THE 7 ARCANE COLORS OF LIFE

 

The orphan, Richard Blaine, learns that dining with evil never ends like you believe.

THE 7 ARCANE COLORS OF LIFE

“Dining with Evil ends with dessert being you.”

– Richard Blaine

 

“Being with your Enemy and not being with Him is the only way you have of measuring time, sir,” I smiled at Mr. Morton.

It was a very forced smile. Telling Caligula he has bad taste is never done lightly.

Not only did everyone at the table stop breathing, (the ones that still breathed that is) 

but the very walls of the candlelit chamber seemed to gasp.

What can I say?

I have an allergy to “condescending arrogance” commonly referred to as “smug.”

You know as in “as the prig is bent, so the snob’s inclined” sort of thing.

I tend to break out in suicidal, smart-mouth remarks. It’s another failing I have ... along with compassion.

Mr. Morton’s eyes changed colors from pale, arctic blue to black, becoming holes into the nothingness that was his soul.

Mr. Morton spoke in a timbre that Orson Welles would have envied, “There are very slow ways to die.”

“I know, sir. I’ve been living one at St. Marok’s for a while now.”

It had started out a lousy day and gone downhill from there, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that it had come to this.

With the blinking out of Marie Laveau, Night had flicked to Day like the turning on of a light switch.

I heard light pelting of svelte feet on grass behind me before strong fingers seized my shoulders and spun me around.

“Oh, Richard, I was so worried.”

Helen Mayfair’s face flinched as she realized she’d called me by my first name. 

“Ah, we were so worried. Sister Ameal and I could find you nowhere on the grounds for two whole days!”

Sister Ameal padded up to me, seemingly disgusted at the world in general and me in particular. “How did Morton hide you from me?”

Not us. Me. 

I tucked that bit into my spinning mind for further reflection … should I survive tonight’s festivities.

“It lifted me from two nights ago and dumped me into today.”

Miss Mayfair frowned, “It?”

Sister Ameal snorted, “He means Morton. And the boy ….”

“Young man,” sternly corrected Miss Mayfair, stressing the man.

I tucked that moment away in my mind for reflection, too. Things might be looking up … 

which meant that soon they would take a nosedive.

My life was like that.

Sister Ameal smiled that infuriating, knowing smile of hers.

“The young man is correct. Morton is an Entity. One of enormous power that makes me shudder when I consider its utter lack of restraint combined with its own dark appetites.”

I said, “Then, let’s go to Headmaster Stearns’ quarters where I might pick up a weapon or two.”

Miss Mayfair frowned, “He kept weapons there?”

Sister Ameal kept smiling. “And a lush velvet cushioned bed.”

Helen narrowed her eyes at me, and I hastily added, 

“And many, many arcane books. Knowledge is power. Besides, I’m too scared to percolate … especially in front of Sister Ameal.”

Miss Mayfair fought her own smile. “I believe that last.”

The students of St. Marok’s parted before us like waves of the Red Sea but with infinitely more trepidation than mere unfeeling water.

The glare of Sister Ameal and the memory of Miss Mayfair’s dainty revolver at the small of her back helped a good deal with that I wagered.

We are what we repeatedly do. Evil, then, is not an act, but a habit.

Headmaster Stearns had been evil.

It lived on after him. 

The halls were deserted as we approached Headmaster Stearns’ quarters. 

No surprise. 

Even in the daytime, strange growls, moans, and low screams sometimes could be heard beyond the rune-carved door … 

when supposedly the quarters were empty.

We stopped in front of the door, and I slipped in the odd shaped metal key into the lock in the shape of a dragon’s snarling mouth.

Miss Mayfair asked low, “How can you sleep in such a place?”

“I don’t. I doze … with a crucifix in one hand and the Mirror of Enigmas in the other ... the small handheld sister of it actually.”

Sister Ameal nodded. “Is the sister of that Mirror what you intend to bring to Morton’s tonight?”

“What is the Mirror of Enigmas?” asked Miss Mayfair.

“It reveals to whoever looks within it who that person truly is.”

“Have you ever ….”

“Yes. And all I saw was a misty outline of a body … nothing more.”

Sister Ameal cocked her head. “Did that disturb you?”

“No. If you have to look into a mirror for confirmation of who you are … then, you are no one.”

Miss Mayfair frowned, “These quarters seem to extend impossibly farther than my eyes can see.”

Sister Ameal murmured, “Purgatory is like that.”

Miss Mayfair hushed, “We are in Purgatory?!”

I reached within my school uniform jacket, withdrawing a crude map.

“Stearns drew a map that leads from here to the dining room of Mr. Morton’s estate.”

Miss Mayfair’s frown deepened. 

“Then, why did not Mr. Morton enter here from there if he so wished the headmaster’s lost gospels?”

“Yeah, especially since there are no thresholds guarding an orphanage.”

Sister Ameal sighed, “And how do you know this, young sir?”

“I’ve been reading Stearns’ books."

Miss Mayfair paled. "But they are cursed!"

"Only cursed if you read them to obtain power over others. I was just reading to stay alive."

Sister Ameal looked skeptical. "And that protects you?"

 "So far. The path to safety leads along some pretty steep cliffs."

I shivered. “But some of those books were … not light reading." 

I shook my head, 

"He was a man of narrow means, broad interests, and dark habits … ah, Miss Mayfair, I would suggest you’d not look too closely at the walls ….”

“Oh, my!”

Sister Ameal rolled her eyes. 

“Boy, you know little of women. If you had said nothing, she would not have looked half as close.”

Miss Mayfair hushed, “What on earth is that to my right?”

“The icon of the golden carving for the demoness of Morton’s first name.”

“It seems to almost be alive.”

“That is because it was painted in the seven arcane colors of life.”

“Which are?”

“If I name them aloud that demoness becomes fully alive … and I imagine after all these millennia, she will awaken ... hungry.”

Miss Mayfair paled. “Never mind. It was merely an idol question.”

Her nose wrinkled like a rabbit’s. “Did you catch the pun?”

Sister Ameal drawled, “No, we did not, nor we will we catch it if you say it a second time.”