Page 71 of Anathema Codex

I rub the back of my neck and cast a glance over my shoulder. I don’t see any of the creepy crawlies that Pops was so sure still inhabited this place, so I step up on the stage, wrap my hands around the small, metal gate that keeps some space between the portrait and the weirdos upstairs.

Carefully, I lean over the gate and squint when I see a sign under her portrait.

“Filia Satanas.”

I’ll be fucked if I know what that means, I think with a shake of my head.That’s enough of this room.

I let go of the gate and turn to walk out of the room when I’m greeted by an extremely unwelcome sight.

Pops, Daphne, and the Priestess chick.

All standing there, staring at me—like I’m some kind of freak for being in here.

At least Daphne and the Priestess are.

Pops is looking past me.

Eyes on the portrait, a carefully crafted mixture of emotions on his face.

Anger.

Hate.

Determination.

Longing.

I watch as he shoves the plastic container toward Daphne without so much as even looking at her. Then he walks straight toward me, hatchet firmly in his hand.

I brace myself, so sure that he’s going to try to bury the fucking thing in me, but when he steps up onto the stage, he shoves me aside roughly.

I lose my footing and hit the ground hard, but even with the sudden movement, I’m able to swat the gate away when he yanks it out of its place and tosses it aside.

With a grunt, he pulls his arm back then buries the hatchet in the center of the portrait. The room falls silent with the exception of his heavy breathing and I scoot away from him.

I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen him show any kind of emotion besides aloofness and annoyance, and I’d be a liar if I said that I didn’t feel afraid.

Lakyn reaches for the handle of the hatchet again, and with another grunt drags the blade down the center of the portrait.

He cracks his neck before he pulls it out of the decimated piece of art that was clearly once a thing of pride in this place, then turns on his heel and walks out of the room like the rest of us aren’t even here.

I don’t know who the person in the portrait was, but obviously he does.

And I have a feeling that we’ll all find out at some point.

Whether we want to or not.

ELEVEN

Broken Pictures and Promises

DAPHNE

All I can do is stand there as Lakyn storms out of the weird basement. He's not smiling, and although I want to follow him so I can hear the end of the story he was telling us about one of the past head priestesses he knew… I have to see what pissed him off so much. Heading toward the small stage, I glance back at the priestess lady. "What is that?"

"It's— Well, itwasa painting done by one of our members of a woman named Beatrix." The woman stops beside me as we both stare at the ruined painting. "Beatrix St. Germain is well known here at the Light of Lucifer. She was one of our first head priestesses, and although much of her time here was… contentious, we still recognize her commitment." She sighs heavily, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I wish he hadn't done that."

"Beatrix…" I repeat the name, aware of Aftyn pushing himself up from the ground, but I don't take my eyes away from the canvas. Lakyn buried the hatchet directly in the woman's face, which is obliterated beyond recognition, but I can still see blonde hair.

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