A lot of things have changed since last time.
Father Lucan is…I’m…well, I don’t know. A lot happened and I don’t really know how to process any of it.
I guess for now I should start at the beginning.
Once there was a girl who grew up with stories whispered in her ears. One day, she became a part of them.
That sounds too dramatic, actually. Like I’m dead, and I’m not dead. I’m sat in my room, at the same desk as always in the same house this all started in, and I’m alive. Things are…different now, but I’m alive.
Things will get better from here, I’m sure of it. Or at least I’m hopeful of it.
How about this, then? Once there was a little girl, and she grew up. She believed in monsters once again, but not the kind you’d think.
I went back to the cult a few days after I last wrote. Chorus had contacted me in my dreams to let me know that Father Lucan would be giving an all-day sermon the day after and suggested I come get my evidence from his office.
I figured there was unlikely to be a better time to go. I mean, even if he wasn’t in his office, Chorus told me the damn thing was at the end of a hall, making it hard to sneak to and from without being caught. Not to mention the risk of having Father Lucan walk in on me even if I did get in.
But an all day sermon? That sounded promising. I figured most or enough of the cult would be at the sermon that I could get into the office easily enough. Chorus promised that she knew the passcode, so that wasn’t an issue, either.
The biggest issue I could see was how to get away from Dad. No doubt he’d be keeping an eye on me, probably just to see how I was doing, which was sweet but highly inconvenient. There’s only so many times I could use the bathroom excuse.
Either way, I had to try.
I made sure I was ready: I had my phone, fully charged. I had a torch. I had a small swiss army knife, just in case something went wrong enough that stabbing someone was my best option.
And…I’d left Dad a note at home, sitting on this very desk. I’m not an idiot. I knew it was dangerous, and I knew that if I was caught, there’s a pretty solid chance I wouldn’t be coming back home. I just wanted Dad to know that I loved him, and that none of this was his fault.
I…know it is his doing when you think about it, but it’s not his fault. He’s a victim too.
Father Lucan came to him at his lowest moment and swept him up in all this; it’s not Dad’s fault, not really. He always did his best, and I always knew he loved me. I just needed to get him free of the church.
I think Dad could tell that something was wrong as we drove over. He kept asking me if I was alright, and didn’t seem to believe me when I claimed it was ‘women problems’. I just kept insisting I was alright—what else could I do?
The mood in the stronghold was interesting to witness. Everyone was in such high spirits, and the energy was almost contagious as they smiled and chattered in the foyer outside of the converted gym.
It seemed like every member of the cult had come for the sermon, and the crowd worked to my advantage. I realised fairly quickly that, by letting people shuffle past me, I could put a gap between me and Dad, and I slowly began working my way away from him under the guise of letting people pass.
By the time I saw Dad look around for me, I was already gone.
I headed off towards the storage room, already calling out to Chorus in my mind.
Are you there, Chor?
Chor, she mused. I like that. I’ve never had a nickname before.
Well hello to you too. Is Lucan distracted? I asked.
He’s in the cathedral. You’re safe to come down.
And Dad?
A pause, presumably as she looked for him. He’s still in the foyer.
That was good, at least. Is he looking for me?
Not that I can tell.
Good, I murmured. That’s good. I’m heading your way now.
I went back to the room with the trap door and let myself into the tunnel. I didn’t even think about how creepy it was this time; I was single minded in my mission, and strode forwards through the gloom without hesitation.
Chorus’ presence felt stronger down there. It was a comfort to me, as I walked into the unknown. I didn’t know what I’d find down there. I didn’t know what would happen after that.
But at least I wouldn’t be alone.
We were right; the sermon had left this place empty, as far as I could tell, and it was a simple matter to reach Lucan’s office. Opening the place was even easier as Chorus recited a string of numbers to me, slowly enough that I could follow along with ease. As I cracked the door open, I had the thought that things were honestly going a little too well.
Where would evidence hide? I mused, half to Chorus, half to myself.
His desk, Chorus suggested.
Good thinking.
I slid open the—thankfully lockless—desk drawers and started poking around. There were lots of papers in there, but skimming through them yielded nothing of note; only bank statements and regular documentation. The most exciting thing I found in the drawers was a half written letter about a fishing trip.
“The cabinets,” I guessed as I stepped away from the desk. Surely there’ll be something in the cabinets.
I rummaged through those, too, but there wasn’t anything useful there, either. Children’s drawings, battered sketches of the deities and an old book called ‘Folklore 101’ were the most exciting thing I found.
Things got more interesting, however, when I noticed one drawing marked in crayon as ‘graddad’. The drawing looked like a crude portrait of Lucan—a child’s portrayal.
He has a family? I mused. I wonder where they are.
They visits sometimes, I think, Chorus said. But not very often. I think his granddaughter is sick.
Sick?
Or injured. She’s in a wheelchair, and always seems tired.
I thought about this for a second. Oh.
I don’t know why this surprised me. It almost entirely explained Lucan’s sudden dogma; of course he’d want to use the entities, if one of his family members was sick.
He wanted to use me… Chorus murmured. I got the impression she hadn’t thought about it before.
I guess he did. I sighed. I’m sorry, Chor, but we have to keep looking. I’ll check the bookshelf.
Chorus didn’t reply, so I checked the shelf, going immediately to the older volume. This finally yielded results in the form of an old, unmarked book, sat on the shelf next to the Lesser Key of Solomon and the Satanic Bible, both of which felt maybe a little too on the nose.
The old book felt strange and fragile to touch, and opening it revealed page after page of notes, statistics and diagrams on possession and binding seals, including references to how various ‘subjects’ reacted to individual techniques.
My heart beat faster as I snapped photos of the book.
Tanya, Chorus said. I found something.
My focus snapped to her. What is it?
There’s something under the floor. I can’t quite see, but there’s a space there.
I was already moving towards the desk by the time she finished her sentence. I kneeled down, probing along the floor in search of any anomalies. I was quickly rewarded with a loose floorboard as it squeaked under my fingers. I pried the old wood away from the ground.
“Shiiiit,” I breathed as the board came away. “We’ve hit the jackpot.”
Inside was…a lot. Folders marked with red tape, more scrawled notes, a human femur, a journal—it was all happening under the floorboard. Just a brief flick through the folders yielded letter after letter on the progress of the experiments and the soundproofing of the basement. There were photographs of corpses and records of the runes. There were old cassette tapes marked CONFIDENTIAL. There was a human femur, for crying out loud. If this wasn’t evidence, I didn’t know what was.
I snapped photo after photo, flicking through files and holding open the journal for pictures of the contents. In particular, I noted to myself how there was no reference to my Dad.
I didn’t realise how scared I’d been that he was involved until the evidence said he probably wasn’t. If he’d been hurting these people like the others had, I never could’ve protected him.
Hell, I’m not sure I would’ve wanted to.
I sat down on the ground and flicked through the journal some more. The police would never let me read this, I mused. But…
But you have to know.
I nodded. I deserve to know.
I…don’t think I can describe everything I read in that journal.
Chorus was right, for starters; his granddaughter spends most of her time in and out of hospital, dealing with a lung problem of some kind. Throughout the journal, his attitude towards this grows increasingly desperate, with entries changing from musing to determined to desperate. He wants to heal his grandchild, and he wants to save the world.
He wrote that, you know. ‘Save the world’.
Could you do that? I asked Chorus. Save the world?
I don’t know, she said simply. I could try.
That was the easy part to read. The hard part…well, that was in there too.
The experiments were described in that journal, often in brutal detail. Lucan recounted how excited he’d felt to attempt his experiment, how amazed he was to bring Chorus close to our world…and how horrified he felt to see the first subject die screaming.
He went into a lot of detail about the dead. The looks on their faces. The betrayal in the eyes of some and reverence in the eyes of others. The way one woman’s lips parted in prayer just before the screaming began. The way Chorus burnt through her like a wildfire.
‘Her eyes popped like grapes from the skin,’ he wrote in one section. ‘Her lips parted in some terrible hybrid of pain and reverence as Our Lady Chorus consumed her. Her skin began to wither and blacken, and she wailed for forgiveness as she thrashed against the ritual seat. In her thrashing, she bit off her own tongue.’
He said, ‘Why is our mission not bearing fruit? We have summoned forth Chorus to our world. We know she is here. So why can we not house her? I am sure that humanity is key to this endeavour: the Herald of Humanity must have a human vessel, this I have no doubt in, but then why are we not succeeding? Is it the host? Is it the ritual? Is it possible that, despite my checking and double checking, some part of the process goes awry each time?’
‘Or,’ Lucan’s journal mused, ‘is it possible that Our Lady is choosing to do this to those we offer?’
Chorus got very quiet after that.
He’s gone too far to back down now. He said so himself on a page only slightly marked with what looks like blood.
Father Lucan wrote, ‘This is a venture that cannot be surrendered. I will heal our world and dear Lisa with my mission, else the sacrifices will have been for naught. I refuse this to be the case, for their holy sacrifice must be honoured in every form.’
He’s never going to stop.
I had to stop him.
I snapped photo after photo with shaking hands. I could feel Chorus’ presence in my mind, but she seemed unfocused, distant. Whenever her presence sharpened, her laser-point focus was directed solely to the musty journal I held in my hands.
I don’t know how long we sat there before the door burst open.
I felt Chorus startle back to focus, letting out the first swear I’d heard from her. My gaze snapped up, and I almost screamed when I saw Father Lucan in the doorway. He looked angry, and desperate, and winded like he’d been running. He gripped the doorframe so hard his knuckles turned white.
I felt all the blood drain from my face.
“How long have you known?” he asked in a small, tight voice.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“How long!” he yelled. His voice hit me like an impact, and I flinched back like a wounded animal. In my mind, Chorus was apologising desperately for not noticing him coming, for her own distraction. She kept apologising and I could feel myself begin to panic more, and more and more.
Father Lucan stepped towards me, and I finally got out, “A while.”
“How?”
“It was an accident—” I could barely talk. My heart slammed in my chest and my breath was coming in small gasps. I’d dropped the book now and scrambled to my feet. “I—I’m sorry.”
“Harry’s child,” he muttered. “Of course it had to be Harry’s child. Do you have any idea of the position you’ve put me in, Tanya?”
“No, sir.” It was practically a whisper.
“You’re his only remaining family, but I don’t have a choice anymore. You know far, far too much, and I can’t have you jeopardising this mission.” Father Lucan looked right at me, directly into my eyes. “Do you know my mission, Tanya?”
I tried to stop my shaking, but I couldn’t. This wasn’t a part of the plan. He was going to kill me.
“…Save the world,” I said eventually. “You want to save the world.”
“That’s right, Tanya.” I didn’t like how he kept saying my name. I didn’t like the soothing tone he was trying to take. “So you must understand why this is necessary.”
I didn’t like the way he kept saying my name. I opened my mouth to speak…and then I saw the blade in his hand, a second before he lunged at me.
Left! Chorus yelled, and I dove away just in time. I grabbed for my own blade, but in my haste it fell from my hands onto the wooden floor. I dived away once again, this time shoving a chair at Father Lucan as I did so.
Tanya! Chorus called out to me.
What?
I’d never been so scared in all of my life; I’d never been so sure someone was going to kill me. I was going to die here, I was going to die.
I’d never finish uni, and no one would save Dad.
Calm down, Tanya!
No one would save Chorus.
You’re not going to die! Chorus called to me. Tanya, I need you to listen to me! Tanya!
I shoved a table at Father Lucan and turned to the door he’d come through, only to find it closed.
You’re the muse! Chorus urged me. If you let me, I could join you right now and protect you!
But it’s not your day of power!
Father Lucan roared with rage as he came towards me. I backed up, but found only smooth wall behind me.
Days of power aren’t pre decided! she yelled to me. They’re the day we first touched your world! Tanya, are you hearing me? Do you understand?
Lucan slammed into me. Somewhere along the way his blade had left his hand, so he couldn’t stab me, or slit my throat. Instead, he grabbed me by the throat and lifted me against the wall.
Tanya! Chorus cried out. Tell me you understand!
Somewhere distantly, I did. If days of power were decided by when they touched our world…
If she touched our world through me, right now…
Oh god, I realised. Today—
Yes! she urged. Tanya, please. I can’t make you do this. But I want to help you. I want you to be my muse. You’re a good person, a good daughter and a good friend and I don’t want you to die to him like the rest of them!
Please, Chorus begged. Let me make you my vessel. Let me save you.
My vision started to fade, and as it did, I realised something.
I didn’t want to die.
I didn’t. Not yet. I had so much I wanted to do, so much I wanted to be—and you know what? At that moment, I wanted to be the Muse. I wanted to help Chorus and get us both out of this place. I wanted to stop the Thirteenth Hour.
I wanted her to save me.
“Yes,” I croaked out. “Yes.”
Thank you, Chorus murmured, and I felt power rush through me.
I almost electrocuted myself when I was little. I’d been playing with my nightlight and unplugged it, and when I tried to reconnect it I stuck my little baby fingers between the socket and the plug. The power cut out almost instantly, but not before I felt just a bit of a jolt shoot through my body.
This was like that.
I felt wide awake. My fingers and toes tingled. I felt like I could tear down walls and build open nations and scream loud enough to make the whole world hear me. I felt like I could run a thousand miles. There was so much power, so much potential, and all of these thoughts and feelings and memories that weren’t mine and all went through me like a giant, crushing wave of pure essence for barely an instant before Chorus blocked me off from it.
Later, she promised me. The panic in her tone was gone, replaced by a gentle certainty. One thing at a time. May I?
There wasn’t much choice, and we both knew it.
Chorus threw out a hand, and Lucan went flying.
He gasped as he hit the wall, though it wasn’t from the impact. He stared right at us, expressions and explanation flying across his face until finally, finally he settled on the truth of me. The truth of us.
“Chorus,” he breathed.
When my body stepped forwards, it wasn’t by my choice. I could take control, if I wanted to, I knew that much, but I didn’t. I sat back in my own mind and watched as the Herald of Humanity stepped forwards through the remains of Lucan’s office.
“You made a mistake, Lucan,” our voice said. “You shouldn’t have hurt those people.”
“Lady—my Lady, my Lady Chorus, please understand—”
“Oh, I understand,” she said. Her voice was cold, far colder than I’d ever heard from her. “I know what you wanted. I know all of it, Lucan, and I despise it.”
Lucan backed up against the wall, staring at us with something between awe and terror. “I…I’m sorry.”
“They’re still dead,” she said, voice suddenly gentle. “You still killed them, Jonathan Lucan. You still watched as they died screaming. You should have stopped it there.”
Father Lucan finally closed his mouth.
I took a step forwards, by my own will this time. “You made a mistake,” I said. My voice was low, quiet and scratchy, and it hurt in my throat. “You should never have hurt these people. You never should’ve tried to hurt me.” I took another step forward. Some sick part of me felt a thrill as Lucan flinched. “You never should’ve gotten Dad involved in this!”
“I’m sorry,” Father Lucan said again. Tears started to roll down his cheeks, but I felt no sympathy.
“How did you know we were down here?” we demanded.
“There’s an alarm,” he got out. “I knew someone was here, I didn’t know who—”
“You should’ve left us be.”
“You would’ve destroyed it!”
I bared our teeth at him. “I’m still going to destroy it. This is over, Lucan. It’s finished!”
“No…” he murmured. “It can’t be over. All of this, it isn’t for nothing.”
Tanya, his hand, Chorus warned. Look at his hand.
I saw the shiny silver of my swiss army knife just before he dived at me. I had no time to get out of the way.
Chorus flung out a hand, and Father Lucan stopped in place. She stepped forwards and claimed the weapon from his hand.
This is yours, isn’t it Tanya? Chorus thought.
It’s mine, I confirmed, and she pocketed it.
Chorus walked around Lucan’s frozen form, inspecting him. His eyes darted to us, wide and full of terror. I could feel Chorus’ regret, but I could feel determination there, too.
“I didn’t want to do this,” she murmured. “Truly, I didn’t. I wanted to feel like mortal jail was enough, but it isn’t.”
Lucan couldn’t open his mouth to reply.
“You knew so much,” she said. “So much about us, and about me, but you still never realised it.” Chorus stared down at our hand, closing it into a fist before releasing it again. Her voice hardened. “I never wanted this. I didn’t want worship, and I certainly did not want you to force me into a vessel.”
Lucan wanted to speak, and she allowed him to now. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Please, don’t kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” she said. “I don’t kill. But I can’t abide this, either.”
Chorus lifted our hand, and Lucan began to fade. He seemed to realise this too, as the terror that flickered across his face was stark under the fluros.
“It is not my place to judge you, Jonathan,” Chorus told him. “But it is theirs.”
His eyes somehow got wider. “Negentropy—”
“And the Sinmaker,” I finished for him. “We’re sending him—”
“To Elsewhere,” Chorus concluded. “I am not your judge and jury, Father Lucan, and so I shall send you to those that are. You have hurt so many people, done so many things to harm humanity and now you must answer for them.” Her expression softened, just a little. “I hope they make the right choice.”
“Please—! Anything else, please, Chorus—!” Lucan begged. His voice was getting quieter as he faded away, and when I reached out our arm, it went through him. “Don’t send me away, I have to see my family. Please—please, Chorus, my family. I just want to see my—”
The room went silent, and Father Lucan was gone.
Things were…smoother, after that, but not fixed entirely.
I was going into something akin to shock, and Chorus took it upon herself to straighten our back, gather up my things and head back out of the room. There was no one in the hallway, so she opened the elevator doors and punched in the number for the ground floor.
She called the police when we got out. There were a lot of questions after that.
We told as much of the truth as we could. I admitted to the phone call, Chorus lied about Father Lucan running off somewhere, and the both of us tried our best to give them a story without all the supernatural details.
We were scolded thoroughly for my previous phone call, and for investigating the scene ourselves. I was repeatedly reassured that those not involved in the murders would be put through therapy, but otherwise fine. My dad would be fine.
I had to talk to Dad, then. That was the hardest conversation to have, and the one I had no help from Chorus on. I admitted what I’d seen and heard, and, to an extent, what had happened with Lucan in his office.
Dad was pissed. Not at me; at Father Lucan. He kept apologising to me, over and over and over, saying he was so sorry he brought me here and put me in danger, he was sorry he didn’t realise something was amiss, he was sorry for everything. He was sorry about the deities, and the holidays, and the stories.
In the end, I just hugged him, hard, and promised I forgave him. I told him everything would be alright.
“When did my baby girl get so strong?” he murmured, wiping his eyes. “When did you get so strong?”
I didn’t feel strong. I still don’t. I just felt strange, and tired. I wanted to lie down, but there was hours of police questioning, and even when it was over, Chorus still had one more thing she said we needed to do.
So I let her take control, and she brought us to the hospital, to the room of a little girl with the same blue eyes as her grandfather, and Chorus healed her lungs. She had looked at us with a tired curiosity, and as I felt the power surge through us, I felt nothing but kindness for this little girl.
It wasn’t her fault.
I’m glad Chorus healed her.
I could tell Chorus wanted to help others, so we walked through the halls and healed the sick until I was so mentally exhausted that Chorus finally brought us back to my room and collapsed into bed.
I slept twelve hours that night, and didn’t get out of bed until long after noon.
Chorus and I are still figuring out how to live together. She’s slowly been letting that wave of information back in, in a slow enough trickle to avoid waterboarding me with memories. It’s been a lot, but…I think I’ll be okay.
I think we’ll both be okay.
The investigation, from what I know, is going well. It’ll be an open and shut case for those of the cult who’d been involved with the deaths, and a lot of therapy for those who aren’t. Dad…well, I made sure to destroy the basement before the police could investigate it. I know he’s innocent…but I didn’t want there to be any doubt. A singular mention of Dad’s work could open a whole court case against him, and I don’t think I can handle that.
I just want it to be over. Uni’s coming back soon and I don’t want it to be disrupted. I want to have dinner with my dad and turn the basement into a home office and forget all the awful things I’ve seen.
As for Chorus…well, it’s a new adventure for her, too. But I think we’ll be alright. Worst case, maybe she can help out with some of my essays.
…She just told me that she will not help me out with my essays. Rude.
I will not help you cheat at your work, she chides me. You must do that yourself.
She’s been very hands off, which is kind of a relief. As guilty as I feel about it, some part of me was still scared that she’d lied, and would take full control over me the second I let her, but she’s kept her promise. She sits, she watches, and the two of us talk to each other.
It’s…nice, having company.
So that’s how it happened. I unravelled the Thirteenth Hour and gained Chorus along the way, and I came out the other side still me. Still Tanya Rose.
Considering everything that’s happened, I think that’s the best ending I could ask for.
We’ll be alright. Me and Chorus. Me and Dad. The other survivors of the Thirteenth Hour cult.
We’ll all be okay, even if it takes a while. So few people knew about the experiments with Chorus, and the only one who knew about Chorus and I was Father Lucan, and he’s…well, Chorus says he’s where he belongs, and that he won’t be bothering us, and I believe her.
It’s been a long road, and I’m so exhausted I just want to sleep and binge watch Netflix. Maybe introduce Chorus to some of my favourite shows.
Yeah. That sounds nice.
What is a ‘Merlin’? Chorus asks, and I smile to myself.
You’ll see, I promise her. It’ll be great.
Yes, she murmurs. I think it will.
I smile again, and Chorus does too.
I’m gonna go watch TV.
Tanya, out.