The Book, the Key and the Crown (Secrets of the Emerald Tablet Book 1)

by Jennifer Cipri

  “I can’t stand it, this mean sickness all around me. I don’t like these men saying that horrible word, bitch.”

  “Wasn’t your momma a bitch?” Mo says.

  “I can’t even go to the free movies at the library anymore. There’s stuff in those movies you know. Like arsenic. If you swallow it it makes you sick. Bad images of people fucking without love. I don’t want to fuck without love.”

  “I do,” the girl says and they laugh.

  “I just want to be a good person now. I had to walk away from a starving child in Iraq. I had to walk away from him.”

  The girl comes over and wants to sit on my lap. I don’t let her.

  “Come on,” she says. “I can make it better.”

  “Let her sit down,” Mo orders. He made me come here to Rita’s Tavern. He made me come. I used to come here with him and treat the girls bad. Before I went to Iraq. But I don’t want to come with him anymore. He’s mad at me. Mo don’t like what I just said. But Mo doesn’t understand that I can’t help these things anymore. The truth things that just come out. I see the world now, for what it is. Before I was blind, but now I see, and what I see, it horrifies me.

  “You should be a lady,” I tell her.

  “I am a lady. More than you’ll ever know. Come on baby. Let me sit.”

  “Get away from me!” I yell and I push her away.

  She falls to the floor and I know I wasn’t supposed to do that. I start to cry. “I just wanna go home. I just wanna go home. I just wanna go home.”

  Mo gets up and walks toward me. I know what he’s gonna do now. He’s gonna hurt me real bad. He’s gonna hurt me and make it end.

  He rolls up his sleeves and lifts me off my chair. “You’re a dumb motherfucker.”

  “I just wanna go home,” I tell him.

  “Crying like a little bitch.”

  “Take me home, Mo.”

  “Alright. I’ll take you home.”

  26: Stori

  I knew it. That night I had to tape my father up there next to Ben. I knew it without really knowing. He was not going to be coming back to us. He was never coming home.

  Yet still, I put him up there. Even then it felt so much more than just a headstrong effort. It felt like a finalization. A submitting to God’s plan. I was allowing my father to die. And accepting my new responsibility. To take up the quest, right where he left off. To find the dungeon, discover the pure evil that lives. To walk away from him, when I had a chance to kill his captors and set him free.

  I couldn’t kill, daddy. I’m sorry but I couldn’t kill.

  I sit here now at my kitchen table, unwrapping the gift my mother left for me. I open the box and pull it out—a golden locket in the shape of a house. Inside, all four of us together.

  Someone is yelling in the street below. It’s the only sound, for the world still sleeps. “Soldier Sonny! Found him up in Soda Can! Head bashed in!”

  Nothing comes as a surprise anymore.

  But I long for revelation.

  I need to know what to do next. For I know the truth and knowing truth requires action. Shouting it out in the street like that idiot won’t get me anywhere. The voices of those deemed crazy are never heard.

  I have to use my silence now to make the next move, so I simply bow my head and run my palms across the kitchen table.

  I hear the voice of Caroline. “He will rid the world of every kitchen table.”

  The sun is rising. It’s spilling over the windowsills, a bright glowing orange. How I would love to just sit here forever like this, in the silence of the sleeping Valley, with the ticking of the clock my only friend.

  My bones are already weary and the journey has just begun. I reach out and place two fingers around a pussy willow bud. I rub it gently, thankful for its smooth velvet. “How pretty you are,” I tell it. “How perfect and pretty.”

  I’ve memorized his letter by now. I read it back to myself in my mind.

  Dear Family,

  Goodbye. I am never coming back. Forget me and move on. I have a credit of $14.65 at the bakery. Oh, And you better bless the kitchen table when Easter comes.

  Love,

  Frank

  The kitchen table.

  The kitchen table.

  Yes! The kitchen table!

  I look down and see the edges of his scratches. I move the wrapping paper aside and no longer see the mess my mother cursed my father out for, but a sign. This is what it reads: The Crown of Final Sight is with the one who holds the most Ginger Ales.

  The kitchen chair clatters to the floor as I stand. In my room I stuff Amanda in my backpack and set off without saying goodbye to Regina or my mother.

  In Soda Can Alley the Dobermans are loose, rummaging through litter by the trash cans. They spot me coming and brace, with tails darted like daggers. They snarl. They’re headed my way but I’m headed somewhere else. I rush up on him. He turns around unexpecting, but he doesn’t have time to take a swing. I am prostrate at his feet with my head bowed to the ground.

  “Forgive me,” I say in a language altogether new yet somehow a part of me.

  “Huh? What you doing? You crazy or something? Get up off the ground girl.”

  “Forgive me. For my judgments. For my blindness. Oh keeper of the crown forgive your sister this day.”

  A gentle hand comes to my shoulder and Charley lifts me back to standing. “Shhhh! Speak English.” Then he leads me to the garbage cans where the Dobermans are. He shooes them off with slaps and kicks and they trot away whimpering in dejection.

  Behind the garbage bins we are out of sight. “Tell me, how did you know about the crown?”

  “My father gave it to you, didn’t he?”

  “Did he tell you?”

  “No. I had to figure it out myself.”

  He’s displeased. “No one is supposed to know. Do you know what this could mean? If the wrong people found out?”

  “I know what it means. I know Cosimo is looking for it. He has my father. Trapped under the city. He knows my father’s a Brave. He’s using children also, to grow his powers stronger. I don’t think he can walk right now.”

  “My God. My God.”

  “It’s true Charley.”

  “How did you know the ancient tongue?”

  “The prophet Caroline up on the hill, she helped me. She helped me learn about who I really am and the powers I have.”

  “Have you told anyone?”

  “No.”

  “You musn’t.”

  “I won’t.”

  He looks about him once again and then quietly and carefully opens his many red cloaks.

  And there it is. In all its glory.

  My breath goes out of me. It is pure gold and inlaid with blue stones all around. The blue is a color I’ve never seen before.

  As I look upon it I see four rivers flowing out of one, I see a man with a black beard dozing against the trunk of an oak. I see a garden. It is beautiful. I feel a breeze. A soft and loving breeze. I know forgiveness in this moment. “Thank you. I have never seen anything quite as beautiful. I don’t know why, but this crown gives me great peace.” I look at him. “What do we do now?”

  “It must go back, to the Tower of Babel. You must find the portal. I will have it in the meantime. No one will ever look for it here. I have placed it only a few times upon my head, Stori, and believe me its powers are mighty. I saw everything. All of the mysteries of this world were revealed to me. I saw so much that I can’t even remember anymore. I suppose I even saw you being here in this moment, because with the crown on my head, I was able to escape the confinement of time. I was able to see the past and the future as well. But as soon as I took it off, I lost most of it.”

  “Put it back on,” I tell him. “You’ll be able to see where the portal is.”

  “Never. It’s too powerful. The evil in me feeds off of it. It’s dangerous on the head of anyone but our Lord. Go. You must go. See the prophetess Caroline and have her help you find the port
al.”

  “You will be okay?”

  “Yes. Now hurry. I will be fine.”

  “Wait. One more thing.” I pull Amanda out of my backpack. “Give her to that little girl who runs around here with her brother.”

  Charley takes Amanda and slides out from the shadows.

  No sooner do I dart out of the bins than I see my uncle Joe running toward me with his arms flailing above his head. “No! Stori! No!” Suddenly Mo is standing in front of me. I hear a whooshing sound right next to my head, and then before I know it, lights out.

  27: Priscilla

  I don’t know where to go. Who can I turn to? Who can I tell? I can’t call Grace ‘cause I’ll just hear how horrible I am for starting a new life and leaving my old one behind. I can’t tell Trish or any of her friends ‘cause they’re like vultures swarming above my head, waiting for this relationship to drop dead so they can dive down for their long awaited feast.

  Fuck it. I’ll just get in my car and trust as I shift into drive the car will take me where I need to go.

  It takes me to the Valley.

  I lock up and walk a block and a half to Rita’s Tavern. Rita is at the counter organizing little stacks of forks and knives over a linen napkin. I don’t have time to make her like me. I just need to tell her what’s on my heart. “Where is everybody?” I ask.

  “Cleared out. You don’t want to know.” She looks like hell too. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “It’s four in the morning.”

  “Look,” I tell her in terror holding out my ring.

  She drops her fork and comes over to me. She lifts my fingers into the light and her mouth falls open. “Damn girl,” she breathes. “Now that’s what I call a rock.”

  “It’s freaking huge.”

  She looks up and registers my distress. She frowns. “He’s rich huh?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “And he’s handsome I bet.”

  “He’s gorgeous.”

  “And people like him and he’s a lot of fun. And he’s mysterious and keeps you on your toes and makes you crazy jealous.”

  “Yes! How did you know?”

  “Honey. I been around the block more than once.”

  I like this lady. With a little styling advice and some microdermabrasion I bet you she would even pass for pretty.

  She pours me a drink. “This one’s on the house.”

  I down half of it in two big gulps.

  She shakes her head and chuckles. “Chasing a stray bullet. Can’t say I haven’t done it myself.”

  “Did you ever catch him?”

  “Few times.”

  “And?”

  “My whole world came crashing right down. Thought I would go spinning out into the beyond and never come back. But I stayed strong and learned that chasing a man I don’t love is just a way to chase the one I did. My father. I had to let go of him. You know. My father. Before I could start wanting to be with the right man. Well don’t feel bad honey if you don’t like him back.”

  “He doesn’t just like me. He wants to marry me!”

  “Oh honey.” Then she does something unexpected. She comes around the bar and wraps her arms around me. She presses my head into her bosom. She is as soft as butter and I never want to leave her embrace.

  “I miss my father,” I tell her. “I want to go home.”

  She spends a little time just rocking me back and forth and says. “You got a broken heart girl. And some man out there has the kind of love to fix it.”

  Later in the day I stop at the da Vinci School of Arts for Children and ask to speak with Janice.

  I’m brought into an empty studio where Janice is sorting through some CDs in the middle of the floor. She looks up and smiles, “Hello Miss Van Patten. Back again?”

  “I just stopped by to see if there was anyone who could answer a few of my questions.”

  Janice looks alarmed. “Is everything okay. Are any of my babies hurt?”

  “No,” I assure her. “I’m sort of here on unofficial business. It’s not a specific case.”

  “The police were already here last year asking about the Baks. I told you that already.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “I wish there were something we could do. To help them. But I guess it’s true what they say. If you don’t find a missing child within the first 45 minutes…” Her voice trails off and she picks up a CD and just holds it.

  “I get sick just thinking about it.”

  “I do too.”

  I peek at the CD she’s holding. Glière. “I work with children too,” I remind her. “Although I don’t get to ever dance with them.”

  “You’re missing out,” she tells me. “There’s a light they give off. When they’re dancing. It’s a real live thing. And if you open yourself up to it, you can actually take some of it for yourself.” She stands up and looks at me. “Do you really love them?” she asks.

  “Love?”

  “Yes. I love my children. Do you love yours?”

  “I try not to. But it never seems to work, Janice.”

  She grabs me by the hand and says, “Come with me.”

  Down two halls we turn a corner to an alcove with a door in it. She brings me to the door and says, “I was sworn to secrecy. They came and told me I would lose my job, my apartment, everything.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” She takes out a key from her back pocket and slips it in the door. She opens the door and stands back.

  Inside are instruments. Some are sitting lifeless on the ground. But others—a harp, a clarinet, a cigar box guitar—are floating in the air, playing some kind of strange yet sweet symphony.

  “I think I need to sit down,” I tell her. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “They want the children,” she whispers. “They won’t stop playing until they get them.”

  I get a text and somehow I know it’s not going to be good. It’s Bill. The text reads: A Putzarella was just picked up for trespassing.

  28: Stori

  I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Miss Van Patten’s car with a duffle bag of clothes at my feet, watching downtown Redemption sail by. I just spent the night in a juvenile detention holding cell. My eye is bruised from Mo but thankfully the puffing went down and it didn’t close. Priscilla is taking me to Pilgrim’s Island and a police car tails closely behind.

  “I wish you would talk to me about what happened at the casino.”

  I don’t answer her, just stare out the window. Sonny’s dead. My father and mother aren’t too far behind.

  She’s leaned forward, with both hands tightly gripped to the steering wheel. “What could have possessed you to break in there like that? Don’t you know the world is under surveillance? Are you that dumb? Were you trying to steal something? And where did you get that gun?”

  She’s talking to me kind of like how my mother does after I’ve gotten suspended from school for fighting, or when she finds out I’ve been at the Cage.

  “What are you gonna do?” I ask her. “Ground me?” I don’t have the energy anymore. I’m giving up.

  “You seem awfully calm for someone who’s going to an orphanage. Just talk to me, okay. Tell me why you snuck in there?”

  I look at her and note she’s been through some kind of duress herself. She’s changed. Broken down and scattered. Like a falling house of cards, she’s falling and going every which way. “What happened to you?” I ask more for spite than for curiosity. That’s when I see the ring. I smirk and say, “Oh. Now I see. Congratulations.”

  “Listen, you. I don’t have time for your wise ass remarks about my so called phony life.”

  “And I don’t have time anymore to care. So don’t worry. I’ve got more important things to do. Like go to this orphanage and die.”

  “Please. Tell me. Stori. Look at me. I’m the only one now, who can help you. Your little sister, I tried to get her in here with you, but they refused it. I managed to get her into the convent, but she�
�s gonna go crazy without you and your mother. If there’s something you’re not telling me, like someone forced you to go in there against your will, you have to tell me now. You just have to trust me.”

  Maybe I should. Regi is all alone and still needs me. What if she’s waiting for me at the meeting place? “You didn’t believe me about the mayor. You won’t believe me about anything else. That’s for sure.”

  Even though her blouse is perfectly creased from shoulder to wrist and her black pencil skirt has not one fleck of lint clung to it, her face and what is behind it exposes a heaping pile of mess. For the first time, I get nervous she might be giving up on me. That’s what I wanted though, all this time, isn’t it?

  Maybe she senses my anxiety for she says, “Listen. That’s it. I can’t do this anymore. I’m gonna walk away from you, Stori. You have no idea what I’ve put myself through ever since I took on your case. You have no idea how it’s effected me, my relationships, everything. And for what? You tell me. What have I been losing sleep every night for? A girl that will never open up to me in a thousand light years?”

  We pull into a gate by the sound. Priscilla shows a security guard her city badge and he buzzes us in. We stop at a dock where a guard is waiting. She throws the car in park and looks at me. “I’ll be back tonight for the fundraiser, but after that I don’t know how often I’ll be able to see you. So if you’re gonna talk, you better do it now.”

  Here goes nothing. “I broke in there because there’s a hidden prison under the casino. The mayor was there. And so was Cosimo the Corpse and this woman who might be his queen. They have my father prisoner. And all of the missing children from the city. They’re looking for a crown and I know where it is and if they find it they’re going to start a new world order and take over all of Redemption.”

  She’s stunned, the way the girls get in the Cage when I knock their brains into their skulls. “Say something,” I tell her.