Chapter 6 - Seeing Through The Lens Part 4

Mehaque immediately focused her attention on the pictures on the screen, looking at them with great fascination. Pressing the scroll button, the photos one by one slid down. She saw the happy children, the lively vendors, and the detailed stream of water from the fountain. She also saw the many faces of the subjects, including one picture that was in the Protected List particularly. “Wow, these are beautiful Auntie, ” she exclaimed after the slides ended. “I sure wished I was able to join you there.”

Ysabelle gave her a lopsided smile. “Hmmm... yes, I know, but your mom doesn’t want you late in class again.”

“Maybe next time Auntie?” Mehaque quickly bargained. Soft pleading eyes she consequently used in order to receive a yes from her Aunt. “I really want to see your photo subjects in person.”

Gathering a sigh, Ysabelle nodded again. “Sure, sure. Next time it is, ” she answered, thus receiving a big white smile from her niece.

“Yes!” the girl immediately celebrated, embracing the older woman in response.

This was always what Ysabelle desired ever since she was admitted into the family tree, but it seemed the members weren’t as keen on showing this warm emotion to her other than the teenager herself. She wasn’t begging for it though, but sometimes, there are instances that she wished for this kind of warmth from the whole family. A warmth as sincere as the one that the man in the plaza showed to the young beggar.

“Father wants to talk to you by the way, ” Mehaque informed after she withdrew from her embrace. “He says it is very important.”

Ysabelle cocked her head. “Really now?” she said in disbelief, and the girl only responded with a short nod. “Oh well, that’s not new at all, everything is important for him when it concerns me, ” she added, whilst shoving the camera inside her backpack.

“You better go now, Auntie Belle. Father is waiting for you in brother’s...uhmm...in the Altar room, ” Mehaque expressed with a tone that left a sense of fear. Never was she a fan of anything scary, but her older brother’s demon possession was one thing that she was shit scared the most.

Sensing her trepidation, Ysabelle patted her head once again and answered before walking up the grand staircase, “Yeah, thanks Sweet.”

***

After producing a knock on the door, Ysabelle heard a low voice from the inside of the Altar room bidding her entrance. She stepped in slightly, still hiding from behind the varnished mahogany door.

“You called for me?” she said, looking at her Uncle with clear confused eyes.

Alfon bobbed his head. “Yes, I need to tell you something, ” he replied and gestured for her to advance. “Come, sit.”

Ysabelle obediently complied, crossing the room towards the Victorian furniture set close to the fireplace.

“You look serious Uncle, ” she remarked by the time she sat on a chair across the Master’s one.

“Because it is warranted, ” Alfon expressed rationally. He crouched forward, putting his elbows in his knees and gazed at her with great depth. “Dear Ysabelle, I did tell you how sorry I am right? I am supposed to be a man of my word, but right now, André’s life is in dange--” He abruptly stopped after realizing he was choking up his words. After taking a deep breath to relieve himself, he started once again, “This demon possession is strong. If we prolong his agony, it wouldn’t be good.”

“I know, ” was Ysabelle’s quick reply. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at the still flaming body of André in the marble table. A thought crossed her mind and she cringed because of it. “I understand Uncle. André...he...he is more important than my silly final wish. Do as you thought best for him. He doesn’t deserve to die like this.”

Alfon stood up and graced to where she sat. Gathering up her trembling hands, he knelt in her front and stated stiffly, “We will find a way, I will make sure of it.”

There was a minute of contemplating silence between the two. Ysabelle opted not to reply immediately, but when she did, it was one of relief, “Thank you, Uncle.” It was low, barely audible, but Alfon knew that it was enough for him.

Clearing his throat, he stood up from kneeling and watched the growing blue and violet flames; watching it with disgust in his eyes.

“I have already sought out the help of the Vatican Office to rectify this issue, Ysabelle.”

The somber woman quickly glanced up and stated in disbelief, “You did?”

“Yes, an exorcist priest is on his way here as we speak to exorcise the demon out of André’s body.”

She may not be as happy as the Mistress of the house of this news, but still, it gave her relief that her Uncle had finally decided to ask for help other than the brotherhood. “That’s...that’s a relief Uncle!” she exclaimed.

“Hmm...knowing that only a Vatican exorcist priest can do the job, I have to set aside any differences of beliefs this time.”

Alfon returned to his master chair and willfully admitted to himself that this would be a good decision above anything else. He took out a stick of black cigar from its Cuban box and lit it up with a lighter all the while looking at his niece’s present clothing. He shook his head shortly and furrowed his brows.

“Now, you should change clothes, ” he initially stated, tone undebatable. “Be at your best to meet the priest.”

After hearing it, Ysabelle felt disheartened. It wasn’t her taste to dress up fancy clothes for any guests of the mansion, a priest, in particular, wasn’t exempted too. She preferred herself the way she is -- always showing her tomboyish side with regards to clothing. Anyway, what does a priest have to do with her dressing up? Priests don’t reproach a person’s fashion style at all. They aren’t even permitted to be judgmental.

“But Uncle, is it that necessary? I am at my best, ” she announced with her voice unintentionally pleading.

Alfon shook his head rigidly. “No, dear. Sneakers and sweaters don’t look good on the most important woman of the humankind, ” was his stiff answer.

Retreating her eyes in another object - the burgundy carpeted floor in particular - she felt herself a prisoner once again. She wanted to argue more but decided to follow his will in the end. “Very well...” she said, looking forlorn.

“Good. See you in the receiving room later.”

It was a sign of dismissal and Ysabelle was glad to take the hint. “Yes, ” she stated and stood up quickly, never looking at her Uncle again until she exited the room.