Page 17 of The Sinner and the Scholar
When she’s gone, I peek inside Wesley’s trunk. Manuscripts, more wax sticks, books, relics… I shift a leather tome out of the way but then run my fingers over it. I’m drawn to it.
“That looks familiar,” Tawny says from over my shoulder.
Raven, Leila, and Mercy also watch curiously.
“Shouldn’t you be reading Sumerian texts?” I mumble.
Raven snorts. “You’re not.”
“True.”
We stare at the off-limits treasure trove.
“It’s like porn for an occult nerd,” Mercy comments.
Tawny pulls out the old tome.
I narrow my eyes. “Itdoeslook familiar.”
Rushing to the table where the Rev had sat, I collect my half-blank manuscript and hold it next to the one in Tawny’s hands. Same leather binding. Same thickness. Same paper.
“It feels weird.” Tawny’s nose scrunches. “I don’t like it.”
I take it from her. The halves move together but repel simultaneously. The weight wobbles in my hand.
“Help me,” I urge.
Raven, Leila, and Mercy each grab a corner and push.
“It’s like a magnet,” Mercy notes. “It wants to be reunited but doesn’t.”
Vibrations tingle up my arms.
“Push,” I demand. “Push the halves together.”
We muster strength in our hands and push. We heave. We force. We pray.
Tawny finally caves and slaps her hand on the book. She is the last puzzle piece. The two halves snap together. Bright light fills our vision, blinding us.
* * *
I wakeon the carpeted floor of the archives with my cheek smashed to my palm and little bright dots swimming in my vision. Sitting up, I wince at the dizziness and grasp my forehead.
“Thank the Lord, you’re awake,” Tawny says, her eyes glistening.
“What happened?” I rasp, still groggy.
“The manuscript blinded us.”
Vague recollections come back to me. “It exploded.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s in one piece.”
To my right, Mercy is on her back, eyes closed. Raven is on her side, facing away. Leila is curled in a fetal position. The distinct smell of burned parchment is in the air.
“They passed out,” Tawny explains, rubbing her eyes. “Just as you did.”
I crawl to the manuscript and open it, shock crashing into me like a wave. No longer half empty, words and symbols cover every page. That strange language has also morphed into something I partly recognize—Ancient Greek.
