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And what do I do in the meantime?
Will I have to wait several hours in total darkness with only rats for company?
So it seems.
I'd just arrived at the Grand Hotel and settled down at the bar to order the strongest rotgut on the menu, when a young man in his early twenties approached me. After sitting down on my right, he stared at me with his cobalt eyes, a boyish grin lighting up his perfect face.
“You're a Sin Eater, aren't you?” he asked, euphoric.
At the time, I didn't know what to say, so stunned was I that he'd unmasked me so easily, and that he hadn't turned on his heel, afraid or disgusted to be around someone like me.
He must have read my surprise, because he quickly continued,
“Don't worry, I'm one too. Christy,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand.
I squeezed it nervously. There was a Sin Eater right there in front of me! It wasn't for lack of looking for one for months! But it's precisely when I'd given up hope that Christy presented himself to me!
Despite the shock, I instantly felt less alone. So there were others like me. And the one in front of me seemed to lead a perfectly decent life.
Nevertheless, I wondered how he'd spotted me. He told me he'd noticed the tattoo on my wrist and the pronounced whiteness of a lock of my hair. Of course, how could I have forgotten these “details”? He told me that he too had felt the burn when it appeared on his forearm, at the very moment when he’d decided to become a Sin Eater, to save the soul of his sister who had died suddenly, in circumstances that remain enigmatic.
Apparently, the loss of a loved one is the common denominator of all Sin Eaters. That's what it takes to voluntarily damn oneself.
We spent a good part of the afternoon and evening at the bar. He explained to me that he’d taken this path four years earlier, and that I was the first “colleague” he'd had the pleasure of meeting. His enthusiasm struck me as genuine, as if learning of my existence had lifted him out of a life of solitude.
It probably had, in fact.
He shared his experience with me, proving to be very knowledgeable about the customs of our profession. He also knew an infinite number of details about the Brotherhood, although he’d never had the opportunity to meet any of its representatives. Like me, he always received his instructions through dream channels...
That day, we agreed on the undeniable existence of magic. It had been obvious all along, but I'd never really formulated it so clearly: we’re the human arm of the magical expression of something more powerful than ourselves.
How else can we explain the spontaneous appearance of a tattoo, the detailed instructions via our unconscious, and the apparent benefits of our work?
On this last point, of course, we have no irrefutable proof that it actually works, but we have to believe it does, for the sake of our dearly departed.
Eltz's journal
16
Believ
I wake up feeling terribly hungover. I've barely slept at all; just enough to feel disoriented, not enough to be truly rested. My shoulder is gently shaken. I haven't opened my eyes yet.
“Believ, it's time.”
That voice... Ah, my ghost is around. Good news. My heart reacts strangely to hearing him, setting a rapid pace that makes me nervous. I try not to pay too much attention to it, but I can't totally ignore the feeling of well-being I get from knowing he's nearby. I snort, trying to shake off the after-effects of drowsiness. I lift an eyelid, taking in the handsome man standing in front of me.
“I didn't see much,” he tells me.
Nevertheless, he hands me a lantern he must have found among the monks. This simple gesture seems to exhaust him, which is hardly surprising if he's been lugging it around the abbey to bring it back to me. But it's not just that; he's agitated.
“The place emanates a sort of... repulsive aura,” he concludes after a moment's reflection.
“Repulsive? As if the monks are aware of the existence of ghosts and guard against them?”
“Something like that.”
This sucks! I thought the story could be settled; if not simply, then at least quickly, but now I know I was wrong.
