Author: Alexie Aaron
Category: Paranormal
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/alexie-aaron/page,17,552944-the_knight_of_pages.html
“I have two other people experiencing complete memory loss who are friends of Marianne’s.”
“Do you think they were all gassed at the meeting?” Father Saul asked.
“Unfortunately, their memory losses didn’t occur at the same time as Marianne’s. Please take me through her ordeal.”
Father Saul started with her enjoying the book club discussion. He told him of her finding the book in her bag and securing it in her purse.
“This is consistent with other witnesses,” Jones said. “You said she said the book was warm. Why would a book be warm?”
“It could have reacted to her holding it for a while,” offered the priest.
“But then it wouldn’t be warm but the same temperature of her hand.”
“You make a good point.”
“Please continue.”
“She sat through the rest of the meeting. She remembers faintly participating in the discussion. After, she declined Monica Voorhees’s invitation to go out for a drink. She remembers her intention to leave herself a voice memo containing a list of things she needed to accomplish. One of the items on the list was to return the book to One More Time bookshop. I contacted the proprietor, and he told me the book has never, to his knowledge, been in his shop. He did take an inventory of all his black leather, real and simulated, books and found them all accounted for.”
“He told me the same,” Jones mentioned.
“This is where her memory ends. The tape picks up some street noises and then Marianne’s voice asking, who I think is a total stranger, if he would like to… I think you better listen to the tape.”
“Fair enough,” Jones said. “Take me to when her memory resumes.”
Father Saul told him about Marianne’s waking nightmare of finding herself in the dive hotel, rushing to the hospital to be examined, and her finding the tape and deciding to put herself in the hands of the Catholic church after she asked Monica Voorhees to return the book for her.
“Why didn’t she file a police report?”
“The drug test came back negative. The tape tells a story of a woman willingly participating in very dark, disturbing sex with strangers. What would you have done if she came to you with this story?”
“Thought she was a crackpot,” Jones said honestly.
“Why do you think differently now?” Father Saul asked.
“Monica Voorhees is dead. It looks like she committed suicide after killing her friend Trisha Prue and displaying her ancient-Egyptian-style on her dining room table. After, she may have bathed in the woman’s blood before sticking a needle of Ketamine in her arm and overdosing. Marc Davis received a book from Monica which he passed on to Kabir Patel. We found Marc Davis unconscious after he extracted his own teeth and half his tongue. He then sewed his mouth shut. Kabir Patel woke up after three days covered in Monica’s friend’s blood. Evidently, he must have bathed in the same bath as Monica.”
“What conclusions have you made?”
“My theory is that there is a collector of expensive books on the trail of this black book. He may be torturing these people to gain information on where the book is. Maybe making them do things he can later use as blackmail.”
“But you yourself said that Marc Davis abused himself.”
“According to the evidence, but evidence can be interpreted wrong or set up to look a certain way.”
“The common bond is the book,” Father Saul said. “Find the book and all of this will stop. But don’t read the book. If you find it, isolate it, and then call me. I’ll send someone to retrieve it.”
“I’m sorry, but the book is evidence.”
“The book is more than a sought-after rare book. It’s evil.”
Jones tapped his pencil. “I’m looking at the facts. The facts tell me…”
“From what you told me,” Father Saul interrupted, “I think that the book is encouraging the possessors of it to act out their darkest desires. After, it robs them of their memory, not to protect them but to satisfy whomever started this book on its path in the first place.”
“So there is an origin story for this book.”
“I can’t prove who wrote this book or put it into play. I suggest you consult with Catherine Baumbach and listen to her story. I think she will be able to enlighten you regarding books of this type.”
“Her son, Wendell, seems to be up to his neck in it,” Jones said.
“Before you condemn him, listen to Catherine’s story.”
“What’s your feeling about Nash Greene?”
“He’s not been exposed to the book. He’s been too open with his mentioning Kabir’s interest and the work he’s done for Marianne.”
“I’m still going to bring him in and question him.”
“Why?”
“How can he make a living selling used books? There’s something else going on there. He’s way too cooperative.”
“I think you’re wasting your energies there, but I’m not doing your job. I’ll send you an MP3 containing Marianne’s voice-recorder file. Listen to it, then get back to me. I’d be very interested in what you have to say.”
“Thank you, Father Saul, you’ve been most cooperative.”
“Go with God, Detective, go with God.”
Jones hung up the phone and waited for the MP3. He looked up at his whiteboard, got up, and started a new timeline. This time he was tracking the book. By the time he entered all his information, he had a good idea of who had the book last. Tomorrow, he was going to ask Kabir Patel to let him voluntarily search his home. If Kabir declined, Jones was going to have to convince a judge that Kabir Patel was involved in the murder of Trisha Prue with just the bloody handprint and volunteered blood samples Kabir gave him.
Chapter Sixteen
Chicago streets can be a labyrinth at times. It is easier to navigate by foot than by car. The one-way roads never seem to be going the way you want them, making you loop around, causing the nerves of the drivers to fray.
Clara followed Nash’s directions and found herself in front of a posh high-rise. This was not at all what she expected. If she was writing this story, she would have set the mysterious Miss Natalie Boccasavia in a converted warehouse or maybe down at the end of a dark street everyone including road repair has forgotten about. Instead, Clara straightened her back and walked into the well-lit lobby and presented herself to the security woman on duty.
“Clara Tyler from One More Time bookshop to see Miss Boccasavia.”
“May I see your ID?” the woman asked, looking Clara over.
Clara produced her driver’s license and waited for the woman to compare the two and key in the information. She then called Miss Boccasavia. “I have a Clara Tyler from One More Time bookshop to see you. Yes, I will.” The woman looked at Clara. “She is available to see you. Take the last set of elevators and select 12 R, exit to the rear,” she said and handed back Clara’s ID.
Clara followed the instructions, selecting 12 R, and as the doors closed, she winced. She had no idea what apartment Miss Boccasavia was in. The doors opened to a small lobby. The center of three doors opened, and a striking, dark-haired, dark-eyed slim woman dressed in expensive workout clothes, which left nothing to the imagination, stood there.
“Miss Boccasavia?”
“Yes. I understand you have some books for me?”
“I’m Clara Tyler. Nash Greene asked me to pick up his books and drop off these to be repaired. Also, I need to impart some information I don’t feel comfortable telling you here where we may be overheard.”
“Oh. Come in then, Clara. Please call me Natalie.”
Clara followed her through the door into a space so large and open that Clara questioned her sanity. “Wow, this is impressive.”
“Thank you, I like it. I need a large ventilated place because of the glues I sometimes must use. This building is dual-zoned because of the bank that takes up the first four floors. My rooms are on the la
keside of this floor. Here I work.”
“It’s very secure.”
“Another advantage. Some of my projects are very valuable.”
Clara followed her to her workroom. Natalie walked over to a wall of cedar cabinets and pulled open a door. She selected a drawer and drew out three books wrapped in brown paper.
Clara handed her the contents of her bag and carefully stowed the finished books inside. She handed Natalie the envelope containing the check.
Natalie dropped the envelope in a wooden box on the large tabletop. She took each book and examined it, making a few notes before she looked up and asked, “Please, what is so important for you to come this evening?”
“I have been tasked with warning you about a life-snatching book,” Clara said and went on to answer whatever questions she could. The questions Clara couldn’t answer, she recommended Natalie talking directly to Nash or Kalaraja Gupta about.
“Why are you involved?” Natalie asked her.
“I’m Nash’s girlfriend.”
Natalie looked at Clara and seemed to be reading her. “Not just his girlfriend. You’re his soulmate. Yes, such things exist,” Natalie said quickly before Clara had a chance to argue. “This book… you say is after me?”
“If you are the Queen of Books, then, yes, it may be. Nash, I understand from Kalaraja, is a Knight of Pages. Because of this, Kalaraja fears that he is being targeted. I don’t know by whom. I don’t know why, with the exception that he received a heart from a previous victim of the black leather book.”
Natalie tapped her chin with one of her expensively manicured fingernails. “How much do you know about the Order of Scrolls?”
“Nothing.”
“Come with me,” Natalie said. “Leave the bookbag.”
Clara slipped it off and, within a few long strides, caught up with the Queen of Books. She took Clara through to the private area of Natalie’s domain. They moved too fast for Clara to take in all the expensive antiques and modern art. By the time she entered a wood-paneled office, she was almost out of breath.
“Sit.”
Clara sat down in the offered chair. She sank in and watched as Natalie opened a wall safe and drew out a triptych. She carefully opened the wood-based, hinged, three-panel piece of artwork. The hinges moved with little hesitation. Natalie balanced it on the desktop. The colors had darkened with time, but the gold leaf remained vibrant. Clara saw a painting of a beautiful building on fire in the center panel. The side panels were full of open scrolls being held by strangely dressed people.
“The Order of the Scrolls was established after the great fire in Alexandria. During the fire, many people were lost, along with works from Homer, Plato, and Socrates. The survivors worked to exhaustion to save our literary history. They were the founders of the Order of Scrolls. This center panel shows what was lost. The outer panels depict what was saved and lists the heroes of the library. These people had nothing but their skills to aid them in their arduous task. As in most societies, there is a hierarchy. The King or Queen of Books is followed by a bevy of knights. There are knights of books, verses, plays, memoirs, poems, and pages. These titles aren’t simply passed down through inheritance but by ability and accomplishment. There is no magic to protect us. We live and die like everybody else. We almost lost Nash before he got started. But he survived, and because he has saved many a forgotten manuscript, be it a book, verse, play or poem, he was given the title of the Knight of Pages.”
“Why would someone want to hurt you or Nash?”
“Maybe the Order interfered in the pursuits of the creator of this black book.”
“Who gains from destroying lives this way?”
“Evil gains. The value of the book goes up the more pages it contains. It’s for the amusement of very sick individuals. The last book of this sort corrupted hundreds of people before it was found and destroyed.”
“So it can be destroyed.”
“Clara, remember, it’s a book, made of paper and cloth over pressboard or, and in this case, leather. It is vulnerable to fire, water, mildew, and bookworms.”
“Do you know who made this book?”
“No, but I can think of a few people. Horace Baumbach is capable, along with a few of his associates.”
“Baumbach as in Wendell and Catherine?”
“Yes.”
“I got the idea he was dead.”
“You got the wrong idea.”
Clara didn’t know what to say. She was in way over her head in this matter.
“What are you thinking right now?” Natalie asked.
Clara struggled to put her multiple swirling eddies of thought into a cohesive sentence. “I’m struggling to navigate between what I can only see as paranormal and the world I’m used to being in. Am I helping or distracting Nash? There’s a lot more but not worth mentioning.”
“I understand. I walk a tightrope between being a shallow consumer and the Queen of Books.”
“You mentioned the more pages the book has increases it’s value. Books are published with a finite number of pages. Unless they are in e-book form or another edition, the number of pages remains the same.”
“Normal books remain the same. Let me explain what I know. This information has been passed down, and I’m sure there are some inaccuracies in the story, so please bear with me.”
Clara nodded.
“Even though we are human with only our skills to guide us, there are humans who, through the study of alchemy, can manipulate the natural world around us. Those who use it for good may be blessed with a longer lifespan. Unfortunately, those who feed evil are also given more years on earth to practice their craft.”
“Are you talking about wizards?”
Natalie wrinkled her nose. “That seems a bit theatrical, but if it helps you to understand, then you can think of them as wizards. I think in the Old World early scientists would have been marked with that label. Back to the books. They can have infinite pages depending on the manipulation of the cells of the original paper within the leather cover. What happens is, the number of pages increases as the memories of the victims are stolen. I’ve seen pages appear in a manipulated cookbook as the dish was simmering on the stove.”
“Wait, are you saying that there are cookbooks that steal recipes?” Clara asked.
“Yes, quite a few. I wish that was the extent of the larceny of these books. But alas, this is not the case.”
Clara sat there a moment and thought. “I’m beginning to understand the danger of these books, even a self-writing cookbook. This black book that we fear is in play, seems to be being used as a weapon. Does the book think?”
“You mean, is it sentient?”
“Yes.”
“No, it’s evil, but it has two functions. To influence the holder to act out, most likely in this case, a dark desire. The second function is to record the desire and, in doing so, rip the memory from the victim.”
“I’ve seen books move in the bookshop. I originally thought a ghost was moving them.”
“Really? I’d like to see that. My patients are mostly benign.”
“Is this evil book moving on its own?” Clara asked.
“No, I imagine it has to be passed to the next victim. There may be an alchemist moving the book or someone under the spell of the book doing so. Normally, these books are like a virus. They urge the infected victim to pass the book on before the victim succumbs to the disease.”
“So, let’s say I had the book. I may not remember passing it on to the next person because those memories have been extracted and now reside in the book.”
“Yes! It’s amazing how fast you catch on.”
“If it wasn’t destroying lives, I could admire the forward thinking of the alchemist.”
“What will you do now?” Natalie asked.
“I’m due back on Nash bodyguard duty. Kalaraja is staying with him. Do you have someone to watch your back?”
“Now that I’ve been warned, I will call someone. There are a few knights who reside within the city. I’ll spread the news. When I asked you, what will you do, I was asking if you were going to rethink being with Nash?”
Clara blushed. “It never crossed my mind.”
Natalie looked at the woman before her with admiration. She, immediately upon meeting Clara, had sensed her insecurity about what possible kind of relationship the Queen of Books had with her Knight of Pages, but Natalie saw that melt away as Clara reminded herself of the seriousness of the task at hand. “Clara, you would never ask, but I feel I should tell you, Nash Greene and I have never been intimate. His interest in me is solely in my abilities to save his books. My interest in him is that he is one of our more interesting knights. That is all.”
Clara smiled a crooked little smile. “I’ve been told never to play poker. I guess I wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions on my face.”
“But inside there is an intelligent woman with a spine of steel. Don’t let him push you away. Nash’s self-esteem took a big hit when Rita left him. When his heart failed, Rita was convinced she had broken his heart which only inflated her ego, but it did open her pocket. We wouldn’t have a Knight of Pages if not for her desertion. But we also have a man who doesn’t feel worthy of love, who fears having children because he doesn’t want to pass on his genetic timebomb.”
“He has expressed his fears about having his natural children to me,” Clara said. “I may have scared him with a comment about having interesting looking children. We have tabled the discussion until after his big physical. I don’t need biological children. There are so many out there now needing homes. I just wanted to know early in whether or not he liked children.”
“That’s understandable. Tell me, Clara, are you always so open?”
“I do tend to runoff at the mouth with people I feel comfortable with.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
Clara stood up. “I must go.”
“Let’s collect Nash’s bookbag, and I’ll show you out.”