When they stepped inside, Felicity wasted no time getting to the point. She didn't treat them as guests; on the contrary, she treated them like they were invading her home, trying to scam her or even rob her jewelry box.
“I don't care how much money you throw around,” she said, folding her arms defensively. “I'm not going to be giving any of the pages to you. Not a single one.”
“That's fine,” Purdue said calmly. “Jean here refused too. You don't have to give me anything. Instead, let's work together to complete the book.”
“And then what? We'll all share it? I'll have it Monday through Wednesday, you have it Thursday and Friday, and Jean-Luc has weekends? Share custody of one of the most important books that has anything to do with magic?”
Jean laughed. “Close. Purdue wants to keep the book in his vault with all of his other prizes. We would be able to see it whenever we wanted.”
Felicity looked insulted that a scenario like that was even being considered. “That's not sharing. That's you having complete control. Our access would be dependent on you! Giving us visitor's passes to something you have ownership of!”
“It's the safest place for it,” Purdue said defiantly.
“So, you say,” Felicity snapped back, looking livid. “Mona Greer's book of shadows should be in the care of actual witches. Not rich men with nothing better to do! I'd rather give it to a second-rate like Jean-Luc than you. At least he actually studies magic! You don't even believe in it, do you?”
“I've seen more than enough strange things in this world. I always keep an open mind.”
Felicity squawked, like her point had just been more than proven.
Purdue composed himself. It was obviously going to be more difficult to convince her than it had been for Jean. It might even be impossible. She was hardly open to new ideas, and was particularly resistant to his.
Still, he tried again to make his intentions clear.
“Look,” Purdue said. “Do you want to complete the book or not?”
The question seemed to pass through the air and knock Felicity on the side of the head. Her mouth slowly closed.
“At the rate you're going now, you'll never do it. Your pages are useless by themselves. Jean won't give you his and you've hit a wall with the rest, haven't you? This might be your only chance to have any hope of seeing the completed journal. It's not ideal, I'll give you that. To be blunt, you don't seem like much of a partner yourself. But compromise might be the only way we make any sort of progress. We all want to complete the book but none of us can do it alone.”
Felicity almost looked convinced, but then she sneered, “I've done this well on my own so far.”
Purdue's temper was flaring. “I've found dozens of things most people didn't think existed. You need me to finish this book!”
“No,” Felicity said firmly. “I really don't.”
“Then at the very least, you need Jean's page. All of your pages mean nothing without it!”
“Maybe,” Felicity said, glancing at Jean. “But right now, I just need you out of my house.”
Purdue and Jean looked at one another for a moment, each hoping the other would continue the argument, but they both knew there was no point trying to reason with her anymore. They obliged to her request and got up from the couch. When they reached the stoop outside, Purdue turned to make one last attempt at convincing Felicity to change her mind but found the door slammed in his face.
Purdue let out an exhale. “That went well, wouldn't you say?”
“If we are trying to burn bridges, yes. Was good.”
Purdue wrote his number on a slip of paper, and slid it under the closed door. Even if Felicity didn't want to hear him have the last word, she would have to if she wanted a clean floor. Beside his number, he'd left a note that read: “If you want to finish the book.” Hopefully, she wanted to complete the book enough that she would put her pride aside and work with them.
Without her, they were left with Jean's single page of scribbles.
They started walking down the street, feeling understandably defeated. Despite the setback, Purdue was already weighing their options. If they were going to proceed, they needed Felicity's pages. It was crucial.
“It's never been my cup of tea, but I suppose we could always storm the house and take it from her by force.
Jean flashed him a look of condemnation, his thoughts plainly written across his dark face. He didn't have to say a word.
“You're right,” Purdue said. “She'd turn us into slugs before we even got close to the pages.”
Jean let out a sigh. “My friend, that is not how magic works.”
8
THE MURDERER AND THE VICTIM
Dr. Nina Gould was tired. It was nice to finally have a morning to herself, to just enjoy some quiet and find a nice book. She could just relax and enjoy the works of other people, rather than gallivanting all over the world with a billionaire. She had no plans for the day, and if David Purdue did call with an invitation for another adventure, she might even say no. She curled up on her couch with some tea at her side, trying to decide what book she was going to dive into. This day was going to be hers.
Unfortunately, the world seemed to disagree—the doorbell rang.
Nina rose from the couch and walked over to the door. She opened it expecting to find someone holding a package for her. She was expecting one, but it wasn't supposed to be arriving for two more days. Still, no reason to complain about it coming early.
She pulled the door open. There was nothing. Odd.
Nina took a few steps out of the house and peered around to make sure the box hadn't been left anywhere. It was nowhere to be found. There wasn't even a delivery vehicle anywhere in sight. Maybe she'd just imagined the bell.
She shook her head and walked back to the couch. She prepared to get settled again but the doorbell rang once more. She didn't rush to it this time. She gave it a moment, and kept quiet, just in case she was hearing things.
Then it rang again.
She hurried to the door and practically ripped it open. Again, there was nobody.
Nina gave another glance around and then shifted her attention to the doorbell itself. The button looked normal. Maybe there was a short fuse or something. A malfunction that was causing the alarms. Maybe the universe really didn't want her to get comfortable after all.
There was another alternative that crossed her mind. She turned back around to the road. “Just to let you know, this childish shit isn't funny!” The apparently invisible culprit gave no response. It could all just be some prank. It was probably happening to all of her neighbors too. They were probably just too smart to fall for it like she had.
She gave one last glare out to whoever might be messing with her then turned back to the house. She stormed inside and flung the door closed behind her. She never heard the door slam.
Nina turned around and saw that a hand had caught the door before it shut. And when the hand pushed the door open, she saw a face that made her let out a scream.
It was him. She couldn't believe it—but it was him.
Julian Corvus.
The man she'd killed. She had run him through with a spear. Watched him plummet hundreds of feet with it still piercing his chest. He couldn't be there. He couldn't.
But he was ... and he looked exactly the same. Those same piercing gray eyes that still plagued her dreams most nights.
The doorbell rang a few more times as Julian pressed it with a smile. “Childish, you said. Perhaps. Well deserved? Absolutely.”
“No.” Nina felt the entire world tilt on its axis. Suddenly, the comfort of her home felt like the most dangerous place she had ever been. A dead man was breaching her living room. “No. No, you can't be here. You're de-dead. You're dead!”
“I was,” Julian said, stepping inside. “Yes.”
Nina retreated backward with a few uneasy steps, nearly falling over. “I-I-I killed you!”
“Maybe I'm a ghost, or a ma
nifestation of your guilt.”
“I-I-I don't feel guilty! You were trying to kill me!”
Julian Corvus was now completely inside the house. She was stuck in a box with a monster. A monster she could have sworn she had slain.
“I killed you!” She repeated, shrieking, trying to convince the universe it was the truth, to set reality straight again. “I killed you!”
Julian's face twisted into a demented grin.
“You did. With a holy weapon with unknown, maybe even otherworldly properties.” Julian moved toward her with that same threatening calmness almost always radiated off of him. That same simmering rage that was always ready to explode. “I've got to say ... I never would have expected it to be you. Purdue. Galen Fitzgerald. I nearly beat them to death for resisting me during that venture. Remember? I figured one of them would take another shot. Maybe your friend Mr. Cleave would finally do something to try and take me down. But you ... you, Dr. Gould ... you were a surprise. I underestimated you. That mistake cost me my life. Thank God I get a re-do to do things differently this time.”
“What do you want?!” She was gasping, her rapid breaths barely able to find any air. Her panic and terror were quickly overtaking all reason running through her mind.
Julian, on the other hand, moved so serenely. “What exactly should the victim say to his murderer? There's a certain intimacy to that relationship isn't there? One that doesn't have a chance to be explored enough. Between murderer and victim. Want to switch roles?”
Nina grabbed a nearby vase and threw it at him. It shattered against his arm and Nina took the chance to make a run for safety. She snatched her phone from the tabletop and sprinted up the stairs. She could hear Julian close behind but didn't dare look back. She went straight to the upstairs bathroom and locked the door behind her.
She dialed David Purdue as best she could with her sweaty, shaking hand, holding the phone to her ear. The dial tone buzzed in her ear over and over until she heard the voicemail click in. “Aye, this is David Purdue. If it's important, leave a message. If it's not, then why are you even bothering...?”
“Damn you, Purdue.”
She realized that her first instinct—to call Purdue—was probably not the best option. She started to dial for the police but could hardly dial the numbers in her frantic state of mind. Her quivering body seemed keen to not respond properly.
The bathroom door shook. Julian was just outside, and he was trying to get in. She wanted this to be a nightmare. A dead man couldn't really be chasing her around her house. Things like that didn't happen. Was it all just a hallucination? Her mind taunting her for taking his life?
The door was hit again, and she knew this wasn't her imagination. The door really was ready to give way.
Purdue's voicemail finally finished. “ ... so, leave a message if you want.”
BEEP
There was a loud bang and the door flew open. Julian stormed in confidently and grabbed Nina by the wrist. The phone fumbled out of her hand onto the floor. Julian stomped down hard on it and it broke underneath his shoe.
Nina swung her free hand at him, but he caught her before she made it contact, taking hold of both of her wrists.
“This can't be happening! It can't!” She cried, helpless and out of escape routes.
“I'm touched that you sound so pleased with my survival. I think my miraculous resurrection is something that should be celebrated. Don't you?”
“You're asking the person that killed you if I'm glad you're alive.”
“Yes,” Julian said. “Believe it or not, I forgive you. You had no choice back then. If you didn't kill me, I might have killed you. And I would have, Dr. Gould. I really would have. I was going to kill you and all of your annoying friends once I had the Spear of Destiny. Was I angry you killed me? Naturally. But now we need to focus on the bigger picture. I have a vision for the Black Sun. I always have. And now my dreams are coming to fruition.”
“So, what? This isn't personal for you? You expect me to believe that?”
“It does give me pleasure, I admit, but vengeance isn't my primary goal here. You're an important piece of my first act as the new leader of this order—ruining David Purdue. The Order of the Black Sun is going to war with him. It will be brief. It will be decisive. But all good wars need their first shot fired. Maybe that will be you, Dr. Gould. The opening salvo. Or maybe you'll be the secret weapon waiting in the wings, ready to be used to end the war. Now enough wasting my time. Let's go.”
Julian practically dragged her out of the house.
“So, what? You're leading the entire Order of the Black Sun now?”
“It's amazing what coming back from the grave does for your credibility. And I came back with something as valuable as the real Spear of Destiny. It was more than enough to prove myself as I knew it would be. If anything, you killing me only helped my case. It finally gave me enough support to make the move that needed to be made.”
“Like abducting me...”
“Just between us girls...” Julian snickered. “I could have taken your friend, Mr. Cleave. He would have done just as well as a weapon against Purdue, but I chose you. As much as I keep preaching that this isn't at all personal ... well ... you did kill me, after all.”
9
DUNGEONS ARE A PLACE FOR WAITING
They weren't just going to leave Salem right away. That would have been a complete waste of time. There was still the unlikely chance that the uncooperative Felicity Perry would call him. There was a much better chance that the paper he'd slipped under the door was in her garbage, torn to pieces. Or she hadn't even noticed it and would step on it for a few weeks before maybe sweeping it up when cleaning her house.
Whatever the case, they couldn't leave after so little time spent there. They had booked a hotel for a few days to begin with, so they would at least fulfill that amount of time. Maybe they could try to convince Felicity again tomorrow or the day after; give her time to consider his ultimatum. After all, without Jean's page ... even if she did find the final one ... she wouldn't be able to complete the book of shadows without them.
Then there was the less tactful way of getting her pages. The problem was ... Purdue never considered himself a thief. The things he usually took from places were things long forgotten, abandoned, or lost. He wasn't stealing artifacts from the places he found them; he was finding them and bringing them back into the world's eye.
If they went that route, it probably wouldn't be too difficult. That house of hers was hardly a fortress. It was far from Purdue's own home and the enormous vault he now kept his collection in with very capable security systems in place. The most Felicity probably had in that house was a bolt lock and a motion alarm. Maybe a steel safe or a hidden compartment in the wall. They could wait for her to leave the house and probably find her pages in no time.
But that wasn't how he usually did things. It wasn't how he wanted to handle it, but if she wasn't going to cooperate, they may have very little options other than to commit a crime or two. It would be worth it, of course, and he would even show Felicity the results of their findings afterward. They could complete the book without her having to raise a finger. She might even appreciate that.
Purdue would have to keep thinking about it before making a final decision; give it some more time before resorting to thievery. There was still a chance she could come around to working with them.
Until then, Salem wasn't the worst place to have to wait for an answer. It was a town full of interesting history that Purdue hadn't really spent too much time studying before. There were a number of museums and attractions they could visit to pass the time ... and that was exactly what they did.
Despite what most people probably thought given its reputation, the city of Salem wasn't only home to the history of witchcraft. Being a port town for centuries, it also had its fair share of piracy long ago. As such, one of their first stops was the New England Pirate Museum.
There wasn't any particular r
eason to go there. They just needed a place to pass the time in hopes that Felicity would contact them. With all the tourists so focused on the more ghoulish and spooky attractions, the pirate museum served as a nice reprieve from the Halloween-crazed crowds of people.
In all honesty, Purdue preferred the history of pirates to witches. Pirates were notorious criminals whose crimes were committed openly and witnessed by many. Most of the “witches” history remembered were innocent victims of societal hysteria. A far cry from the willing scoundrels that raided ports and ships. It made learning about witches rather depressing. It was hard to stomach so many people being wrongfully punished when they committed no actual crimes. For the most part, pirates were guilty and justifiably condemned. It made researching them far less bleak in a weird way. It was easier to study the people who willingly committed violence than peaceful people killed for supposedly committing evil.
Jean, on the other hand, seemed resistant to the whole museum. “Unless it is a ghost ship or cursed gold, I do not love hearing about it. All of this. Pirates. If it is not about something like that, like an old story, then pirates are just bad people on the water. That is all.”
Jean barely looked at any of the displays they had out. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but wasn't vocal enough to express it before agreeing to come to the museum.
“The western world is fascinated by pirates. I do not share that fascination because I have seen real pirates. I dealt with many pirates at home. Pirates who used motors, not sails. Machine guns and machetes, not flintlocks and swords.”
“Aye,” Purdue said with a shrug. “Times are changing. Pirates are less fun these days, if you ask me.”
“They are never fun,” Jean said sharply.
“Alright, alright,” Purdue said with raised hands in surrender. “But you got to admit, they were at least more interesting to look at. Just look at this outfit.” Purdue pointed out a long, worn-down jacket in a display case. “Or these swords.” Purdue then walked across the room to a diorama of the Queen Anne's Revenge, the legendary ship captained by Edward “Blackbeard” Teach. “Or this. If they still cruised around with this much showmanship, you might think differently of them.”
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9 Page 44
