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

by Jennifer Cipri

  The guard patiently laces his hands in front of him.

  Priscilla rolls my window down. “Hi. We just need a few minutes please. Is that possible?”

  He nods.

  Priscilla puts a hand on my thigh. “Stori. I’m going to confess something to you too. I take medication, for a condition similar to yours. Well it’s depression. I’ve learned to live with my illness. I’ve learned to medicate myself; I fight it. I should have told you this earlier, Stori, but I didn’t. I see myself in you. The old me, the one that was scared and never thought she could amount to anything. But there’s a life out there, sweetie. One of opportunity and success and happiness. You can become something. You can become, well, me.”

  It’s funny. While she’s sitting there feeling sorry for me, I’m now sitting here feeling sorry for her. Not only is she lost trying to be someone she’s not, she’s denying a part of herself that longs to be her old self again. The better self. Maybe all this time it was me who was supposed to be helping her. Not the other way around. “It’s not a hallucination,” I say unwavering. “I got to know a lot of this stuff because I have powers. Give me your hands. I’ll show you.”

  She hesitates but then finally gives me her hands.

  I stare deep into her eyes and let the information come. “Your father used to sing a song to you to get you to go to sleep.”

  “What?”

  “Your father, the one from Erie.”

  “Who told you I was from Erie?”

  “I know things. I’m a Brave. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  She snaps her hands out of mine, but it’s too late. I’ve seen everything I need to see.

  “Don’t ever talk about my father again,” she says crisply.

  “He was sweet to you in the early years, but addiction got the best of him. A lot of it wasn’t his fault. But you blame him.”

  “Where are you pulling this from?”

  “Your boss, his name is Bill.”

  “He told you?”

  “No. I’m talking about something else now. Your boss.”

  “What about him?”

  “Have you been to the office?”

  “No.”

  She’s confused. “What about Bill?”

  “Bill doesn’t make much small talk. He’s very serious about his job. He’s kind of boring to be honest. But every once in a while he comes into your office to ask you about a case, or how things are going. Sometimes he tells you you’re doing a great job.” I pause to see if she’s listening.

  Stone quiet.

  “You wait for those moments. Because when Bill gives you a compliment, you want to giggle.” I stop again. Wait for a response.

  Still silence.

  “Your boyfriend, Nate—that’s his name right?—does not ever praise you and when he does, it is for superficial things. And even if he did, he wouldn’t make you wanna giggle the way Bill does. But Bill is much older than you. And you are so afraid of what people will think you will never let him see you smile when he tells you you’re doing a good job.”

  “What are you? Some kind of mind reader?”

  “No. I’m a number in your file cabinet. I’m about to be dropped inside of a drawer and closed forever.”

  “I’ve never looked at you like that.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “Tell me how you came up with those things. That, by the way, are completely untrue.”

  “Why Miss Van Patten. I’m surprised. All this time you’ve been spending in Redemption. All the studies you’ve done. Did you not know that there are Braves here?”

  She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re trying to avoid the subject. The subject of your hallucinations.”

  “No. I’m not. I’m not afraid anymore like you are. I’m not ashamed of me. The real me that I was born to be. I haven’t stuffed her behind a locked door and threw away the key. And you are jealous of me because of that.”

  Priscilla turns the car off and gets out. “That’s it. I’m done.” She comes over to the passenger side and opens my door. “I warned you, you had one last chance. I knew you would just use it to take one last final dig at me. Get out.”

  I get out and she immediately goes back to the driver’s side. She gets inside and starts to drive off, leaving me there all by myself. But then the car comes to an abrupt halt. She gets out again and marches back to me. “What is Bill thinking?”

  “He’s embarrassed and doesn’t think he would ever have a shot with you.”

  “So he likes me?”

  “He doesn’t like you, dummy. He loves you. He won’t ask you out though. You have to make the first move.”

  “Damn it.” And she storms off again.

  As she drives away, something unexpected happens. I am scared without her next to me. I don’t want her to leave.

  A row boat takes me over. Two men who look like marines effortlessly sail us to the looming stone mansion in the middle of the sound. I’m sure as soon as I step foot inside the colossal mansion, I’ll be locked in a closet and starved, or waterboarded, or beaten with a stick. But it’s to my surprise that Mistress Smyrna, the woman I saw in the dungeon with my father, greets me with a kiss on each cheek and has me personally escorted by one of her million attendants to the west wing where, behind frosted doors with little swirly designs on them, there’s a full spa and beauty salon.

  There, a swarm of women surround me and strip off all my clothes. I try to cover my private parts but they don’t seem to notice my embarrassment or maybe they just don’t care. They put me in a steaming hot shower, where I’m scrubbed and sponged until I begin to fear that if I keep getting scrubbed my skin will go raw.

  Out of the shower I’m covered in a plush cotton robe secured tightly around my waist and am then escorted into a hair salon. There my hair is shampooed and conditioned before I’m placed before the stylist. She takes a good hour of drying, teasing, powdering, spraying and fastening to make my hair look like it was thrown in a messy ball at the top of my head.

  But everyone seems to love it, telling me how I have the most adorable little heart shaped face and how delicate my neck is and how I should put my hair in an updo more often.

  In the dressing room are racks of dresses of various styles, colors and sizes. I only try on one. A one shoulder plum prom dress with crystal embellishments and a slit up the front. I think it’s a little too small and I complain that when I take a deep breath my ribs hurt. They laugh and say something about beauty being pain and then drag me into yet another room to have my makeup done. As I sit and look into the mirror, watching the cosmetologist who smells like tic-tacs paint my face from plain to pretty, I want to ask what I’m getting ready for.

  I want to, but I don’t. Because I’m scared of the answer.

  The red dining room is as elegant as it is spotless. The knives and forks glint brilliantly under the crystal chandelier and the linen napkins are freshly starched. Tonight we feast on roasted duck and red beet salad. When the duck is served by one of the many maids who scamper back and forth around this mansion, I take note of its golden brown color. They obviously have a chef who knows what he’s doing. I might as well enjoy a good meal before I make my next plan, I tell myself.

  Ernestine sits by my side and she leans in and whispers. “Isn’t the mistress beautiful?”

  I’ve already decided that I’m going to kill her tonight; I should have done it when I had the chance. But I can’t let Ernestine know. “She is indeed. Ern. Are you okay? I haven’t been able to talk to you since that last time when you were sick.”

  “I’m fine now,” she says smiling. I can’t tell if she’s faking it or not. “Really. It’s not that bad here. As long as you don’t go snooping. Everyone is really, really nice.”

  The Mistress looks at me and smiles. “Well, Stori. I just wanted to tell you how happy we are to have you here.”

  “Thank you, Mistress,” I reply politely.

  She’s pleased. Nothing about h
er looks like she’s not really human.

  “Girls,” she says. “I have some very exciting news. AMC has contacted the mayor about doing a reality show here at the mansion. A few of the representatives will even be here tonight at the fundraiser. Please remember that you are to be on your very best behavior. Remember that our image is everything. And just think, we might be famous soon! They think it would be a great story. A family like us. Now what does everybody think?”

  The table breaks out in excited chatter at the possibility of instant fame.

  The mayor comes in and sits and seems to have eyes only for me. He’s looking me up and down and I curse the very existence of this dress. I can feel his eyes all over me. It’s like a slimy slug sliding up my arms, over my face and down my neck to my very visible cleavage. Let me feel you, I hear Richie say. I want to stand up and ask him “What the hell do you think you’re looking at you perverted little creep!” I would, and with great satisfaction, but where would it lead me? Back to juvenile detention I’m sure. It seems that since I’ve started this journey Caroline has sent me on my strength and prowess, which have served me so well over the past few years, are of no use anymore. I have to find a new way to get over on people and this is not going to be easy.

  Silence is the first thing I try. I sit there uncomfortably, nibbling on a piece of white meat, waiting for him to get distracted and look away. But he doesn’t. He’s obviously quite smitten.

  “Stori Putzarella.” He rolls the name around in his mouth like it’s something on the menu. “It’s your first night here, am I correct?”

  “Yes, Mayor Vaughn.”

  He laughs weakly and says, “Don’t be silly. Please call me Damon.”

  “Yes, Damon. It’s my first night here.”

  “I understand your father went missing some weeks back. I’m very sorry to hear that.” He lifts his wine glass and a girl in a white frilly apron steps forward and fills it from a crystal carafe.

  “Yes.”

  “Any word on his whereabouts?” His voice has raised a few octaves and his eyebrows are peaked with interest. I know he’s fishing for something. He obviously knows I was arrested for being inside the casino after hours. Is it possible that he knows I found the hidden passage?”

  “No,” I tell him. “I’m afraid it doesn’t look so good for my family.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But you can be rest assured that we will be more of a family to you here than anywhere else they might have placed you. Mistress Smyrna is like a mother to these girls. And I have taken a very personal pride in this establishment. I have great hopes for everyone. And feel it’s my duty to get to know each and every one of you personally.”

  I look to some of the other girls. They’re all watching me with a look on their faces that says, “Oh shit. Is she in for a surprise.”

  Ernestine looks me straight in the face. I look back at her. We don’t have to say anything, because we’re family. I know what she’s telling me. Just remember the good days, Stori. Just leave your body and focus on that. I don’t want to imagine what it would feel like to have this creepy man’s hands all over my body. And I can’t see myself allowing him to touch me. I will break every finger he owns and tell him to like it. The fumes are rising again, and I have to remember if I blow my fuse I will also potentially blow my cover. I am the unassuming dumb girl who gets bullied into breaking into casinos at night to avoid getting beaten up.

  Does he believe me? Has Priscilla Van Patten spoken to him and blown my cover? I won’t know just yet. All I do know is that he is very interested in me.

  I long for someone to pinch me and wake me from this nightmare.

  The Butler appears and says, “Excuse me, Mistress Smyrna. There is a young man who came over by speed boat. He’s at the door. And he refuses to go away.”

  “Who is it, Tyler?”

  “He says his name is Tony Carp. And he’s here to see Miss Putzarella.”

  The Mistress looks at the mayor.

  The mayor puts his napkin to his mouth with both hands and blots his lips. He passes a glance in my direction and then smiles. “Well of course. We would expect this kind of thing on a first night. Please have him come in. We’ll send Stori into the parlor to meet him.”

  Tony is sitting on the edge of a low back leather sofa. He looks up as I enter and stands. The parlor is grand but not grand enough for him. He looks ten feet tall in his black hoodie and his unlaced timberlands planted firmly on the rug. Just because I hate him, doesn’t mean I can’t marvel at his beauty.

  As I get closer, I can see his eyes going over my dress. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. Does he like what he sees? Does he even recognize me?

  But what does it matter? He’s nothing to me anymore. Absolutely nothing. “Hi Tony.”

  He doesn’t bother to say hi back. “Oh my God. What happened to your eye? Are you okay?” His face is all drawn and serious, like he’s really worried about me.

  It hurts just looking at him. Knowing I love him and he doesn’t love me back. I tell myself I will not cry. I will not crumble into a slobbering mess. Is this what love is? A pain that almost feels like pleasure. A deep yearning unfulfilled. Do I only love him because I cannot have him?

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Who hit you?” His nostrils flare and his fists ball up like he’s ready to fight. “Who the fuck hit you?”

  “It’s a long story, but it’s over now.”

  He’s at a loss for words. What can he say now? He turned his back on me and it’s over. He shakes his head as if in denial and then says, “Where did you get this dress?”

  “The Mistress gave it to me,”

  “Why are you dressed like this?”

  “They wanted to make me look nice, because of this fundraiser they’re having in a few hours.”

  “I’ve never seen you with your hair up,” he says. “And in a dress.” Even though he’s pissed off, his lips are fighting a smile. “You look really nice.”

  “Well thank you. That’s very encouraging.”

  “Would you stop talking to me like that. Like we hardly know each other. It’s me.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been so rude to you lately. It wasn’t right of me.”

  “No. That’s what you don’t understand. It wasn’t right of me. To hurt you.”

  I put a hand up to stop him. “I was just hurt, Tony, because I like you. Or I thought I did. And when you didn’t like me back, I was too immature to deal with it.” I want to cry again, because what I’m about to say is shameful. “Everybody calls me crazy in the Valley. I know they do.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You would not want to be the guy who’s dating the crazy girl. And you shouldn’t have to be. The hallucinations I get have been a curse my entire life. But I’m okay with them now. And some of them I don’t even think are hallucinations anymore. Some of them are real. So yes, I am crazy, and I’m okay with that. But—”

  “—Please, Stori. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what I need to do.”

  As hurt as I am by him, and as much as I hate him, I want to bury myself inside his strong embrace. And I know he’ll let me, despite his love for Desma.

  But I don’t. I have to be strong. I have to get through this on my own. “You’re not responsible for me.”

  “But I am. I feel like a brother to you.”

  I do need him. I need him more than I have ever needed him in my life, but I also know I have to let him go so he can be with the one he loves. And I’m done with the guilt trips. I’m done with the anger. I don’t want to make him feel bad anymore. It’s just not in me. “I’ll be fine here,” I lie. “The Mistress Smyrna will take good care of me. And you have to focus on your career now, Tony. And Desma. And starting a new life. You deserve that. I know you do. Desma’s a nice girl.”

  “Something’s not right about this place. Why does the mayor only have girls here? And all of you teenagers? You don’t know guys like I
do, Stor. You don’t know the things that they can be thinking. About innocent girls like you. I’ll get you out. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Don’t,” I tell him. I walk over to the window facing the garden and look out into the frosty night. The sky is lit up with stars. I think about the Crown of Final Sight and my father locked away in a cold dungeon about to die. I think about Ben and his little sister. I think about Sonny. “Tony Carp. I never imagined my life would take a turn like this. I always believed somehow things would turn out different for me.” I’m aware that everything spoken is probably being listened to. I turn to him and say, “You better go.”

  “But I...”

  “It’s okay,” I tell him. “Go and live your life. Go Tony. Just go.”

  29: Priscilla

  I won’t look at her. She’s over there by the band, with some of the other girls. I really tried to help. But all she did was judge me. I’m done.

  But look at her!

  My God. She looks beautiful. Like a grown woman. Like a million bucks. That’s what I was trying to tell her all this time. There’s a girl under there, Stori. One who’s classy, sophisticated, a girl who can put on a cocktail gown and command the attention of the entire room. Don’t sell yourself short, girl. Don’t think you have to pledge allegiance to the Valley for the rest of your life. Look what the Valley did to you. It left you to fend for yourself, to raise yourself because your parents were too broken to be there for you. If I did it, Stori, you can too. God. Get that awful look off your face! Like you don’t want to be here. Like this is the end of your life or something. The mayor is not who you say he is. He’s an upright man. He’s making this city better. It’s all that conspiracy talk that goes on in the Valley that’s getting to you.

  But how did she know all that stuff? My feelings for Bill. I haven’t spoken a word to anyone and she knew details. I don’t know. I don’t have the answers anymore to anything. Maybe she had some weird psychic moment or maybe she just guessed. But what she said about the mayor and Cosimo and her father and the kids under the city is just too far out there for me.