Isabella's Heiress (27 page)

“No! Read the letter Sam, please! Just open it and take a look!” Emma felt like crying. All the effort she had put in now looked like it had only made matters worse. In desperation, she stood in front of Samantha as she headed towards the kitchen and was rewarded with a searing pain as her sister walked through her.

“Mum, I'm going to have to go; I've got to sort out the paper work for the client on Monday. I'll phone tomorrow, I promise.”

Her mother got up and Emma watched as she tried to disguise her disappointment at her daughter's sudden departure. “Okay, dear, I understand, you take care.”

They hugged and headed towards the front door. Emma wept in despair as Samantha headed out into the cold light of the afternoon sun. She watched as her mother closed the door before collapsing in tears on the bottom stair.

It was all too much for Emma, who opened a portal in the front door and rushed outside. Outside, she let out a cry of frustration.

“What happened?” Father Eamon had been waiting for her across the street and was now walking over.

Emma fought hard to control her breathing as she saw the brake lights of Samantha's car indicate her imminent turn out of Gilkes Crescent. She stopped at the end of the driveway and screamed in frustration, “Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuuuccck!”

Father Eamon came over and placed his hands on her arms and for a second Emma felt like she could feel the
same warmth that she had felt the first time they had met. She couldn't be sure of it but either way it had had the desired effect and she felt her deep frustration slowly subside.

“Tell me what happened.” Father Eamon walked Emma over to the wall of the house opposite her parent's where they sat down.

“I got Samantha to take the letter from the drawer but she wouldn't read it!” Emma felt her frustration start to rise again. “I tried to get her to open it but all she did was put it in her bag!” Some way down the road, a light bulb detonated with a loud pop, startling the birds in the nearby trees.

Father Eamon looked over and, not wanting a repeat of their night out in Bishopsgate, motioned for Emma to stand up, “Come, we should head back, ‘tis getting late.”

They headed to the station in silence with Emma trying to calm herself down. She knew that this would not be easy but Samantha's complete lack of any will to open the letter had cut deep with Emma.
Why didn't you open it? it was from your dead sister for Christ's sake!

“All this means is that we will have to work a little harder to bring Samantha around. ‘Tis not unexpected, she would have had many emotions running through her on finding that letter would she not?”

Emma looked over to see Father Eamon studying her. She had become so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't realised they were now standing on the platform and the oncoming train was drawing to a halt. She murmured a response which she hoped he would take for an affirmation of his comments and got on.

The journey back had passed off without incident and they headed through the City with Father Eamon content to let Emma lose herself in her thoughts. At the sanctuary gates, he pulled her to one side.

“While we have been out, preparations have been made for tomorrow. We will speak of it in the morning but when you go in, you will see people you have not seen before. Do not be alarmed, some will be carrying weapons but they are for your protection.”

Emma felt a twinge of apprehension run through her. They entered the garden and walked up to the tower door. It looked different somehow,
smaller
, thought Emma as she passed through. Emma became aware of a sudden hush descending on the hall. Dust particles tickled her nose as she hung back, waiting for Father Eamon to close the door.

“Come, Emma. This is no way to treat our guests.”

In front of them were arrayed a motley gang of men and women sitting or standing in groups of two or three. Staffs and swords mixed with bows and arrows as looks were exchanged between people seeing Emma for the first time. Just a moment earlier, they had been making small talk but now all their attention was on Emma. If she could have shrunk away from their gaze she would have done. It wasn't that it was particularly intimidating, it was that Emma just didn't know what to say to all these people who had come to her aid.

“Father Eamon, everybody is now here.” Sister Ignacia stepped out from behind a large man leaning on a staff. “We are ready.”

Emma looked around searching for the proper reaction inside of her.

Seeing Emma's discomfort, Sister Ignacia filled the void, “They are guides from other sanctuaries. Word
went out that there was trouble afoot and all that could be spared have been sent.”

Emma felt a gentle tug on her arm and turned to find Taryn standing next to her.

“C'mon Em. We should get upstairs, there's a big day ahead tomorrow.”

Father Eamon nodded his head in agreement to what had obviously been arranged in advance of her arrival, Emma thought. She followed Taryn upstairs and paused only to look out over the streets sprawling out towards the Thames, lit only by the half moon. For once it seemed peaceful and Emma took a strange comfort from it.

It wasn't going to last.

The few hours' sleep that Emma managed to get was troubled. Her dreams had been broken up by the shadows of an encroaching darkness, which swallowed everything until she found herself in a vacuum unable to see beyond the end of her arm. Twice that night she had woken up gasping for breath in a tangled and damp bed.

Now, as she dressed, she thought about what had happened the previous day before turning to what she was about to face. Why couldn't she just stay here until they sort this out? It wasn't as if it was her fault that this thing was after her?

Emma felt like she had been fought to a stalemate, first by Samantha's actions and now by this assassin. All she wanted to do was hide under her bed and never come out.

At the stairs that led to the main hall, other initiates stepped back and watched as Emma passed by. Word had got out and even those that had taken no notice of Emma before now stepped to one side as she passed.

In the main hall Father Eamon and Sister Ignacia were waiting for her. Around them were a motley crew of guides who Emma had seen in the sanctuary chaperoning other initiates. They looked first to her and then to
Father Eamon who stepped into the centre of the floor and turned to face the expectant throng.

“We now know that the Soul Gorger will arrive today if it hasn't already done so. It cannot be allowed to complete its contract, too much depends on it.

“We cannot rely on any outside help but we know that it has one weakness, it is only invulnerable whilst it is invisible, once it shows itself it can be brought down.”

“That's all well and good but how do we destroy it? No one even knows what it looks like let alone how to fight it.”

The question came from the back of the group. Emma looked towards the voice to see the woman who had helped her the previous week. She was leaning on a wooden staff, which was almost as tall as she was.

“I will not lie to you; we will have to rely on an overwhelming presence. When this creature shows itself, we will have to work from there.”

A murmur of discontent rippled through the group.

“I know it is not the way we would have it but ‘tis out of our control. Sister Ignacia, have you spoken to those that will walk the roofs?”

A nod from Sister Ignacia confirmed that she had.

“Good. The rest will walk in the side streets and search the courtyards. It would appear that the plane has been kind to us and has given us a good day and, Father Henry; you'll be pleased to hear that it is your old stomping ground. I will be relying on you for local knowledge.”

A gruff looking man gave the faintest of nods. Below a long and dirty black overcoat, Emma could make out a scabbard slung high enough that it caused his coattails to lift up slightly.

“Now tend to your initiates. They will need to be told that today is not a day for leaving the safety of this place.
The assassin is here for Emma but we cannot be too careful.”

At these words the group broke up and headed towards the seats where the rest of the initiates had gathered.

Father Eamon walked over to Emma and smiled. “I told you we would not let you face this alone and…ah…I see you have company.”

Emma turned to see Taryn standing behind her, her jacket zipped up halfway and a lump of wood in her left hand.

“There's no need for you to get involved in this.”

Taryn drew Emma into a hug. “Too late, babe. They pick a fight with you; they pick a fight with me.”

Emma gulped down tears as she embraced Taryn. “Thank you, thank you.”

An uneasy calm had spread across the main hall as guides spoke to their initiates whilst others that had no one to look after spoke amongst themselves.

“How are you feeling, Emma?”

If Sister Ignacia had any nerves about what was about to take place, she didn't show them. She didn't carry any weapons and the only thing that indicated that something was wrong was the coolness in her eyes that had replaced the warmth that was normally there.

Emma could feel the nerves churning around in her stomach, “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Do not worry; your safety will not be risked. We will have the realm filled with our people.”

“Thanks, I know. I just wish it was over.”

“It soon will be. Trust in Father Eamon, Emma. He knows what he is doing.”

Emma wanted to trust in him and did but this was something that she felt might be beyond even him. She
spent the next hour sitting with Taryn as around them the pace of preparation became quicker. Eventually Father Eamon walked over to her and took her to one side.

“Emma, we will be leaving in ten minutes. When we get outside stay close to me and do exactly as I say.”

Emma wanted to say that this was exactly what she intended to do but this wasn't a time for quips so she just nodded in mute acknowledgement.

“Taryn, come with me for a second.”

Emma looked over at Taryn who seemed as surprised as she was. She watched as they had a brief conversation by a wooden post before Taryn headed back.

“What did he want?”

Taryn seemed embarrassed as she shook her head, “Nothing.”

Emma left it as more pressing thoughts entered her head. Sister Ignacia had gathered the other guides together and was heading over to the main door. She pulled the hood of a cloak she had put on over her head, looked over at Emma, threw her a warm smile and mouthed
you'll be fine.

Emma responded with a weak smile before watching as they disappeared out the door.

“Everybody in this hall who is neither Emma nor Taryn should leave now.” Father Eamon's voice echoed off the high walls and the initiates immediately got up and left, leaving just the three of them in an empty hall.

Emma avoided their looks as they headed towards the stairs. She couldn't deal with them. Not now, not today with all that it brought. She waited for them to leave before raising her head and making eye contact with Father Eamon

“We should leave now, Emma. There is nothing to be gained by waiting any longer. I know that I ask a lot but I want you to set aside what happened yesterday. That
is something which we can overcome after we have dealt with this.” His voice was soft and his words seemed to hang in the air. Taryn got up and joined the two of them before heading to the door.

The oak had shed its leaves in the sanctuary garden and they were now blowing around in tight circles as the wind played with them. Taryn closed the gate behind them and they headed out past the half-timbered walls of the
Boars Head
tavern.

Emma felt a slight relief to see the wattle and daub of the surrounding buildings with their uneven floors jetting out into the street and their long rectangular chimneys, lazily spilling grey smoke into the twilight. She had seen more of this plane than any other and there was a familiarity to it that made Emma feel, if not at home, then at ease.

But today was different, every shadow given off by a barrel in an alleyway or water butt under an eave had sinister connotations and every movement or sound made Emma shiver. Once in a while, she would see somebody on a roof or in a doorway but these were the guides trying to flush out the assassin. They had to be the guides, thought Emma, because apart from them, there was nobody else around. The streets and alleyways were completely empty. The only noise Emma could hear was the creak of the rigging and snap of the sails on the ships that were lying up in Custom House.

They tucked in tight behind Father Eamon as he waited for the all clear before crossing Tower Street. From somewhere a sign was given and he stepped out into the road. Emma and Taryn followed and they increased their pace as they ran towards Water Lane.

“Over there, on the roof!”

The call cut through the hush that had settled on the plane. At the same time, two screams could be heard
coming from the direction of Thames Street. Emma felt Father Eamon's arm reach round her waist and pull her into a doorway.

“Quick, into this building.”

They ducked under a low archway and into a small hall as Father Eamon secured the door behind him. They were in an alehouse with tables scattered across the floor. A roughly hewn bar ran along the far wall and to its right stood a door which opened on to a larger hall.

Father Eamon led them into the hall, kicking a bench out of the way as he did so. The hall was for communal dining with rows of wooden benches and tables running along its length and a large open fireplace set into the right wall, the surrounding timbers having been blackened over time. The hall hadn't been used in an age and the wood was now splintered and rotting as Emma found out when one of the splinters found its way into her leg when she clipped the side of a lopsided oak bench.

“Shit!” She stopped and dropped onto one knee. She pulled the wooden shard out before carrying on towards a door in the far wall that led into a kitchen.

Father Eamon ushered Emma and Taryn through the door, “'Tis a bakers hall. It will allow us to pass to Harpe Lane unseen.”

The kitchen was a wide space with a log fire and spit at the far side. In the centre of the room, rotten meat and broken herb pots gave off a rich, sickly smell.

They raced across the kitchen, Taryn knocking a pile of pots over as she went, to a door in the far wall and found themselves in an enclosed courtyard. Father Eamon flung Emma against a wall and looked to the skies. in the surrounding streets the noise of people running and shouting echoed off walls and roofs so that it was impossible to work out what was coming from where.

“It has shown itself now. We must take great care.” Father Eamon's outward demeanour was calm but his pupils were cold pinpricks of coal.

They edged around the courtyard, using the overhanging floors as cover, until they had reached the other side. That wall was all that separated them from the street outside and now the noise of fighting could be heard nearby. Screams and yells mixed with the clash of metal and Emma knew that whatever this thing was, it was real and it was here. Father Eamon opened the gate and looked outside. When he came back in, Emma could see in his face that something had changed.

“We must head for St Dunstan's. ‘Tis solid and we can make a stand there.”

Emma didn't like the sound of that. Didn't a stand normally come with the word
last
before it? She watched as Father Eamon's eyes flitted around the walls and roofs looking for something that wasn't there. To her left she could hear the sharp breathes of a shattered Taryn.

Father Eamon put one hand on the door handle and the other on Emma's arm. In one movement he opened the door and pulled her through it. Emma let out a squeal as her arm almost left its socket.

Father Eamon shot her a look. “Not a word.”

Emma looked to her left to see what was happening but all she could see were people running to and fro. The screams were joined by something else now; it was a high pitched screech that tore through the air. It drowned out everything else and Emma could feel the walls around her tremble.

“What was that?” Taryn's eyes were wide open as she looked down towards the fight.

Father Eamon ignored her question, “We should head to Tower Street. We can reach St Dunstan's from there.”

They ran up to the end of Harpe Street without looking back. As they turned into Tower Street the ground shook and the shriek they had heard moments earlier filled the air again. Emma froze. She went to move but her legs were paralysed. She willed them on but try as she might, she was stuck fast.

Father Eamon and Taryn were at St Dunstan's Hill by now and Emma knew that they would be inside in seconds. She tried again to get her legs to obey her but they were rooted to the spot. Taryn turned around and their eyes met. They couldn't have been more than ten feet apart but to Emma it felt like a chasm had opened up.

“Em, c'mon!”

Emma desperately brought a finger up to her mouth but as she did so the sounds of fighting stopped and everything went quiet. She looked around wondering if the guides had beaten whatever it was they were fighting. The clatter of feet coming up Harte Street answered that question; whilst at the same time thick black smoke billowed into Tower Street from an alley further down. Emma watched the smoke as it slowly filled the air. It hung in the street for a few seconds before starting to spin in a tight circle. Slowly, four, long, sinuous black strands stretched down to the ground, where they flattened out as they touched the mud.

Slowly the smoke started to take on a recognisable form. Emma could see arms and legs taking shape and the swirling mass in the middle started to thin out until a head and body appeared. As the final strands disappeared, a cloaked creature, the size of a house and bent over on long, spindly legs was revealed. In its hands were an axe and a scythe. A hood covered its head and mist formed in front of it as it breathed in and out in slow, laboured breaths. It lurched forward and its body swung slowly left
and right as it searched the streets in front of it.

“Do not let it leave this street!”

The creature swung round as Sister Ignacia emerged from Saint Dunstan's Hill with Father Eamon at her side. He saw Emma, rooted to the spot and turned to Taryn.

“Taryn, remember what I said!”

Taryn nodded and bolted towards Emma. She grabbed her arm and tugged at her in a vain attempt to get her to move. “C'mon, Emma. We have to move.”

With all the force she could muster, Emma managed to galvanise her legs into action and they headed for the junction that Sister Ignacia and Father Eamon had just come out of. Emma could see the creature being encircled by the guides but she had no idea how they were going to deal with it. It must have been twice as tall as the angel she had seen the previous day and dwarfed everybody that was now trying to fight it. A woman that Emma recognised from the sanctuary squatted back on her haunches before leaping forward and slashing at the legs of the creature, a cut opened up and a thick grey liquid erupted from the wound. The creature let out a yell and its left arm brought the scythe down in a sharp, sweeping movement. The woman wasn't quick enough in getting out the way and the tip of the blade ripped through her midriff. She screamed and fell to the floor as her body became a brilliant light. The light briefly took the woman's form before it was sucked into the air and towards the cloaked head of the assassin, its long, anguished scream cut short as it disappeared into the hood.