Jon Merz - Vicarious

She turned up a side walkway and headed toward Commonwealth Avenue where she could catch the Green Line train that would take her into Boston. Better to tell Steve face-to-face than by telephone.

I owe him that much at least, she thought.

“I hope you didn’t believe her.”

Lauren jumped. She turned. The old nun from the administration building stood in the recessed shadows of the nearby building. A thin trail of smoke encircled her head, coming from the cigarette in her mouth. Lauren thought the picture looked a bit silly. An old nun in a habit hanging out with a cigarette in her mouth.

“Don’t mind the cig, it’s the only vice I’m sure I’ve got.” The old nun smiled and dropped the cigarette, grinding it underfoot with her black shoe. She looked at Lauren. “Walk with me.”

She led Lauren down another side pathway, away from the buildings. The wind blew strong in the confined space. When they’d gone a few hundred feet, the old nun dropped onto a bench and smoothed her coat and leaned back.

Lauren sat next to her and waited.

“It’s not really a rumor.”

Lauren raised her eyebrows. How had she heard?

“Don’t seem so shocked. There’s an intercom system that I can use to listen in one what happens in every office there. Yes, I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve always been interested in keeping abreast of what goes on.”

“Okay.”

“She told you it was a rumor. It’s not.”

“The library?”

“Most rumors have some measure of truth to them, dear. The trick is figuring out which part is truth and which part is a load of hooey.” She smiled. “Sister McDewey is a fine woman, but it’s her duty to keep the young and inquisitive — “ She smiled at Lauren. “- that’s you, dear — focused on their studies.”

“So, in this case, which is the truth?”

“The truth is that there is indeed a building containing research material on the strange and bizarre. The Church has been engaged in missionary work for so many years that our people in the field have run into almost every known and unknown thing out there. It had to be catalogued somewhere.”

“In the library.”

“Well, that’s the false part of the rumor. It’s not a library. Not in the traditional sense of the word anyway.” The old nun’s eyes took on a faraway look and almost seemed to mist over. She sighed. “Are you familiar with the Back Bay?”

“Pretty well.”

“There are brownstones along Marlborough Street that the Church owns. In fact, there are several all in a row that we control. You wouldn’t find a record of the property holding anywhere since private citizens who do favors for the Church conceal it. But we own it.

“And this…material is kept there?”

“Yep.” The old nun frowned. “Is it true what you told Sister McDewey? About the death, I mean.”

“Yes.”

The old nun looked away. “Then you’ll need to go there.”

Lauren eyed her. “Sister, have you heard of this thing before?”

“Which thing?”

“The deaths. The mysterious deaths.”

The old nun lit a fresh cigarette and inhaled deeply. After a moment, she let the stream out in a sudden rush. “No.”

Lauren frowned. She was lying. But before she could press the issue, the old nun turned to her.

“It’s better that you explore this for yourself. There are reasons why. They’ll become obvious when you find what you need.”

“How do I get in to the library?”

“You simply walk in. If you know how to get there, it’s assumed you belong there.” The old nun smiled at her. “You’re a fair one at making people think you’re something you’re not, I can see that in you.”

Lauren nodded. “I suppose so.”

“Then use that confidence and you’ll be fine.” The old nun stood. “Good luck on your search.” She pressed a piece of paper in her hand. “The address is on that.”

Lauren put her hand in her pocket and stood. “Thank you.”

The old nun’s eyes seemed sad. “Don’t thank me. I fear that what you’re looking for maybe the last thing you wish to find.” She started to walk away.

“You know about this, don’t you?”

The old nun stopped. Lauren could still see the smoke encircling her from the new cigarette. Finally, she turned and walked back toward Lauren. She held out her hand.

Lauren held out her own. The old nun pressed something short and cold into Lauren’s palm. The her withered hand closed over Lauren’s. She looked up into her eyes.

“Just remember that evil cannot exist without good.”

She turned and hurried away before Lauren could call after her.

Lauren opened her hand and stared. There, against her warm skin, lay a small tarnished key, of the kind that might open a very old lock.

I wonder what this is for?

And part of her shuddered to think of what it might open.

She found the library easily enough, exactly where the old nun had told her it would be. From the outside, it looked like any other brownstone on the tree-lined street, with its old-style iron fence and gate leading up to granite steps offset by twin columns. Ivy grew on the bricks, spreading its long dark green tendrils all over the masonry.

The front door was unlocked.

Lauren pushed in and at once found herself in a large hallway complete with a white marble floor and a vaulted ceiling painted in antique white that contrasted with the rich chestnut brown of the wooden walls. The entrance seemed to radiate a certain coolness about it. Almost as if God himself had laid a hand across this place.

A single door led out of the main hall. But right before the door, just off to its left, sat an old woman in regular clothes at a small oak desk. She had a book open in front of her and didn’t appear to take much interest in Lauren.

Should I say hello? Lauren frowned. Or would that mark her as an intruder?

She walked closer. The old woman turned the page of her book and kept reading. Lauren’s heart hammered in her chest.

Any minute now she’ll look up and demand to know who I am…

Lauren reached for the doorknob.

Turned it.

Heard the click and the door swung back on well-oiled hinges.

Lauren walked through.

She exhaled in a rush, relieved to be past the front door.

As soon as she stepped across the threshold, stacks of books seemed to sprout up everywhere. Books lined every wall. Doorways branched off of this room, each leading to a new room containing more books.

And what books they were! As she walked through the stacks she could make out hand-bound journals of priests and missionaries several hundred years old. Faded limited editions of varying translations of the bible. Historical accounts of the Church not ordinarily released to the public. And so much more.

As Lauren walked through the rooms, she saw only one other person: an elderly nun with her head bent deep into a thick book.

Lauren kept walking. She had no idea where to start.

She frowned. Better to wander around and see what I can discover on my own before I risk asking for help. Besides, she thought, the key the old nun gave me has to open something. Maybe it will be obvious.

It took her thirty minutes to make a pass at all the rooms. As she walked, her footsteps echoed off the floors. At any moment she expected to see people running for her, shouting about trespassing.

But no one came.

Gradually, her heartbeat calmed down and Lauren set about trying to find the locked room she knew she’d have to locate.

It was on the third time through each of the rooms that she saw the small door at the rear of one of them. It seemed to be disguised to look more like a painting than a door. Lauren wasn’t even sure it was one until she got close enough to run her hands along the edges and felt the lip of wood jutting out of it. Peering closer, she saw the lock.