Of Lorenz Theory & Love

Jimmy & Darcy: Meeting Matias & The Sarcana

Charmed CW characters belong to Charmed CW. Denis and Tera, Darcy, Della, and Dora Valensi are my imagination at work. Light research was conducted for context.

16 Jimmy & Darcy: Meeting Matias & The Sarcana

6:30 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, The Mauve Flat, August 1, 1941

Jimmy reread the letter, and the listed addresses. Why on earth did Darcy need a convent for? He surmised that she had a treasured object of a rather delicate nature there—or maybe an urgent hidden message she was guarding, coded in the word "Matias"—perhaps both—that needed delivery to her sisters, of whom she said she had been quite close with. Jimmy thought that visiting the convent in person would be the key in figuring this all out.

Matias: Greenfield House Convent, Billinge, St Helen's, Manchester, England, UK

Home: Dora and Della Valensi (next of kin), Epicenter Pico, No.22, Azores Island

He turned the page around to see if there were any additional instructions.

Toss the blue marble for my sisters

Toss the black marble to return

Jimmy rummaged around the drawer, coming out empty. An idea hit him, and he removed the drawer from its nightstand, shaking it all the while. His wrist bone knocked a hidden lever snaked around the polished frame, and a secret compartment popped out of its own accord, revealing the two marbles—one of the brightest blue, the other as dark as the finest polished jet. After spending a few seconds examining these and turning them about in his outstretched, slightly shaking hand, Jimmy stowed them in his pocket, checking beforehand that there were no worn patches or holes that could cause them to slip away, unseen.

Jimmy reexamined the letter, bringing it with him as he dressed and made for the front door. Greenfield House Convent. Greenfield Convent. Greenfield. It sounded quite familiar. He recalled a large and stately dark mansion-like building some blocks away—it was Green-something and was on Carr Mill Road past the Chadwick Green neighborhood he had been raised near as a child. The more he thought of it, he was increasingly sure that had to be the place. It looked positively indestructible, which certainly counted for something in a war-ravaged place like this. Jimmy recalled passing it as a small child on his afternoon walks with a surly caretaker, who had casually remarked that if he didn't behave himself, he would be sent there and served bland porridge for the rest of his days while shackled to the cobblestone floor. (He wasn't too fond of said caretaker, as he recalled; amiable childcare providers were certainly hard to come by in the 1920s, and he was fairly sure not much had changed since then, barring extreme institutional reform.)

7 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, Undetermined Countryside, August 1, 1941

Jimmy folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket containing the two precious marbles and set off for the convent that had haunted him in his childhood nightmares of yore. He cleared three blocks, making a steep right turn that took him off the main street road and into the verdant, wild remnants of the D'Urbervillian countryside. Jimmy noticed a bevy of gnarled trees, ten times taller than any house, swaying in an invisible midsummer rhythm and inhabited by as many crows, as he made his way through the rocky footpath to the forbidding building that seemed to grow intimidatingly larger every step he took.

No sooner had Jimmy's feet graced a centimeter's breadth of the doormat, than the door opened to reveal a young golden-haired lady veiled in Spanish-style black laced mourning robes. He thought this a bit odd, since he had grown up seeing middle-aged nuns walking about the streets in long habits and white-tipped hats. What kind of an institution was this?

Unsure of what to do, Jimmy reverted to customary social graces, and introduced himself to the woman. She nodded in response. "I am Fiona Callahan," she said—"former ward, now junior warden of the convent." Fiona gestured for Jimmy to enter the building.

7:20 am, Oldham, Greater Manchester, Greenfield House Convent, August 1, 1941

"Erm—has this convent changed management?" Jimmy inquired delicately, upon stepping in and looking around the lobby, whose grey stone walls and intricately carved swords on display suggested an Arthurian theme. His childhood caretaker's stories of simple living and plain frocks somehow did not match the scene before his eyes.

"Yes, some time ago. It's now run by the Sisters of Arcana, known in certain circles as the Sarcana," Fiona stated matter-of-factly. "Into the parlor, shall we?" She gestured to her left as they entered another somewhat identically decorated room, though this chamber had what ominously appeared to be handcuffs dangling from the ceiling, and an odd assortment of books covering everything from crow tattoos to modern-era uses for venomous poison. "Do sit," Fiona gestured at the nearby chair.

"I-I'm fine, really" said Jimmy. "I am pressed for time, and I have come for an urgent matter. A dear, beloved"...he wasn't sure how much he should reveal..."...friend of mine has been killed by a passing bomb, and her dying wish," Jimmy fished the letter out of his pocket "was that I bring Matias home, home being, I assume, the Azores Islands." Fiona took the letter from his hand, as Jimmy examined her carefully to see if she showed any emotion due to the unhappy circumstances.

Fiona carefully manipulated the letter, running a well-manicured index finger from its top to the very bottom, repeating the process once she turned the page over, as if determining the authentication of the missive through otherworldly means. Upon its completion, she gave a quick start, her eyes filling with tears that she took no pains to hide.

"She was truly lovely," Fiona murmured to herself. Seconds passed, then a couple of minutes. Realizing where she was, she cleared her throat hastily, wiped her tears, and regained her composure. Meeting Jimmy's eyes, she pushed a stone protruding from the wall, revealing a secret corridor that blended into the parlor's dense walls. "Follow me," Fiona beckoned. And so he did. The corridor's interior seemed like a shoddy prison detention center, or a city-run poor man's insane asylum—why had Darcy instructed him to come here? And who, or what, exactly, was he bringing home?

Fiona turned a corner, opening the door with an ornate key. As they walked inside, the darkened scenery changed to what resembled...a nursery. There was a single octagonal window, peeling floral wallpaper (he noticed bluebells that matched Darcy's dress), a Tiffany twin-sized bed, and a cradle covered in silky gauze from its top to the very bottom.

Opening the gossamer cover, Fiona scooped a wriggling infant from the cradle.

"Jimmy, meet Matias."