Chapter 113 - The Sins of Dipuer

Everything felt like a nightmare to Dipuer Joseph William.

His mother, Sofia, was a devout believer. Dipuer was not. He trusted science. All things spiritual and supernatural were fantasies, he believed, re-creations of reality inside the mind.

Sofia's faith was the source of his middle name, Joseph.

His mother's name came from the same place. Sofia meant divine wisdom.

After graduating from the School of Physics and Astronomy at the University of St Andrews, Dipuer fell in love with astrophotography and resolved to make it his life's work.

He felt it was destiny, his name was Dipuer, the Big Dipper.

While photographing alone on the frozen plains of Siberia near the Arctic Ocean, Dipuer encountered the greatest danger of his life. A strange, unknown beast chased him for miles, driving him like a rat.

It was also there that he met his future wife, Sylvia Prince.

Miss Prince's homeland was in the grip of civil war. Some of her friends stood on one side; other friends and relatives stood on the other. Miss Prince could not choose between them.

"My cousin scolded me," Miss Prince said. "He said someone with a brain like mine would do best to roll far away — that that would be the best way to pick a side. And so fate guided me to roll all the way here."

"Family always have sharp tongues and soft hearts," Dipuer said. "Perhaps your cousin only wanted to keep you out of the crossfire."

"He would never be that kind," Miss Prince said. "He was afraid I'd say the wrong thing and embarrass him. That's all."

Strangely, the moment Miss Prince appeared, the beast fled.

Miss Prince said she was a diviner.

"Like the Gypsies?" Dipuer asked, curious. "Crystal ball? Tarot cards?"

Miss Prince laughed. "Both. I read the stars too!"

Dipuer said quietly, "I read them too. I mean — I also look at stars."

Perhaps it was the suspension bridge effect. Perhaps it was something else. Either way, Dipuer felt that Miss Prince was unlike any woman he had ever met.

They were perfectly in tune. They fell in love quickly, married not long after, and soon had their first child.

When Sylvia was pregnant with their first, Dipuer was frantic.

He read mountains of medical literature on childbirth and prepared extensively. For the 2 years surrounding Sylvia's delivery, he did not leave Southend-on-Sea. Not once.

"You've really lost your mind," his childhood friend Antonio couldn't help but grumble. "Do you know what people were saying about you? Who stops working for 2 years because his wife is having a baby? You're wasting your youth!"

"And that is exactly why you don't have a wife! Antonio, you're a doctor!" Dipuer said, baffled. "Haven't you read those papers? Morning sickness. Edema. Amniotic fluid embolism. Symphysis pubis dysfunction..."

"And then what?" Antonio shrugged. "Did anything actually happen to your wife?"

"Sylvia is perfectly healthy," Dipuer said proudly. "We made a lot of preparations —"

"Well, there you go!" Antonio cut him off. "How many 2-year stretches does your youth have? How long is your prime? How many more years will you have like this — fit enough to trek to the Arctic Circle and the desert? If you have another child, are you going to stop for another 2 years?"

"We decided long ago we wouldn't have more children," Dipuer said.

"Uh..." Antonio looked at him like he'd seen a ghost. "What does your family planning have to do with me? The ship to Iceland leaves in 2 weeks, you're not going to bail, are you? Your eldest daughter is already four or five. Don't you dare tell me your wife is pregnant again."

"Of course not," Dipuer said. "But I haven't told Sylvia yet..."

Antonio rolled his eyes. "Tell her or don't, whatever you like. Just don't break the appointment."

To Dipuer's shock, his wife really was pregnant again.

He had no idea how to bring it up. Leaving home while his wife was pregnant, was that something a husband could even say out loud?

But Antonio was right. He had already lost 2 years. Was he really going to lose another 2?

"For God's sake!" Antonio was definitely rolling his eyes on the other end of the phone. "Everyone else is ready. And you're telling me this?!"

"It was an accident!" Dipuer lowered his voice. "Nobody could have seen this coming. I am absolutely suing the manufacturer."

"We'll talk about suing when you get back," Antonio said. "Can't Aunt Sofia look after her? You'll only be gone a month or two, less than 2 months. By the time you return, your wife probably won't even be showing yet."

"But Sylvia's mood isn't great," Dipuer said, miserable.

Antonio's voice climbed. "Hey! My mood is worse! 2 years — and now another 2 years! Do you even still want to —"

"I'll convince Sylvia," Dipuer sighed. "It should be fine. Just over a month. And Sofia will be there."

He did convince her. He boarded the ship to Iceland.

The trip went smoothly, so smoothly it was almost unbelievable. They were even lucky enough to photograph Bailey's beads, and the photo ran in the newspaper.

Dipuer was giddy with excitement. He wanted to go home. He wanted to share this with his wife and daughter in person.

Those long, listless days drifting on the ship, dazed, running his fingers over the photo, they were finally over.

He, Dipuer Joseph William, was going home right now to hold his wife and child.

Dipuer pushed open the door and spun his daughter in his arms, laughing, pouring out the whole story of his triumph.

"Dipuer William. Is this really all you have to say to me?"

Sylvia's voice was flat and cold.

"You don't care whether I've suffered these days. You don't care whether I've been unwell. You don't care about my health at all. All you know is Bailey's beads."

Her expression was ice. It caught him completely off guard.

But, it had always been like this before. Sylvia didn't come on every trip. Sometimes he went out to sea alone, and when he came back he would share everything with her, jubilant. She had always listened.

Dipuer didn't understand what had changed. His first instinct was to argue back, but he caught himself quickly. Maybe it was the pregnancy. Pregnancy hormones? Estrogen? What had that paper said again?

He apologized quickly, softened his voice, and did his best to comfort her.

But it kept happening. Again and again. Dipuer was no saint, no true Joseph, son of Jacob, and he inevitably grew irritable. They fought.

Sylvia accused him of being irresponsible. At first, he still felt guilty about the month and a half away. But over time, he could no longer bear being blamed for everything.

Then one day, during an argument, Sylvia bent over clutching her stomach. Madam Margaret arrived with her medical kit and gave Dipuer a thorough dressing-down.

While running to the phone, Dipuer witnessed his daughter Praeris's mysterious power.

Suspecting was one thing. Seeing it was another entirely. Every strange incident from the past snapped into focus at once.

He thought of all those times he had earnestly tried to explain things to Sylvia with science. He found himself almost laughable.

He had graduated from the School of Physics and Astronomy. The worldview he had built his entire life on collapsed in an instant.

Where did this power come from? It could move objects, could it move animals? Could it move people? Was it dangerous? What would others think of his daughter?

He turned these questions over and over, pulling up every past incident to examine it again, and he could not sleep.

What was even real?

What, in the end, was still real?

Sylvia told him she hadn't been able to be honest because of the Statute of Secrecy, a law of the magical world.

Dipuer thought about that. Her honesty had only come when she had no other choice. So how much of what she said now was true, and how much was not?

He did not want to doubt his wife. But deception and concealment had already come, and they had not left without a trace. Once trust is broken, rebuilding it is its own kind of labor.

Dipuer had not smoked for 5 years, because Sylvia hated the smell.

Now he lit a cigarette and drew a long drag.

COUGH. COUGH. COUGH.

He'd forgotten. He couldn't even smoke anymore without choking.

Sylvia Prince had occupied most of the past 5 years of his life. She had changed him entirely.

And now he had just learned how many lies those years had been built on.

Perhaps he had never truly known his wife or his daughter.

A love built on lies,

Dipuer exhaled and forced himself to stop thinking.

At least she loved him. That was real. Wasn't it?

He was not only Sylvia's husband now. He was also the father of her children.

If Praeris was like her mother, and that was already written, then the other child, the one still in Sylvia's womb, was there still a chance to change things?

Dipuer decided to talk to Sylvia properly about this.

A child not healthy enough in the womb could still be helped through prenatal care. Dipuer turned that thought over.

That meant external forces could be useful, didn't it?

Before that conversation, he called Antonio.

"You still remember that?" Antonio said, sounding baffled. "I'd almost forgotten."

"Back then I was still with Doctors Without Borders, I think. An old African man brought a kid and had him perform divine tricks, making stones float, that sort of thing." Antonio's tone was casual. "Don't tell me you've run into something strange. If you have, go talk to your mother. Go to church and drink some holy water."

...

BANG BANG BANG.

In the middle of talking with Sylvia, Dipuer watched in shock as she spun and threw open the door, then ran back to yank open a drawer and pull out a patterned stick.

His eyes went wide. He walked toward the corridor one step at a time.

7 or 8 lightbulbs along the second-floor corridor had exploded. Both windows were shattered to the sill. Every pane of glass over the framed pictures on the wall was gone, not a single shard remained. Even the ceramic vase had burst apart.

This kind of destructive force,

Dipuer thought, unbidden, of stories Sofia had told him when he was small.

This was a power that could kill. He understood that now.

This was the power of the devil. His hands were shaking.

He steadied himself against the astronomical telescope. Such astonishing destruction made one thing undeniably clear: he and they were not from the same world.

...

London Maria Orphanage Blesses and Baptizes Ten Orphans

"Having received baptism, these children are now all children of the Lord," said Father Anthony Malachi Dowling. "They become pure once more, bidding farewell to all the sins and misfortunes they have encountered."

It was a small item tucked into a corner of a local newspaper. Dipuer noticed it, at first, because the priest shared a name with his childhood friend. Anthony.

"Become pure once more," Dipuer murmured. "Bid farewell to sins and misfortunes."

His mother Sofia had once said: "Dipuer, no matter what happens, as long as you sincerely repent, the Lord will forgive you and give you a chance to begin again."

A preposterous idea took root in his mind. He was not a devout man. But, could he have Praeris baptized?

Once the thought arrived, it would not leave. It buzzed around him like mosquitoes. It clung like a restless ghost.

He persuaded Sylvia to let their daughter leave home for a while and stay with her friend on Black Rose Lane.

Dipuer knew that friend was also a witch.

He glanced into the rearview mirror. His daughter Praeris was wrapped in a blanket in the back seat, sleeping soundly.

Forgive me, Praeris. You'll have to stay at the orphanage for a few days.

Once the baptism is over, Daddy will come get you right away.

As for Black Rose Lane, Dipuer never once considered going to a witch's house.

On Christmas morning, the church and orphanage were holding the procession of the Holy Infant.

In the car, Dipuer changed Praeris out of her coat and into clothes he had prepared, a small garment embroidered with the name Praeris Prince.

He could not quite say why he did it. Perhaps he was afraid the child would be sent back to the William family before the baptism could happen. Perhaps he felt he was no longer worthy of being her father.

In the middle of the crowd, Dipuer found a sturdy, blond-haired man.

"Mr. Matthew?" Dipuer asked.

Matthew smiled, a little too eagerly, and nodded. "That's me, Mr. Prince."

Dipuer placed his daughter into Matthew's arms and pressed a thick roll of pound notes into his hand.

Matthew's smile became several degrees more genuine.

"Mr. Matthew, please take good care of my daughter." Dipuer's voice was quiet, held tight against something. "Once Christmas is over, I'll come back for her."

"Rest assured." Matthew patted his chest. "The Lord always has a little extra mercy for women and children."

Dipuer nodded and took 2 slow steps away.

Matthew was turning to leave when his patron came back.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Prince?" Matthew asked.

Dipuer was quiet for a moment. Then he slid the expensive watch off his wrist and pressed it into Matthew's hand. "You must take good care of my daughter."

He took 2 more steps. Stopped again. Removed the decorative ring from his finger.

The walk from the corner to the church door took Dipuer 10 minutes. By the time he passed through it, he had given Matthew everything he was wearing except his wedding ring, every ring, every piece of jewelry, handed over as a caretaking fee.

Are all rich people this strange? Matthew didn't understand, but he was perfectly happy for this patron to keep turning back.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Dipuer closed his eyes against the falling snow.

Praeris. Daddy will come back.

He closed his eyes and made the sign of the cross over his chest.

Lord, I have sinned.

Please do not forgive me.

Please show mercy to my daughter. Give her the life of an ordinary child.

➤ Next: Manslaughter — Heartbreak