Family Secrets
Samantha Tracie Morrison-Lettson sat staring out the large picture window. Her last words hanging in the air like silent reminders of times gone incredibly wrong.
Kathleen glanced at the beautiful heiress, and Samantha's eyes snapped to hers like a light switch clicking to the on position, catching a burglar entering a room.
Samantha Tracie Morrison-Lettson smiled. Why did everything about this woman seem too perfect? Kathleen struggled and formed a stiff smile across her face.
"Ms. Woodfield, I am in need of a nap, and you are still looking for things that should already be forgotten."
Her maidservant was at her side before the bell made a full ring.
"Steph, take Ms. Woodfield to the central room of the library and ensure she has all she needs."
Samantha Tracie Morrison-Lettson stood up from her overstuffed sofa and stretched.
"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Woodfield. I hope your co-workers are lucky enough to only find what they are looking for." And she left with the casualness of an elite.
The library was a circular room, of ornate wood paneling, mirrors, tapestries, and art. The center of the library was made of grey slate and seemed stark and out of place, which somehow made sense for the location of ancient documentation.
Steph unlocked a large iron gate and an arctic cold wind flowed out like a gale. The sound of paper fluttering filled the library, but not a book stirred.
Kathleen shivered and stepped into this inner sanctum.
The inner chamber was brightly lit, extremely cold, and every surface was covered in reflective material. Her nose was assailed, not by dust and musk, but by preserving chemicals and oils.
Kathleen felt an odd chill as her reflections seemed to actually watch her with varying expressions. She put on one of the heavy overcoats at the door and walked to the wide ornamental desk in the center of the room.
There sat a black leather book with gold leaf. It was already open to the epilogue, so she read:
"… and it is due to Summer Wind Morrison, the true Matriarch of the Morrison clan, that the family has achieved all. This book is only a shadow of her work; much has been lost, considered lies and myths. This Almanac chronicles all of her ways, and her rituals used throughout a given year. It hints to things that should never be used and things that offer power beyond imagining.
"She never actually wrote an actual book of rites, but, if you know how to ask, you can always find what you need."
She closed the book and looked at the title:
"The Transcribed Almanac of Summer Wind Morrison: The true Matriarch of the Morrisons."
A cold wind blew through the small room and a ripple of sparkling blue flowed across all the mirrors, like a blue mass of fog rolled over them all in time. Kathleen looked at the stamped information at the front of the book.
"Summer Wind Morrison was born May 6, 1823. She was of an indigenous background and always proud of her Nakota and Sutaio heritage. She married Malcom Morrison in 1822…"
She paused when she heard a rustling at the far end of the room. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see within the shadow. A thick page of parchment fluttered down from nowhere and she reached for it without thinking.
Scrawled across the thick, rough paper, red letters seemed to actually bleed into the page. Her eyes shook as she read:
"Some things are not to be tried. They go against nature and they destroy the soul. DO NOT ask for things that are beyond the control of man. I protect, I heal, but sometimes things meant for protection and healing can be warped into things that are unholy. DON'T seek what…"
The parchment yanked from her hands as if someone snatched it from her. Kathleen looked up in surprise to see a tall woman with long, straight black hair looking at her.
The woman's eyes were stern and seemed to be able to look into Kathleen's soul. She spoke, and it was like ethereal smoke, and the sound of her voice swirled around her like gently spiraling fumes.
"You are not of my line. What you seek is not meant for you."
Kathleen's breath became ragged and her heart thundered in her chest. The ethereal woman looked at her calmly. Kathleen could not sense ill intent, but she knew that the woman was of a different place, and that terrified her.
The woman began nodding even as her form began to dissipate. "I see. Your soul is clear and tells much. You will not find what you seek here, and your friends may already be lost. Forgive my line. Grief can cause many a misdeed."
She was gone, but an echo ran through the room. "I will send Adam to you."