Roni peered into the shadowy forest as the wheels crunched the dirt and rocks below. No wonder all the old fairytales equated the forest with witchcraft and evil. Everywhere Roni looked, she saw shadows moving, lurking, watching her from the darkness. Just like discovering familiar images in the clouds, searching for horrors in the shadows proved every bit as easy.
The road broke free of the forest and led to a large, wide clearing. As they curved up a slight incline, Roni spotted a lake off to her right. To the left, a path led back into the woods. Ahead, the road opened into a large circle with a statue of the Virgin Mary in the center. With her arms held wide and open as she gazed down upon all approaching vehicles, she offered her Mona Lisa grin that both welcomed and warned all who approached.
Flower beds filled with purple butter wort and blue-eyed grass bordered the circle, and on the left, the main church rose high towards Heaven. Medieval in design, it had a bell tower up front and a long section going on out the back. To the left of the church, a colonnade walkway led to a bland, squarish building. To the right, a similar set up ended in another bland building. Off the far end of the circle, the road continued. In the distance, Roni saw a barn. Beyond that, tall corn grew in rows that stretched on as far as she could see.
The rain had ceased, and two women wearing black habits with white-trim wimples stood outside. They watched as Gram parked the car and stepped out. The older of the two women moved forward. She had a pudgy face and a stern mouth, and Roni suspected that a simple glance from her could stop a middle school classroom in its tracks.
“Lillian, it’s so good to see you,” the woman said.
Gram shook the woman’s hand, then gestured to Roni. “This is my granddaughter, Veronica. She goes by Roni.” Gram waved Roni over. “This is Sister Mary.”
Roni got out of the car and shook hands with the Sister. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Sister Mary gestured behind her without taking her eyes off Roni. “This is Sister Claudia. She’s young enough to be my granddaughter.”
Gram forced a chuckle and Sister Mary laughed harder than necessary. Sister Claudia stepped forward and shook hands with both women. She had a deceptive, gentle touch — bordering on frail.
“You’ll find that everything is in order,” Sister Mary said, lacing her fingers under her belly. “We take our duty very seriously.”
Gram patted her crucifix. “I’ve never known you to do otherwise.”
Both women appeared eminently pleased with each other. Gram even smiled wide enough to show her teeth — something Roni had never seen before and hoped never to see again.
Sister Claudia’s eyes narrowed and with a stiff arm, she gestured toward the church. “Perhaps we should show you the rift so you may complete your inspection and be on your way.”
Sister Mary’s hard glower forced Sister Claudia to lower her head and step back. “I apologize,” Sister Mary said to Gram. “This one is under my tutelage. She will be taking over running the Abbey when I am no longer able. As you can see, she still has much to learn.”
Gram tilted her head toward Roni. “I have one of my own.”
The two old women shared a more authentic chuckle before Sister Mary led the way inside.
The narthex of the church consisted of a wide, flat stone flooring, highly polished wood trim around white plaster walls, and two heavy, rounded doors made of wood with black iron straps. On either side of the doors, statues of Jesus and Mary stood. Gesturing toward the right, Sister Mary led the way to a narrow door that opened onto a narrower staircase winding clockwise downward.
Stopping at the door, Sister Mary opened her mouth and from the shape of her lips, Roni expected to hear a simple caution — watch your step.
But then the screams came.
Sister Mary’s hand covered her mouth. “Sister Susan. Sister Rachel.”
Gram leapt to the stairwell and soared downward. The two nuns flew in behind her, leaving Roni to bring up the rear. Though she had seen Gram act fast before, Roni caught a glimpse of panic on the old woman’s face — a new and different kind of fear.
The screams grew louder as they descended further under the church. The narrow, spiraling staircase made each footfall dangerous. Roni felt like a bug swirling down the drain, and she let out a held breath when they finally reached the bottom.
Though not as deep as the full length of the church, the cellar stretched far enough to accommodate a small gathering. Several feet ahead, Roni witnessed the rift flickering light in all directions — a swirling cylinder of red and orange like a fiery storm. The cylinder hovered about six inches off the ground and stopped just shy of the ceiling. Eight books on eight stands encircled this rift to another universe — at least, they were supposed to.
Three of the stands had been knocked over and their books strewn across the floor. Sister Susan and Sister Rachel sat nearby nursing a bleeding head wound for one and a bloody nose for the other.
Heat radiated off the rift. Air howled around them. Weaving in and out of that noise, Roni picked up on pained screams like the cries of children being tortured. Or animals. Or even the horrid shrieks of creatures unknown. The sounds shifted as if arriving on waves.
Gram stood where the gap from fallen books had been formed. She held open a book of her own. With her left foot planted behind for support, she pushed the book forward as if fighting against a heavy storm wind.
Over her shoulder, she said, “Quit gawking. Reset the books.”
Roni rushed over to the nearest bookstand and set it in place. Divots on the floor made it easy to see the correct positioning. A long chain stretched from the bookstand to the spine of one book — red leather cover with gold trim. Roni reeled it in and set the book on the stand, opening it to face the rift. A warm, yellow glow emanated from the book and the roiling cylinder of energy dimmed slightly. The howling wind lessened.
Snapping her fingers at Sister Claudia, Roni said, “Are you going to help?”
Scowling, Sister Claudia uttered a soft but quick prayer before hurrying over to set up another bookstand.
Roni docked the final stand behind Gram. Having dealt with Gram’s chains before, Roni found the alligator clip that secured the chain to the stand and yanked it off. Helping Gram avoid tripping on the stand, Roni guided her back until she could set the book down. With a flick of her wrist, Gram produced a new chain from the sleeve of her blouse. She secured the chain to the stand and punctured the book’s spine with the other end.
Sister Claudia finished setting her book on its stand, but when she opened it a rod of energy snapped out of the cylinder like a lance and pierced the book, knocking it and Sister Claudia to the floor. Gram and Roni raced over to reset the stand while Sister Mary attended to her fellow nuns. As Roni replaced the stand in its proper position and Gram produced a fresh book, a strange, haunted noise came from the rift.
Roni looked back. Her mouth dried from being locked open. Her eyes widened.
A young girl appeared in the center of the firestorm — her hair parted in the middle and a peace sign pendant around her neck. She stared back at Roni like some burning mirror image. Only the closer Roni looked, the less she saw of her own face. Rather, she spotted a glimpse of herself from long ago — a younger version from a time before she had been born.
But then the mirror image raised its head, looking beyond Roni. The girl’s chin trembled. She lifted a hand, reaching out through the cylinder, covered in swirls of orange and red. She reached for Gram.
“Mom?” the girl said.
As Roni snapped her head around to face Gram, the final book slid into place and was opened. Roni turned back to the cylinder and the girl had disappeared. The stormy cyclones within the cylinder muted in color and intensity. The horrid sounds diminished.
With her skin paling and her eyes searching the rift, Gram stood petrified like an alabaster statue. Her eyes welled, but tears did not fall. Roni had never seen such weakness in her grandmother.
The word stroke popped in her mind. As she scrambled through her thoughts for the symptoms of such a thing, another part of Roni warned that this would not be so simple. She took a hesitant step closer to Gram. Her grandmother’s eyes snapped upon hers. Roni froze.
“Come with me,” Sister Mary said in a gentle tone.
At first, Roni thought the nun spoke to her. However, the woman put her arm around Gram and the two shuffled toward the stairs.
“Wait,” Roni said, but Sister Mary kept Gram moving.
Before Roni could follow, Sister Claudia stepped in her way. “We need your help here.”
“That’s my grandmother. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“Sister Mary can take care of her just fine. But you and your grandmother came here to help with this rift. Do you want to explain to those women why we failed to finish securing things down here?”
Roni brushed by Sister Claudia and put one foot on the bottom stair. She glanced back at the cylinder of energy and the eight books surrounding it. If three of them had fallen so easily, they needed to make sure the rest were steadied, that they would remain standing. The two injured nuns needed first-aid. That left Sister Claudia and Roni to take care of things.
Thrusting her hands into her pockets and curling them into fists, Roni walked away from the stairs. Questions bombarded her mind, and Gram’s warnings echoed against her conscience.
“Thank you,” Sister Claudia said, coming up beside Roni.
“Not doing it for you. I’m here to take care of this job. The moment we’re done, I’m taking my grandmother and leaving this place.”
“I think that’s a wise decision.”
Sister Claudia walked over to Sister Susan and gazed at the nun’s injuries. Roni did not move. Her mind, her ears, every part of her being, tried to press through the ceiling for any hint of what might be going on with Gram. She tried to understand what had happened, why Gram so willingly left with Sister Mary, and if that thing from the rift had actually called Gram Mom.