Whereas her hometown had a few buildings along the main stretch of road, this city had neighbourhoods and streets filled with an assortment of structures. It was something to behold especially after two years of being cooped up in that school.
For the first time, Sister Maria seemed to be enjoying the trip. Had this been her hometown? More likely, she was looking forward to being released from her charge.
“Here we are,” the cabby announced upon arrival.
This was the site of a massive construction and visible on the foreground were the beginnings of church spires. This structure of wood, masonry and stone would stand tall above its neighbours; a point of pride for any city. So why were they here?
Clara and Sister Maria stepped off silently and without hesitation the nun pushed past the protective fence. Despite the initial show of force, Sister Maria seemed slower and more deliberate in her movements. Clearly she was not relishing this stroll through a busy worksite, and the odd stares they got certainly did not help.
They walked through the chaos as workers were busy raising the structure. They continued on until they reached a cemetery surrounded by a stone wall. At a point separating the two sites, Clara saw a simple wooden door.
Sister Maria paused, stood aside and said, “I am afraid this is where we part ways, child.”
Clara looked at the facial features of her escort and, as usual, there was not an ounce of emotion to be found. That is until a naughty little thought passed through her mind. It would be a shame to miss this opportunity to speak with impunity.
“I was the one who rearranged all of the furniture in your room,” Clara said with a smirk.
Sister Maria’s scowl remained firmly in place for a moment but soon broke out into a deep laugh.
“Was it now?” Sister Maria asked in a light-hearted tone. “The sisters and I spent a great deal of time trying to work out how someone managed to get all my things up onto the ceiling.”
“You are not angry, Sister?” Clara asked, disappointed at this particular reaction.
“Of course not Clara,” Sister Maria said in a serious tone. “Sister Agnes nearly wet herself laughing and anything that knocks her down a peg is worth its weight in gold,” she added with a smile.
So Clara had gotten her wish after all. Not only did she witness Sister Maria smile, but she had also learned that nuns were human, a good lesson for any child to learn.
“Now child, you must be the one to go through that door,” the nun said. “You never know, we might end up seeing one another again. Although not as travelling partners, since you are far too talkative for my liking!”
Clara smiled, took her worn out suitcase, and then opened the door. It was dark inside, but she was not fearful, things that should be feared were often hidden in plain sight. Without hesitation, she crossed the threshold, curious about what she would find on the other side.
* * * *
Clara rubbed her eyes and found a corridor that stretched out in both directions. The walls were made of onyx and a myriad of matching doors lined the walls with no identifying features.
The architects had obviously chosen this design to confuse and mislead. She looked down at both ends of the hall and found no end in sight. That should have made her nervous, especially once she realised that the door had locked behind her.
“What an interesting welcome,” Clara said while half-expecting an answer.
When no answer came, Clara left her suitcase in place and followed the hallway to her left. She hoped her bag would serve well as a point of reference. Either way the thing was too bulky to drag along for no reason.
After five minutes of walking, Clara spotted an object up ahead. At first, she felt a wave of excitement washed over her, that is until her worn out suitcase came into focus. She had gone full circle? How?
This hallway did not have an obvious curve to it, at least not enough to accomplish this feat. Things were certainly getting interesting.
A minute or so after Clara returned to her point of reference she heard a door open a couple of sections up the hall. A quick glance in that direction revealed a young man with a suitcase of his own passing through.
“Don’t let that door close!” Clara exclaimed.
The young man jumped then looked behind him just in time to hear the door latch into place. Only after a glance down the opposing end of the corridor did the graveness of his situation sink in.
“Sorry,” he said shyly. “Jonathan Carmichael,” he said.
“Clara Grey,” Clara said before she beamed a smile.
“Most people call me Jack,” he said.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Clara said but was only interested in getting this social banter out of the way. “Know where we are?”
“No clue, actually,” he said looking confused. “Been here long?”
“Long enough,” Clara said. “Mind if we put a theory to the test?”
“Sure,” Jack said. “What do you have in mind?”
“Head that way,” Clara said pointing down the corridor. “I will go in the opposite direction and if you encounter anyone, ask for assistance.”
Jack cocked a brow and shrugged. Without a word, he turned around and began his leisurely stroll down the hall. Clearly he was not concerned about being caught up in this situation. Clara silently wondered if he would need a nap halfway through.
Clara left her bag behind and looked at every door along the way in an effort to find a pattern or find an identifying feature for the doors, but discovered none. The more she reflected on this matter the more she felt certain that this construct had been designed to confuse, like an elaborate trap.
They crossed paths midway and found themselves once again by her discarded bag. Once again, Jack did not seem perturbed when they crossed paths.
“How did you do that?” Jack asked.
Clara smiled before she replied, “Been here for a bit, remember?”
“Oh,” Jack said. “What now?”
“Not sure. Do you have any ideas?” Clara asked in turn.
Jack shrugged, and that nearly disheartened Clara. She had been sent here for a reason and could reasonably conclude that there had to be a way out. Eventually, she began to question why Jack had used a different door. Were there multiple entrances?
But how would they find the door leading to their salvation? Every door was identical, and the stonework had been expertly done to create the illusion that there was no variation. She could try every door, but there were no guarantees that such a crude solution would work.
Exasperated, she ran a hand through her hair and leaned back against the wall. She closed her eyes aware that Jack was watching her intently. Great, just what she needed…
When Clara opened her eyes, she looked up as though to curse God; instead, she found salvation looking down upon her. While the walls and floor were nondescript, that was not the case for the ceiling.
Seven doors were enclosed within an arched ceiling, one high enough for most people to miss. There was a band of stone missing from the vaulted ceiling which permitted light to bleed through. It was a bright white light, reminding her of daylight but was consistent no matter the angle or side. Artificial lighting? Clara thought that this discovery just made things more interesting
As part of the vaulted ceiling, a passage of text was carved into each section. Of course it had to be written in Latin.
“How is your Latin?” Clara asked while positioning herself in such a way as to see the entirety of the text.
“I can muddle through,” Jack said.
How could she have expected anything else from him? Fortunately, Clara had spent a lot of time reading the bible and guessed that her recent prayer sessions had been so gruelling for a reason. She would have to thank Sister Maria if they ever crossed paths again.
“I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth,” Clara read aloud.
“The book of Job 19:25,” Jack said.
A
t least he was right about something. Clara had a suspicion that every section held a different passage. A shame that the reason for these passages was not readily apparent.
“That’s right,” Clara said to encourage Jack. “Let’s go see what the rest say,” she said nonchalantly.
“2 Corinthians 2:17, John 12:25, Revelation 3:5, Romans 5:10,” Jack said.
Clara found it amusing that he dutifully called out every chapter and verse they came across. After all, they were clearly marked and engraved. At least that kept him focused, which was a good thing.
She read every verse looking for a clue, but so far they seemed to be random. Without a discernible pattern, it would be difficult to find a clue to work with. This worried Clara, but she remained hopeful that something would leap out at her.
“Then my people will live in a peaceful habitation, and in secure dwellings and in undisturbed resting places,” Clara read.
“Isaiah 32:18,” Jack said.
“So why does it say Isaiah 32:27?” Clara asked.
Jack looked up and shrugged before saying, “No such thing. Isaiah 32 ends at 20.”
The boy was right and Clara was ill equipped to admit it, even to herself. Of all the verses this was the only one she had expected to see. Clara had come here to find her new home after all, not some endless corridor.
“The engraver must have made a mistake?” Jack asked.
“No,” Clara said. “Every piece of stone here is seamlessly joined to its neighbour. Such work requires a mastery which is rarely found in the world.”
It seemed unlikely that this discrepancy had been made by accident. That meant the error had been stamped there for a reason.
“A clue!” Clara exclaimed.
Without another word, Clara turned to face the set of three doors in this section then turned the knob to the door on her right. The door opened without any resistance. Confident in her decision, she walked through without hesitation.
* * * *
“Congratulations,” the priest said. “You almost beat our record time for finding your way through.”
“So it’s not a trap?” Clara asked while sounding a bit disappointed.
Clara looked around and found herself at the epicentre of an expansive circular tower. The architecture was airy, where white marble made up the bulk of the structural supports and walls. There were two staircases that wound their way through the core and led higher into the rotunda. The architecture reminded Clara of a double-helix formation.
The domed ceiling was made of glass and steel which permitted the sun to beam down directly into the centre of the room. Clara’s spirit rose at the sight of this light and oddly enough, felt at peace.
“Oh! It’s a trap as well,” the man said. “Can never be too careful about who or what ventures into the Terminus.”
The who or what part of his statement had gotten her attention. While a pertinent question to ask, Clara was pretty sure they would not be inclined to answer.
Jack appeared from one of the side doors with her suitcase in hand. Where did he find the time to get her bag and discover an alternate entrance? For a brief moment, her mind saw past her annoyance and noticed his piercing blue eyes and sharp features. In that moment, Clara wondered why her cheeks were warm.
“Father Taylor,” Jack said. “Shall I bring this to her room?”
“No that is quite alright, young Jack,” Father Taylor said. “You know full well that you’re not allowed in the women’s wing.”
“But that place smells of flowers and spice and everything nice,” Jack whined before he adopted a smirk.
That had been Clara’s introduction to his mischievous side. If that kind of behaviour was even partially tolerated here, then she was about to have a grand ole time.
“Jack is a second-year student here,” Father Taylor said.
“Pleasure was all mine,” Jack said. “Barely had to lift a finger.”
Barely? Jack had been more of a killick than an enabler. He must have been placed there to observe and potentially nudge her the right way. Clara had a sinking suspicion that he wanted to make sure she never broke the record.
“Likewise,” Clara said. “Father, what are your plans for me?” She asked to show her eagerness to begin.
Without a word, an older student appeared from one of the upper levels. At first she assumed it was a nun since her uniform reminded her of a nun’s habit.
“Clara, this is Edith,” Father Taylor said while pointing to the new arrival. “Take your things and follow her to the women’s dormitory.”
“Yes, Father,” Clara said and hid her disappointment.
It seemed that answers would have to wait. This time, Clara was certain they would not evade her for long.
* * * *
That evening, Clara awoke in her quarters and realised that these were in fact hers. The room was Spartan in nature, but it had all of the basics including a wash basin and mirror.
She crawled out of her bed once her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. She went to the wash basin and looked into the silver polished mirror. Clara could barely recognise the little girl before her, it had been years since she had the opportunity to look at her reflection.
Clara’s steel-grey eyes shone brightly and defiantly. She supposed the twinkle in her eyes was deserved after that incident back at school. It had been her diversion and quick thinking that brought her here. Where here was, precisely, Clara did not know, but she was hopeful it was a step in the right direction.
Her hair was a mangled mess but the dark brown curls were nearly black in this light. Some women were blessed with straight hair while others had a head full of locks. Clara was decidedly in the middle; the envy of no one but with a bit of work, could mimic most hairstyles.
Her cheeks were round and had a healthy glow. After a few years of eating regular meals, it appeared that Clara had gained a bit of weight. She had been so gaunt when she arrived at the school, and for the first few months, the other children had teased her mercilessly over it.
Now she had the rounded face of a child who had yet to grow into her frame. Did that mean she was due for a growth spurt? Clara silently hoped that she would, because it seemed that many of the students here towered over her.
Her nose was straight but decidedly feminine. Not too narrow or wide, nor did it dominate her facial features. In fact, neither did her eyebrows, for which she was grateful considering how many of the older students at her old school spent hours picking at them.
Fortunately, her ears also bore the ability to blend in, easily covered by her hair due to their size and how they stayed close to her head. A student once mentioned how they were elongated nearer to the top, which gave them an elfin look. To this day, Clara was not sure if that had been meant as a compliment or an insult.
Clara splashed her face with cold water to take out the crust in her eyes and clear out a few cobwebs from her mind. Now was the time to get a perspective on matters. Her lessons would begin tomorrow and she had no clue what subjects would be taught. Her vanity could wait. For now, she needed to make sure everything was in order.
A quick check of her uniform was all she needed before getting more shuteye. After the journey she had, the more sleep she got the better. Either way, the mirror was here to stay.
HERE BE MONSTERS
1907
Clara was never given an official name for her new home, some called it the Tower of Babel or the Tower for short. Others referred to it as the Library of Alexandria and a few used an assortment of less savoury terms. It was rumoured that using its proper name would empower their enemies, so chances were, the name had been forgotten long ago. The truth was irrelevant really, since the lack of a name suited this place.
Besides the name, there were many libraries and archives that contained vast sums of knowledge. Some contained codices dating back to the Antiquities. Clara made sure to explore the massive structure, ever in awe of what she found.
Professor Stephens h
ad taught them that the Church had amassed stores of information before the fall of the Roman Empire. That hoard existed to preserve knowledge in the hopes that one day humanity would be ready.
Sadly, there was something in his choice of words that implied humanity would have to wait. This was further hammered home when he commented on the Edison and Tesla rivalry. He even bragged that the acolytes of the Temple of Zeus had resolved those debates centuries ago.
While that certainly explained a few aspects of this structure and the wonders within, it did little to explain others. The Terminus was a prime example of this disconnect: a network of gates leading to destinations around the world.
The Van Helsing Paradox Page 4
