Hidden Worlds

by Kristie Cook

“What have I missed?” I asked.

  Amber closed her eyes briefly, collecting herself. This worried me.

  “When you turn seventeen, things change for you here. It’s like a rite of passage. And for you and me, it’s more than that. It’s life altering,” she said.

  Rite of passage? I shook my head wearily, my brain overflowing with confusion and nerves.

  “Help me out here, Amber. I’m missing something.”

  “It isn’t that easy, Day,” Amber hedged.

  I sat up. “Then make it that easy. Cause I’m beginning to feel more than a little freaked out. It doesn’t help that you’re avoiding my questions and that some strange man shows up at the Abbey! And not just any man, Amber. A freaking psycho!”

  Amber shrugged. “It’s all part of the cycle, Dayton.”

  I snapped. “What cycle, Amber? What fucking cycle are you talking about?”

  I knew by the sudden stillness I had shaken her. She leaned toward me, her face red with fury. She hated when I cursed.

  “You have no idea what you open yourself up to when you do that, Day. There are things out there that like your dirty mouth, you know that. They feed off of it,” Amber said angrily.

  I recoiled. What the hell?

  “Like vampires?” I asked snidely.

  The sudden image made me smile.

  Amber wasn’t amused. “It’s not a joke, Day. You risk yourself more than you know by the way you talk and behave.”

  I was getting seriously disturbed. Ok, scratch that. I was suffering dementia. Twilight zone much?

  “What fucked up planet did you visit and fly back from, Amber? I’m not an idiot, dammit!” I said irritably.

  Amber’s gaze pierced mine. “You aren’t a normal girl, Day. And your behavior, no matter how tame it seems to you, matters here.”

  Cold chills ran up and down my body. My feet and hands went numb. This day kept getting more out of control, more nonsensical.

  Amber retreated. “Do you believe in Demons?” she asked suddenly.

  I stared at her. What? The change in subject had me putting on the mental brakes. After all the theology we’d been fed the past seven years, I suppose it was normal to find ourselves sitting here having this conversation. But it was out of context. We weren’t being questioned by Aunt Ky and we weren’t at mass. Amber’s eyes burned into mine, as if the question was far more vital than the heartbeat I felt heavily in my throat.

  I gave it some thought. “I suppose so."

  Amber’s eyes darkened. “They are with us, Dayton. Everywhere. Among us, even a part of us. And when tomorrow comes, you’ll know them well.”

  What? Where had that come from?

  I moved away from the bed. Had I believed this scene felt normal? Forget B rated movie. This was worse. Was I crazy or was she?

  I pinched myself and winced.

  Oh, it was definitely her! My own sister was having some sort of mental breakdown. Demons? Rites of Passage? I was more confused than I had been when I walked into her room.

  “Do you feel okay, Amber? You need me to call someone?” I asked, my feet moving slowly toward her closed bedroom door. I’d never feared my sister before. Tonight I did.

  “The Abbey is more than a religious institution, Day. It’s a calling,” Amber quoted, her eyes glazed over.

  I almost fled then but didn’t. She was still my sister. Fear gripped my heart. What had they done to her?

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  Amber didn’t move. “I think you do, Day. I just think you choose to ignore it. The Abbey isn’t normal. It’s not even Catholic. We’re not Catholic. We’re much older than that. Much, much older. The people here aren’t normal. They are glorious. You don’t choose the Abbey. It chooses you. Everything about you. Even your classes at school. The Abbess chooses those. You’ll get tutors, Dayton. And like me, you’ll study philosophy, theology, out dated mathematics and science. We study history as if we were a part of it. And we are, Day. No doubt about it. You live here and you balk at us, make fun of us, curse. It’s blasphemy. Where do you think all of the women here come from?”

  The hostility in her voice caused me to shrink into the door.

  She looked at me suddenly, her eyes taking in my fear, and shook herself. I clutched the door handle, my knuckles white.

  “Dayton—" she began, her face hollowed and disturbed. The real Amber, the Amber I knew, looked over at me, and I swallowed. She started to stand, but I shook my head.

  “You don’t understand, Dayton. It’s complicated,” she whispered.

  I had no sympathy. “Then un-complicate it."

  She sighed and sat back. “The Abbey is part of a Sethian Sect.”

  Yet something else I wasn’t expecting to hear.

  I moved back to the bed and sat hard at her feet. “A what?” Now it was sects?

  She tapped the cover of her textbook. “Think back on some of the theology we had to learn here, Day. Remember Genesis?”

  I crinkled my nose. Now, she was throwing religion at me. I nodded.

  She took that to mean I understood. “In the Bible when Cain killed his brother Abel, Adam and Eve had a son that, in a sense, replaced Abel. They called him Seth. He is the line from which Jesus was born. Some believe it makes those descended from Seth special. They are warriors and Sons of God. The Abbey is made up of people, women, novices, and employees who can all trace their lineage back to Seth."

  She paused, looking down at the history book in her lap before placing her hand reverently on the cover. I’d never really taken notice of her books before. This one looked old.

  Her gaze found mine again. "Built by Morrison Jacobs when the French brought Roman Catholicism to our shores, the Abbey has been hiding here for a long, long time under a Catholic pretense. And we aren’t the only ones, Day. We have built institutions in every state, hiding as different organizations—schools, different kinds of churches, libraries, banks, you name it. In one form or another.”

  I stared, my expression changing to one of horror. “Oh, my God! The Abbey is a cult? Are we part of a cult?”

  The church here had always seemed strange.

  Amber placed a finger over my lips, and I quieted. A Sethian Sect? I’d never heard of such a thing! And did this mean …

  “We are not a cult. We are an establishment dedicated to good, to pursuing good, to banishing evil, to fixing wrongs. We have a calling,” Amber said morosely.

  I looked at her, my gaze full of disbelief. “You’ve been brainwashed.”

  “I’ve been called.”

  “You’ve been led.”

  “You think that, Dayton, because you are afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Of being part of something. Of the truth,” she answered.

  I looked away from her. “This is messed up. You realize how crazy this sounds? It doesn’t make sense. So does this make us descendants of Seth? And if so, what do we do? Do we smite someone if they shoplift, condemn those who curse?”

  “Don’t be sarcastic, Day. We’re more than that. We protect.”

  “Protect from what?

  “From Demons,” Amber answered.

  My eyes widened. I sooo wasn’t expecting that answer.

  “This is bullshit!” I exploded before getting up and heading once again for the door.

  “Is it, Day?” Amber asked.

  I exited. This time, I wasn’t listening.

  “Day, you will change. We aren’t like the rest of them. They will use you,” Amber called after me.

  From just outside the door, I turned back to Amber, my mouth open for one final protest. It froze on my lips when I saw Amber’s expression. Her gaze settled on something behind my head, and I felt numb with sudden fear.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Pain suddenly radiated along my head, down into my spine and ended with my world going instantly black.

  Chapter 13

  The Rite won’t bring peace.
It will bring destruction.

  ~Bezaliel~

  Monroe once told me she believed that the world was a flow chart marked by lines of karma, that nothing was coincidence. She revered this. I, on the other hand, was beginning to have a rather differing opinion. Point blank, karma is a bitch. I know this because right now the only thing I wanted to do with karma was give it back to its Maker.

  My vision blurred, my thoughts fragmented. My head hurt where I’d been hit, and I fought the urge to rub it.

  Looking up, I squinted through the blurriness and grew stock still with terror. My blood went cold. A group of robed figures surrounded me, each one hooded so that their faces were nothing but pockets of shadow. The result was eerie.

  I closed my eyes. No, no no no no.

  Amber’s voice echoed through my head, I’m sorry. Sorry for what?

  “She’s ready,” someone whispered.

  I started to struggle. What? I was not ready! Ready for what? Who were these people?

  Monroe’s vision came to mind—figures, chain, blood. Oh my God!

  One of the robed figures sidled up next to me. I moved my mouth, realized it still worked, and started to scream. A hand went over my lips. I struggled harder and bit the hand. I barely registered the person’s muffled exclamation.

  “I don’t want to do this!” I screamed, my legs kicking violently. Willful I did well. Agreeable, I was not.

  “Keep her still,” someone hissed.

  Through it all, the figure next to me never flinched, just looked calmly down at a thick, leather-bound black book and signed a page within it with a flourish as the group of robed men and women around us moved in closer. My head began to swim, the pounding behind my temples becoming unbearable.

  “What you want and what has to be done are sometimes two entirely different things,” the figure murmured under her breath before removing her hood and turning to face the group now before her. Aunt Ky!

  “It is done.”

  Done. It sounded so final. What was this? Aunt Ky?

  “Congratulations, Dayton!” several members of the group exclaimed heartily before pounding me on the back without glancing at my face. They were jubilant, as if being here on the verge of my seventeenth birthday was my idea, my choice. No wonder they avoided my face.

  “It’s time, Kyra,” a woman, Francine Biscoth, said quietly as she came up to stand behind my aunt.

  I stared at her. Francine was the Abbey’s secretary. She had never liked me much. How many people did I know here? Tears burned the back of my lids. What was Francine talking about?

  My aunt frowned but nodded. The group spread out around me, and I froze. Time?

  “Aunt Ky?” I whispered desperately.

  One of the robed figures broke away from the group and moved toward us angrily, snatching off the hood of the robe with one swift movement.

  “No! This isn’t fair!” my sister yelled.

  I stared at her in disbelief.

  Fuzzy words about Sects and Demons flitted through my foggy brain, and I grasped at them. Amber? What was this? In just twenty-four hours, a lot of what I believed in, of who I thought I was, of who I believed my family to be had changed. And now I was being … what? Hazed? Rites of passage, Amber had said.

  “Amber?” I whispered.

  She faced off against Aunt Ky, her face red.

  Our aunt looked calm as she stepped forward and laid a hand firmly on Amber’s shoulder. She clamped hard enough I realized it wasn’t meant to be consoling.

  “Not now Amber. Don’t do this to yourself. I’ve made my choice,” Ky murmured, low enough that only those closest could hear.

  I trembled. Even though I was well-clothed, I was freezing. Choice? What was happening to me?

  “We need to go before the night is over,” Mott Jackson spoke sternly, his face coming into view as he made his way toward us.

  As the Abbey’s accountant, he looked out of place dressed in the black robes surrounding me, his usual business suit nowhere in sight. His face was determined as he placed his hands on Amber’s arms, and Aunt Ky nodded at him as he dragged her back into formation. She didn’t protest although I thought I heard her whisper, "Please don’t do this to her." My blood ran cold. The circle fanned out again, and I cowered.

  “Tonight, our rites brought us Truth, and brought into our group the Chosen …” Kyra began.

  My knees buckled. These people sounded like cultists, not religious followers. I saw my aunts’ lips moving, but her voice faded as my ears began to roar. I felt something cold seep through my palms and realized rather belatedly that I was on my knees on the chilly, stone floor. I tried lifting my head and couldn’t.

  “Aunt Ky?” I tried whispering again.

  Blessed warmth touched my cold forehead, and I leaned into it.

  “It’s okay, Day. Drink this,” Kyra murmured.

  She held a silver chalice engraved with strange looking hunched figures up to my lips. I hesitated.

  “Drink, Dayton. It will warm you,” Ky ordered.

  I struggled to see the contents before she tilted it. Warm liquid ran unerringly down my throat, choking me as I swallowed convulsively. It was bitter and thick. I gagged.

  And then my back arched. I groaned as pain shot through me. The only person I wanted right now wasn’t here, couldn’t save me. I wasn’t even sure why I thought of him.

  “Dad!” I screamed anyway.

  Hands descended upon me, a million hands it seemed as I lay there writhing.

  A voice whispered, “Let’s move her.”

  I looked around me in vain. It was so very dark! Was I blind now?

  Look for the light, Day! I couldn’t see anything.

  “Don’t do this!” I thought desperately.

  And then there was air rushing all around me as the hands propelled me upward. I tried to scream but couldn’t.

  “What’s happening?” I managed, so low I figured no one heard. But suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard Amber’s voice filter through all the madness as her face swam in and out of my vision. Where were we now?

  “You’re the sacrifice,” she said bitterly, a hint of anger making her words sharp.

  My lungs constricted. Sacrifice? I had sudden images of knives and blood, and I struggled against the seat. Seat?

  “You’re safe,” Aunt Ky whispered.

  I cringed as I tried making out my surroundings. An engine turned off somewhere, and I blinked. A car? I was in a car. It was parked and it was dark.

  “Amber, why don’t you stay here?” Aunt Kyra suggested firmly.

  I tried sitting up and groaned. Everything was blurred. I struggled against the need to vomit.

  “We’re here to celebrate, Dayton. You’ve done incredibly well tonight,” Aunt Kyra murmured gently. Her tone suggested normalcy and begged for compliance. But this wasn’t normal! They had done something to me!

  I blinked over and over again, fighting the fogginess as I looked toward the windows in confusion. And then I lost time.

  “Stand up straight, Day,” Aunt Kyra ordered.

  I stumbled beside her. What? It was like I was sleep walking and waking during incredibly awkward and strange moments. Time didn’t exist. Where was I now?

  There were people everywhere and music so loud my head pounded. I glanced around frantically. The room I found myself in was large and dim, people were dancing around a lighted hardwood floor, a bar was stretched across the back of the room complete with stained glass bar lights and glowing beer signs, music alternated between country, techno, and rock and roll, and "Upcoming Event" posters were taped up all over the room. Oh my God! Were we at a club?

  I shook my head. Hard. The Abbess had brought me to a club?

  I tried looking at my aunt but only saw a blurred image of her. Her robe was missing, but I couldn’t make out her attire. Was she wearing jeans?

  “Don’t be afraid, Day,” Aunt Ky breathed into my ear.

  I shivered. I was in a club, underage, high on so
me weird brew, and listening to my religious aunt tell me I had nothing to fear. Screw that!

  “What is this!” I yelled over the music, pushing my aunts’ hands away from me with such force I fell against the bar.

  The bartender behind it glanced up sharply, and Ky grabbed me from behind, holding me firmly as she smiled sweetly at the tattoo-covered man.

  “Excuse us. One too many I’m afraid,” Ky said smoothly, her eyes narrowed as she looked unblinkingly at the burly man.

  I struggled against her hands. The bartender narrowed his eyes. It was obvious I was underage, but he seemed the type who’d rather avoid trouble than worry about age appropriate drinking and he accepted Kyra’s lame excuse. Or maybe, it was out of fear.

  “Just get her home,” he said brusquely before turning away to slide a beer to someone across the wooden surface.

  Aunt Ky pushed a drink at me, and I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat at the sight of the amber filled shot glass.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  This could not be the formal, criticizing Abbess I’d been raised by these past seven years. She froze, a look of weariness settling across her features. It made the crow’s feet around her eyes stand out, and the wrinkles around her lips deepen in a momentary guise of despair. It didn’t last long.

  She forced the glass into my hand. “You’re the key.”

  I tried shoving it away but obscure hands suddenly held me firmly from behind, and I realized that Aunt Kyra wasn’t alone.

  “Just drink it, Day,” Ky said quietly.

  There was nothing left to do but obey.

  Chapter 14

  My heart is heavy. What have they done?

  ~Bezaliel~

  My head pounded, breathing hurt, and my entire body felt like I had been dunked in a vat of liquid lava. Where was I?

  I squinted and groaned. Even my eyes hurt. They were gritty and dry, and I forced them open as I turned slowly to take in my surroundings. My confusion grew as I noticed the mass of people surrounding me, the familiar setting causing my eyes to widen. What was I doing at Everett’s? An old image of my friends and I partying flitted through my brain.

  “Monroe?” I whispered hoarsely.

  My eyes scanned the dark room. A bar on the outskirts of Lodeston, Everett’s wasn’t an unsavory place, but it wasn’t somewhere you went alone either. My head swam as I squinted at the other patrons. Could I have come alone?