I’m sick and tired of this job. I think I need a vacation. Matter of fact, I think I need to retire. Some of the older girls told me this would happen. “You’ll get burnt out,” they said. “It happens to every social worker. There comes a time when you feel so stretched thin that you can’t even get out of bed in the morning.” That’s how I feel now. I’m stretched thin and I just want to give up.
Maybe on everything. I know I’m wearing his ring, and Nate is still the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But who am I kidding? I can’t keep up with him. All of his dinner parties and Wall Street pals, and Trish and her blood thirsty entourage swarming over our heads wherever we go—I’m starting to feel like I just can’t do it anymore. Stori is right. I’m just a wannabe. I may look and act the part to critical acclaim, but deep down inside I’m still from the gutter. How does the saying go again?—you can take the child out of the jungle but you can’t take the jungle out of the child. That’s me.
I’ve decided on it. I’m a failure.
I even failed at being a social worker. I came into this thinking I was going to change so many lives and intervene on young children falling into the pit of hopelessness. I guess I was doing it to redeem my own past—take control of it, place it all into those neat orderly files. But my efforts were fruitless. Stori might have on that nice dress, but who am I kidding? She’s never going to stop being the cold bully she is and never going to stop having those episodes of paranoia.
Life is so fucking unfair.
The fifteen year old girl, Destiny, wears lavender chiffon and Swarovski barrettes in her hair. She comes up the wide white marble staircase of the mansion’s great room and faces the magician at the podium. The magician is hosting the fundraiser and has been doing mediocre magic tricks for the past hour. He looks down fondly at Destiny as she comes up the stairs. He hands her a microphone, “And here is Destiny. Destiny please tell us about what the Pilgrim’s Island Girls Home means to you.”
The spectators gaze on the girl, quietly taking sips from their champagne glasses.
“My name is Destiny Sperance,” she says. She looks nervous and I’m waiting with baited breath for her to continue. It’s torture watching someone have to speak in public, knowing how uncomfortable they are. Just when I think she might drop the microphone and run out of the room she goes on. “I used to live in the Hills. My father worked at the die factory by the sound. But when he got sick he couldn’t work no more. My mother tried her best to provide, but she’s disabled. We lost our house. We didn’t have nowhere to go and I was scared…” Her voice trails off. She’s thinking maybe, of what to say next. Or is it that there’s something she wants to say but can’t. She looks almost frightened. She glances to Mistress Smyrna who fires a venomous look at her. She swallows, clears her throat and continues. “But Mayor Vaughn came and visited me at the shelter. He promised my parents that he would give me a safe place to live. It was hard for them to let me go, but they knew I would have a better future if I lived here at the home. I never dreamed it would be this beautiful. Mayor Vaughn has saved my life.”
The spectators give a collective and sustained Aww.
The magician puts his hand on the back of Destiny’s head and says, “Well thank you, Destiny. Why don’t we hear what Mayor Vaughn has to say about your experience?”
The room claps proudly.
Mayor Vaughn takes the microphone. I roll my eyes. Another speech? This guy loves hearing the sound of his own voice. “Thank you, thank you. It’s been quite a busy week. As all of you know the grand opening of Strive was just two days ago…” He doesn’t have to cue the audience for them to start cheering. “Thank you, thank you,” he says basking under their adoration. “Please. I’m not done. Oh, you’re too kind, but really…” They’re still clapping and he takes a bow and they clap some more. Finally it quiets down enough for him to speak again. “Ahhh, my fine people of Redemption. It’s been a crazy ride. It really has. Getting Strive erected was nothing less than a miracle for this town. But Redemption is a city of miracles I believe. Yes. Miracles. Here in Redemption the impossible becomes possible. The unattainable becomes attained. The too far out beyond our wildest dreams becomes reality. And do you know why?” He points into the crowd at someone. Everyone looks to see who it is. But then he points somewhere else. And then somewhere else. Then he runs his finger in zigzags all across the room. “It is because of you. Redemption’s finest. Your sacrifices, your contributions, your willingness to commit yourself to service—those are the miracles. You see, all you have to do is believe. Believe. And dreams really do come true. But we cannot forget the least of us. For has is not been said that ‘What you do to the least of them you do to me?’
“This home here is just as important to me as any of my other projects in Redemption. In fact, if you want in a little secret, it just might be the closest to my heart. You see, I was raised to never forget about the little people. I was taught by my mother, God rest her soul, that the little people have a place too here in Redemption. And as hard as we work to make this place a monument to go down in history, we cannot forget those who have fallen on hard times. Those like Destiny. Those like the other girls you have had the pleasure of meeting tonight. Let’s give them something they have never had before. Our compassion, our generosity. Let’s teach them good things. Let’s lead them by the hand into the future and show them that they can take each and every step with honor and pride. This home is a place where these girls have access to all the things they never did in the Hills or the Valley. I believe many of these faces are going to be prominent ones in Redemption’s future. You will see their faces again. And the next time you do, you will be able to say, ‘I was a part of that story. I believed in her and took a chance. And look how she has not failed me.’”
The crowd gives a roaring applause. Some of them, putting their champagne glasses to the floor.
“So how about it?” the magician says. “How about we join in on Destiny’s story and become a part of her success too? Now it’s that time in our live auction where we will give all of you a chance to contribute. Now is the time for our first paddle call. I would like to see how many of you can contribute one hundred dollars.” Please, raise your paddles high. I see one, two, three four, woahhhh! Too many to count. Yes! Yes! That’s right. Please, sir, keep yours up. Please wait and someone will come over and take your information and most generous contribution. It is much appreciated folks.”
I take a sip of my champagne and watch as Nate lifts his paddle high up into the air. Jerry does the same. An attendant comes to them with a pen and paper. The mayor is off in a corner with the Redemption Press.
I’m standing with a group of wives, including Deb and the mayor’s wife. Mistress Smyrna strides over. She wears a long sequence gown that lets out a moderate but fascinating train at her heels. It drags on the floor behind her. “This is a wonderful event, is it not?” she comments coolly.
I only smile. I’m trying not to have a nervous breakdown and not do what I always do—let my emotions get the best of me and say things I know I’ll regret later.
I nod over to Stori. “Stori looks lovely. She’s mine,” I tell her.
“Oh?”
“Yes. I worked her case for a while before she came here. She’s quite special. I hope you’ll take good care of her. You will won’t you?”
“But of course.”
“Don’t put too much pressure on her at first. She doesn’t like that.”
“Of course, dear. Of course.”
Mistress Smyrna turns her attention to Deb and the mayor’s wife. “My two beauties. Do tell me. When are we going to have another one of those delicious little girl retreats again?”
“Oh,” Deb complains. “I am so in need of a vacation, you have no idea. Jerry and I just came back from the Dominican, and already I’ve been bugging him for a weekend at the Keys.”
“You should do it,” the mayor’s wife says, “The Keys are my absolute favorite. My hus
band’s too.”
“You have impeccable taste. As does he. I do believe your husband is the best thing that ever happened to Redemption.”
Oh shit. Here it comes. “Nobody even likes him,” I say. “They’re all just faking,”
They twist their heads and blink simultaneously.
“Excuse me?” Mistress Smyrna replies.
“I said everyone here is so fucking fake. They don’t even like the mayor. We don’t like each other either. We’re just pretending. All of this, everything you see, the laughter, the smiles, the pretentious little appetizers. It’s all pretending.”
“And the money that’s being raised,” Mistress Smyrna asks. “Is the generosity pretending too? Are they giving only Monopoly Money?”
“They are giving. Yes. But they are giving so that they can be seen giving. They are giving to their own egos. Look at how everyone’s eyes are on each other. But are any of them even looking at Destiny? Or Stori? Or any of these young girls?”
The skin around Mistress Smyrna’s nose twitches and she lifts her chin a little. “Honey, I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.” She reaches her hand up in the air and it seemed to rise almost to the very chandelier hanging above her head. She snaps her fingers and a pretty girl with mild acne appears. “Water,” Smyrna says. “As quick as you can.”
Water arrives on a serving tray in less than a minute. The waitress takes it off the tray herself, presents it to Mistress Smyrna as if it were a newborn child.
Mistress Smyrna looks down her nose at her and said, “It’s not for me.”
The girl just stands there with a look of confusion on her face. “Mam?”
Mistress Smyrna does not deign to answer.
Then the girl finally turns and looks at me. “So it’s for you Mam?”
I don’t answer either. I look at the girl, I look at Mistress Smyrna. Finally I look at the glass, take it from the tray and fling it’s contents directly in Mistress Smyrna’s face.
Those who are in the vicinity gasp. Women touch their beaded necklaces. Even Stori has her mouth hanging wide open. A man in spectacles with no rims or earpiece, with only the glass floating about his small nose asks, “Too hot in here is it?”
I finally looked at Nate. For once in his life he is speechless.
I want to say it out loud, but I can’t. So I only say it in my heart. As I slip my Ferragamos from my aching feet and back out of the room slowly: I’m sorry, Nate. I’m so so so sorry.
30: Stori
I lie in the dark waiting, wearing the white sleeveless nightgown that was given me by the maid who turned down my bed. The steak knife from dinner is at my hip, secured by a double knot in my underwear. Right next to Father Ash’s key. When he comes in here, and tries his little perverted plan with me, he’s getting shanked. That’s what I’m telling myself. That I CAN kill if I want to. I swear I’m capable of it. I’m not afraid.
Mistress Smyrna is dead too, wherever she’s hiding, for that’s my utmost intention.
At last, the doorknob turns and I brace myself, prepared to unleash hell.
But it’s not him. It’s a Black Boot. He puts his head inside and says, “Get up. The Mistress wants you.”
I rise, throwing off my covers. “Let’s go.”
The halls of Mistress Smyrna’s estate are cloaked in silence and darkness. I don’t think I’ve taken a real breath until we arrive at her door. So I allow myself a split second deep inhale-exhale. This is the moment of truth.
Black Boot knocks and a female voice calls from within, “Enter.”
We enter.
Oh my God! I’ve been in this place before! In my dream!
The four post bed, the French doors opening onto the balcony. I can’t let her see that I know this place. Mistress Smyrna stands under a fur coat on the balcony with her back to me. “Give her something for the cold.”
The Black Boot looks around and finds a satin shawl draped over a chaise. He puts it around my shoulders. Like that’s gonna help.
Outside the moon is full and snow is falling. The city is lit up, but under fog. If I had been brought here under different circumstances, I would have called it beautiful.
I step onto the balcony and wait. This woman is no match for me, so I’m not even worried.
She turns to face me. “Hello Stori.”
I can’t bring myself to respond.
“You must be wondering why I summoned you in the middle of the night. Let me explain. I want the truth. Tell me, what happened that night at the casino.”
“Nothing. It was a dare. My friend Richie dared me.”
She shakes her head regretfully. “Why is it that I don’t believe you?”
I better play stupid for a while, until my chance to strike. “That’s all it was. I promise.”
“The cameras show you going inside the tiger’s den.”
“I didn’t go all the way in.”
“You didn’t?”
“Okay. I was looking for my dad. But I didn’t find anything. I’m sorry. For trespassing. I know it was wrong.”
“Let’s cut to the chase. You know about the crown.”
How does she know? “What crown?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. Is that what you were looking for?”
I think of her leaning over my father and no longer can hide my hatred. “I don’t have to answer any of your stupid questions.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong Stori. Have you ever heard of waterboarding?”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Patrick over here,” she nods to the Black Boot, “Spent three years working in Guantanamo Bay. And he’s just jonesing to remember what it’s like.”
Maybe now is the time. If I kill her first, I might have enough space and strength to take a good jab at Patrick, ward him off at least.
My mind is already playing out how I will cut her open and leave her there to bleed, when something inside the room by her bed catches my eye. It’s glowing. But not like one of the red candles dotted all about the room. This glow is different.
It’s emerald green and it’s pulsing. Almost like something is coming alive.
Is it a book?
Yes it’s a book.
Could this be the one Father Ash and Caroline told me about? The one that mentions me in it? The one from Hermes?
I don’t have the luxury for distractions and I know killing this evil witch is more important, so I dismiss it.
But the book doesn’t dismiss me! It starts to move. It floats up off its easel and soars over to us.
The book stops in the center of the balcony, low to the ground.
I feel something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before: Obedience. One that trumps anger, revenge, cunning.
I forget the knife, the plan, the hatred and step before the book and kneel.
Oh floating book
Oh book so holy
Oh book I’ve never known
How is it that I know you?
For I remember when I held you in my hands
Your pages ever turning
Tell me a story again
That one you told when I was in the Father’s home
What father’s home?
Oh yes!
I am the daughter
I am the kindred
Oh holy book leading me inward
Back to self
Back to memory
Lead me back to home
“No Patrick,” I hear the Mistress say. “Let it go to her. I need to see.”
The book opens and upon the page are strange symbols. They make no sense. But I must know what those words are saying. Something inside me would give my very life to know.
Intent on Knowing I stare and stare and stare, and I believe in a girl within me who is able to read those words. It takes some time, but in the stillness and steadiness of my own intention, I meditate even deeper and that’s when the magic happens—the meaning appears.
And so I read:
<
br /> I, Hermes, brought my curious pupil, Tat, to the pyramids. I pointed to their grandeur and I asked. “What made this temple, my son?”
“Ingenuity,” Tat said. “Matched with Science.”
“Ahah. But what is it that came before this ancient art of Science?”
He could not answer so I told him, “Art. Art came before Science.”
He conceded to my truth and then I ventured further. “And do you know what came before Art?”
“What came before Art?”
“Wisdom.”
“Yes, great master. You are true to say that Wisdom came before all the great feats of man.”
“And do you know from which way does wisdom come?”
He could not fathom an answer. So I wasted no time in providing it for him. “Innocence. It is the most ancient power, and the foundation of all progress from man. The Crown that every Pharos, every king longs to get their hands on, was forged through the heart of an innocent.”
“Where is it?” Tat asked.
“I cannot tell you because I do not know. But I can tell you where it will end up.”
“Where?”
“At the dawn of a new age, the Sons of Darkness will have besieged a glittering city far from this place where our feet our planted. Within that glittering city will be a daughter of Shinar. She will have an unsmiling face, yet a heart that yearns. Just when the war between the dark and light is near finished, when the dark has all but annihilated the light, the girl will come upon these words. Find the Crown, girl. The one forged at the Tower of Babel long ago. Find the Crown and bring it back. Bring it back through time, for time and space is only but a mirage, you see. Release yourself from body; become spirit girl. Once you take up this task a purple moon will rise and the darkness will tremble. Bring it back to the Tower that was created to restore man to divinity.
If you do not, the final age of darkness will descend. Like a moon being eclipsed permanently your people will know destruction, war and famine, until the final flood comes. And all will be washed away from the desolate land.
The Book, the Key and the Crown (Secrets of the Emerald Tablet Book 1) Page 27