Silence inhabited the room accompanying the already present awkwardness from the imagery Arayah had brought forth. No one was sure of what to say as they stood by the gypsy’s bed. What was there to say for all her trauma had stolen their words away.
Bastian removed the tray from the gypsy’s lap and took it into the kitchen where he deposited it. He turned to walk back into the bedroom, but he was caught by Jerard’s malicious stare. “Do not worry, Your Highness,” he sneered. “We will do as you have asked, but when we are ready.”
Jerard disliked being spoken to in such a disrespectful tone and it showed in his aging gray eyes and burning face. “You will do as I have demanded or I will strip all of you of your home and soil your reputations,” he scolded, taking hold of Bastian’s arm so he could not bolt away. He hated to have to be so stern, but he learned he had to be with young people or they just would not listen.
Bastian thought a moment on how to play this out so he might have the upper hand. “Now would a man of God really do something so cruel and heartless to his brethren?” he inquired full-heartedly, wondering if this old man before him really believed in God and everything He has done for humanity.
Jerard’s grip tightened as he scowled, locking his eyes onto Bastian’s baby blues. “Surely, The Almighty takes countenance within my course of actions, for in the Bible it states that none should go to, nor believe in those persons who claim they can see the future. Gypsies,” he snickered. “They practice fortune telling.”
He relinquished Bastian’s arm and began to make his way to his study. Stopping just in the doorway he said, “There is no place for a devil child in a monastery of God!” He then vanished into the room and to his bed as his chest began to feel tight and his body faint.
Arayah, Alexander, and Jermaine all glanced up at the angry-faced figure strolling into the room.
“What was that all about?” asked Jermaine, who was helping their guest brush the tangles out of her hair.
Bastian snarled as he once again sat down on the bed. “Jerard. He is relentless! I swear he has no emotions toward the gypsies other than pure hatred.” He froze for a second, reeling in his own feelings. “He does not see or understand that regardless of the gypsies’ beliefs, they are still children of Heaven and need our help.”
“Yes, I agree. But we are younger than he is and our hearts and minds are more open to possibilities and unexplainable phenomena,” explained Alexander, who had acquired a journal, a quill, and a small jar of ink.
“What are you going to do with those?” Bastian asked, eyeing the objects in Alexander’s hands, as Alexander sat down at a desk by the far window.
“I am going to record all Miss Arayah has shown us, so not only may we use these writings as a reference, but so future generations will have this knowledge to fall back on. You know, should they need it.”
Jermaine quietly got up and walked across the dirt floor to Alexander’s side to let the gypsy sleep. “Alexander,” he whispered. “That is a great idea. If there is going to be a big Battle of the Ages as Luchedia has warned in her curse to Arayah, then we should keep track of everything supernatural we witness. I know we have our own accounts of things but I think it would be best to keep all of our future experiences in one journal for easier reading and organizing.”
“I understand your reasoning, Jermaine, and I agree,” he stated softly while staring into Jermaine’s brown soulful eyes. Alexander noticed Jermaine always acted extremely charitable and energetic when it came to helping people, but his eyes held a lonely foreboding as if there was some hidden pain always trying to rise to the surface.
