Page 54 of Souls We Rip

“Yes, we did not cook in the summer in the house. My father built for my mum a summer kitchen, a small room outside, next to the stables.”

“I had seen it,” I replied, eyeing her hands.

She kept her words to herself.

I searched with my mind for another tome which would be helpful for her, at least to understand the process of baptism. This book was given to me by one of the Order’s members a long time ago.

Thinking about my own baptism, there was no way I would be there to witness hers.

The ancient book flew from one of the bookshelves, floating in front of her.

“This book is about the ceremony. You should find useful information in it.”

She took it in her hands, leaving the other one on the floor. As I did not like messes, I placed the discarded one back with the help of my mind.

The girl flipped through the pages, a small frown between her midnight eyebrows. “I do not understand this language.”

“It is Latin. Your language comes from Latin,” I snapped, my arms thrown in the air.

“Please, speak nicely to me, or I am leaving!”

I swallowed. “I apologise.”

A small smile crept on her lips as she still flipped through the book. I was torn between letting her escape and taking her smile off her lips with mine. Clearing my throat, I watched my old tomes.

She kept her calm, but her cheeks became rosy. “Yes, our language comes from Latin, but it also has roots in the Dacian language, which I do not know either. And it also gained some Slavic influence,” she pondered, her eyes on mine.

I scoffed, falling to my knees, taking the book from her hands with my mind. I was trying to find the exact passage that was of interest to her. It should have been around the middle of the book.

“I thought the Goat Man did not kneel in front of anyone.”

My mind was immersed in the turn of the pages, the ancient smell reaching my nose, and I did not register her words. I raised my eyes to her.

Luckily, my hood kept everything hidden.

Her chest and neck became crimson, a vein pulsing through her skin. Her chin trembled, and her lips were parted, minty breath replacing the scent of the books.

If I did not know any better, I would have liked to touch those lips.

“Chapter fifty.” I cleared my throat, images of blood and gore replacing the one of her lips.

She shook her head, the colour of her neck travelling to her face. “What?” she breathed, her fingers grabbing the book tightly.

“In chapter fifty, you will find the procedure for the baptism.”

Quickly, she flicked the pages until the mentioned chapter, her fingers gripping the book too tightly.

I took my former place on the chair, disregarding any abnormal thoughts of a human between my arms. I translated to her every word, as I knew them from memory.

I read the tomes multiple times in all these years I’ve been the Goat Man.

“But this is outrageous!” she exclaimed, her nose between the pages. She stood up and started to pace back and forth.

I shrugged, already used to the ritual.

“You translated that all of you must be there. Who are all of you?”

“Yes, all of them would be there. We are an Order. We rip souls all around the world. Each of us has this type of mirror, which you already saw in my chamber.” She nodded, watching me carefully. My legs shook, not used to someone having this much scrutiny over my words. “That is the Souls’ Mirror. In it, we see which soul we must collect.”