“Well, that’s better, Ted. I love you most equals vomit? Nasty equation.”
Ted laughed. “Sorry, oh so sorry.” Ted reached out and pulled Mia over him. “I am honored to be loved by you and out of my mind that you love me a smidge more than the axeman. I was so afraid of losing you that I left. That was horrible of me. I’m sorry.”
“I accept your apology,” Mia said, reaching for her wrist to hide the tattoo.
“Oh no you don’t. I want you to… you know, while all that is going on?”
“Theodore Martin, you are one dirty bird.”
“Takes one to know one,” he replied.
Chapter Seventeen
The amount of information amassed regarding trees was startling. It wasn’t the abundant varieties that contributed to the hundreds of volumes, it was the treatment of them. Every time a heart was cut into one or a rope swing hung, the tree would transform from a giver of shade and oxygen to something entirely else. It also disrupted the life of said tree. And then along came the pagans, good and bad. Additionally, the tree spirits were a disruptive group and had to be listed. Orion put his head in his hands and cried.
“Be careful not a drop falls upon that book,” a voice said from above him. “It will grow a tree instantly.”
He looked up to see a ghost of a man gazing down at him from behind the most enormous glasses he had ever seen.
“I’m sorry, sir. I did not see you here earlier,” Orion said. “I’ve been here for possibly days, and I have lost track of time.”
“Can I help you?”
Orion wasn’t sure he should be encouraging a spirit that resided in the Dark Vault, but he too could expire before he found the answer he sought.
“I have recently encountered a witch tree, and I’m seeking information about it.”
“An unfortunate name for an animus quercus. In ancient times, they were used to send the soul on before the death of the terminal patient. They are the only oak trees that have thorns. They are…”
Orion opened up the lead box and pointed.
“You have one!” the spirit exclaimed. “Pray, tell me about this encounter.”
The spirit listened and asked questions, one of which set Orion to ponder his course. The ghost said, “What you really want is information about the grower of said tree, not the tree itself.”
“Why yes.”
“First of all, the tree is probably not grown by the modern day witch or wiccan. That type of vegetation dishonors the group. Although, since it has been named thus, we will continue. Come, I will take you to where the information on the Cynosura nurserymen are kept.”
“Cynosura?” Orion questioned, feeling his stomach turn over.
“Yes, the Cynosura used to be group of humans, pure of heart, who pledged to point the human race to the light; in other words, Polaris. But as their studies increased and wealth and power were amassed, they turned away from the nurturing of the downtrodden. They turned inward and existed for the sole purpose of making sure that they and they alone achieved entry to the ancient houses in Ursa Minor.”
“The Cynosura are still active,” Orion informed the spirit.
“I find this extraordinary. In my lifetime, I had found that evil simply doesn’t last. Empires rise, but they also fall. The Cynosura have been around a long time.”
“The old ones gave their daughters to the breeders of the netherworld and were compensated with long life. A long life, yes, but tinged with evil. The daughters never survive the births, but the Cynosura never were attached to their female offspring anyway. It’s the sons that matter.”
“Where are they hiding?” the spirit asked. “Immortals, even half-cast immortals, would surely be found out.”
“They reside here and there, changing locations when questions are asked. Their male issue go to the best schools, and when they achieve positions of great importance, they give contracts and power to the other Cynosura males.”
“Orion, remember, throughout history the male has been dominant.”
“It shouldn’t be like that. The situation of the world would have been better had both genders been in charge,” Orion argued. “There were two genders created. If God wanted the male to run the place alone, he would have made him asexual.”
“Why are the Cynosura dangerous?”
“They see that the earth’s resources - which they desperately need - are being overused. So they are culling the human herd by the use of social Darwinism. They take away the benefits that allow the poor and the weak to survive. They take away their freedom. They are working towards bringing back feudalism. The ones that serve them will survive, and the others will no longer be cared for. This planet will serve the Cynosura and only the Cynosura.”
They had reached an alcove, and the spirit pointed to a large book. “Here you will find the Cynosura nurserymen.”
“Thank you, sir, you have been most helpful.”
“May I inconvenience you and ask you another question?”
“I’ll do my best to answer it.”
“What happens if the Cynosura become too strong?”
“War. The guardians of the human race will declare war on them and the demon race who support them. The Cynosura must be destroyed.”
“Well, I wish you luck.”
“Thank you. I am hoping to find a way to stop them before this happens. Because if war is declared, the sky will burn with death. This too will not help the human species to survive.”
Orion sat down and opened the book and consulted the section devoted to animus quercus.
~
Angelo was not in good humor. Father Paolo Santos looked at his friend. His heart ached for the birdman, but his mind had accepted the situation that had brought Angelo into such a black mood. Mia had chosen her teacher, and it wasn’t Angelo.
“All that I have done for her, the times I have
