twenty-one : a cherry blondie surprise

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𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄

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When Pandora and Ace woke the next morning, I had barely even registered the fact that it was morning since I had camped out into the office with all the new treasures and information I had found. I had connected all the photographs on Cage's computer with the descriptions of each man in the fourth journal, and all I needed to do was print them.

I had stayed up all night by accident, too completely immersed in my mother's writings to even look up or grab something to drink. My throat was dry and raw, my eyes would sting and hurt when I blinked, and I definitely was in need of a nap but the information was too hot, too interesting to be put down for even a second.

So, in between bites of scrambled egg and toast, I showed my two friends the first three journals, keeping the fourth tucked away inside the leather bag. I did, however, show them the photographs of each Morticianer as I told them who they were.

They didn't even seem truly shocked to hear that my mother's past was involved with spells and witchcraft, they weren't even shocked about the magical tools found in the bag for rituals.

They left around noon, Ace taking Pandora to get her car from John's house and to pick up an even greasier breakfast for the hungover girl. I stayed inside, storing the tools inside the box with the candles, wine, and cigarettes. I laid the journals out on the kitchen table, still flipping through pages and reading what I could in between chores and admiring the things I had found.

The leather jacket was warm on my body and I felt a great comfort having it on. It seemed that it might've been Cage's in their earlier days, and even though I still felt resentment towards the man, it did feel good to have something that brought me closer to him.

I sat down in one of the high chairs at the island, opening up the fourth journal as I twirled Spiorad in my free hand. There was something so calming about the blade, the way the hilt seemed to mold to my hand and the way the blade itself twinkled and glittered when the sunlight hit it just right through the windows. It almost had an even weight, the hilt being slightly heavier than the rest, but otherwise, it moved through my fingers and across my palm like it was wielding itself.

I flipped through the fourth journal to where I had left off when breakfast had been made and my friends had woken up. My mother had written most of her darker warnings and tales in between incantations and examples.

The devil and Clandestine

"Who is the devil? And what does he mean to the Morticianers?"

Archer Crow did not create the Morticianers for them to summon the devil. It was his people's doing, their idea that the devil could aid them in their work, to make the killings easier. Eric Conner was the first to bring up the idea of summoning the devil, thinking this would bring out a greater god than the one they all thought Archer was at the time.

Conner believed this would bring not only a greater power to worship, but a way to bring the rest of humanity to its knees. He wanted the Clandestine Church to be feared, to no longer be a secret safe haven for demons and spooks alike. He wanted the ground at his feet to be kissed and he wanted raw, dark power, the type of power Archer and the rest of the Morticianers could no longer give him. He wanted validation from his own false god, so he brought up the idea of finding the devil and finally bringing him 'home.'

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