Jean began to tell Purdue the full story of the infamous Mona Greer.
Mona Greer lived in Salem shortly after the hysteria of the witch trials, and was an immigrant who came from Europe, from a family with a long history of pagan worship. They kept their views secret, of course. In a God-fearing world, especially at that time, they would be scorned for their views, maybe even killed. The worship and exploration of magic had been squashed by the praise of divinity and God.
By the time she was an adult, Mona had found like-minded individuals who practiced magics in secret; they kept far out of sight of their holier neighbors. The coven they formed apparently dabbled in things that had never been attempted before. Mona wanted to push the boundaries, hoping to one day show the rest of the world that harnessing natural magics of the earth wasn't something to be feared, but instead to be respected and utilized.
However, the allure of exploring the unknown was too tempting for her. She wanted to know every secret of the world, and her magic helped her do that. Unfortunately, her search for answers often meant disregarding human life.
The page of her book of shadows that Jean owned had a note messily inscribed in the bottom left corner: MAGIC IS SACRIFICE. That made her intentions at the time clear enough.
As Mona Greer dived deeper into the rituals that had never been attempted before, people started going missing. Her power grew with each neighbor who vanished. The disappearances only heightened her notoriety, and most feared to go anywhere near the witch in their village, or her coven of followers.
All of her work was recorded in her book of shadows, and she always kept it close. However, her accumulation of magic and knowledge concerned her coven. They turned on her. It wasn't clear if it was out of fear or maybe even jealousy. The only thing certain was that the coven murdered their leader for possession of her book of shadows; either to study it themselves or to destroy its contents.
Some said they split the pages among themselves to share the knowledge—so no one living knew everything about what was inside. Others said that the coven tried to burn the book, but when they set it on fire, the book wouldn't burn. It couldn't be destroyed; possibly protected by some spell Mona had placed on her journal.
Once torn from the bindings, however, the pages of the book became impossible to decipher, the book's secrets kept hidden in plain sight. Still fearing the magic and the words that were now shrouded on those pages, her coven hid the pages in all sorts of places, unable to destroy them.
Whatever the case, Mona Greer and her book of shadows had become a fable for witches all over the world. Some believed she was a peaceful wicca with a book full of unusual remedies. Others saw her as a feared sorceress with a grimoire full of ancient and terrifying spells.
The only way to learn what kind of woman she really was—to learn what kind of magics she really practiced—was to put the pages back in their proper place, where the hidden words would reappear, and then read the entire book of shadows.
And no one had ever read the whole book besides the author herself.
“Quite the story,” Purdue said honestly. “Although all that nonsense about a super-duper indestructible book was a bit much. I appreciate embellishment in small doses, but that was a little bit out there ... even for me.”
“It is all true,” Jean said.
“But it doesn't make sense,” Purdue said. “Scrambled writing is one thing, and you can tear pages out of it, but you can't burn it. So, why not just shred the pages if you're trying to destroy it? Problem solved.”
“The pages themselves are protected,” Jean said. “I have seen it myself. My page can't be ripped. I couldn't even make a tiny tear. It was like trying to pull apart rubber. Mona Greer really did make sure her book would last forever. You could remove them from the binding but not actually damage the page itself. It is most likely the knowledge written on the page that is protected. And since none of that knowledge is connected to the binding...”
“You could pull it out,” Purdue said, but felt stupid for even saying it.
Purdue wasn't convinced and Jean obviously saw his disbelief. He shook his head and pulled the page out of his bag, removing it from its covering. He handed it to Purdue and motioned for him to give it a try himself.
Holding it, it really didn't feel like anything special. It was just like any other piece of parchment Purdue had used ... no, even flimsier ... older and probably more brittle. Jean was maybe too open-minded to all of his superstitious beliefs. He probably hadn't tried too hard to rip it since he wanted to keep the page. Purdue had a moment with that same line of thinking, but the chance to show Jean that he was being ridiculous was one he couldn't pass up.
Jean took a firm hold at the top of the page and was ready to peel off one of the corners, making sure that he wouldn't rip any of the mess of scrambled writing. He gave one last glance to Jean, hoping that his new companion would tell him he was only joking, but instead, Jean waited with his arms folded and a smug smile on his face. He really believed that the page couldn't be damaged.
Purdue liked preserving items like this, but he would make a little exception.
He moved his arms in a motion that should have torn that corner off without any issue. Instead, the paper bent with the force of his attempted tear, and kept itself together. He tugged it in another direction, but it remained just as firm.
Jean wasn't kidding. It really did feel like you were trying to pull rubber apart; like the page was adjusting itself and accounting for the force you were using against it.
Purdue tried nearly a dozen more times to pull the page apart, but it remained in one piece. He looked at the remarkably sturdy old piece of parchment and then to Jean, who looked more than a little amused by Purdue's failure. He looked ready to remind Purdue that he had told him that would happen, rub it in his face that he'd been wrong, but his mockery never came.
Purdue handed the strange piece of paper back to Jean. “That's impossible,” he said.
Jean slipped the parchment back into its covering and let out an exhale. “That's magic.”
4
REVIVED INTENT
Julian had been waiting for a sit-down with the leadership of the Black Sun for quite some time. He'd anticipated it, was even excited for it, and had rehearsed all of his thoughts in his head countless times. And now, unlike any time he had tried to reason with them before, he had actual leverage to use on them.
They all sat in a conference room where every wrinkled face around the long table stared at Julian with matching disdain. They had never liked him. To them, Julian Corvus was an upstart that did things in his own way, constantly disobeying their codes of conduct. He was a rabid beast that they too often couldn't keep on a leash.
And to Julian, the ones truly in charge of the order were nothing more than relics themselves. They were hellbent on “conservation,” but it was clear all that meant was that they were stuck in their own ways and unable to adapt to an ever-changing world. For old men with such apparent interest in history, they didn't seem to learn anything from it.
They might as well have already been fossils.
On the outskirts of the room, standing tall against the walls, were some of the strongest enforcers in the society, men whose sole duty in life was to protect the inner circle. They were allowed in the room because all of their superiors trusted them enough to not speak of anything that transpired inside.
Julian had often scoffed at that group of bodyguards. He'd once so eloquently referred to them as boring scarecrows with no minds of their own, but over time, he'd noticed that his decleration might not have been completely accurate. There were moments, as they shadowed their leaders, that Julian had noticed annoyance or even anger on those stone-cold faces. They weren't the robots that they pretended to be.
Roderick was one of the oldest members of the Order of the Black Sun, and his crusty face was almost constantly draped in a scowl. “That was an interesting show you put on out there. You know how to play
to a crowd. The miraculous resurrection angle might have been a bit much...”
Julian expected that they wouldn't be convinced by anything he had said. They were small-minded men who needed to be shown everything to believe it. They weren't open to all of the strangeness of the world. That limited mindset was a weakness, but they flaunted it like their ignorance was a strength. The problem was, to be in their profession, looking at the world's oldest items, they needed to be open to any infinite possibilities.
Still, Julian was unperturbed by their expected shortsightedness. “If you weren't satisfied by my report, perhaps a firsthand demonstration would be enough?” Julian tapped the spear that lay nearby across a large portion of the long table. “So, you can see its power for yourself. Do you volunteer?”
That shut Roderick up for a moment, but he quickly regained his dour arrogance.
“I am not concerned about the spear or its supposed power. There are nearly a dozen weapons in the world that are supposedly the Spear of Destiny ... none of them have displayed proof of their holy power. Although, I must offer you congratulations, Corvus. Well done in retrieving it, no matter how you pulled it off.”
Julian stopped himself from rolling his eyes and played along. “Thank you.”
“However.” The word hung above the conference table menacingly, like it would swoop down from the air and attack Julian. “Your words in front of the crowd on the other hand were concerning, to say the least. All of that about our order needing change. I do so hope that was hyperbole.”
“It was not,” Julian said confidently. “I meant every word.”
Roderick let out a long exhale. “We were afraid of that.”
“You know everything I said was the truth. You're just afraid to admit your failures. The Black Sun needs to move forward. We've been treading water for far too long. You see that. I know you do.”
“And you would be the one to lead us into this brave new age...”
Julian straightened his tie. “I would be the best fit, yes.”
The men at the table, who all thought they were so superior to him, gave a collective sigh. They were acting like disappointed parents, preparing to reprimand their child. Julian wanted to gouge out their judgmental eyes. He wasn't a child, and he wouldn't be treated like one any longer.
Another one of the inner circle, a tall slender man named Gustav, spoke up. He pointed a long, bony finger at Julian. “This is exactly why we kept you at arm's length, Julian. Too much ambition is poisonous and your body is rotted from all of your grand aspirations. Rather than fall in line and understand that you have a specific place within this group, as everyone does, you constantly try to claw your way up to heights you have no place being.”
Julian let out a little laugh and leaned back in his chair, throwing his feet up onto the table. They all looked visibly agitated by the gesture of disrespect but nobody scolded him for it. They were probably glad his reaction hadn't been more violent.
“My apologies for having drive and motivation,” Julian said venomously. “The rest of you could do with some of that. Instead, you're content just sitting here and letting all of our prospective prizes be taken by lesser men. I am not content with that. I am tired of complacency. And I'm tired of being overruled by lesser men.”
“Careful—” Roderick said but Julian immediately cut him off.
“Life is short. You could literally be run through with a spear at any point in time, believe me. Stop wasting all of our time. You stifle progress out of jealousy and your petty grievances with how I operate. You want to get rid of David Purdue, like you say? Then let's do it. Right now. Stop stalling. Or are we just going to wait for him to outmaneuver you yet again?”
“You are treading on very thin ice, Corvus,” Roderick growled.
“The amount of disrespect you have shown us—” Gustav looked baffled at Julian's responses, like he expected things to go far more smoothly than they had.
Julian threw his hands in the air. “Respect is irrelevant right now. A change needs to be made whether you like it or not.”
“Maybe...” Roderick said with a shrug, rubbing his bony chin. “ ...but that change will be made without you.”
“Will it? You're going to cut out the most successful operative the Black Sun has ever had just out of sheer spite? After I did what you couldn't? After I beat David Purdue?”
“David Purdue is not beaten. He would have beaten you if not for your revival. You lost. You were just lucky that they stabbed you with some blessed spear and not literally anything else.”
“Was it luck? Fate, perhaps? Seems like destiny to me; brought back to fix the damage you've done to this society. To make improvements.”
“Whatever the case. Your supposed miracle rebirth will have no consequence on the future of the Order of the Black Sun.”
Julian took his feet off the table and leaned forward in his seat. He scanned the faces around the table one by one and each one looked away from his cold gaze. They were afraid. They were afraid of change. They were afraid of him.
They were right to be.
“Very well,” Julian said, sitting back in his seat, and looking deflated. “However, I may have one final thing to persuade you.”
Roderick balked. “And what is that? What new angle do you have this time? What bold claims and promises are you going to roll off of that silver tongue of yours, Corvus?”
“Just this bit of wisdom,” Julian said. “Aging gracefully is all about adapting to the changing world. Unfortunately, many of the elderly get stuck at one point in time and then fail to realize that the rest of the world has moved on without them. They are out of the loop. Hopelessly trapped in their old ways, unable to change. And as their bodies fall apart. As their mobility goes, and their hearing, and their vision ... the rest of the world keeps on turning. So, gentlemen, here is what you have to understand about my point. Not everyone in this order is as blind as all of you.”
Julian pulled a blade from his sleeve and the bodyguards surrounding the conference table pulled out their own weapons.
Then came muffled screams that were quickly silenced.
Sasha and Galen stood in the hallway outside of the conference room. Being the ones with the most history with Julian, the verdict of whatever decision was made was crucial for both of them and their future within the Order of the Black Sun. So, they waited on pins and needles to be the first to hear what was going to happen.
Galen was trying keep his volume low, but was still practically screaming in a panic. “They can't really be considering this. That bastard is a lunatic. Put a goddamn straight jacket on him. Not a crown!”
Sasha rolled her eyes at her recruit. “There is no crown, Galen. Don't be so dramatic.”
“Look, I know I'm new to all of this. I'm not part of the inner circle or even the outer circle. I don't give a shit about all of that shit, but a wee baby would know better than to put a madman like Julian in charge.”
“You're right,” Sasha said. “You are new. So, your opinions mean shit.”
“Then you should say something!”
“My opinion only means slightly more than yours. I've been here for some time but I'm just an enforcer. I have no pull in the inner circle. I pull triggers. That's it. They load the gun. They aim it. They call the shots.”
Galen shook his head frantically, desperately trying to convince her of his views. “He's supposed to be dead! Like, the permanent kind of dead. The rotting corpse kind. Instead there is a zombie in there trying to take control of our society.”
“Our? Awfully soon to be speaking like that, don't you think? Just keep that big mouth of yours shut and let's wait and see how the cards fall. Maybe he'll be accepted back in. Or maybe they'll dispose of him for good this time. Don't jump to conclusions. I didn't recruit you to make a mess of decisions that don't even concern you. I really don't want to have to put a bullet in your other leg.”
“Doesn't concern me, aye? The man nearly drowned me to death
in a swamp! He threatened to wipe out a whole island of tourists on Rhodes. Families. Children. He's unhinged!”
The meeting room doors opened, and Julian stepped out, flanked by a handful of other men. Sasha recognized some of them as the inner circle's guards and there were even a couple members of the Eclipsed mixed in. They shouldn't have been there, and they had obviously latched back onto their former leader rather quickly.
Julian walked past them without a word. He glanced at them briefly with his gray eyes and a flashed them a wide, crazed smile, but only for a second before it was gone. They waited as he and his entourage moved down the hall and turned the corner, out of view.
“Too much to hope that they're escorting him to his execution? At least kicking him out of the building?” Galen offered, knowing how moronic he sounded. “Throwing him off the rooftop I hope.”
Sasha looked back to the meeting room doors. No one else was leaving and they weren't any voices echoing from within. The old men were nowhere to be seen. Usually they liked fading back into the shadows when they weren't needed, but none of them hurried out. Galen felt her elbow nudge his attention away from Julian and to the room. They slowly walked up and peeked their heads inside.
There was a long boardroom table and a number of seats surrounding it. Galen had sat there on his first day with the Order of the Black Sun and been thoroughly questioned by the leadership. He remembered how uncomfortable that room was—but it was nothing compared to the scene they saw now.
Most of the inner circle were still in their seats, gathered around the table, but they weren't speaking. They weren't even moving. They were all facing one another with varied expressions. Some with looks of horror while others slumped in their chairs with their eyes closed.
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9 Page 40