Isabella's Heiress
Page 42
“Whe…where did they go?”
“I expelled them from the realm.”
“You did that?”
“They should have stopped when they were told.”
Emma felt weak as the adrenaline that had kept her going drained away. “What happens now?”
“You ascend, Emma. You passed.”
Emma felt tears roll down her cheek, “Dad?”
“He has ascended, you need not worry, you will see him soon.”
“So how do I, I mean…”
A shaft of light broke through the gloom and illuminated a patch of ice ten feet in front of her.
Sister Ignacia hugged Emma as tears rolled down her eyes, “Just step into the light.”
Emma looked at Father Eamon, not knowing what to say but settled on the only thing she could think of.
“Thank you.”
It seemed so inadequate as it didn’t begin to cover how she felt about all the things he had done for her.
He smiled and walked over, wrapping his arms around her, “’Tis nothing. It was all your own work; I merely guided you.”
He led her to the illuminated patch of ice before stepping to one side and slowly, Emma felt her heart beat melt away as her senses seemed to give way to a heightened sensation of…everything. As the warmth of the light cloaked her, she felt herself being raised up and lifted away from the ice around her until she felt like she was on the verge of a beautiful sleep
Her final sensation was that of her body being discarded and of her essence being freed, as if after an age she had been unbound. It was ecstasy and fear, knowledge and ignorance, love and an overwhelming sense of acceptance all at once and all flowing into her as wine would flow into a waiting vessel.
It was the most wonderful awareness and, for Emma, it meant that this chapter of her life was over.
Epilogue
Father Eamon walked through the rain. He turned the corner into a piazza illuminated by pools of light escaping from shop windows. He walked past coffee shops and small boutiques; all housed behind gleaming panes of glass and crossed the square as he headed for his destination.
The rain fell hard, creating tiny starbursts as the drops hit the ground. Had anybody been around and paid close attention, they would have noticed the rain slow ever so slightly around a small area where he would pass but there was no one, everybody having gone home, evacuating the city for the home counties.
The rain eased off and a gentle silence took hold, broken only by the whip-crack of canopies in the wind. On the other side of the square was a narrow alley, rubbish strewn across one side of the pavement, evidence of where the storm had emptied a bag of garbage placed outside a shop ready for collection. As he got closer, Father Eamon could hear a voice coming from somewhere beyond the alleys entrance. A wry smile crossed his mouth, not reaching his eyes.
A man was standing screaming in to the air. “What the fuck is going on! Where the fuck am I?” He was looking down at a body that was oozing blood in to the gutter. The red and green jacket it had on was a dead ringer for the one he was wearing. As he stepped in to a streak of neon, given off by one of the few working street lights, the pock marks on his face seemed deeper as they were cast into shadow.
Father Eamon kept out of sight, observing from a distance. He had asked for this particular job personally when he had heard a guide was required, much to the surprised looks of those around him. When he had seen enough, he walked towards the man, watching as he screamed and swore, all the time waiting for him to look up and notice him.
When the man finally did look up, Father Eamon was almost on top of him. Following his initial shock, the man regained his composure
“What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck are you!”
Father Eamon smiled at him, remembering the last time he had seen him in a dark, wet alleyway.
“Why don’t we take a walk?”
Copyright
Published by Clink Street Publishing 2015
Copyright © N.P. Griffiths 2015
First edition.
The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act
1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that with which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover images supplied by Shutterstock www.shutterstock.com
Cover designed by Creative Beast www.creativebeast.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-909477-75-9
Ebook: 978-1-909477-76-6