The book's title stood out to Belle even when she doesn't know what it means. It was a language that she had never seen or learn before. Oddly, her sister, Rachel seemed to have taken so much liking to the book, according to what Dante had said.
Curiosity beguiled Belle and her slender fingers begin to flip the pages after another, trying to make out what she saw in it. All she could see was words— words and letters she couldn't understand.
There were also pictures on the side, drawn possibly by hands. The entire book seemed to be written by someone but it wasn't Rachel. Belle knew her sister's handwriting best that she could tell someone else had written the book.
But there was nothing in the book that Belle could understand, for everything was written in another language beyond her understanding.
As Belle was about to give up, she went for another flip of all the pages when a small slip of paper fell from the book, sliding underneath the table. She bent down at once, slowly entering her hand through the small gap of the table and felt around her way to find the paper.
What Belle didn't know as her face was turned away from seeing what's under the table, another pair of black hands appeared from the darkness, slowly creeping to touch her fair fingers.
Belle continued to feel around while the hands had gotten close enough to touch her.
"Belle?" Damian called her name, surprising her.
Belle pulled her hand from under the table, at the same time pulling the paper that she found. The black hands disappeared when Damian's shoes enter its sight.
"I have been searching for you. I heard you went to visit Mr. Dante?" Damian quickly questioned.
Belle hid both the book and the paper behind her back. Fortunately she had done it quick enough and her dress had been big enough to hide the book from Damian's sight.
"Yes, I did," Belle looked at Damian and raised her eyebrows, "What's wrong, Damian? Why do you look so worried?"
"Please, do not leave all of a sudden like that ever again," Damian begged, his voice and face was colored in nervousness. Belle understood his worries came from the trauma of finding Rachel dying, making her heart weighed with guilt.
"I'm sorry, I just had to ask him of something. It's alright, Mr. Dante is a good person," Belle convinced, seeing Damian shaking his head.
"No, sister. You don't know anything about him. Rachel didn't know him, you didn't, and I didn't. For all we know, he is the only person who could be related to Rachel's death," Damian said in frustration. He refused to believe that his older sister had taken her own life and it was always easy to push the blame on someone to receive lesser pain for themselves.
Belle, however, after seeing Mr. Dante, she knew the man was a kind man— A man who loved Rachel deeply— and possibly one of the people who is in the most pain at the moment.
"Damian," Belle inhaled her breath to calm herself. "I know you are upset as much as everyone are but Mr. Dante and Rachel loved each other. In such moment like this, we cannot blame anyone. Not when we don't know if they are truly responsible for Rachel's death. Let's pray together," Belle walked closer to her brother and pressed one hand on his arm. "Let's pray that we would be able to find the truth to all of this."
But deep down, Belle knew praying wouldn't solve the mystery. The authorities are too narrow-minded and believe that her sister had either killed herself or if Mr. Danter had killed her. If no one wanted to find the truth, Belle was more than prepared to take it all on herself.
After the dinner with her family which would usually be the brightest with Rachel's lovely presence, Belle went back to her room. Every hallways, steps, and pictures on the house, make her reminded to Rachel's presence, making her to miss her eldest sister who would always tease her gently but smile the brightest for her.
Back in her room, Belle decided to read the paper again. She wondered if it was the continuation of her sister's previous letter she had sent to their grandmother. Unexpectedly, it was a different writing that appeared on the paper.
What's written were long lists of words and objects.
"Thirteen candles, white chalks, thirteen spider lilies, could only work at the thirteen hour of the thirteen day of the month, moon patterns could change, depending him who we call for…" Belle narrowed her eyes at the last words of the papers that were cut off as the ink faded as though a drop of water had fallen in it.
Belle who thought the list to be both frighteningly odd and chilling, decided to find more from the book she saw. After more investigation, she studied the last page of the book with her sister's small handwriting, "I will wait for you in my most special place."
Goosebumps covered Belle's arms. She pushed herself from the book, not knowing the large shadow of a person enlarging behind her. The black hands were the exact same pair of hands that had been hiding behind the table earlier. It slowly tried to cover her neck, inching in an unpredictable timing.
When she turned her face behind, the shadow disappeared.
"Special place?" She hummed to herself. Rachel's special place was also her special place. There was no one but her and her sister who knew this. Not even Damian knew about it.
Although she felt bad for Damian, the urge of finding the truth that was close to her eyes, drove Belle to do something she would never done before. She jumped off the window, sliding over one roof to the other, as a part of her childhood's path to escape her mother's scolding and walked behind the garden of red spider lilies right bellow her room.
This happened when Bell was still young. Her sister and her loved the garden and throughout the peak of their curiosity, they would love to saunter over the walls of their house, finding a small crack that led them to an abandoned building.
Belle belatedly learned that the abandoned building seemed to be a church in the past but was abandoned before her great grandfather had bought the land. At first they had planned to create a new small house for the guests but the idea failed and had been forgotten since.
It became the secret hiding for both Rachel and Belle who often sneaked out in the night to visit the building and stare at the stars glittering above the broken roof.
Even though it was late and dangerous, Belle knew their house was protected by the guards that worked for their family. There would always be people who would come to check the church every half an hour. Therefore, she felt at ease to visit the abandoned church on her own.
The last time they had viewed the stars together was two years ago. Rachel had become busy with her engagement with Mr. Dante and Belle was at the peak of her youth, attending parties to meet her prospect suitors and her studies that there were no more time for them to turn into their naughty actions of their childhood.
Belle was certain Rachel had mention this in the inky book she had brought with her. The night was cold and the old church was further than she recalled. Fortunately, Belle was able to arrive safely.
Looking around, the place was much more smaller than what she remembered. There were seats before the altar. The stained glass looked more beautiful at night as the moonlight shine through the colored glasses.
Belle didn't have to search for a candle and a light's help with the bright moonlight above her. She once again tried to open the book and read the small letters that her sister had written on the back of the book, but realized the writing was gone by the time she had realized it.
Shocked Belle didn't have the time to gasp as at the next second a person had pulled her into the altar, dragging her across the floor. Her heart fell and everything went faster than her head could process.
Belle screamed and tried to hold to the wooden chair, but the chair was too old to become an aid to stop her from getting dragged across the floor.
Her screams became sharper until she was forced to sit on the altar's table, leaning her back on the table's edge. Her back was covered in wounds as she was dragged without mercy.
Belle hissed in pain when her injury came in contact to the cold table. She looked around her, trying to see who had pulled her but to her horror, she realized she was alone.
The moonlight glowed brighter above her head. Belle could see nothing at her sight as if there was no one who had dragged her across the floor. Even though her blood had slowly seeped out from her back, creating a trail as it fell down from her back, touching the table, and continue to slide down to the circle that was drawn by a chalk.
Belle only realized that she was sitting on the large drawing of circles and stars when she heard the faint crackling of fire. The candles around the drawn circles were out of light previously but as if magic had been used, the candles lighted itself and burn brighter than ever.
A gasp slipped from her heart as she was startled by what occurred around her. One candle lighted itself until the thirteen candle connected itself to the first burning candle. Her blood had caused the chalk to turn itself into red color, bringing more horror to Belle.
She wanted to scream for help but there was no time for her to react to anything.
The next moment, she heard thunder rumbling from the sky above her. The night sky was screaming, as if it was in need of help as much as she did. The wind whispered across her ears, as if she was hearing multiple voices trying to warn her to escape.
Belle took hold of her shoulders, pushing herself from the ground as she knew she had to leave. Her moment of breathing was stopped when her shadows slowly erupted from the floor, changing it substance into thick black fog that swirls rapidly like a small hurricane.
In fear, Belle tried to dash but a hand had sneaked out from the black fog, holding tightly to her elbow.
What followed the tight grip on her arm was a voice that sounded deep— deep enough to sound as though he hell was shallower compared to him.
"Now, now, where are you running, little prey?"
Belle didn't know what she had done. She didn't know what force had caused her to activate what she did.
She didn't know what had happened either as her mind was slow to grasp her surrounding.
But there was one thing she knew after staring back at the bright red eyes across her.
She was looking at a demon.
She had called a demon.