Legends of Astræa: Cupid's Arrow Book 1 (Legends of Astræa Series)

by Sophia Alessandrini

  Blasted file. Nothing. I blew a deep breath, unfettering a cloud of dust from it accidentally. God, there were so many questions, and I didn’t know where else to look. I learned from listening to Tiffany and other girls brag about their trips to Europe that one needs a passport to get into France. First, I needed a birth certificate or the right information to get one. Then I could go to France and find Father Dominique.

  My mind picked up one of the books I had taken down. I watched it move slowly in the open air all the way back into that top and forgotten shelf. I had to move faster, before Sister Magdalene could show up. So I levitated all of them and moved them in a line one after another back into the shelf. Sensing I wasn’t alone anymore, I turned my gaze toward the door.

  I gasped at the sight of Mr. Tarbelli.

  The last two books fell onto the floor. His presence, as unexpected as the two thuds on the floor, made me jump out of my skin and flinch my eyes. He had not made any sound when he’d entered the office. Were his soles made from cotton? How long had he been there with his annoying smirk and relaxed arms crossed, resting his shoulder slightly against the threshold of the office door, watching me? I swallowed hard.

  “Go on. Finish,” he said, smirking like a cat mocking a poor mouse after the mouse had fallen into a trap.

  Crap, I was in deep doo-doo. I had broken rules two and three, and to make matters worse, I felt guilty. As if I had been caught robbing a bank.

  The doorknob clicked open.

  I’d never been so glad to see Sister Magdalene before, when I saw her coming into the office. Mr. Tarbelli became aware of her presence and stood straight. Instantly, I dropped to my knees and pretended I was polishing the floors as I carefully pushed the last two books out of her plain sight under Mother Clarisse’s old desk.

  She shook her head disapprovingly at me and acknowledged Mr. Tarbelli courteously. “Mr. Tarbelli, is there any trouble?”

  I looked at the clock on the wall. Crap. I had taken far too long looking for anything.

  “Actually, I was looking for Miss Ailie,” he told her.

  Crappity—why?

  “Is she causing any trouble?” she asked, no doubt hopeful.

  Why couldn’t she for once say something about how I always saved extra strawberries from the garden for her or took many of her chores in lieu to help her with her bad back.

  Mr. Tarbelli moved his feet deceivingly slow, until Sister Magdalene was facing him and her back facing me, giving me the opportunity to bring the second to last book back to the top shelf. I focused on the mental task of putting the book back, as quiet and fast as possible. The book slid onto the shelf without causing any disruption.

  Unfortunately, if he had had any doubt of what he had seen before, Mr. Tarbelli had plain sight of what I did now and, worse yet, knew for sure that I could move things with my mind. My hands went back to polishing the floor.

  “No, not particularly. She is just having difficulty finishing her literature tasks while she is here cleaning,” he pointed out.

  That made my hands on the floor stop. I raised my gaze and stared at his face, peeking beyond Sister Magdalene’s black tunic and headdress, not understanding his meddling.

  Why was he helping me?

  “Well, discipline is very important. You must understand we should be very emphatic about her discipline,” Sister Magdalene said somewhat apologetic. Really?

  “I agree. Therefore, I am requesting Miss Ailie’s afternoon chores to be under my supervision and for academic purpose. They would help her catch up with her fallen grades,” he explained.

  What fallen grades? I couldn’t be lower than the mediocre B+’s he gave me all the time.

  The dastardly man was lying to her face. I decided to put away the last book. This time I was distracted and therefore not so suave. The thumping sound of the book hitting the shelf as I dropped it too soon alerted them. I glared at him as they both turned to find the source of the noise. I turned my gaze toward the floor and my hands to cleaning the inexistent dirt spot on the floor.

  “Careful, Ailie,” Sister Magdalene reprimanded me, probably assuming I was havoc everywhere I went. To be fair, she was right. Trouble seemed to follow me all the time.

  “Sorry.” I apologized to her, gave him a glare, and continued my wax-on, wax-off therapy. I wished Mr. Miyagi existed in my world. If only I had a martial arts instructor instead of ballet. Perhaps I could have had a better chance to confront whatever murdered Mother Clarisse. Yeah, we had restrictions to the Internet, but there was a large collection of “safe” old movies we could watch on weekends.

  Sometimes, I daydreamed I could be like Daniel and be able to defend myself without the use of my cursed gifts. But I had to come through with my best grand pliés or my perfect musical timing without the need of a metronome marking and hope my adversaries shattered as the public acclaimed my performance. No wonder there aren’t action-packed movies about ballet dancers or musicians that kick ass.

  “I am sure our Mother Superior will understand your concerns. I have been told she will arrive on tonight’s ferry.”

  Not even Sister Magdalene could say no to him. Mr. Tarbelli gave her one of his killer grins. Was she blushing? At sixty plus? Sick. She picked up her personal Bible from the desk next to me.

  Then, I looked again at the wall clock. I prayed they were done talking, so I could go back to my room. I felt like crying again. I had not found anything. This was so devastating.

  “Ailie, finish that now. You are done here. Time for prayers.”

  Thank God.

  She opened the door, pausing to have a second thought before leaving the office. “You didn’t do your kitchen duties yesterday. There will be no excuse today before your dinner.” Her voice rang loud. Crap. My stomach growled at the thought of food. I opened my eyes wide, unpleasantly surprised I was famished

  “Yes, Sister.” I nodded with a sigh of regret and felt somewhat disappointed that I had to wait before having food.. In the other hand, I wished I could tell her I was simply exhausted and depressed and that I longed for the peaceful solitude of my room. But I knew from past experience that arguing with her was an otiose undertaking.

  My gaze looked again at the wall clock. Evening prayers were finished at the main chapel. Everyone would now be moving toward the main dining room.

  Mr. Tarbelli helped me pick up the bucket and dirty mop. I gaped at his act of possible chivalry. He smirked at my disbelief.

  “Why are you helping me?” I asked him once we were out of Sister Magdalene’s hearing distance.

  “Because, you need my help to stay out of trouble.”

  Great. Please don’t help me. I could have done my prayers and left for dinner by now without your inopportune intervention.

  Why was he spying on me?

  I didn’t like it. He watched me as I opened the closet door where all the tools and brooms were kept.

  “Trouble? I wonder why you lied to Sister Magdalene.” I grabbed the mop and bucket from him. He sighed heavily as I disposed of the dirty water. I waited for him to say something, but he crossed his arms and rested against the threshold with quiet observation. So I continued my rant. “Lying is a sin, you know…”

  His hands and his jaw clenched. I guessed it bothered him that I called him dishonest.

  “Kind of thinking about it, I’ve never seeing you during prayers.”

  He was gone after school hours most of the time, which irked me even more, when he knew so much of how I spent my time.

  “In fact, you never have had dinner here at the school.” My sharp tone was insufficient to keep his amused expression off his face. Ugh. He was so annoying.

  He accused me back. “Are you spying on me, Miss Ailie?”

  My mouth opened wide, gaping at him. I was speechless. How dared he? He had been the one spying on me all this time. His presence in Mother Clarisse’s office was enough proof of that.

  “No. Are you?” Ha, back at you. Was that annoying an
d enigmatic smirk a—yes? God, he was so annoying. I took a deep breath and held it for a quick second.

  His silence couldn’t be more incriminating if he’d tried. He had been spying on me. I knew it. I turned on my heels and strode toward the old chapel.

  “You really don’t have to spy on me as I pray,” I told him, hoping I would discourage his intent to follow me. But he ignored my accusation, set on keeping by my side. Bummer. I held my arms around me, wishing my red sweater was a little bit thicker when the biting chill of an early autumn wind hit my body.

  I opened the large wooden door, wishing the sense of peace I pursued every time I was inside the chapel wasn’t too badly disrupted. Mr. Tarbelli sat next to me respectfully on the front pew. I glanced briefly at him as I kneeled and placed my hands together in a prayer position. His gaze had linked with the large figure inside the chapel, something about Our Lady of The Stars caught his attention. I wondered what. He caught me observing him while I frowned.

  My tummy kept making weird gurgling noises to remind me I hadn’t eaten much lately. After what seemed like the longest ten minutes, I stood, looking forward to Sister Bernice’s buttered dinner rolls. I was starving. I strode outside the old chapel in silence. Mr. Tarbelli followed me, except this time he broke our silence.

  “I think you and I need to have a serious conversation,” Mr. Tarbelli said. Ha, he thought. Like I would give up my dinner this time for a “conversation.”

  “You are still here. I guess my prayers were not answered…” The tone of my sarcasm was so lost on him. The truth was I was frustrated, and it wasn’t entirely his fault.

  “Look, I don’t really know how we started on the wrong foot, but I assure you I have best intentions and simply want to help you, Miss Ailie,” he said.

  “Look, if you think I will ever agree to show you or anyone else for that matter how much of a freak I am… You. Are. Wrong. Now stay away from me.”

  I stalked away from him and strode with a fast pace toward the dining room, holding back my tears. I was hungry, exhausted, and angry, but the fact that I didn’t exist anywhere was making things worse.

  I barely noticed the large brass gas lamps vested with black ribbons hanging from the wide columns. Another sad reminder of my recent loss. Long wooden tables were occupied with all the studentship. Judging by the level of enthusiastic racketeering, everyone was half done with dinner. I felt Mr. Tarbelli standing behind me.

  The volume of voices lowered to an abrupt silence. Every girl’s gaze at the academy followed my direction, staring at me with utter envy as Mr. Tarbelli walked right next to me. Great, now they hated me more. I kept my gaze on the floor, ashamed for my lack of control and the effin nightmares. I shook my head, wishing I was in my room instead, but the smell of those buttered rolls talked me out of it. Crap. First, I had to do kitchen duties. I sighed.

  Mr. Tarbelli exchanged glances with me as he sat at the table offered to him in the company of our temporary headmistress. I ignored him as I crossed the large threshold of the common dining room. The entire dining room had swooning and swaying girls. I was exhausted, but I dragged myself to help in the kitchen and keep my mind busy.

  The kitchen hummed with activity from the large cast-iron stoves that were heated with logs of wood. The convent had resisted updating to twenty-first century equipment. However, the stoves were a thing of beauty. They ran from wall to wall and floor to ceiling with little doors everywhere that contrasted interestingly with the blue and white hand-painted tiles of the counters that the Sisters had made over a century ago.

  It was a welcoming place and it made me feel somewhat at home, with large, long wooden tables where the breads were worked on before sunrise. The pantry had wall-to-wall shelving full of herbs and spices that would make a botanist cry with joy.

  Sister Joana ran a tight shift in the kitchen, and the younger novices scurried about to follow her orders. I had always enjoyed watching her happily orchestrate the myriad of tasks involved. There was no cafeteria dining here, like I’d read about in novels or seen in movies. Every one of our meals was made from scratch with the very best and freshest of ingredients. We had a repertoire of ancestral and new recipes worthy of Michelin stars, according to Tiffany’s mother, who I heard praising Sister Joana’s cooking last summer.

  Sister Joana saw me and pointed at a basket with onions and carrots atop a chopping board. I nodded back, grateful she didn’t ask me questions. I wanted to be ignored, be invisible, and get my mind occupied with work. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams and that any more pressure would make me lose the little control I had. I desperately wanted—no—I needed a quiet night to settle into some normality and regain my precarious grip on my self-control.

  I cut, diced, and chopped everything that was brought to the basket without complaint, except my mind kept the never-ever-ending circle of questions without answers. What did Mr. Tarbelli want from me? What did the knight in black want? Why would I dream of Mr. Tarbelli too? I appealed to logic. Fact, the black knight was someone from the past, hundreds of years at least, judging from the crusaders’ armor and swords. Then it was impossible for him to exist in the present time. Logic also dictated that those creatures with pointy, sharp fangs were not human, therefore could not be real.

  Not. Real. Just a prefabrication of my ludicrous imagination. Right? The thought brought me some relief, but my head refused to understand logic. All of this was too taxing. Gratefully, I was almost done.

  Eating was a welcomed distraction from my dreadful reality. I sat in my usual isolated corner of the kitchen to have dinner. I was one step from passing out over the wooden table. I realized I had slept next to nothing for days, and I couldn’t think clearly anymore. I needed to close my eyes soon, but I couldn’t afford more nightmares. Great, so it was crying instead.

  Chapter 8

  I returned to my little room. Holding my breath, I watched the arrival of the new Mother Superior from my window. Sister Magdalene and Sister Agatha welcomed her into the convent. They wouldn’t show her the academy tonight. It was late, and I gathered she was tired from her trip.

  I waited until they were gone inside the convent to grab an old wool throw and crawled out of my window dormer. There, I sat on the slate roof watching the stars and covered myself as I shivered from the fresh, cool night. It was a clear night.

  And I felt so alone in the world.

  I became chillingly aware that I was very afraid. I didn’t know where I came from or who I was, but worse was the feeling of being stuck here forever. I recognized the knot in my chest and no amount of tears would subdue those feelings, as if I was drowning myself in the cold ocean that surrounded the island. For a time, I sat there under the stars, letting tears run down my face and fall onto the roof tiles beneath me.

  At midnight, the old clock inside the convent chimed twelve times in the midst of the silent night. Each dong more ominous than the one before. The stars seemed to know something was about to happen.

  Tonight was my birthday.

  I angrily wiped the tears that slid down my cheeks. No one would exactly miss my celebration. Right? Of course, there wasn’t exactly going to be any celebration to speak about.

  As exhausted as I was, falling asleep was a bad idea. I fought it. The last thing I wanted was more of those nightmares. How I wished Gavril was sitting there with me. I definitely needed no more nightmares.

  Constellations graced the firmament with millions of luminous stars that sparkled like little diamonds. They looked serene and silent from my vantage point. I wondered what kind of peaceful happy place they were. One that didn’t exist on earth. They didn’t have troubles, so peaceful…

  Gradually, my eyes closed for a second, succumbing to my dreams—celestial dreams for a change. The air was electric, and my body somewhat ignited with some foreign force within me.

  Zoom.

  I had disintegrated into a million stars, like an expanding universe dissolved into teeny tiny light partic
les of the Milky Way, our only galaxy. Except it wasn’t. It was one of trillions of them floating in space without end.

  In a micro instant, I was consciously wandering among the young, glittering collection of stars that assembled like an aerial burst. The cluster was surrounded by clouds of interstellar gas and dust—raw material for any new star formation. I had no concept of time but of space. It could had been hours or mere seconds. Time had ceased to exist. There I was, I existed, and the universe surrounded me. Next to the full blue moon, the constellation of Virgo traveled its ecliptic path. I identified it by the most prominent star named Spica.

  I was the microcosm, and I was part of the macrocosm, and the stars welcomed my presence among them, rejoiced by my celestial permutation.

  Under my feet was the blue planet in all its vast greatness. Continents, clouds, and water. I nearly realized I had just found another piece of the big picture.

  “And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years: And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to give light upon the earth.’ And it was so,” I said, reciting Genesis 1:14-19. I was in awe of the majesty that surrounded me.

  I felt light, ethereal, and unearthly. In awe, I glanced at my iridescent and luminescent body, created like the live tendrils I used to heal creatures. I felt complete and for the first time supreme, in a holy sense of the word.

  I was sure good existed. This was proof of it.

  Zoom… And so, my wonderful, wonderful dream had expired.

  The sudden physicality of my body was almost too painful when I returned inside it. I felt the electricity prickling my hands and feet again and the constriction of my body with every breath. Then I opened my eyes and discovered I was levitating in the empty space above the roof. I gasped, taken by surprise as the power of gravity returned. I fell and held by a miracle onto the triangular pediment of my window four stories above the ground.