“I see…I couldn’t help overhear a small part of it. I wasn’t eavesdropping, obviously, but it was very late and noise carried through the silence. I’m sure I heard you say something about me being under control.”
A strange look flickered across his eyes, but it only lasted for an instant. In fact it was so fleeting that I wondered if I had actually seen it at all.
“I don’t believe so. If you heard anything like that you must have misunderstood. These walls aren’t thick, and you were probably tired. I had nothing but good things to say about you. Although…” he sighed. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you this or not.” He folded the paper and placed it on the table. Then, he leaned forward and pushed his plate aside. “The truth is, Elsa, that there were some members on the council who weren’t too enthused about the idea of having you as a Slayer. The thing is that since there’s no control as to who becomes a Slayer and what type of person they’re going to be, not everyone is going to be suited, and some of them had a few reservations about your suitability. They’re just concerned, but I told them they have nothing to worry about and that you’re performing admirably.”
I frowned. I didn’t much like knowing there were people out there who were passing judgment on me without knowing me. I’d had enough of that in the orphanage with all the people turning me down because I wasn’t what they had expected from a child. I was glad that the council was in Europe so I didn’t have to meet them face to face. I liked the autonomy and was glad that we had a bit of freedom out here.
“I have to tell you something else as well,” I said. “My aunt came to me in a dream last night.”
Arthur tensed and he clasped his hands together. He tilted his head to the side.
“What did you see?” Tension was present in his voice.
“It was horrible. It was her death.” My voice cracked with emotion. Arthur leaned back and exhaled deeply. He smoothed down his shirt.
“What did you see?”
“Just a stake in her stomach. Her reflection in a cracked mirror. I didn’t see who killed her. I just felt…everything.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said. “Reliving a death is one of the things we wish we could prevent, but the connection that runs through Slayers is something that nobody has ever been able to have control of. It was a tragedy and let’s hope you never have to relieve it again.”
“But that’s just it. Part of me wants to, I got this strange feeling, like she was trying to tell me something. I have no idea what it could be. I want to see her again so that she can tell me what she needs to tell me.”
“I don’t want to be patronizing, but I’m wondering if you’re projecting a little bit here. I’m not sure that’s how the connection works and maybe you’re looking for a message where none exists. Haven’t you told me before that these echoes are pretty much random messages you get and there’s no rhyme or reason to them?”
“I did think that, but maybe I just wasn’t as used to getting them. I was trying to think of her before she appeared, and then she did. I know it was horrible and painful, but I really feel like there’s something she wants me to know. It’s just so elusive.”
“Elsa, you shouldn’t fixate on things you can’t control. I’m sure if there was anything your Aunt wanted you to know she would have put it in the letter she left for you, or she would have told me so that I could have passed on the message. I know you’ve always been concerned about your fractured link with your family and I’m worried you’re trying to force one where it doesn’t exist. There are plenty of things to worry about in the real world without having to trouble yourself about some mystical way of communicating with people who have passed on. Your Aunt was a Slayer and what happened to her was tragic, but it did happen and we must move on. There is no going back in life. I wish that wasn’t true, but it is. There are plenty of things I wish I could take back, but we have to keep moving forward and we have to try to learn from the mistakes we make.”
I could tell from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t interested in discussing the philosophical implications of the Slayer’s lineage and how the remnants left in each Slayer might be able to transfer messages or emotions. It was something that anyone who didn’t experience it couldn’t understand. He knew about it in theory, but there was something so real and vivid in the dreams that gave it this authentic feeling. I wasn’t going to debate it with him, but I thought he was wrong in one respect. My Aunt wouldn’t have been able to give me any message if she had only thought of it moments before she died. This was the only way she could contact me, and it might have been important.
I didn’t care what Arthur said, I was going to try and get in touch with her again.
“Have you been having any other echoes from other Slayers?”
“No, just that one,” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell him about the other dream when I was still trying to make sense of it myself. He would never talk about the possibility that a Slayer might have taken vampires in some sort of harem. But the answers were out there somewhere, and I had to figure out a way to find them. I had to get access to his books.
“I was thinking though,” I said in a way that made it seem quite nonchalant, “that I’d like to learn more about my ancestors. I know you’re protective of your books, but would you happen to have one that has my lineage? I thought it might make me a better Slayer if I knew what the ones who came before me accomplished. I feel as though it would give me a better grounding for the future as well. I don’t want to insult you, but I think it’ll be a lot different learning from a Slayer. As much as you know, you’ll never know what it’s really like.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, this is true,” he said. He tapped his finger against his chin as he considered my proposal. “One of the books that recently arrived at the library is one such book. If you like you may visit it, but please be careful because these books are delicate and if any harm should come to them…”
“Arthur, what do you think I’m going to do? I promise that I’ll be careful,” I said, trying not to squeal inside. I thanked him and made a point to get to the library as soon as possible.
Chapter Eight
The library was an old building in the heart of town. I had finished my studies at the academy for the day and was glad to be discovering something about my past. The day had gone by without incident; I only encountered Julia a few times and each time she had been so far away all she could do was give me a glower, rather than any snide comments. I only saw the boys briefly and I was glad of this because I flushed bright crimson when I saw them, after their faces had briefly appeared in my dream. I wanted to speak to Adam, to talk to him about the previous night, but he was nowhere to be found and I didn’t have time to search for him. I’d see him again soon and talk to him. As much as I liked him, he was his own man and I saw more of a potential of a relationship with either Josh or Troy.
Arthur had so many books he had to rent out a room at the library where he could store the rare volumes. His generous stipend from the council allowed him to do this, and the library seemed happy to have rare and obscure books in their collection. I mentioned my name and that I was a guest of Arthur and I was shown into the room. Apparently he had already called ahead and told them which book I was able to read. The others were all kept in glass cases and cabinets under lock and key. To many it would have seemed like too much fuss to keep books safe, but Arthur had explained to me that books had knowledge and knowledge had power. In the wrong hands information could be the downfall of civilizations, could dethrone kings and shift power. It was important to keep them safe, especially because if these were destroyed then all the knowledge they contained would be destroyed to, and with them would go my family history.
The librarian who showed me into the room was a small, timid man who reminded me of Arthur, if he had been in an emaciated state. He looked as though he didn’t leave the library at all; his face was pale, his hair was wispy, and he spoke in a whisper that was so light I had to strain to hear it, and more often than not I just nodded along in the hope that he was saying something I should agree with. He wore plastic gloves and carefully withdrew the book from its resting place. Its cover was tattered and green. The words had long since faded. The spine creaked as he opened the book, using tweezers to turn the pages. He handed me a fresh pair of gloves and the tweezers.
“Be gentle,” he said. “Too much pressure and the pages might turn to dust before your very eyes, and Arthur would not be happy.”
I assured him that I would be careful. I waited for him to leave before I investigated the book myself. I didn’t want anyone else to know what I was looking at. This was for my eyes only. It was my family after all; I figured that was a privilege I could afford myself. I used the tweezers to turn the pages and saw my family name etched onto the first page, although it had been spelt different; ‘Karpentar’. The ink was faded and the way it was written meant I had to decipher it rather than read it. I pored over the book, breathing in the musty smell of the brown pages, listening to the book creak with the groan of centuries, like an old man who struggled to rise from his chair.
There were names of women I had never heard of before, and for the first time in my life I experienced a sense of awe at my family. Since I had been alone I never had a sense of how many people were a part of my family, but seeing them all written down in this book was amazing. Each of them was related to me. I wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for these women, and it m
ade me think of the future and all the people who wouldn’t be born if I never had a child. It was humbling and also made me feel guilty in a sense. All of these women had had full lives, but it had ended up in me. I was the last one of the line, the one that everything now depended upon, and I didn’t think I could live up to them. I wondered about their lives, about their thoughts and feelings. Had they felt the same things as me? Were we bonded by more than blood? I read as much as I could, although most of the writing was faded and impossible to read.