Page 84 of A Silence So Divine

“Looks empty,” she calls out.

Cecil peers back at me, a wordless question in his eyes. I bob my head up and down, fronting a sureness that I don’t feel. It’s not that the house feels creepy or unwelcoming. In truth, it feels… fine.

The unknown, though, is difficult for me to digest.

Cecil hesitates, looking out into the tree line once more. I can practically hear his warring thoughts.Stay or flee.His hands hang at his sides, flexing and curling into tight fists. The veins that run down his forearms bulge, and they remind me of the stream by the refuge camp. Long and winding.

Mustering up my courage, I step around him to take the lead. I don’t get far before he falls into step with me. Close enough to touch, but choosing not to.

“Come on, you two,” Veda pipes up, her voice carrying from inside one of the rooms.

We enter the living room first. Cecil’s eyes are everywhere–searching for danger, I presume. There’s not much to be found. A lot of old furniture, a lot of half-burnt candles, a lot of… stuff. Knick knacks, books, photos—all covering the walls and tables. They’re memories, and they’re everywhere.

The sound of rummaging comes from the adjacent room and we follow it, wandering into a kitchen. A round table with four chairs, a stovetop with two burners, three cabinets. There’s one window, lace curtains that have yellowed with age doing little to filter out the light.

Veda opens each drawer and cabinet, her face pinched in concentration.

“You gonna tell us who lived here?” Cecil asks, continuing his own inspection as he circles the table.

“I already told you. A friend of mine.” Veda spares me a quick glance. “Go ahead and sit down, sweetheart. I’ve got to find something and then we can chat, alright?”

Looking to Cecil, I don’t sit down until he juts his chin in the direction of the seat.

The chair creaks when I lower myself, so I try my best to sit still on the chance the legs decide to give out. There are scratches and water stains on the wooden table, proof that it was well loved. I almost feel bad to think of all the furniture in this house that sits unused. It’s so lonely.

Veda curses under her breath as she meanders around the house, searching high and low. Cecil stays behind, always watching me out of the corner of his eye, as if someone might burst through the window and whisk me away. Honestly, stranger things have happened.

A muffled “Ah-ha!” comes from the opposite end of the house, followed by Veda rushing in with armfuls of books. They tumble to the table and form a pile in front of me. A cloud of dust puffs into my face and I let out a cough.

Cecil picks up one of the more deteriorated books by the cover, giving Veda a speculative look.

“What is this? First edition of the Old Testament?” He snarks, earning an eye roll.

“Funny.” She snatches the book from him and takes a seat across from me.

There are five books, one of which looks like a personal journal. It’s also not as old as the others. The leather binding has some loose threads and the page edges are warped from moisture, but it’s in decent condition.

“Did these belong to your friend?”I ask, running my finger over the spine. I fight an intense desire to flip through thepages, curiosity tugging at me. It wouldn’t be polite without an invitation, so I don’t, but I can’t take my eyes off of it.

“They did. She was a lot like you; going through a self discovery. The books were used for research, and she wrote her own experiences in that journal.” She gestures to the leather before me. “I was hoping that if you read through them, they would give you some answers. Or at least a starting point.” She sounds hopeful, but there’s an apprehension in her rigid posture and tight lips.

Cecil comes to stand at my back, peering down at the journal. I feel his warmth, and it’s a welcome reminder that I’m not alone.

“Was she a Reaper, too? Your friend,” Cecil asks.

Veda’s eyes crinkle with amusement as she shakes her head.

“No. She was something else. It took us a long time to figure it out, actually. That’s where the books came in handy.”

My curiosity grows.

“What was she?”I sign.

There’s a gleam in Veda’s eye now, one that looks very much like pride. She leans further across the table, as if she’s telling me a secret. “She was a Seer. A damn good one.” She flips through the pages of a brick-colored book. If the state of the binding didn’t give away its bygone origin, the swooping cursive inside certainly would.

Having found the passage she was searching for, she passes the book over to me.

In the upper righthand corner is the sketch of a woman’s face. Her features are harsh, and her eyes are entirely black. The text is difficult to make out, so I lift the book and bring it closer to my face. Cecil bends down behind me, reading over my shoulder.