The Necronomicon

Chapter Forty Eight

"Who are you looking for?" An Elder — Meredith had been told that his name was Elder Banks — asked, and Eleanor smiled slightly before answering.

"Elder Watford, I think," She responded lightly, and Elder Banks nodded.

"Yes, of course."

Elder Banks strode away quickly, leaving Eleanor to turn around to meet Meredith's eyes and breathe out shakily. "This is how I found The Elders before — I yelled at Elder Watford that time though... I hope he still accepts our invitation."

"He will, don't fuss," Meredith replied, and Eleanor nodded, not replying.

Elder Banks returned. "Right this way, girls."

"Uh —" Eleanor raised a finger to interrupt. "It's only my daughter today, Elder Banks."

Elder Banks bowed, and turned away. Eleanor glanced at her daughter, leaning downwards. "Good luck, darling."

Meredith nodded and walked away, following Elder Banks down the road. She hadn't been surprised when Eleanor had told them that they weren't residing in the Elders' Headquarters anymore: Meredith had only been there earlier that morning to burn The Necronomicon and it had been apparent as she entered that it was deserted. Frederick wouldn't dare visit the Headquarters — well, that had been her reasoning for why she was burning the book there, anyway.

Now she was strolling towards a house at the end of the road. It was a quaint, secluded house — nobody would suspect The Elders were living there. Elder Banks brought her inside, and she was met with the wide eyes of two other men.

The survivors of the rebel's fire.

"Meredith," It was Elder Watford. He sounded grave. Meredith nodded to him, and took a chair beside him. The other Elders all moved backwards, including Elder Banks. "It is good to see you again."

He was not his usual jovial, flippant self — she could sense that in the quivering of his hands and the rapid rising and falling of his chest. His eyes focused on hers with solemn necessity, and he opened his mouth to speak. "What do you want to know, child?"

"Everything." Meredith breathed. "Why are you an Elder — how did this all... begin?"

"That's for another time, Meredith."

She looked at him. "I've been your rat. I took the Necronomicon for you and tried to give it to The Grim Reaper — and how do you forgive me? By giving me a dud spell and hiding instead of helping me. And not only that, you won't even answer my questions."

"Meredith, this is extremely confidential. If we were ever to take our walls down and greet the darkness outside — then perhaps I would tell you then."

"Fine — you can't tell me exactly why: but what were your motivations? You can at least tell me that." Meredith adjusted her position on the stool.

"We — we created a group. To escape the darkness... you know this."

"I mean — your motivations to restrict people."

"Restrict?" Elder Watford's brow furrowed.

"Yes. Restrict women, restrict people of —"

"Women were, in our opinion, the root of the cause of what we perceive to be a horror — something nobody should have to see, or use, or —"

"So you restricted them because the "darkness", whatever it is, caused you to mistrust women?" Elder Watford refused to look her in the eyes as she continued. "And this is why all your rules and your ruling, really, was mainly about stopping women from making any decisions whatsoever."