Chương 6: Chapter 5: The Father of Death

Three more days went by, days filled with practice, tests, and strange experiments. On the first day, she learned proper control of spirituality. Abilities of her generation only needed a few droplets of spirituality to use. Ushering her entire soul through the tunnel was a massive waste of energy and spirituality. She needed only to take a small sliver and guide it into her eyes. Though it was easier said than done.

She used to rely on the sheer momentum of her spirituality, but controlling a tiny sliver of it was like threading a needle. Every movement had to be exact; even the slightest error would result in wasting her spirituality for nothing. Cynthia said that with practice, it would become second nature. How much practice, she didn't specify. After the repeated failures of spiritual control, Jaime took more of her spirituality, and even her blood this time around.

She felt more like an experimental specimen than a daughter down in the basement, but at least Jaime was careful. She highly doubted her mother could do the same tests on her without inflicting even the slightest pain. On the second day, Cynthia went to the markets, leaving Jaime to teach in her stead. The very first thing he did was lock Alice in the basement until she memorized the diagram of nerves running through the mortal body.

It took her nearly half the day, and by the end of it her head felt like it was about to explode. She was starving, too. The mere smell of Cynthia's cooking nearly made her rabid. Memorizing wasn't hard; in fact, it came naturally, as if she were only remembering things that she had forgotten. The sheer amount made it difficult. Still, she did as Jaime asked. Before she was let out, she had to demonstrate her spiritual control. But instead of using the tunnel, she had to envision the nerves of the body.

And that she did. The spirituality flowed like natural streams through her veins, and all she needed to do was choose the right pathway to her eyes. Jaime's methods may have been harsh, but they were certainly effective. Though she doubted if she'd ever need all of those other nerves. Surely only the ones leading to the eyes would have sufficed. After the demonstration, Jaime extracted more of her spirituality and blood and sent her off without so much as a word of congratulations.

After all that, and not even a smile? To say the least, it got on her nerves—the nerves she had spent so many hours memorizing. But she quickly forgot about it after a bountiful breakfast. The third day passed in the blink of an eye. By then, she had near-perfect control of her spiritual sight. She needed only to think, and it would activate or close. Though there were still moments when her soul throbbed, pulling her vision into the world of spirits. Jaime said that it was normal, and beyond her control.

The awakening was accelerating the growth of soul and heart, and it was impossible to predict when it would flare up. After practice, Jaime took some more of her blood and spirituality. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked what it was for. As expected, his reply lacked all the details. Testing and experimentation, he said. She wasn't stupid; she already knew that. Though she wasn't actually daring enough to push. And now, the fourth day had come. It was six in the morning when Alice woke up.

She got off her bed and went to ogle herself in the mirror, as she usually did. She raised her brows, noticing that her long raven hair was already below her waist. And her skin was a shade paler, but perhaps that was just the light gleaming off the glass windows. The hair's longer… if only my other parts grew too. But oh well. She placed her palms over her flat chest. Her stomach growled like a wild beast, and her face morphed in pain. I'm starving.

She went out of her room and hurried down the stairwell, fully expecting some variation of stew or soup waiting for her. Jaime and Cynthia were already by the table, and their plates and glasses were already arranged neatly.

"Morning. What's for breakfast?" Alice said.

"Oh, you know." Cynthia's lips curled upward, and she lifted a plate off another plate, revealing a small stack of sliced ham glazed with honey and syrup.

"Wow. What's the occasion?" Alice grinned and quickly sat down in front of her parents.

"Nothing, I just wanted to cook something different. There's rice too, if you want." Cynthia grabbed a pot filled to the brim with rice and placed it in the middle of the table.

"Eat well. Your body needs it," Jaime said.

"Th… thanks." Alice's stomach rumbled again.

"I'm starving." Alice took two large scoops of rice on her plate, and three slices of ham. She ate to her heart's content, and a tad more than that. It was the perfect blend of sweetness and saltiness. But in the end, the taste was just secondary. Filling up her stomach came first.

"Can I get seconds?" Alice said, just as she emptied her plate.

"Go ahead, dear," Cynthia smiled. Jaime gave her a strange glance before resuming with his meal. Alice filled her plate once more and began wolfing it down all over again. Suddenly, Jaime lowered his utensils and gazed out of the window, unblinking.

"What's wrong?" Cynthia furrowed her brows.

"Inquisitors. They're coming toward our house."

"You're certain?" Cynthia sprang to her feet and already reached for Alice. Alice suddenly looked back. Inquisitors? Those masked men? What are they doing here?

"I am, but they don't seem to bear any harm. Go upstairs, Alice. Cynthia, stay with me."

"What's going on?" Alice said.

"Listen to your father, Alice," Cynthia said, patting her back. Alice nervously nodded and darted into the living room and hurried up the stairs. They're worried. Is something bad going to happen? I'm not even done eating. Instead of going to her room, she turned and lay low by the edge of the steps, peeking around the wooden pillar. From up here, she had a good view of the entire living room. Stolen novel; please report.

Jaime approached the front door, while Cynthia stood just outside of the hallway, gripping her fist tightly. Three loud knocks rasped against the front door. Jaime approached and peered out of the peephole.

"Who is it?" A calm and somewhat soft voice of a man replied on the other side.

"We are from the church. I am Father Arno. We have a few questions to ask, if you don't mind." Father Arno? Is that a priest? Jaime pulled open the front door.

"Father Arno? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Sir Jaime Valentine, am I correct?" Arno said.

"That I am." Jaime nodded.

"And do you have a daughter? Around thirteen to fourteen years old?" Arno said. He's talking about me. I've never seen him before. Cynthia scowled. She was hiding by the door frame leading to the dining room, just out of the Father's view.

"Why do you ask?" Jaime said.

"Are you aware of the term 'Awakening'?" Arno said. Awakening? How does he know about that?

"Yes." Jaime nodded.

"We have reason to believe that your daughter has recently awakened. An Inquisitor reported that a seventh-generation woman, alongside her ninth-generation daughter, was being followed by a low-level specter. Does this sound familiar to you?"

"Does it concern you? I do not believe this is within the jurisdiction of the church, Father Arno."

"You would be correct, if it were only your daughter. There have been at least twenty other cases in the city, twenty that we know of at least." Twenty others just like me? I thought I was the only one… Cynthia covered her mouth with her hand. Jaime went silent for a moment.

"Do you know who is behind this?"

"I would share with you what I know, if you would only let me inside," Arno replied. Jaime looked behind his shoulder for a second.

"Come inside, Father." He's just gonna let him in like that? I can't believe it. I thought he'd shoo him away.

"Thank you for being civil," Arno said.

"But the Inquisitors will remain outside," Jaime said. Another voice echoed.

"That ca—""Very well. You heard him," Arno said.

"But Father, we are under direct orders to protect you."

"Your presence will not make a difference. If this man wanted us dead, he would have already done it the moment we set foot on his front porch," Arno rebuked. Alice's face scrunched up in confusion, and fear.

"As… as you wish, Father," the Inquisitors replied.

"Now can I come inside, Sir Valentine?" Arno said.

"Of course, Father Arno." Jaime stepped aside, gesturing for the priest to enter. Father Arno entered the living room, his long black robe nearly dragging across the floor. He was a head taller than Jaime, and he had short brown hair and a clean-shaven face. His eyes were a light green, but he had a common countenance, neither ugly nor handsome. Jaime gestured to Cynthia.

"This is my wife, Cynthia."

"Cynthia, it is a pleasure to meet you." He offered his right hand. So that's what a priest looks like. Cynthia shook Arno's hand.

"The pleasure is mine. Take a seat, Father." Arno sat down on the couch.

"I assume your daughter is still asleep at this hour."

"She is. Would that be a problem?" Jaime said.

"Not at all. In fact, it would be better if she learned of things through you. Things must be very difficult for her right now. I would not want to add unto her troubles," Arno said. What does he know? I'm not gonna let this opportunity pass.

"Then let us waste no more time. Tell us what you know, Father," Jaime said.

"Five days ago, an unknown entity visited twenty children in the dead of night. They described it as a man made of shadow and tar. It awakened their souls and hearts, and by the time the children awoke they found themselves seeing the dead. This story sounds very familiar to you, does it not?" Arno said. I remember… somewhat. That black shadow that came from the corner of my room.

"It is the same thing that happened to my daughter," Jaime said.

"Soon enough, reports came in about children being mauled and killed by the unseen. It was happening all over the city, from the central districts to the slums. All of them were of Spectral Blood; all of them were caitiff. We're currently investigating the entity responsible, and though we know little of it, we can be certain that it is no less a third generation."

"A third?" Cynthia's mouth opened slightly in shock, a hint of worry appearing on her face. Mother's a seventh generation… then a third generation must be very powerful.

"I didn't expect an Angel to be responsible. Do you know its bloodline?" Jaime leaned forward in interest. An Angel? Did I hear that right? He called it an Angel? Arno furrowed his brows, seemingly dumbstruck for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.

"We had considered the Spectral Bloodline, but until further investigation, there's no real way of knowing."

"I see. Tell me, Father. What are you really here for? I doubt you came all this way just to tell us this." Arno shook his head.

"I will be frank. The church is taking in the afflicted. It is not a request, it is an order from the Holy See. You should know well what the mere presence of a Third Generation can do." Taking in? What does he mean by tha— Cynthia's eyes widened.

"You're going to take my daughter away?" She clutched at her dress. Oh… he plans to take me away.

"No, no, madam. You misunderstand. We will protect her while the Inquisition and the Clergy investigate the unknown entity. She'll be sheltered in St. Helen Cathedral, alongside the other afflicted. She'll be educated about her abilities, and most of all she'll be shielded from all harm and evil. Your daughter isn't safe out here with that entity running amok." I don't want to leave. They're not gonna give me to them, right? That's insane.

"But…" Cynthia shot her gaze at Jaime.

"There must be more to this than simply protecting, Father Arno." Arno nodded.

"Of course, they would also be treated and, for lack of a better word, researched. Such a widespread awakening has never happened in our history. By studying the afflicted, we can find ways to help them, to stop and maybe even reverse their awakenings. Understand that we mean no harm to them." Father is already doing those things. I don't need to go there.

"Do you plan on taking her right now?" Jaime said.

"I…" Arno's face faltered.

"It would be best, but I know it isn't the most convenient. Since both of you are middling generations, I can give you a day at most to prepare." No, no. Say no. Say you won't give me away.

"A day? It would be enough," Jaime said. Enough? Enough?! Arno breathed out in relief.

"Tomorrow morning, I shall send for a carriage and an escort. Please, do make haste, Sir Valentine." He stood up and bowed to them.

"Safe travels, Father," Jaime said. Arno stepped out of the front door and gently closed it shut behind him. After a good few seconds, Jaime turned and looked straight up the stairwell, meeting Alice's gaze.

"You can come down now." Alice shuffled down the steps and stopped right at the end.

"Am I… am I really going to go away?"

"Continue your meal. Cynthia and I will discuss it later," Jaime said. Discuss it? Just like that? I can't eat like everything's normal. Alice clenched her fist.

"Alice, you need to eat." Cynthia patted the empty chair.

"Your father and I will talk about what needs to be done. We're going to protect you no matter what, isn't that right?" She glanced at Jaime.

"Whatever needs to be done," Jaime replied. Cynthia bit her lower lip.

"Now eat, Alice. Your food is getting cold." Alice sat down on her chair and grabbed her spoon and fork. She gazed at the honeyed ham, and all of a sudden she felt full.