The crippled Irishman rapped the cell bars with his cane and smiled at Nina inside like they were the best of friends.
“Well aren't ye looking well,” Galen said smugly. “It really wasn't a hard choice to make. Joining them. It's the only thing to do if ye want to survive in this business now. They had a claim on every artifact on the planet. Why get in their way?”
“I don't know...” Nina rolled her eyes. “ Maybe because they're all sociopaths, murderers, and corrupt? A disgrace to anyone with any real actual interest in the past.”
“Ye really are stubborn,” Galen said. “Hard to believe my old friend Davy put up with ye for so long.”
Galen tossed a book onto the floor in front of her. She glanced at the cover and immediately rolled her eyes. It was a hardcover copy of Guns, Glaives, and Guinness: The Adventures of Galen O. Fitzgerald—also known as Galen's failure of an autobiography. She hadn't dared read it before. Her colleague, Sam Cleave, had read parts of it when they first worked with Galen, but Sam's review had been the farthest thing from positive. For the first time in her life, she found herself suddenly interested in book burning. She'd be doing the world a favor.
“And I thought Julian assured me that I wouldn't be tortured...”
“I'm just giving ye something to help ye pass the time.”
“I'll just pass in general, thanks.” Nina pushed the book away from her across the floor with her foot. She glanced around herself at the cell she was in. “The wall is more interesting than your life story.”
Galen snorted and shook his head, resting his brow against the bars of the door. “Ye really don't like me at all. Why is that, exactly? I've been nothing but a gentleman to ye.”
“Where should I start? You're entitled. You're petty. You're pompous.”
“Brilliant vocabulary.”
“Oh, I could keep going. You nearly got us killed after you hired us to help you find the Spear of Destiny.”
“Hardly my fault,” Galen said with a shrug. “How was I supposed to know you and your friends had made enemies with an organization like the Black Sun?”
Nina ignored his response. “You antagonized a trained killer, getting you shot in the leg and putting the rest of us at risk.”
Galen tapped his leg with his walking stick. “A mistake I'm already paying for ... and that ye seem to have escaped from unscathed. So, what are you whinging about?”
“You sicked your mercenary on a father and his kids. You spent the whole trip crying and complaining every time something didn't go your way. And instead of—I don't know—congratulating me for surviving my fight with Julian, or thanking me for getting rid of him and saving our lives, you only blamed me for losing the spear. Should I continue? I've got plenty of things I don't like about you. I could probably write my own book about it.” Nina kicked the book hard enough that it slid across the floor and stopped right in front of its author.
Galen smirked and reached through the bars, picking up the book.
“Well, in a roundabout way, you didn't kill him, and you using the Spear of Destiny just brought Julian back to life ... leading you here ... so...”
“You're an ass,” Nina said. “And a traitor.”
“Don't be mad at me because I was smart enough to choose the right side. The Order of the Black Sun aren't the loons that Davy, you, and Sam Cleave told me about. At least, not most of them. Julian's a proper madman, aye, but the rest of the order just wants to preserve history. That's all.”
“No,” Nina said. “They want to pervert things from the past and use history as a weapon to make the future the way they want it to be. It has nothing to do with preservation. It's only about manipulation. And you ... narcissistic bastard that you are ... are being manipulated. Easily, I imagine. Groom your ego a little and they've got you feeding out of their hands.”
“I am not being used,” Galen insisted. “We are all working together. We all have our roles to play.”
“You're proud of being a cog in a machine? Okay, so might I ask what function you serve within the Order of the Black Sun? What is it that makes you feel so fulfilled here? That you would join the people who tried to kill you? What's your purpose in this new cult you've joined?”
Galen laughed to himself, but Nina could tell she'd struck a nerve. He didn't have a real answer to her question. He had no idea why he had been recruited. It could have been pity. It could have been desperation since they had lost some other members. Or it could have been just to mock him, to see if he would be moronic enough to join the people who crippled one of his legs.
“I don't need to explain myself to a prisoner,” Galen said. “My only function right now is to gloat a little. For my own shits and giggles.”
“Dodge the question, then.” Nina sat up in her cell a little, to show strength. “I'll just wait to see if you address it in your next bestseller. I'll just turn to Chapter Nine: How I Was Humiliated by My Enemies. Or maybe I'll see you talk about earlier. Chapter One: I Really Don't Have a Spine. It's sad, Galen. Pathetic. That even you somehow have sunk even lower than I thought you could.”
“We'll see what you think when this is over. When you and Davy finally get what's coming to ye. A price to pay for all of his arrogance. The look on yer face when ye realized I had joined the winning side was priceless. I can't wait to see Davy's face when he realizes that he's not as great as he thinks.”
“You're so obsessed with being better than him. I hope your jealousy is worth it.”
11
GRAVE FINDINGS
Felicity didn't look too happy to see Purdue and Jean back at her door. Even so, she let them into her home this time without much of a fuss. Purdue was just glad to be invited back. It wasn't everyday someone put aside their own stubborn preconceptions and actually decide to do the right thing for everyone.
She invited them back into her living room, and they found themselves back on the couch, sitting in the exact same spots they had been when she had so rudely turned down their offer. Purdue felt a tinge of annoyance. If only she had been more reasonable to begin with, they wouldn't have wasted so much time. They could have even had the book of shadows completed by now if they were actually able to focus on the task at hand, rather than dillydally.
Felicity disappeared upstairs, and they could hear footsteps above them as they sat on the couch and waited for her return.
“So, you kept your page in your back office ... not the safest of places. You think maybe Felicity has just as secure of measures? Maybe she keeps it hidden under her bed. No one would ever think to look there. Or her closet ... or her dresser ... no! I've got it! She must keep all of those pages in her medicine cabinet.”
“Ha,” Jean said, unimpressed and maybe even a little insulted. “At least she has them.”
Purdue conceded, dropping his snark. “That's true.”
A minute or two later, Felicity came back, descending the stairs with a large book in her hands. Its pages weren't connected to its bindings, so they poked out of the sides messily, like they were about to spill out all over the floor. She stood in front of them and placed the book on the coffee table.
“This is everything I have. The original cover and binding ... and all but two of the pages we need.” She shifted her harsh gaze at Jean. “You have one ... and I've been searching for the last one for quite some time.”
Purdue leaned over the coffee table in front of him and examined the leather cover of the book of shadows. He expected something a bit more alarming for a witch's book; like if the book had been made with human skin or something of that sort. Instead, it looked no different than any other old journal. For something called a book of shadows, he was surprised that the cover wasn't even black. It was a worn, dark brown like most leather. It was all rather mundane.
But there was the old saying: never judge a book by its cover. Hopefully that little bit of wisdom would be proven right.
Felicity pulled the cover open to show them the pages inside, which were st
acked on top of each other in a heap of old parchment. It was a miracle she was able to keep them together in such a disorganized way. He would have at least put them in some kind of folder rather than keeping them together by squeezing them between the front and back covers. Any of those pages could have easily fallen out.
She laid each page out on the table, one next to another, in a display.
All of the pages were just as unreadable as Jean's had been, each completely plastered with clouds of incomprehensible etchings. When they were all placed together like that, they just formed a far large mass of nonsense.
“Wonderful,” Purdue said. “So many more pages, and just as little to go on.”
“Your page then,” Felicity said expectantly. “Hand it over then.”
“That is not happening,” Jean said. “I will not give over my page until we are ready to put all of the pages back into the book. When we need it to complete the whole thing.”
“So, you want to wait for the last second?” Felicity asked, looking both flustered and angry. “I show you all of the pages I have, and you can't even have the respect to do the same?”
“It is our only page...” Purdue said. “We just like to be very careful with it. I assure you, it is safe, and you will see it when the time comes. Between you and my friend Jean here, we have all but one of the pages, yes? So, until we're ready to assemble all of the pages, we need to focus on finding that final one.”
“Big talk for the only one who here who hasn't found any of the pages,” Felicity said with a spiteful giggle. “Remind me, why are you even here again?”
“To help find the final page and ensure that neither of you lose the book once we have it. Just think of me as the insurance policy. This house doesn't seem near fortified enough to protect the book once it's complete, and believe me, Jean's shop, as nice as it is, is a fire just waiting to happen. All that paper ... yikes.”
Felicity wasn't amused by Purdue's wit, but Jean chuckled under his breath.
“You said you've been looking for the last page for some time. Before or after you tried to barter for Jean's?”
“Before,” Felicity said. “All I know is that it's in Salem. It's the whole reason I'm here. I've been looking for it for a number of years now. When I was stumped, I heard about Jean-Luc here possibly having one. And that's when I visited him in New Orleans...”
“And I kindly showed you the door...” Jean said, folding his arms. “I may only have one page but it was not easy to get. I was not going to give it up to just anyone.”
“Smart man,” Purdue muttered.
Felicity pursed her lips. “When Jean-Luc and I couldn't come to an agreement, I came back here and kept looking for the other page. I figured that I would worry about you later. Maybe having every page but his would be enough to convince you to hand yours to me.”
“It may have been,” Jean said. “And it will be now.”
“So, what are you basing your search on, if I may ask?” Purdue interjected. “Are you just walking around town with a shovel and digging up every inch of the place? Going door to door and asking if anyone has seen it? Posting signs on lamp posts that say 'missing old paper' perhaps?”
Again, Felicity looked completely done with Purdue's humor. Usually he was able to charm people, but she seemed like she was completely impervious to his bag of tricks.
“None of the above...” Felicity said. “If you must know ... one of Mona Greer's coven, a young woman named Judith Thelby, kept a journal of her own. Nothing with any magical knowledge. She was a novice in the craft, based on what I read. But her journal wasn't completely useless.” Felicity walked over to a cabinet in the living room and pulled out another book. It was much slimmer than the book of shadows. It wouldn't have taken nearly as long to find the pages for that. “Judith Thelby even included entries on what happened after the time she spent with Mona and her coven. And ... what happened when they took apart their coven leader's book of shadows. Unfortunately, she didn't get too specific on the details, which makes things harder, obviously.”
Felicity turned to a page covered in neatly written cursive. The penmanship was remarkably refined, especially in comparison to the jumbled mess that was Mona Greer's own journal. Thankfully, this one hadn't been jinxed to scramble everything inside. It was a relief to be able to read actual words inside.
Felicity cleared her throat and read an entry aloud. “It was not easy. We were all afraid, but we each absconded with a page of Mona's work. I wanted to be rid of mine forever. I put it where most would not look. It was a pressing matter, after all, and getting it out of sight of bystanders was urgent. I brought her vile work to a small town called Salem. Buried it in the grave of someone already executed for witchcraft. I cannot bear the burden of keeping it. Perhaps a dead witch can bear it in my stead.”
Felicity closed the little book back up and dropped it onto the table for Purdue and Jean to look at for themselves. Jean rifled through the pages while Purdue continued to look over Mona Greer's shrouded writing on the table.
Felicity continued. “Judith Thelby was afraid to hold onto it. They couldn't destroy the page so she buried the it in a grave in Salem. With one of the witches that had been tried and killed during the witch trials.”
“Why would she do that?” Purdue asked.
“Probably thought that kind of magic would at least be safer in the hands of another witch. And at that time, many still believe the people killed here in Salem were indeed witches.”
“So, she put it with a perfectly normal corpse here in town instead of in the safe hands of a fellow witch. That's a wee bit embarrassing, I must say. What's the holdup then, aye? Surely you checked the graves of all of the victims of the trials.”
“You want me to just dig them up like it's no big deal? Those graves are conserved historical sites. I couldn't dig up one, let alone all of them. Especially if there's no way of knowing that I would even find the damn page. I'm not going to prison for desecration and grave robbing for nothing. There are far too many to choose from. You know how many women were put on trial for being witches?”
It was a conundrum. If only the young woman had been more specific with her diary entry, she could have made their lives a whole lot easier. Purdue leaned back on the couch and glanced at Jean looking through the journal.
Someone who could carry the burden of the book...
Felicity spoke, rubbing her brow in frustration. It was obviously something that had stumped her for a while, but was just as maddening to still not be able to figure out. “We would have to check the graves of all of the witches ever put on trial during that time. Every woman tried for being a witch.”
A thought occurred to Purdue and he snatched the diary out of Jean's hand, re-reading the page that Felicity had read out loud. He scanned it from side to side twice before the pieces seemed to be coming together in his head.
“This girl said executed, not tried. And you're assuming she's just talking about the women who were accused but it wasn't just women, was it? There were men killed during the trials too, were there not?”
He knew the answer to that question but wanted Felicity to follow his train of thought clearly.
“Sure,” Felicity conceded. “What's your point?”
“My point...” Purdue thought back to his tour of the Witch Dungeon Museum, and about the wax display of the man being crushed under a pile of rocks. “Is that Giles Corey refused to stand trial but was executed all the same. That crazy bastard demanded that they keep putting more boulders on him every time they demanded that he stand trial. He kept asking for more weight and he was pressed to death. Brutal shit, but look at this.”
Purdue held the journal open out in front of him so both Felicity and Jean could see what he was referring to.
“She even says it here,” Purdue said, running his index finger under the appropriate portions of the journal entry. “She said that the safety of the page was a pressing matter.”
“She was ri
ght,” Felicity said, clearly not seeing his point. “It was important. Urgent. She says that right after that.”
“A pressing matter.” Purdue emphasized the word this time. “And then she says that she wanted to put it with someone who could handle the burden. Giles Corey is remembered for being the man asking for more weight to be put on him until he died. Quite a burden, aye?”
Jean gave an audible sigh of understanding, while Felicity looked a little less convinced, but had finally connected the dots with what he was talking about.
“You're saying the final page is buried with Giles Corey?”
Purdue smiled, feeling hopeful. “I'm not ... but I think this Judith Thelby is.”
“But why would she put it with him?” Felicity asked. “Corey was little more than collateral during the trials. His wife was accused of being witch, and he got lumped in with her. He's only famous because of how he died. Why would the page be left with him? He wasn't even a witch.”
“Most of the accused probably weren't,” Purdue argued. “So that point is moot. That's what made the witch trials even worse. And who knows, eh? Maybe he was a warlock ... wizard ... man-witch ... whatever the hell you'd call 'em. There's no harm looking.”
“No harm?” Felicity scoffed. “Right, no harm. We're only digging up one of Salem's most famous residents. Of course, there's harm.”
“Harm or not...” Purdue said. “I think it's worth a look.”
The three of them spent the next hour or so pouring over everything about Giles Corey and his history with Salem. Felicity provided a large map showcasing all of the streets and landmarks in the city. She still wasn't fully convinced that Giles Corey was the right grave to search for, but she had become noticeably more aggressive in moving things along. With them being so potentially close to completing the book—something she'd spent years trying to do—she wanted it done as soon as possible. She'd wasted no time starting the preparations for their search.
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9 Page 46
