The Genesis of Seven

by Sara M Schaller

  She nodded and took a step back into the house. “Let’s get you all in out of the cold so you can introduce me to your angel friends.” When we all stopped, she added, “Oh, please. Helen might not tell me things, but I know enough.”

  I looked at the angels, who shrugged. Together, we entered the foyer, and I felt my parents’ presence immediately. The interior was absolutely breathtaking. I could only imagine what the rest of the house looked like.

  What I thought was a portico was actually a turret, and we were standing in the middle of its rounded shape. Looking up at the ceiling, I saw the roof topped off in a peak, and windows graced the uppermost section, allowing natural light to flow below. At my feet, three shades of marble joined together to create the design of a compass. A spacious hallway led to the back of the house, and to my right and left were more hallways leading further in. The banister on the grand spiraling staircase was ornately decorated, and paintings and artwork were placed all over.

  “Welcome home,” Martha said. “Please excuse the slight mess.” She retrieved a feather duster from a table near the door. “And apologies for making you wait so long. I was doing some cleaning upstairs when you called, and the intercom phone is in the mudroom.”

  I gazed around, marveling at the grandness, but nothing seemed messy or unclean.

  “Make yourselves comfortable. You can hang your coats by the door.” Martha indicated a coat rack.

  I shrugged off my jacket and hung it up.

  “Oh, dear!” Martha was alarmed. “What happened to you?”

  My injuries were healing, but it was a slow process. “The fallen,” I told her.

  “They did this to you? Oh, goodness me. I’d curse Satan right now, but given our present company, I’ll refrain.” She came closer to inspect the cut on my face.

  Behind her, all the angels grinned, a sign they definitely approved of Martha.

  “Who stitched you up?”

  “Raphael,” I said.

  She took her attention away from me to look at him. “Nice work.”

  “Were you a doctor?” he asked.

  “No, I was a nurse. As you can imagine, I’ve seen a lot.”

  “I bet. When did you change professions?”

  “Gosh, well…a long time ago now. I was forty-five when I stopped nursing and took the position here. It’s been eighteen years since then.”

  “You’ve worked here my entire life?” I asked.

  “Yes, I have, and I won’t stop until the day I die.”

  Her commitment was astonishing. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  She put a hand on my cheek. “You’re welcome.” Then, she turned back to the angels. “Now, who are the rest of you?”

  They went about introducing themselves.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I guess I’ll let you settle in. I can show you the house, if you want?”

  “That would be great, Martha.” Gabriel placed a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll make sure all the luggage gets inside while you look around.”

  They retreated back outside.

  I turned to Martha. “Would you mind if I looked around by myself?”

  “Not at all. Let me know if you need anything.” With a smile, she walked down the hall to my left and disappeared.

  Alone, I let my feet take over. Following the direction Martha went, I passed through a formal sitting room adjacent to the foyer. From there, I discovered the living room, dining room, and eat-in kitchen, each branching off from the other.

  In the kitchen, Martha was taking inventory of the pantry. I noticed there was a back staircase leading to the second floor, which would be great for late-night snacking or sneaking around. The living room boasted a sixty-inch flat-screen TV that could be hidden behind a painting at the touch of a button, and the dining room table could easily seat sixteen.

  The entire right side of the house was designated as the library, a space so large and filled with so many books it spanned several rooms. Zadkiel would love it. I discovered another room attached to it, but it was locked, so I couldn’t go in. I thought this was strange, but I kept moving.

  From the library, I found another set of stairs and went down. The lower level had doors right out onto the back lawn and an incredible view of the lake and gardens. There was also a gym and another locked room on this floor, but I was so overwhelmed by everything else I didn’t have the focus to wonder where it might lead.

  Retracing my steps, and slightly concerned I could actually get lost in this labyrinth of a house, I reached the bottom of another set of stairs. I’d saved this part for last because I knew my parents’ room must be up here as well as mine. Taking a deep breath, I went up.

  The staircase brought me to a hallway with a series of doors that led to guest rooms, all lavishly comfortable but lacking a personal touch. All except for Martha’s suite. Coming out of this hallway, I found myself in a common room with another entertainment setup. I gazed out the window at the front drive.

  My internal compass registered I had just investigated the upper-left side of the house. If all the guest rooms were here, that meant the family rooms were on the right. Turning myself in that direction, I stared down the hallway at a lone door. It struck me as odd that it was the only room in sight. I wondered if it was theirs, or mine.

  Inching slowly down to the door, I placed my hand on the curved knob and dropped my forehead to the wood. I could no longer hold everything in. Tears streamed down my face.

  Intuitively, from that brief touch of polished metal, I knew what stood beyond the door, and I wasn’t prepared to face it. Not yet.

  It was their room.

  Releasing the knob, I backed away and brushed at my cheeks. Caught up in my own nerves, I hadn’t seen the small set of spiral stairs winding up from the hallway. Placing my foot on the first step, I started up.

  At the top of the short stairway was a wooden door with the letter “J” carved in it. Automatically, my fingers traced the swooping curve. I wasn’t expecting a queen-size bed and furnishings for an adult, but this room was unmistakably mine. All the things I had ever wanted, wished, or dreamed for as a child had been magically placed inside the room: a bay window with a reading nook, a TV room attached in a small alcove, a private bathroom with a huge shower, all the books, movies, and music I’d ever been interested in. Everything my heart desired.

  I knew this wasn’t the work of my parents. This had Sister Helen and Martha written all over it.

  A knock at the door drew me away from my thoughts.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Gabriel said. “I figured you’d want this.” He placed my duffel on the floor.

  “Thanks. What about the backpack?”

  “No longer your burden. Now we’re here, Zadkiel is determined more than ever to open that thing. He already has Jophiel analyzing the lock.”

  “Good.” A thought hit me. “I’m sorry. Did you all settle in? I kind of just left you.”

  “No worries. Martha helped us, and we settled in just fine. Zadkiel and Jophiel are holed away in the library, Chamuel is in the kitchen, Raphael is setting up an infirmary downstairs, Michael is inspecting the gym, and Uriel is exploring around outside.”

  I laughed. “I thought he was cold.”

  Gabriel smiled. “I think he wanted you to get on with facing your past.”

  “That sounds like Uriel. What about you?” I wondered. “Have you found a place for yourself?”

  “Oh, yes. I find the sitting room quite nice. There’s also a music room with a piano where I’ll probably spend most of my time.”

  “There is? I guess I haven’t seen everything.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “Well, it’s hard to do in a house this big. By the way, we’ve claimed some bedrooms to store our things in, retreat to, and freshen up. I hope that’s okay with you?”

  “Of course. It’s comforting to know I won’t be up here alone.”

  Gabriel put a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll get through this. And we’ll b
e here, no matter what.”

  “I know.” I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Gabriel!” Zadkiel shouted. “Where are you?”

  Gabriel dropped his hand and went down to the hall. I followed after him.

  “What is it?”

  “There’s been a development with the lock.”

  “Did you open it?”

  “No. It’s hard to explain. Come see!”

  34

  Jordan

  New York State, Present Day

  “The guys filled me in about the backpack. There was no way I was going to miss this,” Martha said as we entered the library, where the others had all gathered.

  Gabriel and I smiled and joined them around a wooden table strewn with books.

  “What did you find?” I asked.

  “At first glance,” Jophiel began, “this device appears to be a normal lock. However, on closer inspection, I discovered this.” He pressed his finger into the bottom of the lock, morphing it into a triangular shape.

  “How did you do that?” Michael asked.

  “Easy. What we thought was the keyhole is actually a button that, when pressed properly and with enough force, transforms the object into its rightful shape.”

  I drew closer to get a better look.

  “What does this mean?” Uriel asked.

  “It means the lock doesn’t open with a traditional key,” Raphael said.

  I groaned. “I thought the key would be easy to find because it would look like this.” I pulled the house key out of my pocket. “Now, it’s some wacky, unique…impression thing?” I fumbled for the words because it was hard to describe exactly what we had to look for. The lock had completely flattened into a triangle. The device had an indentation with a sort of pattern on it, presumably where the key was to be inserted, but it seemed intricate.

  “I said there had been a development. I didn’t say it was a good one,” Zadkiel said.

  I sighed. “So, we’re back to square one?”

  “Pretty much,” Jophiel said.

  “Well, I see this as a good thing,” Martha offered.

  We all stared at her, dumbfounded.

  “What? At least you know what key shape you’re looking for now.”

  I embraced her optimism since it was all we had, but the fact she didn’t know where the key was probably meant it wasn’t in the house. “So, the key isn’t here?” I asked her.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be. There are so many keys hidden in this house, it’s a mystery it hasn’t turned into a lock shop.”

  She chuckled at her own joke, but I was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sure you found the locked rooms,” she said.

  I nodded, remembering the one downstairs and the door in this very library.

  “I haven’t found the keys for them yet. Your parents hid them so no one could get in.”

  “Why would they do that?” Michael asked, detecting suspicious behavior.

  “I’m not entirely sure. All I know is, the room over there”—she pointed to the other side of the library—“was your father’s office. The locked room downstairs was your mother’s studio.”

  “Studio?” I asked.

  “Yes, your mother was a painter. Not professionally, but she could have been. Most of the pictures in the house are hers.”

  I never knew my mother had such talent. The new knowledge brought a smile to my face.

  “The only other room that was locked was the wine cellar,” Martha continued, “but I managed to find that key. Believe me, it was no easy feat—step on this floorboard, touch this piece of paneling, and then, voila! A secret compartment popped out of the shelf. The only reason I managed that was because I got tangled up in the vacuum cord and nearly fell down.” She chuckled at the memory.

  We all stared as she told her bizarre story. A few of us couldn’t help but laugh along.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “my point is, Helen likely wouldn’t have hidden the key here because she knows how impossible it is to find the secret compartments.”

  I sighed, defeated.

  “This shape seems so familiar,” Gabriel interrupted.

  “How so?” Zadkiel asked.

  “The triangular form. It reminds me of something, but I can’t figure out what.”

  “The shape is appropriate,” Jophiel said. “I mean, Sister Helen must have put this lock on the bag if she wanted Jordan to open it, and the fact she worked at Holy Trinity brings to mind triangular symbolism.”

  I turned to Martha. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “Not really. I’m not a member of the Sacrarium, though I know more than the average person. Helen never confided in me as a matter of protection, but you gather a little here and there from overheard conversations.”

  Gabriel nodded in understanding.

  “There is a tiered ranking system within the Sacrarium to determine how much each member knows,” she explained.

  “Like a hierarchy?” Michael asked.

  “Exactly,” Martha responded. “The highest classification is Alpha, otherwise known as the Head of the Sacrarium. There is only one Alpha, and Helen is it. She distributes information to members and hardly tells anyone of her plans unless necessary. The second classification is Beta, and these members are typically the ones Helen interacts with the most, informing them of almost everything and giving them covert duties. The third classification is Gamma. They are informed on a need-to-know basis and are only called upon when needed.

  “Finally, the lowest classification is Novice. A Novice is someone who has not yet taken the sacred oath to protect the bloodline. They are taught rudimentary information to prepare for their oath-taking. One must be a Novice for five years before they can take the oath. This ensures they are dedicated and trustworthy. The Sacrarium hardly ever gets Novices nowadays. Numbers have been dwindling over the years.”

  “All of this to say you don’t know about the backpack?” Jophiel clarified.

  “Yes.” Martha nodded.

  I let out a breath. “So, Sister Helen is in charge of the Sacrarium?”

  She nodded again.

  This didn’t surprise me. Leadership was a natural trait of Sister Helen’s.

  Martha must have detected our low spirits. “I will do whatever I can to help you find the key. Who knows, Helen may have hidden it here. She certainly is not predictable and would resort to any means necessary to protect something so important.”

  “It’s in this house, I know it,” I said.

  “Why do you think that?” Chamuel asked.

  “Because…” It was hard to explain. “A gut feeling, I guess.”

  “Maybe you should look around your room,” Martha suggested. “When Helen visits, she always makes sure to check on it.”

  “Why?”

  “I think because she always thought you would come back here one day, so she wanted your room to be perfect.”

  “Well, if Sister Helen wanted me to find this key, and she was in my room, that’s the place it’s most likely to be.”

  I left everyone in the library and started back upstairs, but instead of going straight to my room, the lone door at the end of the hall seemed to call me toward it. I knew I had to find the key, but my curiosity got the better of me. Approaching my parents’ door this time, I didn’t hesitate to twist the knob and step inside.

  Upon first inspection, it seemed like any other room, with a king-size bed, master bath, and a couple of dressers. It was the personal touches that made it unique to my parents. Trinket boxes, jewelry, and candles adorned the top of one dresser, while a pair of glasses, a watch, and other mementos covered the other. The four-poster bed was neatly made, with decorative pillows and an ornate bedspread. Each end table had a clock, one modern and masculine, the other ornamental and feminine. A book sat beside each, bookmarks still in place. In the sitting area, a small table strewn with various magazines was flanked by lounge chairs and ottomans.

 
; Stepping into the bathroom, I found two separate vanities containing the usual objects: toothbrushes, toothpaste, a razor, hairbrushes, cologne, and perfume. The closet was enormous, divided into two sides. Perusing through my father’s side, I knew I’d inherited his organizational habits. His clothes were neatly hung and his shoes all in a line but with no clear organization. Opposite, my mother had color-coded her shoes and attire, even sorting items by tops and bottoms. Nothing was out of place.

  I reached out each hand to touch my father’s shirt and my mother’s dress. This was the first time ever we were all in the same space, our energies mixing as one. At some point in my life, I would have to deal with moving their stuff, but right now, I just wanted to cherish everything. I didn’t want to move the books or touch the trinkets on the dresser because that was the way they had left them, and I didn’t want to give up this feeling of oneness, this feeling of finally belonging. It might be the only connection I would ever have to my parents.

  Having relished in the feeling for a while, I ascended the stairs that led to my room and went straight to my duffel bag in search of the envelope. Grabbing at the plastic bag inside, I sat down on the area rug and pried it open.

  I had to see their faces. I had to know who they were.

  Shuffling through the pile of photographs, I found pictures of my parents’ lives, from the time they took their first steps, to the lazy childhood summers and their graduation. It was apparent my mom and dad had known each other when they were young because many of the pictures featured them together as children. I realized they were high-school sweethearts.

  The photos afforded me more than just a glimpse into their younger years. They also revealed my grandparents, aunts, and uncles. I didn’t know if any of my parents’ siblings were still alive but I guessed not, because if they were, I probably would have been sent to live with them instead of at the orphanage.

  The next pile revealed my parents’ college years. My dad had attended Harvard, and my mom went to Cornell. I was surprised since I would be attending the same school in two years’ time. It was nice to know we shared something in common other than our DNA.