LAST WEEK: A dark mansion crammed with books, a group of cats acting as librarians, and a new witchy friend her age; Renna’s stay in Groutney becomes far more interesting once she’s done with Job’s frustrating lessons. Will she be able to find a better study guide among the tons of tomes in Ebon’Tourelle?
Read the previous installment here. See all installments here.
“Well, I can’t say this hasn’t been a bit of a disappointment.”
Renna was sprawled out on the dusty carpet, with stacks of books rising up around her that she had already perused, skimmed, and skipped through. The bookshelf she had set up camp in front of was full of holes from which Renna had pulled out the most promising titles. It hadn’t been a complete waste—on the contrary, there were plenty of times when the texts helped her understand more of what Job had been trying to educate her on. Nevertheless, she felt like something was still eluding her. She was holding out hope for a book that could give her an “aha” moment, the discovery of that missing piece that stopped her short of bringing together everything she had learned so far.
But, after many hours of semi-productive searching, Renna was all but convinced that such an “aha” did not lie within the hundreds of thousands of pages in this library. At this point, she wasn’t even entirely sure what she was looking for. Maybe if she just let go of her preconceptions of there being a “better way” for her, she might make more progress with Job’s instruction. But, if she gave up, what if the next book she would have looked in had the answer right there? It was a no-win situation.
Sera looked up from the large tome she was flipping through on her lap. “Sorry you can’t find what you’re looking for. But I feel like I’ve been learning a lot. Just by searching through all this.”
Renna stretched out her back, twisting and turning and shivering as her muscles flooded with oxygen. “Yeah, I’m letting my frustration get the better of me. This definitely hasn’t been a waste. In fact, it’s been pretty fun, coming here and searching through books all day with you.”
Sera nodded, her long braids spilling onto the pages in front of her. “Me too. It’s a very nice change of pace. I hope the twins aren’t too mad at me though. I’ve been with them almost every day. for the past few weeks. I wonder if you would get along with them. I’ve never had so many friends at once before.”
Renna was all too glad for Sera’s friendship, but she wondered the same thing about the twins. Sera hadn’t told her much about them, yet what she did mention made Renna wary. Perhaps it was just Job’s anxiety channeled through her? No, it was more than that. It was in the way Sera talked about her “friendship” with them. There were too many things that stood out as odd—they had showed up so suddenly, and rather forcefully made themselves friendly with Sera. The twins always dictated when and where the three of them would be, and appeared to be very focused on helping Sera gain control of her own magic. Putting it all together, it seemed like they wanted something from her, but Sera was blind to their behavior, because people who crave friendship can be easily deceived. Whether at school or Inglenook, Renna had seen the patterns emerge many times before.
She didn’t want to dig into the subject at this particular time, however; confrontations with friends about other friends often led to fights. So Renna decided to question Sera about what had happened during their last time together.
“Sera, who were you talking about when we were with the librarians? Someone who taught you how to deal with them.”
“Oh, Anne-cadeau. Yes. She’s one of the Saints.”
“Saints?… Like, Catholic saints?”
“No. Well. Only sort of no. The Saints are just one name for them. Among many.”
“I see.” Renna let that falsehood fill the space while Sera pondered how to describe something terribly complex in her usual laconic style.
“The Saints that I commune with are not historical people. They’re spiritual forces. Or maybe even gods. Different people have different names for them. I grew up in New Orleans. So when they first found me. I called them by what I already knew.”
She could tell that Sera was explaining the best she could, but Renna felt like her understanding couldn’t widen fast enough to make sense of it yet. “So, were they the ones who taught you how to be a witch?”
The beads in Sera’s braids chattered softly as she rolled her head about in contemplation.
“Sort of. I never really meant to learn. It just happened over time. Because I’ve always been very open to that world.”
“Open? Like, open-minded?”
“No. Open. Like … open-spirited.” Sera gave Renna a heavy smile. “If you were wondering why I seem so tired all the time. That’s the reason for it.”
“Oh, I wasn’t really wondering that at all.” Renna regretted this quick response, as she didn’t intend to be false to her friend; it just felt like the “proper” thing to say. Job’s manners must have been rubbing off on her.
“Do you know what a spirit medium is?”
“I think so, it’s someone who can channel spirits with their body, right?”
“Yeah. Most spirit mediums are born with that ability. Because of how their souls are aligned with the energies of the otherworld. Once they learn how to use it. They can do amazing things. However. Being sensitive to spiritual energy can be a major pain. I guess it’s like a Hexing. In a way.”
Renna tempered her excitement of finding a friend who also had a weird magical birth defect. “So, I’m guessing that connection you have with spirits can be pretty exhausting then.”
“Bingo. I can’t turn it off. So all my energy gets used up pretty fast. I have to be conscious about my daily activity. Or else I get completely drained.”
“That sucks!” It reminded Renna of Alec from Inglenook, who had diabetes and thus always had to be wary of his blood sugar levels; not an easy feat for a kid who lived more like a dog than a human.
“It does. But I’m used that now. The real bad part is how susceptible I am to possession.”
“Possession? Like … Full-on spiritual possession by ghosts? Whatever that entails?”
“Yes. All my life. Spirits have been drawn to me like a magnet. When I was younger, I would get possessed several times a week. Sometimes it lasted for days. Until the exorcist could drive them out.”
“That sucks!” Renna couldn’t think of a more empathetic way to express herself at the moment, so she tried to let emphasis pick up the slack.
“Yeah. It took a toll on my health. Physically and mentally. My parents didn’t know what to do. Exorcisms cost a lot too. Even with a … bulk discount. One day, when I was possessed. I ran away from home. I couldn’t regain control. I thought that was it for me. I found myself in a graveyard in one of the old wards. And that’s when the Saints first found me.”
“And one of them is Anne…koo-dough?”
Sera was closely observing the paint stains on her arm (she must have washed them off every night, as they were different each time Renna saw her). “Anne-cadeau. She’s one of many. But I’m only in contact with a few. She’s very sweet and kindly. But there are some Saints who are scary or violent. I make sure not to call upon them.”
“You can control that now? Like, when you get possessed, I mean.”
“Mostly. The Saints have also been good teachers in magic. I guess some of them like me. So they taught me how to protect myself against other kinds of spirits. Now I only get possessed if I allow it.”
“Are there Saints that can take over your body without you allowing it?”
Renna saw that her question had been insensitive, as Sera seemed to tense up and withdraw a bit. She hung her head down so her braids covered up most of her face, and she took even longer to answer than usual.
“I don’t think they would. I feel the Saints are closer to gods than common spirits. They have respect for their mediums. At least, most of them do.”
“I see.” Renna had more questions, but when she saw how uncomfortable Sera was now, she thought it would be unkind to continue, so she decided to end the conversation. To alleviate the awkwardness that had settled itself between them, Renna got up and started looking over the remaining stacks on the bookshelf, tapping their spines absentmindedly and trying to look like she was engaged with the process.
“Renna, what’s your last name?”
“Huh? Uh, it’s Porter.” Renna was surprised by the non sequitur question, but was also glad that Sera had taken the initiative to speak first.
“Renna Porter. I see. That makes sense then.” Sera took a strange amount of satisfaction with that basic information.
“Your full name is Serafine, right?”
“Serafine Fressinau. It’s a long, fancy name. It sounds like it should be spelled with flowers.”
“It’s super nice! Mine sounds so … plain and short in comparison.”
“Is Renna a nickname?”
“Nope, just Renna. I guess I could shorten that down to Ren, but I don’t like the sound of it. You’ve got a great name for nicknaming though; Sera always works, but you could also be Finnie!”
“Finnie?”
“Sorry, do you not like it? I figured it would be a cute stretch from ‘-fine.’”
“No, I do like it. It’s nice.”
“Back at Inglenook, most of the kids got nicknames. Sometimes we don’t even know their real names. I guess it doesn’t matter as long as they like their nicknames best. It might get confusing to have more than one name, but it also seems neat to me. Sometimes it’s nice to have a name that’s only shared between a few people, y’know? It feels … valuable in some way. Like you know that person in a way that others don’t.”
Sera’s gaze was lost in the fluttering leaves of the trees just outside the window. “Yeah. I like the sound of that,” she said, without turning back to Renna. “You can call me Finnie then.”
Renna’s heart rose. “Sounds good! And you can … well, I guess just keep calling me Renna.”
“That also sounds good.” Sera pushed herself to her feet and stepped out of the fortress of books that had formed around her. “It’s about time that I get going. Are you going to stay here longer?”
Renna sighed. “Just a little bit. I don’t feel like going quite yet.” In truth, she had spent so much time talking to Sera that day that she had gotten significantly less searching done than she had hoped.
“Alright. See you later then.” Sera headed out the door.
“Yeah! See you Finnie!”
Renna passed the next twenty minutes trying to make up for lost time, but it was hard to focus on all the convoluted, uninspiring text. She had started wondering just how much longer they were going to stay in Groutney—the theoretical end point was when Renna had finished with her studies at the library, although she supposed that was more or less up to her.
They couldn’t delay for too long, however—supposedly there was still a demon out there. Job hadn’t dwelled much on the subject, which Renna took to mean that the Order they were a part of didn’t have much solid info. It had been gone for twelve years, and now it was back. Somewhere, somehow. What did a demon actually look like? Did it possess people? Was someone possessed by it now, against their will? The thought made Renna shudder, and she was glad that the Saints apparently had respect for their human hosts.
What was going to happen once they got to the Rectory? Just wait till it showed up? Did the Order have any kind of plan to defeat it? Renna looked around at the dozens of books that littered the old carpet. How much more learning and training would it theoretically take to stand a chance against a demon? And if it was ultimately coming for her, it meant that she had to be the one to defeat it, right? It had killed the rest of her family, after all, leaving her a total orphan. She knew she should hate it for that, even though it seemed like a separate lifetime.
The love and support that Inglenook provided had, over the long years, managed to pull Renna’s mind out of the awful darkness that once threatened to swallow it up. Behind her were the howling nightmares, emotional collapses, and terrible flashbacks in which she experienced things that seemed impossible but also agonizingly real. The sunny years at Inglenook had managed to fade these dark stains on her memory to less intrusive colors. And just one week ago, she had learned there was a reason for it all. She hadn’t actually been crazy. But she had been tormented.
Yes, she wanted to destroy that demon after all.
And she needed power to do it.
Renna came back to herself after her mental rant, letting her sight refocus on her surroundings. She smelled the books whose collected dust danced in the afternoon sunbeams. She heard the small chorus of creaks and cracks that the house made in its slumber. And she felt the binding of the book that her fingers were playing over, thick and creased with ages of wrinkles. It hadn’t caught her eye before when she was pulling books out, probably because it had no discernable title on the spine, similar to many others. The slightest bit of passing curiosity caught her, and she took it out to look. Renna had to squint to make out the letters that had nearly faded into the oblivion of age. The title appeared to her as
“The Book of Abramelin.”
Not very descriptive, but she peeled it open anyway. Renna was surprised to find that pieces of paper had been stuck between many of the pages, quite long ago, judging by how yellow and brittle they were. Someone before her had studied the text quite thoroughly. And it was a fortunate thing, as Renna soon realized that she could interpret almost none of the book’s writing, being both in a foreign language and in a loose handwritten script. Along with words there were also pictures, diagrams, charts, and inserts; the paragraphs flowed around them like water around stones in a river.
The book was not in great condition. Some parts were damaged badly enough to fray the corners of a page away, or stick two together. The troubles didn’t just end at the margins either, as the original author had some curious writing habits. Sometimes sentences ran off the sides of the page, or flowed down past the bottom. Some chapters began strong, but then petered off in the middle of pages, leaving the last words scattered like seeds underneath a stove.
It was frustrating to see, but at the same time so intriguing to Renna that she sat herself down on another pile of her books and continued to thumb through. The prior reader or readers of the book had done a good job of translating it, and Renna could understand their notes with little trouble. From what she could gather, the main narrative was a story, or rather an account by the author of a man who had lived very long ago. He was a philosopher, a doctor, a holy man, a traveler—perhaps even more, if the notes were to be trusted—that had met with the titular Abramelin, a sage dwelling in Egypt, who bestowed upon him the knowledge of incredible magics. Much of the book was dedicated to explaining what the traveler had learned in great detail.
There was so much there—it was in prose, poetry, puzzle and picture. The sage’s wisdom couldn’t be confined to a single medium. There were symbols of Christianity, Judaism and Kabbalism, Islam, alchemy, astrology, and many others that Renna couldn’t decipher. All of it was laid out before her, insisting that it be known. Demanding to be understood. This was someone’s life’s work, which had become the life’s work of someone else who had exhaustively studied and translated what they could, and now it was in Renna’s hands. As her eyes flew over the pages, the determination that had been slowly dwindling inside of her flared up, spreading through her whole body and setting her mind ablaze. Her keen intuition and expansive imagination were always leading the charge in her endeavors to learn something new, and to feel them now after so much dull frustration was like waking from the haze of a fever.
She had found it, at last. Now, her training could really begin.
***
Job was happy, and yet still displeased.
Their happiness came from seeing Renna’s marked improvement in her magic training over the past couple days. It seemed as if a switch had been flipped inside her mind—whatever pieces that she kept saying weren’t coming together had finally clicked. Her attitude reflected this as well; she was no longer as negative or obstinate when they practiced in the evenings, and Job could see that the stress that fueled this attitude had greatly diminished.
The displeasure came from the near certainty that they, as the teacher, were not the cause of this positive change. While they were better than their pupil at not showing their frustration, Job had also been suffering over the lack of connection between the two of them when it came to magic instruction. It had become quite clear to them early on that Renna’s style of learning was something foreign to them; they couldn’t comprehend what Renna was getting at when she tried to describe her difficulties. All they could do was try and encourage her, tell her it would become easier as she went forward (as it had been for Job), all while trying to sound confident enough to fool Renna into not seeing how lost Job had become as well.
The only clear explanation was that Renna had found something in the library, but Job could not imagine what. For the first couple days, Renna had returned from Ebon’Tourelle without any new insights, although Job had noted that her mood had improved remarkably, for whatever reason. Perhaps just from spending time away from Job as a teacher. They had wanted to ask her about it, but something held them back. They were worried that if they questioned Renna’s newfound source of confidence, it might be corrupted just by virtue of Job poking their nose into her business. So, as much as it bothered them to, they decided to let well enough alone for now. Things were going smoothly at the moment. That’s all they could ask for, right?
“And y’sure that’s all fine and good?”
“Stop that, can’t you see how much time I spent trying to justify my thoughts.”
Job was leaning on one side of the ordering counter, playing with the pockets of their apron, while Gibson folded half of his large body across it, letting his arms drape down on the other side. Since the break in the rain yesterday, there had been a pickup in customers, but it was late afternoon now and the oncoming Friday evening had lured most folks into the slightly trendier center of town.
There were only a couple of regulars at the tables now, who would nurse a drink for hours while being entertained by the host of birds. This subdued setting gave Job and Gibson a bit of time to chat. Job had found themselves divulging a bit more of their worries about Renna’s training than they had expected to, but they felt better now that they had gotten it out in the open. Gibson was a patient and thoughtful listener as always, but a devil’s advocate when it came to advice.
“I know you been getting yourself all knotted up ‘bout this, but Renna ain’t the one I’d be worryin’ about if I was you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Learners can always learn, but teachers can only teach if they in the right head for it.”
Job understood what they were being told, but shrugged it off because they didn’t know how to be in any head beside their own. “She reminds me of Mab in many ways. It’s a shame she wasn’t still around, I’m sure she would be the perfect teacher for her.”
Gibson heaved himself up and began fussing in the kitchen. “Mab was a good teacher for you, so you gonna be a fine teacher for Renna. You just gotta give her and y’self a chance.”
Job scowled away from him. “Is there anything I can complain about that you’ll agree with?”
Gibson laughed. “Probably not, it’s a bad habit of mine. But I’ll go leave you to your pity party for a bit, cuz I just remembered I left a couple tools back at the house. I’mma pop out and grab em, should be fine here for twenty minutes or so.”
Before Job could respond, they heard the back door open and close. It didn’t bother them too much, it was very unlikely that they would have to do anything beyond refill a few cups or ring someone up. Of course, they had only just time to be satisfied by this thought when a shrill squawking could be heard from the bathroom, where Job quickly discovered that one of the birds, a handsome eclectus named Oberon, had tarried too long inside while a patron was using it. Once the door had been closed again upon exit, the bird had discovered that the land of soft toilet and tissue papers was actually a dastardly trap. The bird gave Job thanks for the rescue by nipping them less painfully than usual.
Upon returning to the front of the café, Job saw that they had gained two new customers, seated at a corner booth, as far as possible from the other patrons. It had only been a few days, but the teens had already taken an indisputable place as Job’s least favorite customers. Of course, delaying would bring even more grief, so Job sighed and went over to take their order.
Their outfits varied little each time they came in, rejecting most of the color spectrum in both clothing and makeup. They weren’t dressed up quite enough to be full-on goth, however, so they simply looked intimidating and dour.
“Café au lait, but with some fresh cream this time, I would hope you’ve thrown that other stuff away,” said the one with her arms and attitude crossed tightly. Both girls wore very similar outfits—a casual but carefully planned match of band tees, jackets with false studs, black jeans looped with chains, accented by proud collections of necklaces, pins, patches and bracelets. It was unmistakable that they were twins, but there was still a contrast between them that came out in their personalities. If Job had to guess, the one who had just ordered had taken some of her sister’s clothes and then forced her to dress in the same style.
“I guess … I’ll have the same thing I had last time … the black rose tea …” The less antagonizing one managed to get above a whisper.
Her sister let out a loud groan. “No way, Noita, I had to smell that the entire time you had it, you can get just plain milk tea.”
Job looked to Noita for confirmation, and she simply nodded her consent.
Their waitron barely had the time to step away from the table before the hotheaded girl threw a conversation into her sister’s face. “Can you believe her. It’s like she doesn’t even want to be around us anymore. Something’s up with Sera and I don’t like it.”
Job knew it would be suspicious if they hung around, so they sped into the kitchen, where they filled the order as fast as they could, and added a thin slice of strawberry cake to the tray. Before they added the forks, however, Job picked one of them up and focused their energy, whispering words that woke deep within them, then stretched up through their arm and tingled through their fingers, seeping into the metal utensil they held. At the completion of the spell, Job pinged the fork with their index finger, and it gave a surprisingly loud reverberation. Satisfied, they laid it gently on the tray and carried it out to the twins.
Czaronica took a breath from her rant to be appeased by the extra treat Job brought. “Oooooh! Now we’re talking! This is free, right? See, now that’s customer service!” She grabbed a fork and stabbed into the cake, making sure to get the lion’s share of the real strawberry on top before handing off the fork to Noita, who began to eat the rest. Job again retreated quickly, but once they were back in the sanctuary of the kitchen, they put a finger to their ear, and suddenly they could hear the girls’ conversation as if they were sitting next to them.
“We can’t waste any more time. Ragana is getting impatient. And I was sick of this backwater town the moment we got here.”
“It’s not so unlike our own town though.”
“I don’t care, just because you’re fine with suffering in silence doesn’t mean I have to be! We’re just about done anyhow. We’ll do it tonight, whether Sera’s ready or not.”
“What if it doesn’t work? Won’t Ragana be angry?”
“It’s not our problem. Sera’s just an experiment, and at worst she’ll become a failed experiment. And Ragana’s always angry, nothing’s gonna change that. But she won’t be mad at us. We’ve carried out her wishes well, just as we’ve done before. I’m ready to relax and unwind back at home.”
There was a moment of silence as faces that Job could not see likely exchanged meaningful glances.
“Stop worrying so much, it makes your face look dumb. After all, we’ll have Abramelin helping us out when the time comes.”
“And what about Renna and the other person with her?”
“It’s probably not a coincidence that we’d end up in the same place. But if you’re worried they’ll interfere, don’t be. Renna’s spent the entire time cooped up in that musty library. It’s likely that flashy waitron is her tutor or caretaker, but I can’t imagine they together will be enough to stop us, even if they did know what was up.”
“It’s strange though. One of my hexes was suddenly sealed. I’m pretty sure it was the one we left in the town they must have passed through on their way up here. There’s no way Renna could’ve done that, so doesn’t that mean the caretaker’s a witch? A powerful one?”
“What? Sealed completely? That’s not good … hmm. In that case, we may be underestimating the teacher. But never mind, like I said, it’ll be done tonight and then we’re out of here, and they can’t do a thing about it. And then we’ll deliver news of Renna’s whereabouts to Ragana and maybe she’ll even be pleased. Or at least, less unpleasant than usual.”
“You think she’ll be happy with us?”
“‘Happy’ is a strong word for her. But yes, since you care so much about her praise.”
“Don’t pretend I’m the only one.”
“Well, I don’t whine and mope about it. Anyway, the cake’s gone, thanks for sharing Noita, so we should get going. To be honest, I will sort of miss this place, despite the reek of birds.”
Job picked up the scraping of chairs, and frantically looked about for a way to stall them. Would another slice of cake do it? Could they get them to stay just a bit longer, so they could find out exactly what their plan was?
As soon as Job realized that they were not thinking clearly, they stopped and refocused themselves. If they tried to waylay the sisters, it would likely just make them suspicious, and there would be no guarantee that they would discuss their plans further. Job needed to focus on the information they did have, which was not insignificant.
The twins were going to put something into action tonight that involved Serafine, Shane’s foster kid. Something they had come to Groutney with the sole intent of achieving. Something magical, and quite possibly dangerous. The girls were both witches, and not novices like Renna, if the totem Job had sealed did indeed belong to them. However, they were not frighteningly advanced: they had definitely underestimated Job, as the twins appeared not to have detected the magical scrying utensil that had been laying on the table in front of them as they discussed their conspiracy. And finally, they were working under orders from a person named Ragana, who had a keen interest in Renna’s whereabouts. The potential connection to the supernatural terror already hunting her was far too threatening to ignore.
Once the twins paid their bill and left the café, Job bussed their dishes back into the kitchen, where they met Gibson coming in the back door. A look of distant concern clouded his usual carefree expression.
“On my way back I spotted Shane Morris trippin’ along the sidewalk back to his place—looks like he been hittin’ the juice hard, even ‘fore the sun’s gone down. Thought he was doin’ rather alright lately.”
“Do you think … he’ll be okay?” Job asked, though they weren’t sure it was Shane they cared about at this moment.
Gibson gave an uneven shrug. “Never been a day before when they all don’t come out alright. Just gotta hope for the best.”
Job didn’t venture to tell Gibson about the conversation they had spied on—it would have likely been met with similar indifference. It wasn’t Gibson’s problem anyway, a fact that he always seemed very aware of and didn’t seem interested in changing. Job picked up the ensorcelled utensil from the tray, still clean, as the twins had conveniently shared the other fork, and gave it another ping with their fingers after refocusing their energy. It made another astonishingly loud sound, ringing off the various other metal objects and leaving a white hum in the air like the echo of a bell.
Gibson stared at them, open-mouthed. “What in the Good Kingdom was that?”
“Tuning fork.” Job said dismissively, and dropped it into the dishwasher. “Sorry to bring it up so suddenly, but would you mind if I took off for today?” They were already untying their apron.
Gibson made an agreeable motion. “Sure, café’s just about empty anyhow. What’s the rush?”
“I need to find Renna, we’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Where’s that?” Gibson called after them as Job left through the kitchen door.
“Not sure yet.”
Hear the author read this week’s installment in the video below:
MetaStellar fiction editor Geordie Morse works primarily as a personal language coach, developing curricula and working with clients remotely. His first book, Renna's Crossing, is out now. His various other projects are cataloged on his site Arnamantle.