Page 26 of The Bairwick Witches
“If your intention was to join their cloister, to relinquish life as you know it, to become as devout to the Goddesses and Earth as they are, this becomes a test of determination.”
A half mile later the forest receded into a large clearing, where a simple one-story stone convent sat peacefully with vibrantly colored stained glass breaking up the monotonous masonry. The earthy trail ended, giving way to a gravel road which led to the front door.
Schuyler approached the double wooden doors and knocked. He waited for Issac to jump back at what occurred next, a female figure appeared emerging out of doors still wrapped within wood.
“Why do you seek the Hermanas of the Moon?” The sentry asked in a distant, cold, distorted voice.”
“Council,” Schuyler replied politely, “with Sister Superiora,por favor.”
“And who seeks this council with our blessed Sister midday, with no appointment?” The wood covering the sentry’s face dissipated as soon as Schuyler announced himself and a woman’s face emerged, smiling brightly. “Schuyler! ¿Que Pasa?”
“Gianna!” He opened his arms as she stepped out of the wood. When their embrace ended, he caught Issac’s face as his jaw dropped at the sight of the impeccable Sister. The black-and-white habit’s tunic and scapular were snatched fiercely at the waist, creating a near-impossible hourglass figure. The fabric itself, encrusted with diamond dust, generated non-stop reflectivesparkle, especially with every movement. Only Gianna’s perfectly beat face remained visible, as the habit’s veil wrapped around her neck and head, topped off by a stylish, wide-brimmed Bolero hat which sat delicately upon her head.
“I cannot see anything as Sentry. Come in, come in.” As she spun around in defiant elegance, the doors opened, and she led them inside.
“Are all of the nuns in this place serving cunt like she is?” Issac asked, once the doors closed behind him and they moved through the dark hallway of the convent. Schuyler laughed.
“Yes,” Hermana Gianna replied proudly. “We are ourselves under this Glamour, but for you, we are the beauty of all things.” She kept pushing them forward through the doorless and windowless stone hallway until they exited into the main atrium. There, the true openness of the convent revealed itself. There were many floors above them, and many below—far more than the simple stone façade would lead one to believe.
Hermana Gianna took them to the right, down another hall which opened into a courtyard. Twenty-seven Sisters stood in the grassy spaces between the stone walkways, all of them still as statues, posing; their right hand extended up, their left away from them. Heads turned to the cloudless sky above them.
“Perpetual Adoration,” Hermana Gianna explained before Issac could ask. “They are praying. Giving gratitude for all we are blessed with.”
One cue, all the Hermanas changed positions in perfect unison; both arms dropped to their sides, palms up and open, heads titled back toward the sky. They held the current pose for a few minutes, before shifting to another.
“It’s beautiful,” Issac commented, mesmerized by the Sisters as they continued, pose after pose.
“Gracias. They hear you and thank you, but cannot break prayer. The adoration lasts all day and night, and we have held it for hundreds of years. Please, come.” She ushered them through the courtyard, but Schuyler could have remained and watched the prayer for hours, as he had done before, finding a spot out of the way to admire and write. “I thought he would like the scenic route,” she whispered to him as they exited. He thanked her.
They moved through a grand dining room, empty at the moment, but the ceiling rose over fifty feet into the air and was adorned with more stained glass. Then she took them to a multi-floored library. “Every book ever written is stored here,” she announced, pointing out the changes they’d made since Schuyler had last visited. “You could spend three lifetimes here and still not read everything.”
“I’ll take that challenge,” Schuyler playfully said, wanting to sit at one of the tables and pour himself into book after book.
A few more turns down a couple of windowless hallways, they began to hear chanting carried on the air—a choir of feminine voices, soft at first, then growing louder as they approached the end of the hall. Hermana Gianna stopped at the threshold, placed her finger to her lips, but motioned for them to enter.
The disembodied chanting echoed off the tiled walls as Schuyler and Issac entered the square room, which rose higher than the atrium and dipped lower. In the center was a circular platform, smaller than the room itself, accessible by walkways from each side but without railings or guards protecting against the deep drop to the side. The room was adorned with piercing white tiles from floor to ceiling. On each were symbols of sacred geometry, runes, and iconography from every religion spanning centuries, many which were unknown, lost to time and history, but not to the Hermanas.
On the platform, three nuns were posed in prayer. In the center, with her head tilted down and face hidden, arms stretched out, was Sister Superiora, who, through the Glamour, appeared over six feet tall. Two other Hermanas knelt in front of her, their heads and outstretched hands dramatically cocked toward the side on which they sat beside her.
On silent cue, the two in front move, fluidly, turning inward, their inner arms reaching toward each other, hands opened, as Superiora’s arms swept inwards, her hands reaching for the heads of her charges beneath her. As she did, the Hermanas’ heads moved in sync, appearing as if Sister Superiora scooped them up before bowing her own head.
All three paused together—silent. The chanting continued as they circled their heads three times to the right. The kneeling sisters’ outer arms shot out diagonally, while their inner arms clutched to their chests. Superiora’s arms crossed down between them before the sisters spun around; all three arms crossed, creating sharp, distinct lines.
There was a flurry of movement as the Hermanas continued, striking poses in which all three aligned at various angles. The chanting grew quicker and louder, and the sisters’ poses responded to the increasing intensity until the chanting reachedits climax. Sister Superiora raised her head, her glowing olive skin and deep brown eyes shining out, as she brought her hands to prayer position. The other two followed suit, and together they opened their mouths, harmonizing with a single note that matched the chanting around them, which softened as the prayer ended. The two Hermanas then exited without a word.
“Schuyler!”
The rigidness and control Sister Superiora displayed in her limbs during the prayer melted away as she relaxed and moved forward with graceful motions, sweeping Schuyler into a deep, maternal embrace.
“I have missed you, Papito. There are not words enough to express this. I sensed your return weeks ago, and Papi, I felt so much displacement, so much sadness. I wondered why you’d not come to see me, so I could help.” She pushed him slightly away from her, taking a good look. “But it is clear now, that it is fading. Bueno, bueno.”
“I’ve missed you,” he replied before introducing Issac. “I should have come sooner, and for a social visit to show Issac all the wonders of the convent, but we need a favor.”
“A favor? Solo necesitas preguntar,” she exclaimed. “Tell me, what is it you need, and I will help in any way.”
“Issac is set to perform a spell left for him by his uncle on the upcoming full moon, and there is a component I cannot place. I would research this more thoroughly if I had the time to spare, but if anyone knows, it’s you. What can you tell me aboutLa Medianoche del Diablo?”
Sister Superiora needed no time to even think, but Schuyler noted a sense of concern on her beautiful face. “I do indeed, though your translation is incorrect. It is,La flor de la medianoche del diablo,”she advised. “The Flower of the Devil’sMidnight. It is a flowering desert tree, and you are muy afortunado, for we have the flower here in the garden.”
