Here's the next installment of our Metallum Nocturne story. If you need to catch up on any of the previous episodes, click here.
Episode Thirty-Eight
Two days later, Claire returned to the courthouse for a pair of rulings about additional evidence. She was devastated to find that Elle wasn't in attendance. They hadn't spoken since the trip to the Undercity. She barely noticed that the evidential rules were split. Lamar convinced Judge Ambersand not to allow the inclusion of the shooting in the church, but lost the request to exclude her high school records, which revealed the extent of her troubles after her parent's death. The divided rulings might have been better except that the shooting had been big news after it'd happened due to its sensationalist nature, which meant a prospective jury would likely already know, making the ruling moot.
When she returned to Metallum Nocturne, she wandered into the library, but found herself stuck at the computer not knowing what to search. Claire couldn't decide if the lingering guilt from killing Abe was interfering, or that it was the idea that she was being haunted by a murderous voice that may or may not be the Night Mother. Except for the bit she found at Left Tower Books, and a few snippets online that made even less sense, there was nothing more about this mythical lady. Was the realm of Umbra a real place? Or was this a kind of madness that had affected her due to the dark metal poisoning? The bruises from getting shot and bit had already faded, replaced with more night metal. The left side was completely filled in except for a few slivers of flesh and she'd chosen a high-necked shirt to hide the tendril creeping to her neck.
Frustrated with a lack of direction, Claire went to the gym. A handful of students worked the other equipment including Mark who couldn't make eye contact when they passed, but she didn't care about his pity. No one could help her. The other students saw her as a train wreck in mid-collision.
She threw her energy into the weights, forgetting about everything else in the pursuit of exhausted muscles. Claire was on the bench press when she noticed a few of the younger years watching her in either awe or horror. It was only when she set the bar on the safety hooks did she realize how much weight she was lifting. 325 lbs. When she sat up, the others scattered, returning to their stations or leaving the gym entirely.
Part of her wanted to know what they were thinking. After everything that had happened—the accident, Mara's death, the shooting in the church—and now add magical aided strength to the list. What kind of picture did that present? She needed answers and there was only one person who could give that to her.
Covered in sweat, Claire marched to the patron's office, finding him behind his desk, scribbling in a notebook. He adjusted his glasses, pushing them back up his nose after he ushered her in with a curt wave.
"How can I help you, Miss Teller? Are you nearing completion on your final project?"
The words didn’t come at first. The last week her life felt like an avalanche in mid-fall, ripping away any remaining normalcy of her former life. Claire closed the door, before turning back to her patron.
"What really happened to Patron Adolphus?"
Tension stiffened Canterbury as he sat taller. "What do you mean? Are you asking how bad his death was?"
"I found his diary in the library. The original. It had entries weeks after his reported death," said Claire, searching his face for clues.
"How unusual. Perhaps that was a student who made that. A fictional addition to the real events," said Canterbury with a lifting of one shoulder.
"It wasn't that," she said, angrily, and after catching herself, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Patron Canterbury."
Claire lifted her shirt, revealing the night metal on her side. He leaned back, sucking air through his teeth. His face twisted, crinkling his features with concern.
"Miss Teller..."
"You've seen this before, haven't you?"
Canterbury swallowed, never taking his eyes off her side. "I have."
"Then you have to tell me what happened to him. This is changing me. I can see in the dark and lift weights I shouldn't be able to." She hesitated. "And there are voices."
"Voices?"
"A single voice really and she doesn't have nice things to say," said Claire.
Canterbury slumped into his chair defeated. He couldn’t meet her gaze as he ran a hand across the smooth edge of his desk, clearly in thought. Eventually he looked up. The pity was unmistakable. It told her how terrible her situation was.
"I'm sorry..."
"Don't sorry me. Give me the truth. Give me anything you know. My life depends on it." She looked away. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
The danger stiffened his spine. He nodded slowly. "You're right. I'll tell you what I know, but it's not much. Honestly, it was so long ago and so much was shrouded in mystery, that I'm afraid it won't help, but you deserve what little I know." He gestured towards the chair. "Please, sit."
"I'm fine standing."
"Very well. After the accident, Adolphus reported similar conditions. Increase physical abilities, the expansion of the night metal, and voices. He said they were not kind, but he refused to elaborate. Whenever I saw him after the accident, he looked worried, harried, as if something or someone was always following him. He refused to stay in one place long. He'd rush into my office for a minute to ask a question and then disappear for days. He was searching for something. That much I know, but he didn't say what or why. Though it was clear that it had to do with the night metal."
"Did he ever mention the Night Mother?"
He tilted his head. "Night Mother?" Canterbury screwed up his face, adjusting his glasses. "I don't recall. The only thing I remember was a reference to Umbra, but not what it meant. He was searching for it."
"It's the Night Mother's realm."
"Her realm? I've never heard of such a place. How...?"
"In a book. Not here. It didn't make sense at the time, but after I started hearing voices, I began to realize it was real."
Canterbury leaned forward on his desk. "Have you considered this is a kind of faez madness? Maybe the night metal has interfered with your normal use, or the connection to me? Adolphus acted very strange in those final days. He was a bit unhinged. Deranged. Your behavior has not been much different. I've had complaints from the other students, and then there was the church shooting."
"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I swear, Patron Canterbury."
"Umbra's not a real realm."
"But what if it is? What happened to him? What actually happened to Adolphus, because I'm seeing in your face that you have questions too."
Canterbury stared at his desk. "He woke me in the middle of the night. Came in as if the world was on fire. He'd learned something, but he needed to transfer the ownership of the Hall to me. It wasn't a light thing, and I frankly wasn't ready for it. Being the patron had never been on my radar, but his insistence made me do it. He made it sound like all our lives would be in danger if I didn't agree. Once it was over." He paused, pursing his lips. "Once it was over, I was confronted with a great weight. Like I was always in the middle of casting a spell. In time it grew easier to hold..."
"But what happened to him?"
He shrugged. "That was the last I saw him."
"Never again?"
"No. I'm afraid not."
"Did he leave anything that might point to where he went?" she asked.
"Sorry. No. I didn't touch his stuff for years, probably close to five, thinking he might eventually come back. But then I got sick of living in my small apartment and moved into his quarters here in the Hall, where I've been ever since." He narrowed his gaze. "There was a trunk, which I put the items I thought he might want should he come back. Everything else I either threw away, or gave to a charity."
"A trunk? Could I see it?"
"I suppose so," he said, rising. "Come with me."
His apartment was in the back of the building at the top of a set of stairs. A key provided entry. She'd never been in the patron's apartment. Few had. It was simple and tasteful. Canterbury clearly had a sense of order and space. He disappeared into a back room and after a minute appeared dragging an old steamer trunk into the main room.
"It's not locked. You can take the whole thing."
The way he looked at her suggested he wanted her to leave. Claire squatted down, capturing the trunk in her arms. Canterbury opened the door and before she knew it, she was outside again. Claire brought it back to her room, receiving strange looks along the way.
Claire dropped it on her bed. She stared at it as if it contained a dead body. The interior smelled like old dust. An old picture book sat on top, which she briefly paged through, seeing the earlier years of Metallum Nocturne and Patron Adolphus. He was handsome in his old timie way. Personal items like old castings, or medals from professional organizations littered the bottom of the trunk. Stashed in the corner was a pile of faded letters, bound by crisscrossed crimson ribbons.
Even though it'd been decades, Claire felt guilty cutting the bindings. The first letter felt brittle, the parchment yellowed from age. They were love letters. Claire blushed at the flowery and sometimes risqué language. Each one was signed by a curvy capital 'C' with tiny drawings of hearts around it. Claire had no idea who the identity of the letters were until she read a passage talking about the difficulties of running a Hall, and complaints about Invictus. As soon as she read that section, she went back to the pictures and found Adolphus next to a beautiful blonde woman that she hadn't recognized at first due to the differences in styles. Celesse D'Agastine. Patron of the Honorable Order of Alchemists.
