on the middle of the page.
Sara sat up straighter and stared at the pentagram drawn with lines that crossed over and under each other in the style of Celtic knot work. Instead of a plain circle, the star was surrounded by a corona of flames. The author described it as a symbol that, if worn, would protect the wearer from possession by demons. Sara read the passage three times. With trembling fingers she reached inside her tee shirt and pulled out the small gold locket that she'd worn for as long as she could remember. She fumbled with the catch for a moment. Finally she opened the golden oval and found the same symbol inscribed on the left side.
How many times had her mother told her never to take it off? Sara never had, not to shower, not to sleep, never. How many times had she ever bothered to open it? Twice? Even after her parents died she never considered putting a photo inside. She tilted the locket, allowing the weak light to slide over the engraving. It caught the tiny symbols on the other side as well. Sara barely noticed them, her eyes focused on the star, her mind spinning as to why it was there in the first place. Sara held the locket in her hand and read through the rest of the book as quickly as her mind could translate.
Nothing more was written about the symbol or the ones on the other side. The other symbols were different though, Sara could sense that much. She closed the book and put it back on the shelf, making certain to take away her marker. It was too late to try another book today. She had already stayed too long.
She tucked the locket back into her shirt and listened at the door for a moment. She turned off the lights and opened the door just a crack. She found the second floor to be in darkness as well. Sara closed the door hastily and found a couple of books to start her actual research. She wrote them on the list on the desk and went back to her room.
Crowley would know about all of the symbols. The thought was a winged certainty that fluttered against the back of her mind. As soon as it occurred she brushed it away. Crowley was the very last person she was going to talk to about any of this.
#
For three days Sara made her daily trips to the library and all she had to show for it were a few fleeting references about Lucifer being caged in Hell. Her mind conjured the scene from Silence of the Lambs where the infamous Dr. Lecter stood poised and glib in a tiny cell of rough black stone fronted by modern steel and plexiglass. She pushed the image aside. Whatever 'cage' the books were talking about it couldn't be so literal. Still, if Lucifer were isolated – whatever that actually meant – then it made sense that someone had to be in charge. No place ran itself.
The star symbol seemed to be everywhere in her reading, but no source was more specifics than what she found the first day. She wasn't entirely sure that it worked but the locket had been a part of her life for so long that it didn't much matter what was inside. It was one of the few tangible connections to her parents and Sara couldn't imagine being without it.
Of course, summer days in the mountains were far too few and far too precious to waste entirely on study. Sara always spent the late afternoons in the woods, either exploring the trails around the campus or reading in the shady clearing she'd found three years ago. Well, she started by reading. Her mind always drifted to Crowley.
It had been a little less than a week, she told herself firmly as the words of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo jumbled and ran together for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. It was ridiculous anyway. He had no reason to waste his time with her. He spent his time making deals with CEOs and goodness only knew what all else and what did she do? Sit in the woods reading books that would be frowned upon on campus? Sew? Sing in the church choir? Those things should make her a never ending source of fascination to a being like him.
Still, he did seem to be enjoying himself the other night.
But all the books said what accomplished liars demons were. She couldn't trust her own impressions.
Sara turned off the kindle and put it back into her small backpack along with her empty water bottle. Ridiculous. If he had wanted to see her again, he would have given her his phone number or an e-mail address or something. If this was infatuation, Sara was over it.
#
Sara started awake. For a moment she wasn't sure what had awakened her. Then she heard her phone playing Lady Gaga's Pokerface. That was Leah's ringtone!
She stumbled out of bed and grabbed the phone, pulling it off the charging cord. "Hello? Leah? Is that you?"
A laugh came from the other end of the line. Music throbbed in the background. "Course it's me! Who else would be calling you from my number?"
Relief was, for a moment, was eclipsed by anger. "Well, how should I know? You disappeared in the middle of the night, not a word to say where you were going. I've left a million messages and you haven't returned a single one. For all I knew you were dead in a ditch somewhere!"
"Sorry mom." She laughed again. "I'm fine! In fact, I'm better than fine."
Sara glanced at the time. It was nearly three-thirty in the morning. "Where are you?"
"Las Vegas!" The excitement in Leah's voice was palpable.
"Las- What are you doing there?"
"I am the lead dancer in the Hooray for Hollywood musical revue." The pride in Leah's voice was obvious.
Sara was silent for a moment. "You're dancing naked, aren't you?"
"Not naked." Leah laughed. "I wear a thong, and this gorgeous headdress with sequins and feathers."
Sara rubbed her eyes in frustration. "Really? This is what you sold your soul for?"
"This was just the start, although I have been told I have the best pair of tits in Vegas."
She decided to leave the latter part of the comment alone. "A start? And where do you think you'll go from dancing all but naked in Las Vegas?" Sara wasn't even trying to control her tone.
"HBO." Leah's tone was perfectly matter of fact.
"What?" Sara got turned the lights on, trying desperately to wake up and assemble all this at the same time.
"HBO is doing this series about Las Vegas showgirls. I met the producer and I am the centerpiece of the show! I told you I was going to be famous!"
Sara was shocked to silence. It was exactly something Leah would do, but that didn't mean it was any easier to know what to say. "Are you sure of all this? I mean, is this guy for real?"
"I signed the contracts tonight."
Sara sighed. "Why didn't you call me before this? I was worried sick about you."
The music faded. "I know. I just wanted to make sure that everything was set first."
"Set or not it doesn't matter. You're my friend. I was afraid you were dead."
"I've got ten years, and I intend to make the most of them." Leah said. The conviction clear in her voice.
"I just miss you. Things have been so dull around here without you."
"I miss you too. I figured you knew I was okay and then when Jubal came to see me-"
"Jubal?" Sara sat up a little straighter. "The…one you made the deal with?"
"Yeah." She could hear the smile in Leah's voice. "You must have friends in high places."
Sara blushed and was glad Leah couldn't see it. "I don't know what you mean."
"Uh huh, that's why Jubal showed up here telling me I had to call you and tell you I was okay."
"I suppose that green suit of his blends right in out in Las Vegas." Sara wanted desperately to change the subject.
"I guess. He didn't wear it long."
It took Sara a moment to realize what she was saying. Then her eyes opened wide. "Leah, you didn't!"
"Are you kidding? Of course I did! I dreamed about that kiss for weeks and then there he was, standing right in front of me. I'm only human."
"And?" As soon as the word was out Sara knew it sounded too eager.
"And what?" Leah asked.
"You're really going to make me ask?"
"Well, I don't know what you want to know." It was her innocent act. "A general outline? Physical statistics? A moment by moment account?"
"Leah!" Sara's wrist tingled. "I just meant did the rest live up to the kiss?"
"Gosh yes." Leah laughed and so did Sara. Then she went silent for a moment. "Do you think it's weird? What I'm doing?"
Sara found that question impossibly broad. She stuck to generalities. "Well, it's not for me, but you know I'd never judge you. I just wanted to know you were okay. Speaking of which, you need to call your parents, too."
"No. Absolutely not." Leah's voice was firm.
"They're beside themselves!" Sara was starting to get angry again.
"So what? If they wanted me to tell them things, maybe they shouldn't treat everything like a capital offense." Leah sighed. "Besides, if they find me, they'll just drag me home again."
"They can't." Sara said. "You're twenty years old. The police say-"
"You called the police?" Leah was shocked.
"No, your father and Sister Roberta talked to them. When you left you took most of your stuff so the police said there's no reason to think you're in any danger and you're legally an adult. They took a report, but they're not looking. Adults have the right to walk away from their lives if they want to."
She gave a derisive laugh. "Bet that went over big with my father."
"I'm sure it didn't, and it hasn't stopped him from calling and giving me the third degree."
"You can't tell him where I am!"
"And you expect that no one he knows will watch HBO?"
"They're not going to give my address!"
"Neither am I, but I am going to tell them you're alive. They deserve that much."
"What if they come out here?" She sounded like a naughty little girl who might be caught.
"This whole thing has been your choice. You have to be able to own it." Sara let the silence linger for a moment. "So are there other girls in this show?"
"Almost a hundred, but I'm not telling you any more about that until you tell me all about Jubal's boss."
The question wasn't unusual. It was the same thing Sara had asked Leah at least twice a week about some guy or other. It was asked in the same conspiratorial tone and with the same underpinnings of giggles and wide eyes, but Sara heard something else there too. She couldn't define it, but it brought an itch of discomfort to the back of her skull. "I don't know anything about him really." It was the truth.
"Come on Sara, you talk to someone for five minutes and know all about them. You spent more time than that with him." There was an eager note there.
Sara narrowed her eyes. "If you recall I was more concerned about you that night."
Leah laughed. "I wasn't talking about then. C'mon, I tell you about all my guys."
"He's not my guy. Why are you so insistent?" Sara blushed deep crimson.
"Insistent? I'm not insistent, I'm just curious." The words came out so fast they tumbled over each other.
Sara took a deep breath. "I don't know anything about him Leah. You can ask all night, I don't have anything to add to that statement." She was silent for a moment. "Tell me about the other girls? Please?"
She forced a laugh. "They're all a bunch of back-stabbing bitches."
Sara sat back and listened to Leah talk about squabbles and jealousies and all the dirty tricks that went on behind the scenes. Frankly, it sounded a lot more interesting than the show itself. Sara made certain ooh and ahh and giggle at all the right times, but she couldn't help but wonder if all of this had been a test. What exactly would Crowley be testing though? She truly didn't feel like she knew any more about him now than she did after that one meeting at the bar. Maybe it wasn't him at all. Jubal was a demon too, but what could he possibly want?
Half an hour later she wasn't any closer to untangling the whole thing than she was in the beginning. Maybe it wasn't a mess to be untangled. Maybe it as simply a question from her friend and she was putting too much emphasis on it.
When she hung up Sara was relieved, but more confused than ever. She had to admit though, this had been the most interesting few weeks she could remember since coming to St. Augustin's. Sara drifted off to sleep again, a little smile on her lips.
#
"Nothing." Crowley was staring at the demon in front of him trying to remain calm. "You're telling me that I generously gave you three days to get me a little information about a school and you've done sod all?"
Regis shifted on his feet. "I didn't say that. I've looked everywhere I can think of. There is nothing to find. They don't even have a website to advertise the place."
Crowley stared at him across his wide, highly polished desk. Regis wasn't particularly loyal to anyone except himself, but he knew not only on which side his bread was buttered, but who provided him with the aforementioned butter. "Regis, we're talking about the Catholics. During the Inquisition if one of the heretics wet himself they wrote it down. You cannot tell me that there is no record of a murder of nuns, a church and an entire campus full of schoolgirls filled with raging hormones yearning to break free!"
"I know it sounds ridiculous. I can't find record of the school. I can't find record of the church. I don't even know what order the nuns belong to. There is no listing in the phone book. The place isn't in any directory of private schools, parochial schools, Catholic schools or boarding schools. Likewise with any directories of colleges. I don't see it on aerial photos of the area. I can't even find building plans. I'm stumped."
Crowley could see the frustration in the other demon. He held up his glass of scotch, turning it so that the amber liquid caught the light. The idea that it would have been as simple as a little research was, in retrospect, unlikely. He took a sip of the drink and held it on his tongue, letting the flavors sparkle and burn and change before he swallowed it.
This called for further investigation and he knew just where to start. Crowley looked up at the uncomfortably waiting Regis. "Get out."
The demon disappeared before the king could change his mind.