with her foot, revealing a pile of dark red fabric, the scent of mildew meeting her nose. Ew. She recalled the photo on the cover of the Lilith House brochure and wondered if those were extra uniforms meant for the students who’d attended the school. Likely.
Scarlett used her foot to slide the box and its contents over to the side of the basement she’d designated for junk.
Just as she went to pick up the next box, she spied what looked like an old trunk wedged between the pile she was working on and the one just behind it.
Leaning forward, she peered into it, a tingle going up her spine. A treasure chest she thought with an internal smile. In truth, it didn’t look fancy. It didn’t even look cool in that vintage way old things sometimes did, but rather simply ancient and dilapidated. Still . . . something about it spoke to her.
Quickly, she pushed the boxes in front of her aside and scooted the trunk forward. She knelt down on the floor and pried the rusty latch open, lifting the lid. Books. On the top was a thick, leather-bound Bible. Scarlett opened the flap but no name was written inside. She set that on the floor and pulled the next book out: The Chronicles of Narnia. Were these things that had belonged to one of the young women who’d lived at Lilith House? Perhaps even one of the girls who’d died in the fire? That thought pulled at Scarlett’s heartstrings. If she could find a name somewhere among these items, she was sure the girl’s family would want them.
Scarlett set the C.S. Lewis title aside, and another one by Mark Twain, and then pulled out a thick stack of papers enclosed in a suede wrap and tied with a leather string. Speaking of ancient . . . this thing looked like it was going to fall apart at any moment.
Scarlett sat back on her butt, leaning against a couple of boxes behind her and set the bundle on her lap, untying the string and unwrapping the suede covering. At the top was a piece of old linen paper filled with writing in a language Scarlett had never seen before. She squinted at it. What in the world? She moved a page aside and looked at the one beneath it. This paper looked more recent and the handwriting was in English, the letters carefully penned. Her eyes moved over the clean, concise lines, taking in the tale familiar to Scarlett.
It was Taluta’s story.
The one Camden West had told her as they’d sat drinking lemonade in the gazebo.
Scarlett rifled through the stack, confirming what she had guessed. “Oh my God,” she whispered into the empty basement. Taluta had written out the truth of her story and someone had translated it. Scarlett flipped to the end. Taluta’s writings ceased, but several pages in English told the end of her story. Because she hadn’t been there to do it anymore. She’d been tossed into the canyon and disappeared. Who? Scarlett wondered. Who did this?
The very last of their tribe died about three years ago and took their language with her.
Scarlett searched her memory but she couldn’t remember the name of the old native woman Camden had mentioned. Had she translated Taluta’s story? And if so, when? And how did it come to be at Lilith House?
Scarlett found the answer in a small black journal underneath the collection of Taluta’s papers and the translation.
“Narcisa Fernando,” she said aloud, reading the name inscribed at the front in that same neat penmanship. Yes, that was the name she couldn’t quite recall. She’d lived in a small house a few miles from here. Hadn’t that been what Camden said? She’d sold herbs and such in town.
Scarlett glanced at the journal. Only one page was written in and Scarlett’s stomach knotted as she read the words.
Mr. Bancroft hired me to tend to his wife who was with child, and then the expectant mothers of his parish, but really, I am his whore as my ancestors were to this family of devils. The baby he put inside me was taken, his club feet proving the mark of Satan, or so says Mr. Bancroft. But my baby is not of Satan, though his blood father is evil. They put me to sleep and left my baby on a rock in the forest to die. Mr. Schmidt tried to save my baby. He has a spark of decency in him, but