29: Secrets of the Church
“Well that’s your story,” said Ceres, “You two got taught that in that city, right?”
“Can we not discuss the city?” asked Hermia, “In fact, let’s just drop this whole thing. Let’s take a breather and change the subject. Phantasia,” she looked at her with pleading eyes, “I was wondering if you lived here all by yourself?”
“Sure do,”
“You don’t have a family?”
Phantasia wanted more time to think of an answer, but Hermia was watching her with inquisitive eyes. “I, well…no, not any more. Just a…Queen…” she said, blurting out the truth and hoping she could cover it up later. Hermia looked puzzled.
“A Queen?”
“You from some kinda tribe too?” asked Ceres.
Phantasia nodded. “It’s something like that. It’s very damp where I come from. Lots of water.”
“So I guess we’re all orphans here…” said Ceres, “Hermia and Horatio live in the Orphanage, along with a load of the others, like Byron and Dante.”
Any vigour that was left drained from Hermia’s face. “Horatio and I, we…” She chewed on her lip, her hand tightening around the torch, its light dropped to a patch of bare stone floor. “We used to live in Malkuth, but, well…we don’t any more… Like I said, I’d rather not go there.”
Korrigan cut into the downcast mood like a spring breeze sweeping away the winter cold. “I kinda live all over the place! Sometimes in the forest, sometimes at the orphanage, sometimes I ever stay overnight at the school! I don’t have family either, so I can make the most of living like the wind! Staying cooped up in one place all the time is so boring,”
“And as you know,” said Ceres, “I live in the forest. My tribe got scattered, most ‘em hunted down an’ killed by bastards like Godhand an’ stuff. I was living alone ’til Korrigan here coerced her way into me bed… Room. House.”
Hermia cleared her throat. “Moving swiftly on,” she began, “Is there anything else you’d like to show us, Phantasia?”
Phantasia took them over to the second hidden door and down the next flight of stairs. As flashlights swept over the rows of books lining the walls even Hermia couldn’t help but gasp in awe. Ceres and Horatio broke ranks in unison, both scrambling to grab the closest book they could.
“I’m not very good with reading,” said Korrigan with a sigh, “Unless they’re picture books, of course!”
Hermia pulled a thin, spiral-bound notebook off the nearest shelf and flicked through it. “Looks like a load of gibberish,” she said, “Why’d anyone want to have a study all the way down here? Were they hermits or something?”
Ceres was standing at the desk, studying one of the larger tomes. “Nah, they really were warriors,” she said, “Proper warriors who fought off proper demons who came from the depths of the planet! This is real stuff!”
Hermia rolled her eyes. “You sure it isn’t just someone’s fantasy story? Some nobody could’ve cooped themselves up in this room for years writing some overblown epic no-one else cared about,”
“It’s pretty outlandish stuff,” said Horatio, leaning over to study Ceres’s book, “Probably corrupted retellings of actual events. It’s because of people mixing fantasy and reality over the last millennium that no one knows the true history,”
“I tell ya, there were demons down here,” said Ceres. She fluttered over to another corner of the room and began gorging herself on the books there. Even in the limited torchlight her eyes darted back and forth over the pages of bound grimoires, dog-eared diaries and thick dictionaries of esoteric terms. She moved from shelf to shelf like a bumblebee collecting nectar, while Horatio was content to sit at the desk taking his time to read the thickest of the journals. Korrigan busied herself hovering around, eyes scanning the darkness and fingers twirling through her blonde hair, but Hermia was tapping her foot with impatience within ten minutes.
“I’m getting claustrophobic,” she said, “It’s dark, it’s damp and it’s stuffy. We must be well underground by now. I hate being underground. If I liked it I’d have stayed, well… I hate it, okay?”
Horatio broke off from his intense study and was at her side in an instant. “We could leave them to it?” he said, “I don’t mind. It’s only a book.”
There was a silent understanding between the two of them. Phantasia could see it in their bond – one of the strongest she’d seen – which appeared interwoven with layers of powerful memories she couldn’t decipher. Whatever was haunting Hermia was reflecting in Horatio too – he’d just been hiding it by throwing all this attention into the books.
“Doesn’t it remind you of things?” she said to him. He nodded and put a reassuring arm around her shoulder.
