by Cole, Tillie
Beth froze. Noa gritted her teeth. “You can come.” Noa would just have to persuade her to stay in the van. Not let her in on where they were going until it was too late to turn back.
Beth looked back at Noa with wide, hurt eyes, but then shut the door. Noa put the car into reverse. “I’m sorry,” she said and watched some tension leave Beth’s petite body. “I’m just not used to company when I scout. I … I worry about you, that’s all.”
Noa pulled out of the manor and onto the hidden, private road it was situated on. Beth didn’t speak the entire time it took them to get onto the more main roads, which was over an hour. Unable to stand the tension, Noa said, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Beth said sharply. Noa glanced at her again. Every so often, Beth’s hands would move to her neck, her fingers gently rubbing at the skin. Noa frowned in confusion.
“Is your neck sore?”
Beth dropped her hands as if her skin had suddenly become a naked flame. A heavy blush infused her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she said but kept her eyes focused on the window. Noa knew something was up with Beth. She shook her head, understanding from Beth’s body language that she wasn’t going to tell her anything, and it suddenly dawned on her …
“Michael.” Noa turned onto a back road that would lead them to the location. Beth whipped her head to face Noa, shocked. Noa’s stomach turned. “That was where he bit you.” In the days afterward, Beth had refused to talk about what had happened in the back room of the Brethren barn. Michael didn’t remark on it either, but that was no surprise; he never talked. “Did he hurt you?” Noa asked. “Did …” She sucked in a breath. “Did it violate you?”
Beth ducked her head, her deep flush spreading to the tips of her ears. “Beth?” Noa pushed, then Beth shook her head. And Noa realized—Beth had liked it.
Noa opened her mouth to say something else, shock and concern running thickly through her heart, but before she did, Beth’s eyes narrowed on the road. “This isn’t the way to the planned location.”
Noa’s heart started beating too fast. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and she pushed down harder on the gas. The van moved quicker down the country road. Noa had cut the headlights long ago.
They weren’t far away now.
“Noa.” Beth sat forward in her seat, searching the barren area around them. “Noa, where are we going?” she asked, her voice tighter. Noa pushed the van harder. Dusk was darkening the sky. “We’re not going to the planned Witch Finders location, are we?”
It was several strained seconds before Noa said, “No.”
Beth swallowed hard. Noa turned the van onto a country lane, then pulled off the road to take shelter in a copse of trees. The van stopped, and Beth said, “Where are we, Noa?”
Noa stared straight ahead. “Perdition.”
Noa watched the shock, then stark fear engulf Beth’s pretty features. Beth began to shake her head. “No.” She frantically gestured to the ignition. “No, Noa. Take us away from here, right now!”
“I can’t do that,” Noa said coldly, gritting her teeth. She looked out of the window. The sky was almost pitch black. If she was lucky, no one would be there. She prayed it would be a quick break-in and extraction. “It’s here,” Noa said to Beth. “I know it is. It’s the only feasible place Auguste would keep his ledgers. I just know it.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Beth said. “Dinah said we were to scout the other places first. This was the last resort. If we’re caught—”
“You won’t be,” Noa said. “I’m going in alone.”
“Going in?” Beth shrieked in a raised whisper. “We’re here to scout. Not go in. We haven’t prepared for that.”
“If it’s empty, it’s our only chance to search it.”
“Noa, this is Father Auguste’s favored—”
“I know what this place is,” Noa said, cutting Beth off. “I’ve been here, remember?” Heavy silence stretched between them. “I’m going in alone,” Noa said. “You are staying here. I’m not arguing about it.” In her peripheral, Noa saw Beth’s hand dive into her pocket. She snatched the retrieved cell phone straight from Beth’s hand.
“Noa, give me that back!” Beth demanded.
“You’re not calling anyone.” Stubbornness and a deep well of familial protectiveness kept Noa stoic in her decision. Beth was looking at Noa, wide eyed, clearly not knowing what to do. “I know this place, Beth. And I won’t see any of our family, or Diel’s family, hurt. But we need that ledger, and I know that bastard has it here. Something inside of me is telling me it is here.” Noa sighed. “If you wanted to hide something that important, you’d do it in your least well-known place.”
“Please, Noa.” Beth’s voice was quiet and broken, as if she’d swallowed shards of glass.
“Stay here, Bethy,” Noa said softly. The sky was now dark enough for Noa to move freely, unseen in shadow. “Do not come after me. I’ll return soon. If I don’t …” Noa let that possibility hang in the air. “You drive home and get to safety.”
“Noa—”
“Promise me,” Noa interrupted. Beth began to shake her head. “I haven’t asked you for anything, Beth. Ever. Not once in our lives. But I am asking you this now. Let me do this. I can do this. But I have to do it alone. I …” Noa composed herself from the flash of sadness that burst in her heart. “I have to do this for Diel. For Cara.”
“Noa …” Beth’s voice was wounded. The Coven was a sisterhood. They always had one another’s backs. It was against everything they stood for to allow another sister to do something so dangerous on her own.
“Please.” Noa never pleaded for anything. But she did right then.
Noa left the van before Beth could respond. Relief sailed through her when Beth stayed in the van, brown eyes watery and huge as she watched Noa retreat. But she was doing as Noa had asked.
Noa pulled her hood over her head and buttoned her face covering in place. Then she was moving. She stayed close to the line of trees for coverage, a shadow moving through the tall grass. She followed the perimeter of the old church’s land until the dilapidated white building came into view. An abandoned old Catholic church that hid Auguste’s sinister secrets in its basement.
His personal playground.
Once upon a time there would have been a small community that attended this church, but those days were long gone, the church abandoned like so many around the US due to the decline in the Catholic faith. But the Brethren had made use of them without the wider church knowing. And Auguste had most certainly made use of this one.
Noa ducked behind a bush and studied the church. There were no vehicles outside. There were no lights on inside and absolutely no sign of movement.
Noa’s pulse fluttered in a dizzying mix of excitement and relief. There was no one here. She broke from the trees, keeping low as she cut through the abandoned field and to the window below the church’s steeple. She narrowed her eyes and looked through the cracks in the shutters. The church was in darkness. Noa didn’t waste any more time.
She moved to the door, broke through the old lock and slipped into the building. Memories assaulted her as the dank, musty smell of the two-centuries-old church barreled into her senses. Her skin felt on fire. Her lungs felt like they were filling with water. But Noa allowed herself three seconds of closing her eyes and quickly pulled herself back together.
Noa reached for the small flashlight on her belt. She switched it on and ran past the pews to the nave of the church. She scanned the altar, the pulpit and the many dusty statues of Mary, Mother of God, and the saints. Working clockwise, Noa moved every picture, every crucifix, searching behind them for a hidden safe, somewhere that would hold the ledger.
But after she had exhausted the pictures and statues, her attention kept drifting to the back door. Fear’s sharply clawed hands reached up from hell and wrapped around her throat. She knew what lay behind that door. And once, long ago, when she had been freed from there, she’d vowed never to return.
Yet here she was.
As much as she searched the main body of the church, she knew that the ledger was down there. Noa told her feet to move, but they were frozen in place, glued to the termite-ridden wood beneath her boots’ thick soles.
“Come on,” she whispered to herself, feeling as though her thundering heart was about to smash through the cage of her ribs and escape. Noa reached into the small pouch on her weapon belt. She hadn’t opened this pouch for so, so long. But her fingers seemed to move of their own accord and reach inside.
The smooth surface of the Tiger’s Eye crystal her grandmother had given her when she was younger warmed her skin. She pulled the crystal from the pouch, and even in the small light the flashlight offered, she saw the beauty of the brown and black crystal. And she felt it. She felt the courage it brought to her soul, the strength to see this mission through.
Diel’s face rose to her mind, a conjured mirage. Noa imagined the expression on his face when they managed to locate his sister. When Noa returned to the manor with the ledger that told him where Cara was. As she thought those things, the crystal in her palm filling her with its powerful energy, Noa felt her legs loosen and her feet begin to move.
She opened her eyes and, without overthinking anything, ran to the gateway to her personal hell. Hands trembling, she opened the door and stepped inside. She heard the familiar flowing water below, the spring underground that Auguste made full use of.
Swallowing, and clutching the crystal tighter, Noa made her way to the steep, winding staircase that had been formed from the earth. And she descended.
Damp slicked the walls; dankness swam in the air. The further she dropped, the darker everywhere became. She heard her own labored breathing echoing in her ears; she felt her heart thumping hard in her chest. Yet she didn’t stop. She didn’t stop until she landed in the main space. Noa couldn’t help the harsh burst of air that slipped past her lips. Her eyes were wide as all the devices came into view. Some she recognized well, and some were new.
You can do this. For Diel. For Cara.
Noa calmed her breathing, then began to search the room, detaching herself from any memories that threatened to rise inside her. She felt along the stone walls, searching for any sign of a hidden door, a closet. She searched and searched, but there was nothing.
Despair and disappointment ate at her soul as she frantically searched further, only for her hands to remain empty. “It has to be here,” she whispered. “Think!”
Then her eyes fell on a statue of Mary Magdalene at the far side of the room. Hands clasped together in prayer, shawled and veiled, a wayward woman redeemed by Christ.
Shunned.
Mary Magdalene had been shunned by the people, by Judas, until Jesus brought her into his fold. Some scholars believed she had been possessed by a demon and Jesus’s faith had cast it from her flesh.
Noa ran across the room, conscious that at any moment someone might find her. She stopped at Mary Magdalene’s feet and roved her eyes over the veiled face.
Shunned. Veiled. Hidden from the world … Noa wondered if that was what this statue represented. Those who the Brethren believed should be removed from society, from view.
Then her gaze fixed on one particular part of the statue, a faint circular mark on Mary’s hand. To anyone else it would seem a chip in the statue, a minute section of eroded stone. But to Noa, it was a key. She pressed it down. The stone sank, then the statue split in two, revealing a perfectly concealed safe.
Noa’s heartbeat was a fast-paced hymn as she shined the flashlight on the single shelf. Wrapped in a red cloth was a large book. Her hands shook as she reached in and withdrew it. She moved the cloth and opened the red leather-backed cover.
Noa’s legs weakened when she saw, written in perfect calligraphy, the word “Shunned” on the title page. She slammed the book shut and closed the safe, leaving no sign that the ledger had been taken. Noa was as quick as lightning as she climbed the steps back to the main body of the church and away from the hellish devices that sat mockingly below. She burst through the door to the altar, when a shuffling sound came from behind her.
Noa whipped around, knife pulled from her belt. Her body braced for an attack as she clutched the ledger closer to her chest. She drew her knife high, readying to strike, but as she sliced down, a petite person in black blocked her wrist. Noa locked on a familiar pair of brown eyes, the rest of the face hidden behind a leather face covering just like her own.
“Beth.” Noa drew back her knife, adrenaline still surging around her body.
“You were taking too long.” Beth focused on the ledger in Noa’s hand. “You found it.” She sounded breathless with relief.
Noa allowed them a second of mutual happiness. “I found it,” she breathed, heart lighter, then froze as the church was swathed in bright light. She rushed across the room and peered through an old shutter. Her stomach dropped ten feet. A town car had pulled in to park at the church, and Noa watched, panic building, as Father Auguste and the twin priests stepped out.
“Shit,” Noa hissed when they headed for the door … the door that she had left unlocked. “Back room, now!” Noa said to Beth. They ran for the small office where the priest would once have dressed. Relief filled Noa when she saw that the room had a window small enough for her and Beth to fit through.
Noa pulled the shutters back and opened the window. She winced as it creaked, the old wooden window frame crumbling in her hands. She pushed Beth through first, and part of her panic subsided when Beth’s feet hit the tall grass and the cover of night wrapped around her black leather clothes. Noa placed her foot on the window ledge, ready to follow, but then she heard the church’s main door open and Auguste hiss, “Someone’s in here.”
“Come on,” Beth whispered anxiously, and Noa went to jump from the window. But when she heard the twins’ feet rushing around the church, searching, seeking, and Auguste’s heavy footfalls coming her way, she turned to Beth and pushed the ledger into her hands. Beth stepped back, unsteady from the force with which Noa had placed the book in her protection.
Decision made, a bolt of pure fear threatened to take Noa down, but she breathed deeply, smelling the grass on the wind, and let nature quell her nerves. “Take it. Get it home. Take it to Dinah. She’ll know what to do,” Noa said. Before Beth could argue, her brown eyes widening in realization of what Noa was doing, Noa shut the window and sealed the shutters closed, trapping Beth outside.
The old priest’s office was silent as Noa locked herself inside. She stared at the door that led to the main body of the church. She held the knife in her hand and tucked the Tiger’s Eye crystal back in her pouch.
The calmness Noa felt surprised her as it began to flow through her veins. She had retrieved the ledger. Beth would see it home. The Brethren would never even know it had gone. Noa couldn’t explain it, but in that moment she smelled patchouli and lavender cocooning her—she sensed her grandmother’s presence standing beside her. And Noa smiled, imagining Beth rushing to the line of trees, running home with the ledger.
Diel would find Cara.
Noa closed her eyes and spread her arms wide. In the distance, she heard the feet of the priests closing in. Good. She needed them to focus on her. She needed to give Beth time to run away, to get the ledger back to Diel. Her armor cracked as she thought of Diel, of him discovering what she had done without telling any of them of her plans.
But that crack sealed when she thought of him seeing Cara’s name in that ledger, proof that she was alive. That his sister hadn’t perished. One day they would be reunited. They would find each other.
Noa smiled wider, feeling warmth envelop her body. And, drawing on the teachings of her grandmother, she kept her arms spread and said, “Goddess, I draw on the elements—earth, wind, fire, water and the aether. I draw on them to wrap around me, shield me from the evil forces that threaten to bring me harm. I draw on them to hold me in their embrace and fill me with strength.” As the protect
ion spell fell from Noa’s lips, she felt the final part of her broken spirit slot back into place, making her whole—the last fallen brick slid firmly back where it belonged.
Hushed voices grew louder, then those ever-moving footsteps landed at a stop outside the door. But Noa’s hands were still spread wide, the spell still slipping from her lips. “Goddess, I ask you to fill me with your courage, to fill me with light.” The door to the office burst open, and strong hands grabbed her outstretched arms.
“Witch.” Spit hit her cheek, but she kept her eyes shut.
Noa inhaled, exhaled. “Mote it be!”
The hand that sliced across her face made her head snap to the side, a crude and painful culmination to her protection spell. Her eyes slowly opened, and when she lifted her throbbing face, she saw Father Auguste right before her, eyes darkening with rage. “Witch,” he hissed. The twin priests held her arms wide, locked, as if she were tied to a cross. Noa tasted blood in her mouth. But her resolve did not break. She recalled her grandmother as the priests came for her in the forest, the strength and courage she’d possessed as she fought for Noa to get free.
And Noa felt that same strength fill her. She felt centuries of persecuted women filling her with the same boldness, the same courage that had been displayed by her people for hundreds of years. And Noa smiled. As Auguste visibly lost his grip on his anger, Noa smiled wider. She smiled because she was there, carrying the same faith as those who had been cut down before her. They died, were put through hell at the hands of the forefathers of these Brethren men, yet their treasured pagan ways remained. Witches remained against the odds, just like Noa and her sisters. Just as, Noa knew, they would survive even after Auguste had disposed of her too.
Though they might try, Noa knew then that with all the power and will in the world, the Brethren could never destroy Mother Earth herself. In the end, these misogynistic men could not break women.