The Black Book Page 2

  Chapter 1: How It All Started

  WHILE treasure hunting in the attic one dull Tuesday evening after school, Matthew came across some heavy cobwebs beside the large chimney extension and pushed these aside to peer into the area. The youngster had never really paid much attention to this dark corner of the spacious loft because the room in the roof was jam-packed with enough boxes and stuff he was yet to exhaustively go through. More so, this spooky section of the attic could be harboring many spiders as the thick cobwebs suggested, and Matthew never fancied having those creepy little eight-legged monsters crawling all over him while looking for valuables.

  Until now.

  Determined to find something worth selling to Nora, his older sister, Matthew ignored the thought of spiders and felt his way forward. A few steps in, his foot struck against something. He reached down in the darkness and felt a rough wooden box beneath his hands. It wasn’t heavy, so he picked it up and stepped back out into the light. At first, he thought the box was empty, but as he set it down something inside made a soft thumping sound as it struck the back of the box.

  His heart beat a little faster as he fiddled with the latch. There was something in there, and maybe this time his treasure-hunting trip would finally pay off. The latch finally popped open, and he lifted the lid, eager to see what sort of treasure the old box held.

  As he looked at the book, the breath he’d been holding came out in a rush. It was just a book with a black hardcover. Unfortunately, Nora wasn’t much of a reader. Then again, if it was an old book maybe it would be worth something after all. With new hope he picked the book up and took note of the worn, beat-up cover. It wasn’t in great shape, but it was definitely old. Very old. Maybe he could convince Nora to buy it off him after all. Maybe not, but then, nothing was ever gained without trying, right? And thus making up his mind, he waded once more through the many dusty boxes littering the attic and trudged down the stairs to Nora’s room, the book snuggly tucked underneath his right arm.

  “Look, Nora. Look,” he shouted gaily as he banged noisily on her room’s door. “See what I’ve found up in the attic.”

  “What now, Noise? Go away,” his sister snapped from within. “I don’t have time for your games now.”

  Matthew was not discouraged. “No, you don’t, Nora,” he quickly agreed, “but you wouldn’t want me to leave without seeing what I’ve got to show you.” Then he straightened up proudly. “I’ve got a prize find and a wonderful offer for you.” He felt like an experienced salesman.

  Almost as quickly, the door flew open and Nora popped her head out, coughing a great deal from the dust and dirt her brother had brought down with him from the attic. “What do you mean?” she asked him, a fake smile carved-out on her lips as she stared at his dirty, rumpled shirt and soot-covered face with eyes that have turned to slits on her not-so-happy face.

  Matthew showed her the book and the smile disappeared completely.

  “Matthew, that’s a book,” she slowly said, stressing the word ‘book.’

  “Yeah, but it’s old,” Matthew began. “Old stuff can be worth a lot of money, you know.”

  “And when did I become a librarian or . . . or a historian to you?” Nora asked him. “I said I’ll give you five dollars if you can find me something romantic up there, remember?”

  “Like a sweater or a shawl?”

  “No, dumbo! Not necessarily a sweater or a shawl . . . anything unique . . . and . . . and romantic.”

  “But this book is unique, don’t you think?” her younger brother insisted. “It’s unique because it’s old and romantic and . . .”

  Nora grumbled something and slammed the door in his face.

  “Ow, c’mon.”

  “That won’t do,” she wailed from inside. “Now, leave my door.”

  “Ow, c’mon,” her brother repeated. “You promised me five dollars for anything I get up there.”

  “Not for an old book,” she told him. “Maybe . . . for a fashionable shawl or a sweater? But definitely not for that . . . that junk? Why not ask Mom for five dollars if you badly need it?”

  “You know she’ll ask me why I want it.”

  “And what do you need it for?”

  “Nothing?” he lied. “Candy?” he confessed.

  “C’mon, Matt—You know that’s bad for your teeth.”

  Matthew frowned. He hardly knew why Nora thought he would find a sweater up in this particular attic, but he knew he needed five dollars that would come with no strings attached, unlike Mom’s. Therefore, he bent down submissively and passed the book underneath his sister’s door. “Well, if you change your mind,” he bravely announced and scampered off.

  Nora sighed and continued with her makeup. It had been a year since the Quentins moved into their new home and Matthew Quentin was the biggest nuisance she was finally feeling grateful to be rid of after ten years of a shared room. His new abode was the attic and he always had a new discovery to show or sell to her from the old boxes the house’s previous owners left there. He was going to be a sales representative when he grew up. Just like Dad.

  “Nora? Where are you? We’ll be late.”

  “Just a sec, Mom.”

  She looked herself over and dusted her cheeks. And then she stood up, pouting, and posed for the full-length mirror in her room. A sweet face with high cheekbones and large, daring blue eyes stared back at her. Blonde hair cascaded down her back, almost hiding a slender neck and lovely shoulders protected by a lose pink T-shirt. Nora’s bosom merged with a slim waist lower down her visible anatomy, and a pair of blue shorts from which long lovely legs emerged completed this image of the teenage goddess.

  Of course, Nora was as beautiful as her mother. Her age-mates always said this was her problem, although she cared less about their jealous remarks behind her back. They were simply trying to make her feel bad about herself, and that would never happen.

  Tall for her age, this sixteen-year-old Quentin already had the shape every girl was dying for, and in class, her mates often stole glances at her due to this. She was the most popular girl in Sleepy Lake High, as well as the most beautiful, and even though people often said she was a snobbish, self-centered chick, she was proud of the first two attributes and made sure anyone keeping tabs on her always realized this.

  An unpleasant behavior her snobbish and self-centered qualities owe so much to in the first place, but one the best quarterback in the school’s football squad also found so intriguing that he’d started taking interest in her.

  His name was Leonard, and she’d had a crush on him ever since the day their eyes met.

  “We’re using the Jeep, dear,” Mom called out from below, immediately bringing her back to the present. The sixteen-year-old scowled and pulled on her Levi’s five-o-nine. What of the damn Escalade? The Wrangler was never her type of car. It was rather too rough-looking for a city girl like her, but Mom liked exhibiting her ‘tougher side’ with such cars and Nora didn’t mind indulging her.

  “Nora?”

  “Coming,” she called back, a Louis Vuitton bag hanging from her shoulder. She picked up Matthew’s priceless book on her way out and dusted off the front leather cover, totally lost on what to do with it.

  It was the size of a large hardback novel and weighed as much. There was no title on its cover and no names either. The spine was held in place by a kind of rope made with animal skin and Nora found this so weird. She flipped it open and noticed two names on the dusty first page. One was central and boldly written. Probably the book’s original owner. One Cardinal Marcos. A priest. So weird. She cared less.

  She threw the book into her wastebasket, but didn’t stick a five dollar note under Matthew’s door as she passed it.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, Nora,” Mom said, beaming. Obviously, she was the source of her teenage daughter’s beauty. “My! Look at you,” she said, admiring her first child.

  “My! Look at you,” nine-year-old Stephanie mimicked as she trudged into the
sitting room with a bored look on her face. A black-haired kid version of her mom, the only girly thing this particular Quentin loved doing was ballet dancing. “Where’re you guys going?” she asked her senior sister as she slumped into her favorite settee, picked up the TV remote and switched on the LED.

  “Shopping?” Nora replied. “And you’re tagging along.”

  “No, I’m not,” her little sister aired. “Gotta watch TV.”

  “Stephanie, dear, you know you’ll love shopping today,” Mrs. Quentin told her youngest daughter, brushing off a strand of golden hair from her face as she picked up the Wrangler’s key. “The day is bright and the weather is fine . . . ,” she sang, eyeing Stephanie with a wry smile.

  “That’s so lame, Mom,” the little girl said, revulsion briefly replacing the bored look. “That won’t work on me – I’m nine years old.”

  “And guess what?” her mother began enticingly, intent on making her come no matter what. “I’ll get you whatever you want today.”

  “But Mom, I just got back from ballet class,” Stephanie protested, beginning to weigh the new offer against a pleasant pastime of TV and orange juice.

  “Which you shouldn’t be too keen on,” Nora slipped in, enjoying herself. “You’re too young for that, you know?”

  Stephanie switched off the TV and sauntered off, glaring at the last speaker. “I have to start young, Miss Fine Face,” she reminded her big sister.

  Mom’s offer appeared too tempting for the little girl to refuse, though, and Nora latched on to this obvious fact like a leech. “Wow. Never doubt what a little bribe can do,” she quipped with a smile, but the opposition ignored her invitation, making a face as their paths crossed.

  “Mom, can I come too?” Matthew asked, appearing from the kitchen with a sandwich.

  “No, dear—you need to clean up and wait for Dad and Gavin.” Gavin was the dog.

  “Besides, girls only?” Nora reminded him.

  “Hey.” Matthew smiled at her. “My—five dollars?”

  “I’ll give you two?” Nora wanted this hushed up ASAP.

  “Deal,” her young brother announced, sandwich jam competing for space with the soot on his shirt. He stretched out his hand towards his mother. “Mom?”

  “Nora,” Mrs. Quentin cried with exasperation. “Never make promises you can’t keep.” She gave Matthew five dollars.

  “Sorry, Mom,” Nora said, scowling. “It’s just an old book from a weird priest, though.”

  Matthew’s mother nodded knowingly and looked him over. “From the attic, I guess?” she asked him.

  “It’s not so old, Mom,” he objected sullenly. “Nora told me to . . .”

  “Don’t you dare,” Nora snapped.

  “Whatever she told you, honey, you look great this very moment,” Mom said. “Now you need to clean up before Dad comes back or else no more gaming.”

  “Ow, Mom, come on,” Matthew protested.

  “Just an old book, though,” Nora threw at him.

  He made a face at her.

  She returned the favor.