A History Lesson part 5 (finale)

Alysa sat on the couch and stared at the TV but wasn’t watching anything in particular. Delroy entered the living room and sighed when he noticed his daughter’s state. “Wanna talk about it?,” he asked as he took a seat.

“I never did the research,” Alysa said softly after turning off the television, “I just went off what people around me said and I never read about it for myself. I feel so dumb.”

“I think a lot of young people make that realization at this stage in life,” he corrected himself, “Not feeling dumb, of course, but realizing things for themselves. Coming to their own conclusions.”

“Mom knew about all this but what did she… How did she rationalize all this? She wanted me to be a priestess. That’s the whole reason I was born but I screwed up too many times and they kicked me out. And y’know, for the first time, I’m glad I’m not gonna be a priestess.”

Delroy paused for a moment, then reached for his book on the coffee table. After thumbing through a section, he pinched three pages between his thumb and forefinger,”Here, read this part.”

“Isn’t this the chapter where you talk about the ritual you and mom did?,” Alysa gave him a confused look.

“Yes, but I don’t go into it on these pages, so you’re safe from any therapy-inducing passages,” he joked, “I’m just explaining why your mother decided to do it. Obviously, names and places have been redacted but I think you’ll be able to read between the lines.”

“I’m not sure I wanna read anymore.”

“That’s the thing about the truth,” Delroy explained thoughtfully, “People don’t usually want to confront it but deep down, they know they need to hear it.”

“Now I know why Mom liked you,” she said with a coy smile and took the book. And as she began to read, though details were vague, she was able to read it within the context of what she knew and a story long ago was seen in a new light.

Winghaven, 2005

Ella Saraki had just completed her priestess training at the American Iseda Association and was assigned to Winghaven under the tutelage of Papa LaRue who was the priest in that temple at the time. Her parents weren’t followers of Iseda, but while in college, she became enamored with the religion as well as mystic practices. As a priestess, she had the option of having children and, if given a daughter, train her to follow in her footsteps. Despite her devotion to religion, she wasn’t the traditional type and never saw much need in marriage or having kids. If given the option, she could train someone else’s daughter as a priestess, but it wasn’t a priority as she was more self-reflective.

Born in Tennessee, she wasn’t from Winghaven, but she knew the reputation due to its historical significance regarding Iseda. She wasn’t surprised to hear about the series of murders in the town, a case that had yet to be solved. What was surprising was hearing Miss Gerring, one of the temple scholars, tell the tale, “They said it was demonic the way they found what was left of the bodies.” It seemed to be more than just a typical serial killer and if there was something demonic about the killings, she felt it was the duties of the priest and priestess to intervene. Once an older man had gone missing, she asked Papa LaRue about the situation.

“It hasn’t affected our community,” he told her plainly, “None of the victims were Iseda.”

“But if it’s something demonic or spiritual, shouldn’t we defend against it?”

“Sure, if it’s a threat to our people. Otherwise, it’s not our job.”

“Wouldn’t this be considered protecting the village?”

“That can have a number of applications, you know that. Listen, I was born and raised in Winghaven. This thing happens more than you know but eventually, it stops and as long as we protect the temple, we’ll be fine.”

“Sorry, Papa LaRue. I’m gonna look into this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“If you feel you must,” he told her, “Just be careful.”

She ventured to the area where the old man was last seen: a trailer park near an old train depot. Most of the attacks had been in that location, so she knew, whatever the killer was, it was likely close by. She searched through the grassy area between the trailer park and the depot and soon found a hearing aid on the ground, possibly belonging to the old man. She placed the hearing aid in her pocket and, not far away, she saw a large, muscular man who appeared to be around her age. He was poking at something along the ground behind some of the homes and raised his head sharply when she approached.

“This your house?,” he asked in a gruff voice, “I ain’t try’n to break in or anything.”

“No, it’s not my house. I’m just…,” she stopped herself from saying too much, “What are you doing here if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m a PI. Missing person’s case,” he offered his hand, “Farrell Creed.”

“Ella Saraki,” she shook it, “So, are you investigating the murders here?”

“Maybe,” he said cagily.

“Have you found any clues or anything?,” she removed the hearing aid from her pocket and showed it to him, “I found this and I think it belonged to the old man who went missing.”

“It might,” he indicated the strange footprints in the mud, “I got some tracks here so there could be a connection,” he looked at her curiously, “You a PI, too? Police?”

She put the hearing aid back in her pocket, “Priestess from the Iseda Temple.”

“Right, so you’re like the preacher over there?”

“Something like that.”

“Thanks for the help. I’ll take that hearing aid if you don’t mind. I’m trying to find out who’s behind this and it’s probably not a good idea if you stick around.”

“Actually, I was hoping to find the person responsible as well.”

“Ya serious?”

“In Iseda, there’s a saying, `The priestess protects her village’. That’s my goal here.”

The young man scratched the stubble on his chin, “The thing who did this is real dangerous. I don’t think it’s a good idea to come along.”

“This thing?,” Ella took note of his word usage, “You don’t think the killer’s human?”

“I got reasons and I don’t care what you say,” he told her defensively.

“Simmer down,” she assured him, “I believe you. What can you tell me about these tracks?”

“Looks like they lead over there,” he pointed to the old depot in the distance, “You sure you wanna be a part of this? We got no idea what’s in that place.”

“I just want to make sure no one else gets hurt. I can tell you right now, no one is in the building. I’d like to come with you.”

“Those good vibes might get you killed but it’s your choice.”

They made their way to the depot and found the tracks disappeared near a backdoor with a padlock. The sun was slowly beginning to set and it was getting darker. Creed gave a cautious knock a few times before he turned to Ella and whispered, “Don’t think anyone’s in there,” then he began picking the lock.

Ella responded, “I told ya there wasn’t,” she looked around cautiously for anyone approaching, “Have you had many cases?”

“This one’s my second,” he got the padlock off and began to open the door.

“So your first case was… something like this?”

“Nah,” he muttered in embarrassment, “Just a landlord try’n ta find a guy that owed rent.”

Ella followed him into the dark building, “I’m curious, what’s your experience with the paranormal?”

“I saw someth’n once as a kid,” he said gruffly as he produced a flashlight, “Can we stop talk’n?”

He shone his flashlight around the room and the two soon noticed the symbols along the walls. There were hundreds of moons crudely painted throughout the depot and at different phases and sizes. There were also handprints and what appeared to be oversized wolf prints similar to what they found outside. Finally, they noticed a large cage at the farthest end of the spacious room that was large enough to hold people, likely victims. “I think we found the place,” Creed whispered.

Ella could sense death even without mystic abilities and with the lack of any souls present, reality set in. She was mournful and scared but more than that, she was angry. The police were unable to fight against whatever had been using that building and Winghaven was not New York – there were no superheroes present despite the very obvious need for them. An elderly man had died in this place, a death that could have been avoided. Ella crept closer and noticed that one of the pictures on the wall contained a familiar figure carved in it, “This is Luna, Roman goddess of the Moon.” Creed turned to her, “So the guy has a thing for moons. Any idea what that’s about?”

Just then, the door flew open and a short, skinny bald man stood in the doorway. Both Creed and Ella froze with the realization they should’ve secured the area better, a mistake they would not make as they became more experienced. “Little pigs, little pigs,” the man spoke in a high pitched voice, “They don’t know whose house they wandered into.” Creed pulled his firearm and took aim, “Stay where you are!”The bald man giggled strangely, “My what big eyes you have.” Then, without warning, he charged, bare-handed. Three bullets flew from the barrel. The first missed as Creed was inexperienced and overcome with adrenaline. The next two found their marks and tore into the man’s bare chest. He staggered back after two sprays of blood exploded from him, then he fell to the dirty ground. As the man lay motionless, Creed cautiously came closer and pulled a knife from his belt; in the swiftly approaching moonlight, Ella could tell the blade had been sheathed in what appeared to be white ash. “I think he’s dead,” she told Creed but he simply shook his head at her and prepared to stab.

Soon, a small laugh emerged from the man, followed by rapidly growing hair across his bald body. When his head rose, they noticed his face had twisted into something barely human: his eyes were yellow, his mouth was filled with long fangs, and his nose seemed to be extending into a snout. “It’s time!,” he snarled in a rapidly deepening voice. Once he propped himself up on his hands and knees, his back arched and his limbs began to shift abnormally. Creed leapt forward and attempted to stab the man with the ashy knife, but the blade deflected off his back, bending it nearly in half. Creed stepped back in horror and muttered, “Pete was right.” A clawed hand hit his chest and he was sent into the air before falling near the cage at the opposite end of the room. When the man stood up, he was a foot taller and covered in gray fur. What once was human was now lupine.

The wolf stood on his hind legs and let out an eerie howl, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. Ella tried to summon a fire-spell but in her panic, couldn’t concentrate. The werewolf flew past her and despite the small brush of the shoulder, she was thrown to the floor as if given a hard shove. Creed, also in a panic, backed into the large cage nearby and attempted to shut the door. The werewolf cleared the distance in a heartbeat and as he ducked inside, his neck was trapped in the doorframe. Creed braced himself by placing a boot against the bars of the cage and leaned back with all his weight and strength to hold the beast in place. A normal human would’ve received a broken neck once the door slammed shut, but the creature held on to the bars and calmly began pulling. It let out a snarl that nearly seemed like insane laughter.

Realizing what the creature likely was, Ella concentrated on an alchemist spell she had picked up during her training. Iseda magic was usually nature-based but alchemy wasn’t against the rules. She removed the hearing aid from her pocket, opened it, palmed the small battery, then went to the side of the cage. She made sure to stay out of reach of the creature and rubbed the battery in her hands, then quickly placed them on the bars. She focused while trying her best to avoid the few claw swipes aimed at her, hoping that the werewolf wouldn’t break loose. Creed noticed the bars bending under the werewolf’s grip and shouted out to her, “Whatever you’re doing, do it fast!” For what seemed to be an eternity, the iron bars changed color, going from brown and rusted to solid and reflective. The werewolf stopped briefly and had a look of terror once he noticed the change. He once again tried to get free but seemed to now be doing so out of desperation. The next howl was a fearful one.

Ella’s grandfather wore a hearing aid and she knew they took silver-oxide batteries and saw an opportunity. The silver contained in the battery was transferred to the iron bars, creating a cage made entirely of that metal. While Creed continued to pull the door shut, it tore into the werewolf’s neck. He grit his teeth and put everything he had into it, feeling the obstruction slowly give way. The werewolf began to thrash and howl a bit less as the silver door dug into its flesh and soon, the howls were replaced by the sounds of tearing flesh and snapping bones. The cage fully closed shut and something wet and heavy fell on the floor. Ella and Creed watched with fascination as the wolf’s head reverted back to its human form.

It was a story Alysa had heard from both Ella and Creed at different points in her life, so while Delroy gave vague details (and likely didn’t know the full story to begin with), she understood the context. What she didn’t know was her mother’s take-away from the event. Her temple refused to get involved as it didn’t directly affect them and yet, she knew her actions saved lives and that was what she felt was important. From that point on, not only did she often take part in Creed’s investigations, but she had a community center built to host food drives and provide services for the entire community, not just her own. Alysa read a quite from Ella and couldn’t help but imagine her mother sitting next to her and saying, “The common thread in religion is that humans are flawed, which means any and all systems created by humans would be flawed as well. The important thing is to take the good stuff and live in it and dare to be better. If you have to step on toes or break the rules, so be it.”

That philosophy was why she chose to undergo the Heir Ritual. She wasn’t interested in marriage or having children the traditional way but she wanted to ensure the safety of those around her for years to come. She never had the chance to fully explain that to Alysa but she had an understanding now.

Days later, Alysa stood on a train platform and hugged her father. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye,” he told her, “My door is always open.” She smiled and placed her hands on his shoulders, “I know. I’m gonna take you up on that, too.” Once the train arrived, he helped her get her bags onboard.

“It’s been a crazy few days,” he said, “You lost your home, met me, learned a lot of things about Iseda and your mother… What now?”

After she stepped onto the train, she turned to face her father with a smile, “I don’t know exactly, but I’m excited to find out.”

Next: The Corpus Grimoire