I didn’t necessarily want to go back to my quiet room alone to stare at the ceiling, but I was pretty sure Miles was with his friends tonight since I told him I reserved this night for Lillian. He’d been spending all his free time with me lately, so the last thing I wanted to do was take away from his time with friends.
I wandered through the halls aimlessly, but the silence wasn’t good for me. My mind kept going back to the conversation from the party where Miles was casually accused of murder. I scoffed out loud at the idea. I replayed it over in my mind and one part started to stick out. The boy that mentioned age. And the Fallen Angel. Age seemed to a recurring theme in my life lately, and it wasn’t the first time it had been mentioned in relation to Laura’s murder, but it was the first time I had heard age mentioned with the Fallen Angel. I’d never heard of him stealing someone’s age. Only Mary Langley.
I was already close to the library thanks to my wandering, so I made a last second decision to stop by. I was curious about aging and had no definite answers so now seemed like a good time to get those answers myself. One sharp right turn down the hall led me straight to the library entrance.
I walked through the archway and my eyes immediately went to the ceiling. The stars shining through took away the remnants of anger from the party and made me feel at peace. I walked to the front desk but found the large mahogany table empty. I looked all around, but there was no one in sight. Even the desks in the middle of the room were empty. Not many people were studying on a Saturday night. I waited for a few minutes to see if someone would show up to help me, but no one did. Sitting on the desk was a small, silver bell. I assumed I was supposed to ring it if I needed help, so I tried it.
Ding! The bright sound echoed through the library. It seemed to bounce off every wall, sending the noise through the whole room, even though it was only a small ring. My attention followed the sound through the empty room. Being in this huge space all alone felt spooky. When I turned back around to face the front desk, I nearly screamed. A small, wrinkled woman with grey hair pinned to the top of her head stood on the opposite side of the desk. She was so small her face was the only thing visible from behind the mahogany wall separating us.
“Oh, my apologies, dear. Did I scare yeh?” the small woman spoke with a thick Irish accent.
“Just a little,” I laughed at myself for being so jumpy.
“Well, I’m Mrs. Walsh. Is there something I can help yeh find?” She wore such a warm smile that the library didn’t seem as creepy anymore.
“I am not exactly sure what book I’m looking for...or if a book like this even exists…” I paused, unsure of how to phrase what I was about to say. I hoped to avoid any mention of the Fallen Angel in this conversation. With all the rumors going around it was risky to even ask for a book about this at all. But I had to at least try. “I was hoping to find a book about...age. Maybe one with old stories…”
“Ah, yes. You have a hankerin’ to learn some history, do yah? I think I know just the thing you need.” She slipped out from behind the desk and headed for the back of the library. “This way, dear.” I followed obediently as she bounded ahead of me. She was half my size, making her steps much shorter and I had to slow my pace so I wouldn’t pass her. We reached the end of the library, breezing past the dreaded dark magic section, and turned right. In the back corner there was a small staircase, leading to the second floor of the library. I shuffled behind Mrs. Walsh on our way up the stairs, listening to her huff and puff, then, when we reached the top, followed her to a section in the middle. We walked through rows and rows of bookshelves, each row less lit than the last, until we reached a section so dim it was difficult to read the titles of the books. It almost seemed like the school wanted to keep this section hidden.
Mrs. Walsh grabbed a ladder with wheels on the bottom. She rolled it down the aisle a few feet before beginning her climb to the very top. The rows were so high I was afraid she would not be able to reach what she was looking for even with the aid of the ladder. She stretched on her tiptoes until she was able to snag a book on the very top shelf. She made her way back down the ladder slowly, carefully and handed me the book.
“There we are, miss. I think this will answer any questions yeh have. Be careful, though. There are only two copies in existence.” Only two copies? It seemed irresponsible of Mrs. Walsh to give away one of the two copies of a book to a student she did not know. I wanted to ask more, but Mrs. Walsh did not make eye contact when I took the book from her hands and scurried away before I could even open my mouth.
“She’s peculiar,’’ I whispered to myself.
I stared down at the leather book and ran my hands across the front. It felt smooth, like no one had ever opened it. The book was deep brown and bound by a tie on the side. I opened the first page and strained my eyes to read a title handwritten: “Aging Tales of a Witching World.” A date underneath the title read 1875. This was written in 1875? It didn’t seem worn enough to be over a century old. Perhaps it was in such pristine condition because it was hidden away in this section of the library. I could almost guarantee no student came to this dimly lit, nearly hidden area to look for books for class.
I heard a creak from a few rows away and my paranoia kicked in. I looked over both my shoulders and began a quick getaway to the exit. Even though the library was dead silent, and I was the only student in it, as far as I knew, I couldn’t help but feel like there were eyes on me...following me. I practically ran to the stairs and nearly tumbled down, but I regained my balance and kept the book firmly clasped in my hands. I could not lose it.
When I made it back to my room, it was empty, of course. I locked the door behind me and dove into my bed, feeling much safer with the covers wrapped around me. My heart had been pounding the whole way to my door and I must have glanced over my shoulder at least 20 times. My paranoia had stuck with me after I was out of the library causing me to imagine the sound of footsteps following me here. Each time I looked around me, I was greeted by an empty hallway. No one else was there, with the exception of a guard every now and again. Still, only now did I feel fully safe. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only 9:45 p.m. My roommates would be at the party for at least another hour. Ava never liked to be the first to leave an event. I was thankful to have alone time to read the book without the girls breathing down my neck, asking a million questions.
I flipped past the first few pages and came to a table of contents. It showed chapters with names I didn’t recognize at first. Alice Adams. Florence Haggen. Constance Patterson. I made it halfway down the page and my eyes froze, fixating on two words: “Fallen Angel” was scrawled on the thin paper. The words became blurry and difficult to read, and I realized my hands were trembling. I put the book down and took a few calming breaths before picking it back up to look at the page number. Page 103.
I quickly flipped through the book. Again, there on the top of the page, were the words. “Fallen Angel.” Well, this is what I wanted to know, right? No sense in chickening out now. I started to read.
In the beginning of time there was only one being. This being stood for all good. This being created trees, oceans, animals, and even new beings to cure his loneliness. He wished for a family. So, the being created two sons and two daughters. These five lived on a desolate island in perfect harmony. There was no hurt. No pain. No jealousy or rage.
But nature became unbalanced. There could not only be good in the world. Where there is peace there must also be wickedness. So, nature corrected this mistake. Rage began to slowly overtake one of the being’s sons. He tried to hide it, to suppress it. After all, such feelings were unknown to his family. The son watched the way his father controlled everything surrounding them. The son wanted to do the same. He wanted to create. He wanted to be powerful. But not only powerful. More powerful than his siblings. More powerful than his father.
Each sibling had powers, much like their father only dulled. It was as if their father had taken his powers and spread
them out amongst the children. None of them possessed his strength. They would never be as he was.
As time went on the children became aware of their aging. They watched in horror as wrinkles developed on their skin where there had previously been none. Their bodies ached where they never had before. The son looked at his father and saw he had no wrinkles. He had no aches. He was riddled with even more jealousy.
The son felt his magic coursing through his blood, leading him to what he already sensed. He knew in his heart if he were to murder his siblings, he would steal their youth. He would lose his siblings forever but gain life in return. The secret contempt he felt for his father made the choice simple. He created a spell to take the lives of his siblings and began with his sisters. The son snuck into their tent late one night when their father was far away. He took their life quickly, using his spell, and after their heart beat their last beats, he felt their youth. When the father returned, he was saddened and confused by their deaths. There had never been hurt in their family. There had never been loss. So, the father grieved, but never suspected his own son.
When seven nights had passed and the moon was full in the sky, the son took the life of his only brother. He felt youth coursing through his veins, as expected. But now he could see there was an unexpected effect. Overtaking his brother had been easier than anticipated. The son realized when he killed his siblings, he not only took their youth, but also their power. He watched his father cry with pity. His father was weak to allow love to blind him. His father grew lonely again and created more family, many more this time. More than the son could keep count of. The son was enraged by his father’s power. He became more jealous, angrier.
When the day came that he saw a new wrinkle, he knew what he must do. He took the lives of more siblings. This time he knew he could not stop. He felt their youth and power. He could not control his rage. His father watched more and more of his children disappear and soon realized the dark truth. His eldest son had not aged in quite some time and his body had become disfigured. His son did not look like the rest of his siblings. His skin was harder, rougher. His forehead was larger and his muscles more prominent. Two small antlers had begun to pierce through his head as if he were becoming like the animals around him. His father knew this was not right. He knew this was a danger to all.
The father confronted his eldest son. The son knew his father could destroy him, despite all of the power he had acquired over time but saw he would not. His love was too strong. It blinded him again. Weakened him. The son knew he must act then. If he could defeat his father, he would have true immortality. He would become ruler of the earth. He would have his father’s power. The son could see everything he longed for right in front of him. He took his chance, spelling his father again and again, feeling no remorse. His father did not fight back and began to weaken as his son slowly stole his power. The father did not have much time left. If he did not act now, he would not survive. But he could not take the life of his son.
The father stood with tears in his eyes and, using every ounce of magic he had left, banished his son to the Underworld.
The father rested for quite some time. He was weakened, but his other children cared for him, nursing him back to health until he was nearly as powerful as he was at the beginning of time. The father waited patiently, but his powers never fully returned.
His son was alive. He had not taken his life, but he was banished to the Underworld, unable to return to his home. He was cold and lonely at first. He felt rage towards his father for banishing him from the one home he had ever known. However, he soon found that he was more powerful than he had ever been on Earth. Much more powerful. He could feel it coursing through every inch of his being. He had what he wanted. Finally. Power and youth. All he needed was a kingdom to rule. And soon he would have one.
I flipped the pages again and again longing for more of the story but finding nothing but new stories. I had answers but felt desperate to know more. A strange feeling overcame me. This longing for more and more reminded me of the story of the Fallen Angel. So, I slammed the book shut and placed it on my nightstand. I knew enough. More than I even expected to.
I knew that Mary Langley had gotten her soul stealing spell from the Fallen Angel himself. I knew that killing another witch with this spell stole their youth, as well as their powers. I knew how the Fallen Angel came to be, a story our school obviously didn’t like to advertise. And I knew that the Fallen Angel had been like us at one time. A witch with an average amount of powers. A witch who aged like the rest of us. But using his spell he changed and became nearly as powerful as the Divinity. If the Fallen Angel could do this, if Mary Langley could use the same spell for the same purpose, could this happen again? Is that what was happening at North End this very moment?
Level-Headed
Iwas startled awake by someone shaking my shoulders. I peeled them open to see Lillian standing over me fully dressed. Had she just made it back from the party? What time was it?
“Are you okay?” Lillian asked, clearly concerned.
“Yes,” I answered, confused. I sat up to see Ava and Daliah sitting at the end of my bed. Their faces were worried, too.
“You were asleep...for a really long time,” Lillian said slowly. I looked at the clock on the well. Three o’clock? In the afternoon? “And you’re covered in sweat. We tried to wake you up a few times before…” Her voice trailed off and three sets of eyes waited for me to reply. I assessed myself before answering. I felt my head and was surprised to find Lillian was right. It was sticky with sweat. I sat up slowly, expecting to feel nauseous or dizzy. Maybe I had a virus or something. But when I sat up, I felt fine. Well rested. Normal.
“I feel fine,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Daliah asked, doubtful. “We were about to call a nurse.”
“Yes. Really. I’m not sure why I slept so long, but...I feel fine,” I reassured them. It didn’t take much reassurance before Ava and Daliah were off doing their own thing again, but it took longer to convince Lillian. She asked several more times that day.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go get checked out in the hospital wing?” she asked once more as she laid down for bed. I was gazing out our window at the moon brightening up the sky. It was less than a week until All Hallow’s Eve and the full moon.
“I’m fine, I promise,” I said for a final time. It was difficult to say much more to reassure her when I wasn’t sure what had happened myself. I didn’t even remember falling asleep the night before. But the day had come and gone, and Lillian had waited and waited for something to be off with me. It never happened. I went about the day like any other Sunday.
“Well, wake me up if you feel sick or something,” Lillian said before turning off her lamp and pulling the covers up to her chin. I still hadn’t told her what I read in the book. Maybe a part of me was scared to explain it. I didn’t want the book to have anything to do with my extended slumber, so I didn’t say a word. If I didn’t speak it, then it couldn’t be true, right?
I closed the curtains and sat on my bed. I wasn’t exactly tired yet, so I laid there for a while going over the day and trying my best to remember falling asleep last night, but I kept coming up blank. Eventually, I gave up. Oh well, I thought. At least I got a good night’s rest. I shut my eyes and thought of happier things to help me sleep. Like Miles’ eyes or Lillian’s laugh or my parent’s dinner parties. My head was filled with these beautiful images as my body began drifting. I felt calm and relaxed. So, I was unsure why the last images in my mind were horns on a figure with rough skin.
* * *
“Josie?” I heard Professor Rose’s voice over the chatter and shuffling. The extra study hall I had signed up for had just ended, and most people were making their way out of the room. When I looked up, she was motioning me to come to her desk at the front of the room. My heart rate picked up slightly. Why is she asking me to stay after class? I turned to look at Lillian, who was waiting for me by the door. She
raised her eyebrow and I shrugged lightly. She stepped outside with her books, but I had no doubt she would be waiting for me in the garden.
My mind immediately went to the worst scenario possible. I prayed she wasn’t having me stay back because I was in trouble. Or, even worse, because my grades were suffering. I thoroughly enjoyed her class, and if my grades were bad enough to stay after, I would be completely humiliated.
I made my way to Rose’s desk, wringing my hands, as the room cleared out. “How are you, dear?” she asked when the class was empty. She was smiling warmly, which made me feel a little less uneasy. Surely I wasn’t in trouble if she was smiling at me.
“I’m fine,” I smiled back. “How are you, Professor Rose?”
“Oh, I am well. Thank you for asking.” She twirled her fingers for a moment like she was unsure of what to say next. “I hope you don’t find this...inappropriate, but I have a gift for you.” She walked back to her closet by her desk and pulled something out. It was covered in silk, but I could tell it was some sort of clothing. It was on a hanger and was nearly as tall as Professor Rose. It looked like...a dress.
She lifted the material up and laid it on her massive desk. It didn’t even cover half of the length of the table. “You looked so beautiful in this, Josie. I know your mother would want you to have it,” she said as she lifted up the satin, revealing the gorgeous black dress she saw me trying on this weekend.
I gasped. “Professor Rose...I-I...” I was absolutely speechless.
“Now, before you say anything about the expense, know that I have more than enough wealth for myself. I have no children of my own, you know,” her voice trembled just a bit when she said the word children, and I suddenly realized how little I knew of Rose’s past. Had she tried to have children at some point? Had they passed away? I looked up to see tears in her eyes and a lump formed in my throat. “I want it to be a special night. One to remember.” She smiled and we both choked back tears.
North End: The Black Forest Page 11