Confirmation
She placed the cardboard box that she had taken out of storage on the table and next to the leather bound diary with the unusual lock. The photos inside the diary and the passages that she had read so far had been on her mind for days.
Kathleen first thought this was a cruel joke, but it did not make any sense why Mr. Guevera would have gone through all this effort to fabricate this diary. It was not about her life, but of Kathleen Valentine, Her Majesty's Royal Inquisitor; wife of Logan Guevera; and daughter of John Valentine.
There was one photo of a younger Kathleen with her father and her father alone, those two photos confused and upset her the most. She never knew her biological father, except in her imagination. As a young girl she had daydream what it might have been like to have been loved by her real father and what her life would have been if he had never gone missing.
She took her door key and ripped open the tape on the box with it, not bothering to be gentle. Inside the box were some books, an old family photo album and that macabre looking porcelain doll she found a few months back. It was the photo album that she was after.
After placing the doll of the Leviathan's Bride on the table next to the box and the diary, she found the album. In her hands now she opened it and began going through the stiff pages of photos. Searching through the family photos until she found what she was looking for and then there it was in a photo of her father.
The military doctor quickly removed the box from the table and placed it on the floor and out of the way. With the photo album remaining open on the table, she took a seat in a chair, and then grabbed the diary. She did what Logan from the alternative universe had shown her. She placed her thumb on the oval which read her finger print and opened the lock on the diary.
Once the diary was opened, she removed one of the two photos of the other Kathleen's father, and then set it next to the one of her father in the album. The two figures were identical with the exception of style of clothing, but this was not what she focused on. It was the background and the symbols, they were a match.
Kathleen shook her head in a feeble attempt to deny it, but there was no denying the account of the father and the photo from the diary against the photo in her own family album. She had her confirmation.
Her eyes glanced away from the photos and drifted over to the dark eyes on the pale porcelain doll that looked back at her. "It's true then ... my father was a warlock."