Order of the Shattered Cross: Pt. 04

"Witches in the New World Coven, past and present. Angelica Moore is the only current member known. Seven past members are known, and Kat talked to two of them," Sister Frost said and handed him the notebook to read. "and one of those two lives in Danvers. Just up the road."

"Do you know what Danvers used to be called?" Timothy asked as he closed the notebooks and walked toward the driver's door of the truck. "Salem Village."

--

Danielle Parris was going about her perfectly normal Saturday. It was overcast the entire morning, but the clouds had cleared by noon, making it a perfect day to go to the park with her granddaughter Eleanor. The weather had been cold, wet, and generally unpleasant the entire week. Finally, the sun broke through just enough to create the opportunity to go outside again. Her son Sebestian was more than happy with an opportunity to have a childless home if only for an hour.

Danielle greeted her granddaughter on her son's porch, the young girl, no older than six, running from the back of the house and jumping through the open doorway to embrace her. Danielle, while quite old herself, still had life enough in her creaky bones to scoop up the girl and spin her for two revolutions before becoming dizzy.

Eleanor resembled her paternal grandmother more than her own mother. Her mother, on olive skinned Italian with rich dark hair, gave birth to a fair skinned child with hair one shade darker than pure platinum blonde. Just like her grandmother. Her father's hair was light and he himself rather pale, but he appeared tanned when compared to his mother. He never knew his father, so didn't even have that to compare it to.

Danielle knew why this might be the case. Witches tended to resemble the most recent witch in their bloodlines. She was waiting for the day she'd tell her granddaughter she was also a witch. Her powers likely wouldn't be noticeable for another few years, so for now, she merely enjoyed her time as a normal grandmother.

"We'll be back in a few hours," Danielle said, kissing his son on the check and giving a cheery wave to her daughter-in-law. The wave was returned with less enthusiasm. Her husband's attachment to his mother and her constant intrusion into their lives had built a wall around the two of them, one brick at a time. The fact her mother-in-law seemed to have stolen her daughter's appearance was a thorn in her side.

Danielle walked with her to the community park only a few minutes away. She watched her excitedly go down the slide. Pushed her on the swings but soon her energy departed, and she sat on a bench and actively watched her with joy in her heart.

Suddenly, everything felt cold. She looked side to side and up. She saw nothing, and the sun was still unobstructed from clouds. It wasn't physically colder, but she was freezing. She twisted her body to look behind her and saw a man across the street, leaning on a light pole staring straight at her. Early thirties if she had to guess. Short, well-kept brown hair, and piercing eyes with experience well beyond his age. His style was understated. Shiny oil-colored pants with a matching blazer over a cream-colored long-sleeved button up shirt tucked in with no belt. What stood out was his aura. A cold flame with purple hues that the wind blew. She was downwind, and it chilled her to the bone.

"How'd you find me, fractured?" Danielle asked, instantaneously appearing behind him.

"Hello to you too," Timothy Augustine said without turning around. "I found you with the aid of a magical artifact. It's called a phonebook. Neat trick by the way."

"Basic magic. Are you curious as to how I got behind you?" Danielle asked.

"You're not, you're still sitting on that bench," Timothy said, being able to see a slight glint of her glimmer like she was a mirage. "Great illusion though. We need to talk."

"Not interested. Go away before you're persuaded to walk into traffic," Danielle threatened, ceasing her projection and fully reappearing on the bench.

"Feisty old bitch," the maiden said, now leaning against the opposite side of the pole. "And likely one of the only people who knows anything about the Moore family."

"You're up," Timothy said aloud, and Sister Frost opened the door of the truck and stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Let's see if she remembers what your mother looked like."

"Are you sure?" Sister Frost asked. Timothy looked over his shoulder at her. The Sister had changed out of her habit and now resembled a relatively modern woman. Jeans with a jacket, her brown hair free, swaying like a curtain just above her shoulders. They wanted her to look as much like her mother as possible, so removed the habit and veil to create a clearer picture. "I feel, naked."

"You're literally not showing any more skin than usual," the maiden giggled.

"Wish me luck," Sister Frost said and made her way across the street. When she was within ten feet of Danielle, she walked face first into an invisible barrier. The sudden stop dazed her, making her wobble backwards before falling to her back clenching her nose.

"Fractured, I said leave," Danielle said, turning around angrily with her green eyes shining like sun penetrating clear emeralds. She saw Timothy still across the street and a confused woman checking for a nosebleed. The woman winced and looked up at her. Danielle leapt from the bench like it was on fire. "Lilith! Etta?" she asked, in a distraught fear.

"I'd take it she remembers her mother," the maiden said.

"Definitely looks like it," Timothy replied.

"No, I'm not Henrietta," Sister Frost said, slowly standing up while pinching her nose. She sniffed once, wiped her thumb across her nostrils but didn't see blood. "I'm her daughter. My name is Michelle."

Danielle was trembling, but her terror gradually subsided when she heard her granddaughter call for her. "Just a minute dear."

"We need to talk to you about my mother," Sister Frost said. Danielle looked past her, and Timothy raised his hand in hello without waving.

"With a fractured? You're an exorcist?"

"How do you know he's a fractured?" Sister Frost asked.

"That man's horrid aura told me everything I needed to know. Your aura though...Lilith that hurts my eyes," Danielle said. Sister Frost noticed she did seem to be squinting like she was looking at the sun.

"What is my aura?"

"The brightest darkness I've ever seen."

--

Danielle was permitted the time to return her granddaughter home on the promise they'd meet afterward. Timothy and Sister Frost were instructed to wait for her in an oddly specific location. The Salem Village Witchcraft Victim's Memorial. It had only opened a few months ago. It had remained a popular tourist and historical landmark for the town and its shameful past since it opened in May earlier that year.

"In memory of those innocents who died during the Salem Village Witchcraft hysteria of 1692," the maiden read aloud. Those words were etched into the side of a waist high rectangular gray stone. A smaller stone on top showed five circular symbols with an open book over them. To the left and right were wrist restraints common for the time period. Only a few feet behind those words were five tall stone slabs with the 25 names of the victims and the accused who died in prison awaiting their trials. Atop the middle stone was a circle depicting a puritan priest holding an open book.

"Three hundred years ago," Danielle said as she approached them. Timothy faced her, and resisted the immediate urge to lean on something, as he would have been leaning against the monument.

"Danielle Parris," Timothy said, looking up at the puritan priest residing above them in judgement. "Any relation?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Danielle admitted, looking up as well. She knew the image was that of Samuel Parris. "Through Elizabeth Parris, cousin of Abigail Williams." Danielle directed them away from the monument and toward a bench so she could sit. "I don't suppose you're here for history lesson."

"What do you know about my mother?" Sister Frost asked. She hadn't changed back into her habit. She assumed remaining in normal clothes would help her be more open to a discussion.

"Beautiful, like you," Danielle said with a sad smile. "Very strong witch. The fact you resemble her so much yet are not a witch surprises me. Where is she?" Timothy and Michelle looked at each other, then back to her. Danielle sighed and looked at her feet. "I see. How?"

"Giving birth to me," Sister Frost replied.

"I'm sorry you never knew her," Danielle said.

"We've met," Timothy said. "She turned into a specter the moment we tried conversing with her soul. I've never had a specter overpower me so easily," Timothy explained.

"For a He-Witch, that is unusual," Danielle replied, and Timothy tilted his head. "Your second soul is a witch I'd take it?"

"She's very perceptive," the maiden said, truly impressed.

"I can see with more than just eyes little one. And hear with more than just my ears," Danielle said, directly to the maiden.

"You can see her," Timothy replied.

"With my eyes? No. With my ears? No. Through her aura, yes."

"What does that mean?" Sister Frost asked.

"I can see all the energies of the world. Like painted brush strokes streaming across a canvas. I can see music. The vibrations flow across the air like..."

"...shut up hippy," the maiden interrupted.

"You'd be wise to respect your elders," Danielle said sternly. "With age, comes wisdom."

"Yeah, but sometimes age comes alone. Besides, I am your elder," the maiden said, and Timothy turned to her. "She's barely your elder."

"Tempestuous little brat," Danielle said.

"Stop it, please," Sister Frost interjected. She stepped between Timothy and Danielle and went to her knees in front of her and held her hands. "What happened to my mother?"

"Angelica happened," Danielle said sadly. "I can't believe I ever placed my faith in that woman's hands."

"What did she do?" Sister Frost begged.

"The Sisters of the New World want the world to end. Those who seek that destruction also believe the power to rebuild the world is theirs to control. Priestesses, one after the other, promised the time was near. For a millennium, it never came to pass. If the world wasn't going to end on its own, it needed a little push."

"What kind of push?" Timothy asked.

"The kind where you challenge the creator himself. The kind where you make the impossible, possible," Danielle said. Timothy didn't immediately understand her, but recalled from recent memory what was once impossible.

"Jesus Christ. They created the Void?" he asked, and Danielle was troubled when he came to that correct conclusion. "How?"

"I don't know how, but the Void has existed for hundreds of years. Sealed away, waiting for the opportune moment to be unleashed on the world. You can't let something like that out until you have something to stop it."

"The Black Winged Angel," Sister Frost said.

"The New World spent the next three centuries creating the weapon to destroy their monster. Our sisters would lay with demons and produce cambions. We'd seduce angels and produce nephilims. Centuries of breeding. If a witch was unwilling, we didn't afford them the choice. One demon is the father blood of many of our coven."

"Flauros," Timothy replied. "That's why the Sisters of the Keys thought he was the Black Winged Angel. He's just her father," Timothy said, solemnly looking at his exorcist.

"No, no no no," Sister Frost said, jumping to her feet in a panic. She shook her head frantically. "My father is not a demon. I'm an exorcist. I wouldn't be able to be one if I were a cambion."

"You're every bit of angel as you are demon," the maiden said. "And you come from a witch but were born human. You can see things in all realms, because you're a being of all realms. You're everything."

"Your mother wasn't even a member of the coven. She was too young to join, but Angelica felt her immense power, and how she was likely the last mother. Henrietta tried to refuse, but Flauros had his way regardless. I saw how far Angelica was willing to go. I was horrified. I stole her away in the night and took her to a shelter. I was banished from the coven for that."

"Angelica Moore, is my grandmother?" Sister Frost asked, and Danielle nodded.

Sister Frost lost her breath attempting to control it. She began to hyperventilate, wheezing as she grabbed at her chest. Timothy took one step toward her before she ran away.

"Sister," Timothy said, pausing for a moment to look at Danielle. "Where is Angelica?"

"I don't know. Pray you don't find her."

Timothy turned and ran after his exorcist who had already reached the street. She ran straight across traffic, nearly being struck by two vehicles whose drivers blared their horns and shouted obscenities at her. Timothy bobbed and weaved through the light traffic and followed her as she turned left and ran along the sidewalk near the residential houses on the other side of the street.

"Sister!" Timothy shouted after her, but she didn't stop. "Michelle!"

Michelle stopped and allowed him to catch up with her. Timothy stepped in front of her and saw tears streaming down her face.

"Make it not true," Michelle begged. "Make it not true."

"I can't," Timothy said.

"What am I?" Michelle asked. "Everything?"

"You are not a what. You are Michelle Frost. A Sister of the Order of the Shattered Cross, because you chose to be her. Be who you are, as you've always known yourself to be."

Michelle hugged him tightly and pressed her face into the pocket of his shoulder. Timothy placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her into his body with his other arm. She gripped the back of his shirt, taking a fist full of fabric in both hands. Her body collapsed into his, but he refused to allow her to fall.

--

They had departed Salem and arrived at a motel just after dusk. They rented two room and Sister Frost immediately excused herself to take a shower. Timothy sat on the hood of the truck parked between their two rooms. His feet rested on top of the bumper as he flipped through pages of Kat's notebooks, looking for any piece of information that could be helpful. Beyond what they had already seen, most of the information was broad with few specifics.

"Anything?" Sister Frost asked from her open door. He didn't even notice her open the door. Her hair was still wet, and she was wearing what looked like nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Her slender legs were revealed up to the lower thigh. She wasn't fully dry when she put on the shirt, as Timothy could see her firm nipples through the shirt.

"Nothing new," Timothy said and dropped the notebook on top of the other two. "Please put something else on."

"This is how I sleep," she said, confused.

"You have a tempting form and I can see your breasts," Timothy explained, tilting his head to look away from her.

"Not like you haven't seen me naked."

"Completely different circumstances," Timothy said, and shooed her back to her room.

"Fine, prude," Sister Frost said and closed her door.

"Did a nun just call you a prude?" the maiden asked, now sitting next to him.

Sister Frost opened the door a few minutes later, now fully dressed, but not in her habit. Long sleeved blouse with the same jeans she was wearing earlier.

"Better?" she asked.

"A little," Timothy said. Sister Frost walked out of the room barefoot and pushed the notebooks up the hood so she could sit down next to him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm better. Freakout, not over, but, contained," she said. "Do you believe in fate?"

"No," Timothy said. The fact he didn't think about his answer surprised her. Timothy was often quick to his words, but subjects that required thought often required some thought on his part. "There is a plan, don't get me wrong. Plans change though. The creator gave us free will, and provides us guidance, but we have the choice to accept that guidance, or ignore it. Military adage, no plan services first contact."

"So, it's not fate, that the day I become your exorcist, we encounter the Void. A creature that shouldn't exist, and I just so happen to be the only thing capable of destroying it?" Sister Frost inquired. Timothy admitted it did seem like divine intervention.

"When you say it like that," Timothy said, making them both laugh a little. "Still, we must make those choices. You could still run away from this, right now, if you chose to. It's all about choice. People blame fate for their follies. I don't."

They sat quietly next to each other, both unsure on where to take this conversation. They looked at each other, both feeling even silence was now comfortable between them. Instead of forcing words out, they just listened to the world continue to spin around them.

"What was it like?" Timothy finally asked.

"What was what like?" Sister Frost asked and saw what he meant through his expression. "Oh." Sister Frost thought back to the moment when she turned into the Black Winged Angel.

"It felt like I was carrying the world by myself. Only, I had strength enough to hold it in one hand without effort. Looking down at this tiny, insignificant sphere resting in my palm. It felt like I needed to decide. Do I protect it? Or do I throw it. Do I curl my fingers around it to shield it? Or do I crush it. Like a child playing with ants."

Timothy saw in her eyes how that power scared her. In one instant she was weak and about to be killed by the spirit of her own mother. The next, she was able to decide the fate of all creation.

"What did you see?" Sister Frost asked. "When you saw your death? What did you see?"

"Nothing," Timothy explained.

"Darkness?"

"No, nothing. A nothing so complete even darkness couldn't reveal itself. I don't know what that means. I closed my eyes, and you were back to yourself when I opened them. But it felt like I was in that nothing for an eternity before you pulled me out of it. Like I existed there for several lifetimes."

"A moment was an eternity?" Sister Frost asked.

"It felt like it..." Timothy said, and gasped at a realization. "...a moment in Eden, is an eternity on Earth."

"What?" Sister Frost asked.

"That's what she meant," Timothy said and climbed down from the hood of the truck.

"Who?"

"Eve," Timothy said, now smiling and laughing. "I know how to destroy the Void."

"How?" Sister Frost asked, standing up as well, eager to hear his next words.

"We need to go to Eden."