Chapter 5: A Cry for Help

Saint Anne’s Convent had two telephones: one in Director Alma’s lounge and the other in Miss Gelding’s archive room.

The night was deep and silent over the mountain convent. Hester hid between the suspended corridor floorboards and the rocky mountainside, pressing her hand tightly over her mouth to stifle any sound.

She had cried so hard that her eyes now ached. She heard the demon slowly pass overhead and then vanish around the corner.

The children’s quarters were about fifteen minutes away by foot, while Miss Gelding’s archive room was ten minutes in the opposite direction. Between alerting the others or calling for help, she could only choose one.

Hester didn’t hesitate long. Most children left the convent at fourteen to seek work in society; there was no one calm and capable enough to take charge. Waking everyone in panic could only lead to worse outcomes.

So there was but one choice—call for the chelate hunters.

Hester and Bo Heng often frequented Miss Gelding’s archive. Bo Heng, now fourteen and the eldest child at the convent, was always tasked with organizing newcomers’ records by Sister Gelding; Hester had also been selected to assist, so they grew close.

Over the years, Hester knew at least three paths led to the archive—none longer than ten minutes, some as short as seven.

No. Wait.

Director Alma knew of these too.

Could she be waiting now in the archive room?

A chill rose from Hester’s stomach, and tears silently welled again. In the quiet night, she slowly emerged from the shadows, blue moonlight washing over her trembling, stooped figure as she descended to the ground.

The horrific images flashed uncontrollably before her eyes, pushing her sanity to the brink. Every inch of her skin screamed—but still she moved forward, sprinting back to the director’s lounge she had escaped from moments before.

Fear crashed over her like a tsunami. Under such pressure, any threat could shatter her courage. She ran as if on a tightrope, unable to look back or stop, hoping to outrun the terror.

The lounge door was ajar. Time was precious—there was no room for hesitation. Steeling herself, Hester slipped inside.

If the demon waited behind the door, then she would follow Sister Gelding’s fate—if Director Alma awaited her beyond the veil, then death was no longer to be feared.

The door creaked softly as it opened.

Silence greeted her.

The candle by the director’s bedside still burned quietly. Blood stained the floor where Miss Gelding and Flassan lay. A surge of hot blood flooded Hester’s limbs as guilt filled her eyes. She glanced once at Miss Gelding before quickly moving to the desk’s cabinet and lifting the receiver of the old-fashioned telephone.

No need to dial an area code—just press 1 and 7. But Hester’s hands trembled uncontrollably. She fumbled repeatedly, hitting redial again and again.

At last, a connection—then a loud bang.

“How dare you come back, Jane... you’re bold indeed...”

The door to the lounge was thrown open with force. The chelate hunter stood there, blade in hand, grinning savagely.

Hester froze.

“Beep—”

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