Book of Shadows
by Michael Gallowglas
Eryn sighed when she saw a page torn out of the book. Again. A single tear slid down her cheek. She'd already used up most of her tears earlier in her research. She closed her eyes, shuddered a bit, shook her head until blood roared in her ears and she forgot about that mutilated page. Again.
Eryn Cochwyn walked into her father's attic office, the office she'd never been able to enter while he was alive.
The one time she had, she knew from his look that she was never to come here. He said nothing, just looked at her with cold eyes, dark circles from lack of sleep. That was how he looked so often after that man had brought that bundle of books. Eryn had never seen such a large man before or since. She didn't remember anything about him, other than the scarlet rose he wore in the lapel of his white jacket. Was that before or after Mother had left? Left? Died? It didn't matter. It was all so long ago. Before graduate school, before Father died. Before she found the books and the notes and the partial translations.
But that was when she'd come into office for the first time since she had inherited the house. It had taken some time to work up the courage, even though Father couldn't give her that cold look. That's what scared Eryn the most about it, that Father had felt so little about anything else that he would have done anything to protect his secrets, even from Eryn.
That first visit, she had discovered a book on Father's desk surrounded by candles. As she studied the book, Eryn would keep those candles shining around the book. The book seemed to cast shadows in every direction at once. Shadows that seemed to slither between the candles. Eryn lost herself in watching those shadows when she wasn't rifling through books and Father's notes, seeking to translate the ancient words in that wonderful tome. In some ways, the shadows helped her mind work better, slithering around the linear thoughts that had trapped her mind. Watching those shadows helped her better understand the book's title, T'tka Halot, or The Umbral Codex.
"Miss," came a small voice by the door, "classes started a week ago. . ." Eryn wrenched her attention from her work and looked to the door of the office. Penelope, one of the maids stood there. "...you should think about returning..." Penelope seemed to whither like a rose petal left in the sun. Eryn wondered if she had turned that pale when Father had looked at her from this chair.
"Tell Rothchilde he's fired," Eryn said, "for being too much of a coward to come up here himself. You're fired for disturbing me." Eryn turned back to her work, and muttered, not even loud enough to hear herself, "I'll go back to Miskatonic when I'm done here."
Was it the seventh time Eryn had... will... look over the book... or perhaps the ninth... when she realizes... realized... that it's magic? Sometimes while getting lost in the shadows she has trouble recalling the difference between what has happened and what will happen. The spells are that old and that powerful, strong enough bring Mother back. Eryn misses Mother. She might miss Father, if it hadn't been for that terrible... emotionless... inhuman look.
Eryn's research was almost complete. After spending nearly every waking moment over her summer recess from her studies at Miskatonic University she was almost done with the translation. She knew the items she needed to gather to complete the ritual. She knew the incantations and was certain she could pronounce the words, and would verify with several books at Miskatonic. All she needed was to translate that last page.
She turned the page... again... and saw three quarters of the last page ripped out. Again. She picked the book up and shook it. Maybe the page was somewhere else in the book, though she knew it wasn't. She'd played through this scene again, and again, and again. This time she did notice a dried rose petal floating down from between two pages. That hadn't happened before, had it? Erin thought about it. No, it definitely hadn't, because she never shaken the book before. Through all the months of study and research, she had been extremely careful handling the book until now.
She stared at the dried rose petal. She snickered once, remembering the likely deliverer of this tome. Well. Perhaps it was time to return to school after all. But before that, she would try one more time to finish the book.
Eryn closed the T'tka Halot. Again. She got up from the desk and walked to the doorway. Again.
Eryn Cochwyn walked into her father's attic office. Again. She went through the entire tome. Again.
The last page still isn't there, torn from the tome. Again.
神仙，开工啦
