The Crone of Solstice Flames: Myrtlewood Crones book 2, page 14
"Thank God," said Kitty.
"I'm not sure if he's the one you should be thanking," said Delia. "Though I hear there are a whole lot of gods and goddesses that are actually real.”
“Whatever,” said Kitty. “Just get me out of here. This place is dreadfully boring!"
No sooner had she cut through the first rope than a sound echoed across the stage.
From the opposite direction of the commotion came slow clapping. Brighter lights beamed on, illuminating the entire stage and blinding Delia.
She held up her hand to shield her eyes and looked across.
"I suppose you can see me now," she said to the figure in the bright, crimson hooded cloak which looked to be made of silk velvet rather than felt.
"That's the idea," said a familiar voice. Delia felt a shadow of shock hit her.
Chapter 37
The Shepherd
Two hours earlier, Father Benedict settled into the backseat of the motor car. The smooth leather exuded a warmth that wrapped around him, a tactile assurance that his path ahead was righteous.
He looked out the tinted windows and watched the countryside blur into a swirl of colours – green fields dotted with quaint cottages, clusters of sheep grazing under the scattered sunbeams that broke through the clouds.
A gentle drizzle had started, and the soft patter of raindrops on the roof played a rhythm that intermingled with the distant hymns that wafted into his thoughts.
The motor hummed softly; a mechanical beast glided as if guided by the hand of the Almighty, ferrying him to a moment that had been foretold.
The revelation.
The odour of the plush car interior – a mixture of leather, polish, and the musky cologne of his driver – filled the enclosed space. He felt it in his bones; this journey was as much a pilgrimage as it was a mission.
The powers of the Almighty had guided him here, to this very moment. Every move was choreographed, and he, a gracious dancer performing his lead role, was fulfilling his purpose on earth: to restore justice and honour to the world.
His fingers tapped the amulet that hung from his neck – a sacred and consecrated relic and a symbol of his hard-fought triumphs.
It had been several months since his extended fieldwork had ended, several months cloistered back in the compound of the Order of Crimson.
Every moment had been spent meticulously working, with tireless but understated vigour, to restore dignity to the Order and to set the strategy and operations of The Mission into motion.
His underlings might be bumbling buffoons, but even their mishaps were guided by an all-seeing holy presence.
Father Benedict’s breath stilled as his thoughts brushed against the treasured memory: that very presence that he had glimpsed once, many years before he'd earned his title as the Crimson Shepherd. That singular vision had set the course for his entire life, a path that he'd followed with grim determination and humble sacrifices that were far greater than any other in the Order.
The memory of that day swelled in his mind, casting a divine glow over the landscapes he passed.
He could still feel the ineffable touch of something greater, something that had sent him on this mission with a driving passion. The presence had whispered secrets to him, divine truths that separated him from the others, that made him the chosen shepherd to lead his flock through the trials and tribulations of the temporal world.
There was only one way toward the greater good. Only one right way of thinking, of being, and Father Benedict did his utmost to exemplify this in every single aspect of his living, even deep in the field where his morals could have easily been sullied if he were a lesser mortal.
Now, as the car approached the outskirts of London – the towering buildings of the metropolis poking through the misty haze like sentinels – he felt a rush of divine energy course through him. It was as if the Almighty Himself had breathed life into his cells, confirming his destined path.
The brimstone taint in the air told him that the evil forces were already gathering, their putrid smell mixing with the city's natural stench of diesel and fast food.
He clenched his hands, drawing strength from his own resolve. His mind raced with calculations, each thought a component in a grand equation that would soon reach its solution. The Crones had no idea what was coming, no inkling of the storm that would sweep away their lives, leaving them bereft and broken. Their ignorance was their weakness, and their weakness was his opportunity.
As the car pulled into a secluded alley, he took a deep breath. The scent of wet cobblestones and rusting metal greeted him.
The door opened, and Father Benedict stepped onto the uneven pavement. His leather shoes tapped with authority as he walked into a nondescript building. The poorly lit interior, scented with the smell of stale tobacco and old wood, seemed to bow in his presence. His footsteps on the creaky floorboards were like pronouncements, each one declaring his intent to the world.
He was the Crimson Shepherd, and he was about to usher in a new era. One where justice and honour reigned supreme, where the scourge of the unworthy would be eradicated once and for all. It all began with seizing the ancient powers of the Myrtlewood Crones, and for that, he was ready.
It was time for the revelation.
It was time to destroy Delia Spark.
Chapter 38
Delia
She snapped back from where she was helping Kitty up towards the man.
Delia was swept up in a storm of shock which ricocheted through her entire body.
"You!" she said.
His hood slipped back to reveal none other than the face of the man she’d spent thirty years of her life with…the man she’d been fighting in divorce, who had gone from being her confidant and partner to being her enemy, apparently in more ways than one.
“Jerry,” she said with distain.
He did not bother acknowledging her by name.
Kitty looked from Delia to Jerry and decided to hold her tongue for once, though Delia could tell she had a lot of coarse words at the ready by the rage showing on her face.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice was thick with revulsion.
"Oh, you have no idea how long I've waited for this moment," Jerry said in his excited voice, the one he only used when dreaming up a big production, or right before a show.
Delia now understood the full experience of the rug being pulled from beneath her.
"What do you mean?” She narrowed her eyes. “I take it you're involved with this revolting cult. Did they rope you into it? Did they promise you something? Did they threaten you or did you just join in voluntarily in order to humiliate me?"
"Far from it," said Jerry. "In fact, I was born into the Order, just like my father and my grandfather before him."
Delia scoffed. "How exactly is one born into a cult that seems comprised entirely of men, Jerry?”
“It’s not a cult,” he replied. “And don’t call me Jerry. Not anymore. My name is Jeremiah Benedict Venito. You may call me by my title, the Crimson Shepherd.” His eyes gleamed with malice. “A title I earned through decades in the field.”
“That’s an interesting thing to call our sham of a marriage,” Delia said, rolling her eyes.
Jerry – because Delia refused to call him by a ridiculous title – glared at her. “You always were hot-headed.”
Kitty barked out a laugh. “And you were always an arrogant fu—”
“Kitty,” Delia cut in.
Kitty mimed zipping her mouth closed. And then mumbled, “He didn’t even answer your question.”
“That’s true,” said Delia. “Maybe he’s too embarrassed to explain the circumstances of his birth.”
Jerry’s face grew red, as it often did in anger. “I will be the one asking questions!” he blustered. “And for your information, it is tradition in the Order for men of age to go out into the world and beget children. The boys return to the Order at seven years of age. That is how it has always been done, for centuries.”
“What a batshit crazy cult.” Kitty was no longer trying to remain quiet.
Delia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You told me your upbringing was strict and old-fashioned, but this is one step too far. We were married for what? Thirty years?"
"Thirty-four years, seven months, and twelve days," said Jerry.
"I'm surprised you weren't counting down the seconds.” Delia raised a hand to her face, rubbing her temple to help all this sink in. “I knew our marriage was a sham, but I didn't realise it was so deliberate. I can’t quite believe it…Surely you’re making this up and it’s a ploy by the Order to distract me."
"How dare you question my legitimacy!” Jerry roared. “It was my mission. I'd studied you from afar. Our oracle told us that you were to be one of the demon women, and I took it upon myself to seduce you. I shaped our life together to keep you firmly under control until the time was right."
"Revolting," said Delia. "We have a child."
“Fortunately not a boy child,” Kitty muttered. “No wonder he and Gilly were never close.”
"An unintended consequence," said Jerry with disdain.
Delia felt the weight of guilt and shame crashing into her. It wasn’t just her marriage that was a sham. It was Gilly’s whole childhood. "You were a pretty awful father, you know that?"
Jerry’s face returned to his usual calm, calculated expression. "I should have had a son. All the men in my family breed heirs. However, I believe this was a test from the Almighty. He was making sure I was a worthy disciple."
Delia’s rage was almost burning a hole in her chest. “How can you stand there all pious when you were carrying on with all those mistresses?”
Jerry’s expression went cold. “More futile attempts to produce an heir. I can assure you, I did not enjoy a single moment. The Almighty was testing me still, until I learned my lesson. I am the ultimate heir in His image.”
Delia held back a wave of revulsion. “I knew you were religious. But this is a whole other level of extreme fundamentalism.”
"I'm pretty sure Gillian is better than any of the men in your family put together," Kitty added.
"A disappointment, just like you,” Jerry said. “At every turn, you’ve thwarted me with your irrational, unpredictable demon woman ways. And finally, I have you exactly where I want you."
Delia looked around at the stage. "It was you, wasn't it? You were the one who ruined my acting career. You were the one who picked up the pieces."
Jerry shrugged nonchalantly. "I might have planted a faulty stiletto. I had been trying to woo you, but you resisted. I got involved in the theatre because I take my dedication to the Almighty seriously. I was a production assistant, but you hardly looked twice at me. That night, your big debut on this stage…It was a brilliant opportunity.”
“You call the most embarrassing moment of my life a brilliant opportunity?” Delia’s shock was quickly turning to rage, burning so strongly that she was only vaguely aware that she was at risk of setting the entire theatre on fire and burning them all to a crisp.
“I needed to break you down, you see.” Jerry’s eyes flashed with his own arrogance. “I needed you to feel weak and humbled. You were far too strong for your own good. Not that it made any difference in the long term. You insisted on being a director, so I went along with it."
"We were a team…" said Delia. "And now I realise that you actually were undermining me that entire time."
"It served its purpose,” said Jerry. “I was trying to keep you busy, keep you away from that godforsaken village of witches and fools. We need to take back that power. Women should know their place. They should serve men; it is as the Almighty intended."
Kitty let out a stream of expletives so extreme that in any other circumstance they might be shocking.
"That's just about the most absurd thing I've ever heard, Jerry,” said Delia. “You’re a sad little man with a sad little cult. Now, if you're quite finished with your evil mastermind rant, I'm busting Kitty out of here and you’d better get out of my way."
She spoke a tough game for somebody with only kitchen knives as weapons and an unpredictable furnace. She wasn't afraid to use fire against this man whom she'd once trusted but who had revealed himself to be an even worse manipulator than she'd already realised him to be. She would set him alight right then and there, but the theatre was mostly comprised of wood and synthetic velvet. Delia’s magic seemed to protect her from her own flames but she couldn’t risk Kitty’s life.
"You won't be leaving this building until I say you will," said Jerry, trembling with rage in his voice. "And you will now address me as 'Master'," he added.
Delia threw back her head and laughed, and so did Kitty. They were practically falling over each other in hysterics.
Jerry’s whole body shook, his face turning bright red, and that vein popping out of his head the way that it tended to do when he really lost his cool.
"Enough!" he cried, barking the word in fury.
"You know, I think we have had enough," said Delia, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
"Guards!" Jerry commanded.
Delia pulled Kitty up and they scrambled towards the steps leading from the stage, heading towards the opposite fire exit, but they quickly found themselves surrounded.
"You have no escape," Jerry's voice boomed. "Now that you've walked into our trap, we can see you. You’re no longer protected by that blasted magic. The Order can seek you out, you and the other evil that you work with, your mistresses.”
"Steady on,” said Delia. “We don't even have a leader.”
Kitty chuckled. "I don't know why, but this situation, despite the danger, is the most absurd I've ever been in."
Delia patted her on the shoulder, trying to still her own racing heartbeat and come up with a plan.
Jerry continued, "Now that we know the locations of all the evil crones, we can unleash the beasts that hold the ancient power, in line with our birthright and the sacred purpose of the Order.”
Kitty sighed. "This is decidedly unsexy," she complained.
"Stop speaking," Jerry called, clearly unimpressed with not being taken seriously. "Gag her," he cried out.
The Order guards surrounding Delia and Kitty shuffled forward, hesitantly. Delia wasn’t sure if it was because they were scary women or because of her magic, but the guards were clearly unsure of how to seize and gag them. Still, she and Kitty were clearly outnumbered.
Delia’s heart hammered and her brain tried desperately to think of an escape. Was blasting them to fiery smithereens worth risking Kitty’s safety?
“Now!” Jerry commanded, and the guards reached forward.
"I think not," came a stern and raspy voice from the back of the hall.
Delia recognised Ingrid at once and breathed a sigh of relief.
"You brought reinforcements. This is unacceptable!" Jerry sounded as if he was telling off a naughty child.
"I think you'll find crones reinforce themselves," said another voice, coming from a different direction entirely. This time it was Marjie speaking. And though Delia couldn't see her, as the other Crones were clearly using their own cloaking magic, she felt infinitely safer just knowing she was there.
"Evil women! You're outnumbered," Jerry cried, raising his hand in the air.
"I think we've had about enough of his voice for today, don't you?" said Agatha’s voice, and an apple drifted through the air and wedged itself in Jerry's open mouth. His muffled rage was almost as hilarious as the sight of him struggling against a piece of fruit.
The Order members looked around in confusion as a thick, dense black fog fell across the room.
Delia could barely see anything. She held tight to Kitty as friendly hands reached out for them, pulling them through the darkness and elbowing guards out of their path.
"I think the front door's the best bet," said Agatha.
"They did leave it wide open," said Marjie. "Come on, let's go!"
It was dark, so dark, as they walked through the thick fog created by the Crones. Delia felt cared for and safe in that darkness. Never had she been more grateful that magic existed than she was right then in that moment. Around them, muffled sounds of confusion echoed amid shouts of anger and rage that grew more and more distant as they made their way through the main doors of the theatre and out into the street. The fog cleared, though the sky was naturally darkening.
"Thank you so much," said Delia, her gratitude warring with the acute sense of guilt she felt at running off to save her friend without telling them, and inadvertently destroying the invisibility magic protecting the Crones and the whole town of Myrtlewood in the process.
"We wouldn't leave one of our own to fight alone," said Marjie.
Agatha eyed her warily. “It wasn’t a very rational thing to do,” she grumbled.
"I should have said something,” Delia admitted. “But I was scared you’d stop me and I couldn’t leave Kitty there. Now I’m afraid I’ve put us all in a lot more danger.”
Ingrid shrugged. “What’s life without a little danger?” Her voice was nonchalant as they strode away from the theatre, but her eyes held a glimmer of concern. Delia looked around, but there were no Order members in sight.
“That must have been quite a shock,” said Marjie, patting Delia on the shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
“What?” said Delia. “Oh you mean about the man I thought was my husband secretly just being in some kind of cult and marrying me as part of his mission? Honestly, I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. It might take me some time to process.”
“Fair enough,” said Agatha, and Delia noticed her shoulders relax, just a tad. Perhaps it was a logical enough explanation to set Agatha at ease.
“How did you even find me?"
