Page 20 of Elegy of Twilight
“Of course, grace be with you, Lucia.”
I hurried away, wondering if she could see the shame written on my face. Out there in the fresh morning air, surrounded by nature, I’d felt free, unafraid, and unashamed. But now, within the walls of the abbey, a heat curled around me, making me want to hunch my shoulders and hide my face. Was it possible to feel so conflicted, wanting another night with him yet knowing what it meant should I be found out? I’d be an outcast, a priestess who intentionally broke her vows, forsaking what was sacred for. . .lust.
The kitchen was quiet and seemingly empty. I stared about in dismay, looking at the clean table, the warmth of the stove, and the bowl of fruit placed on the counter. So peaceful and perfect. A cascade of thoughts overwhelmed me, and I sat down heavily, putting my head in my hands.
I’d grown up here and remembered running into the kitchen as a little girl, eager for a snack.Blackberries grew on the outside wall of the abbey, and each summer, I begged High Priestess Merci to take me to pick them. I’d eat them by the handful until my mouth and hands were stained, and it was all the High Priestess could do to save some for the other sisters.
She’d taught me the importance of sharing, but I’d taken it a bit too far, believing the cats that roamed the cellar would enjoy the fruit as much as I did. I chased one until I caught it by the tail, and it scratched me so hard my arm bled.
I had other pleasant memories too, of making cookies with Edith, laughing so hard I cried. All the sisters were wonderful. They were family and celebrated each season with the villagers and the garrison. The vampires had robbed us of those joyous occasions. People were leaving or being stolen. I had to make a choice.
“Lucia, I didn’t expect you today.. .” Faith began and trailed off.
I put my hands down, brushing away tears.
Her voice softened, and she snatched up a kettle and moved to the stove. “Oh, Lucia. You look like you could use something to drink. I’ll make the tea of clarity while you talk.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I said, my voice between a laugh and a sob.
Faith pressed a handkerchief into my hand. “It’s no use getting snot on your clothes.”
“Thank you.” I blew my nose and wiped my eyes as she sat down and put a plate of blackberry scones in front of me. That tiny gesture brought a fresh wave of tears.
Faith was gifted with cooking, and she knew everyone’s favorite meals and exactly what kind of food would comfort them.
“Take your time, love. You know I’m just here to listen. It helps to get it off your chest, so to speak. Burdens are heavy when carried alone.”
She was right, and maybe there was a way to tell her without getting into the explicit details. I took a deep breath as the kettle whistled. Moments later, a cup of tea steeped in front of me, and I curled my fingers around it, the steam clearing my mind.
“Faith, I’m wavering between two choices.” I stared out the window, watching the bright flower blossoms blow in the wind as I gathered my thoughts. “One is wrong, sinful. It will save many people but at the cost of my soul. The other choice, the right choice, would be to do nothing, to stay here and close my eyes against what is going on beyondthese walls.” I faced her, looking her in the eye. “What should I do? I can’t be passive.”
Faith wrapped her fingers around her own mug of tea. Despite her work in the kitchen, her hands were beautiful, although one palm had a burn mark in the shape of a heart. I viewed it as a mark of her work, what she was willing to give, to sacrifice to bring others joy.
“No, we are not called to a life of passiveness,” Faith confirmed. “Living behind these walls, in this abbey, being priestesses means we are called to a higher purpose, and inaction is never the answer. Nor is tarnishing your soul. You feel stuck right now because you only see two choices and two paths, but you need to step back and take a deeper look. It sounds like you have arrived at a forked path between two paved roads, but often there’s a third way, a path that has been overgrown, a tunnel, a small window, a path often overlooked.”
I lifted the cup of tea to my lips, thinking of my journey only this morning. I’d walked out of the caverns and into the village, but I hadn’t taken a paved road. Instead, I’d forged my own path. Unfortunately, other decisions were less clear.
Faith leaned back, studying me. “You’re right in saying that you must take action because you must.But you cannot do anything that will damage your soul. Souls are eternal, and the body is not. Perhaps if you explained in greater detail, I might be able to help.”
I put down the cup of tea, an idea springing to my mind. “I believe you’ve helped already. I’m only hesitant. A third choice does lie before me, but I don’t want to put others in danger.”
Faith regarded me, anxiety behind her eyes. “Whatever troubles you, I hope you know you can always come and talk to me. Regardless, I hope you find the right answers.”
“I pray I do,” I said, rising. “Thank you, Faith.”
I turned to go, but at the last moment, I picked up a scone. Chewing a mouthful of sweet blackberries, I strode through the abbey with determination. I was going to see Captain Elroy, and this time, our plan would work.
I took a detour on my way to the garrison, for in the morning, they often practiced, and Captain Elroy would be with them instead of in his study. A thought had occurred to me, and my suspicions grew as I spoke with Faith. From all my encounters with Titus, I’d settled on one deep, unsettling fact. That he was not the vampire king but his lute gave himpower over them. If not him, then who was the vampire king?
My thoughts flickered to the letter on Captain Elroy’s desk, signed with the initials V.K. There had to be a vampire king and the knights believed he was the key to conquering the vampires.
Light filled my vision as I entered the upper level. The arched windows allowed daylight to stream in from each angle, and panes of glass in the domed rooftop gave even more light. Here was where the artists worked, transcribing scrolls, cataloging our history, and, more importantly, illustrating the books. It was beautiful work, and three of the sisters sat in front of the arched windows, heads bowed as they worked with paint.
At last, one looked up at me, put down her brush, and smiled. “Sister Lucia, what brings you here?”
“We don’t have to be formal, Indie,” I said, calling her by the abbreviation of her name, Indigo. “I’m actually a bit curious about the history of this region and vampires. Are there any pictures or illustrations depicting what they look like?”
Indie brightened. “Actually, yes, come with me to the inner room, and I’ll show you while my work dries.”
