I touched the girl, her face now a grey hue under a frame of light brown curls, and her body stiffening. Her small limbs had been laid to rest by her sides. I put my hands on her body and no heat arose. It was if my body rejected the idea. After several minutes I turned to Arianne.
‘Keep going,’ she said, her eyes wide and terrifying, and jaw clenched; her conviction still so keen. Unfortunately, it was this determination and my anxiety that kept us unaware of our surroundings and the other pair of eyes watching us from the darkness.
I put my hands on the child again. I felt a touch of heat and believed then that a resurrection was possible, but it would still prove very difficult. Heat grew in intensity but my body shuddered and there were pains in my back as if part of my own life force was being torn from me. I entered the child’s body in spirit and saw the heart floating. It was like travelling through a cold gusty passageway and around every corner fog hindered my path.
I continued on, the blood pounding at my temples and I felt my head would burst. I was no longer on this earth. I was some place where time did not matter between this world and the next. I had never ventured this far but I felt no fear while the task and the effort was consuming me. The girl’s heart beat once and it was the beginning, followed by several more rapid heart beats before the fog started to clear.
All of a sudden I saw what I thought was the dark mist of death, and which I was to dissolve. But instead of attaching to me willingly it rushed at me like a giant sticky mudslide, the force pushing me along and out into light again. I was released from the girl and thrown back onto the floor several metres away.
Arianne picked me up. I felt weaker than ever and my temples throbbed. I turned to retch on the stone floor.
As Arianne rubbed my back the sounds of gurgles reached our ears. We rushed to the side of the coffin to see the child looking wide eyed around her as if seeing the world for the first time. She made a strange clicking sound with her tongue, but we were not rewarded with a smile that she normally would have given, rather a vacant stare. Arianne did not seem to notice. She picked up the girl twirling her gently and smothering her with kisses.
I could not feel the same excitement. Not only was I feeling poorly, for the first time I felt used.
‘You have done well my young friend.’
Arianne would falsely claim that she came down in the morning to pray and found the child sitting up in the coffin. When I entered the chapel I was to appear amazed before kneeling, making a sign of the cross, and repeating out loud my prayer of thanks for this miracle, to show that I was in no way linked. We were aware that Sister Gertrude had been viewing us both more keenly since the commencement of the minor wonders.
But our performance was sadly not to be. A much more threatening stage was being set while I remained in an unmoving slumber for two days. From the shadows, while she ate her stolen food in secret, Sister Nora had been watching me perform this act.
The sisters could not wake me and while I slept, charges for my unforgiveable crime of magic were laid. Sister Nora said that she had noticed me unwell and sleepy every time a child was cured and that this current stage of slumber should provide them with proof of my deeds, to back up her witnessed account.
After long hours of prayer for guidance, a group of sisters, supported by Nora, surmised that it was the work of the devil through me. Though, some did not find me abhorrent, feeling more pity and still much tenderness towards me. They believed that I was possessed and unaware of it. I was not allowed contact with the children while they decided my outcome.
Arianne brought two more abandoned children to the monastery also during this time only to be told to take them away again. Sister Gertrude had decided that our beds were full enough and no new children would be admitted that summer. It was the beginning of changes within the monastery and it would no longer be just about the poor.
Arianne argued for my case. She believed I should stay; that I was performing holy miracles. The day of their small trial I was asked to stay away from the chapel where it was performed. It was agreed that the Papal Notary would not be informed, that they would handle the ‘little incident’ themselves with everyone sworn to secrecy. No child ever witnessed my action so the secret was safe.
While they discussed me and my apparent evil I ran into the forest and sat weeping. If only I hadn’t listened to Arianne, and had shown enough fortitude to follow my own heart. I spoke these words aloud through angry tears and vowed, if the sisters let me stay, never to perform another healing.
I felt a cool breeze ruffle the ends of my hair and realised that someone was watching. A man wearing a long cloak stood a short distance from me, his face and age undeterminable in shadow.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ I answered quickly wishing him away, embarrassed at my discovery and afraid that he had heard my confession. I walked a short way then turned to find him gone.
Quickly returning to the monastery I was told to report straight to Sister Gertrude. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and I wondered at the seriousness of the trial that had been the cause of her distress. She asked me to sit. She could not look at me at first, her hands gripped together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Then her eyes levelled on mine.
‘I cannot condone what you have done. This kind of practice is against the teachings of this church. Though this grieves me greatly, Lilah, for so many of the sisters have grown attached to you. You have indeed been a tower of strength for the foundlings here. I have watched you amuse and care for them selflessly.’
Sister Gertrude sighed. ‘It pains me to think that your gift is such a waste. You are a contradiction of everything I have thought possible. You are so kind and willing yet you carry a curse. I very rarely question our Lord’s motives but this incident confuses me. I have tried to pray for answers but have received nothing. You deserve to be here, yet...’
She took a deep breath and her softer tone changed to one of authority. ‘I have met with my close counsel of sisters and it is agreed that you can no longer stay. I had hopes that you would complete your holy vows and become one of us…’
‘But sister, I carry only good intent.’
Sister Gertrude could not look in my eyes. ‘It is decided. You must leave tomorrow morning. I will let you stay one more night to work on a plan of where you are to live.’
I hung my head; though it wasn’t in shame, rather to pray to God for guidance, and to convince him that my actions had not been used for evil. Was it so bad to cure suffering? Even without Arianne could I have watched a child die without interfering? I may not have dabbled in resurrecting, but I believe it would have been negligent if I did not use my skills for apparent good. I could not tell her this. Gertrude’s ears were now closed to any vindication that curing was somehow righteous.
As I left she told me one more thing. Several years earlier, my father had visited the monastery and confessed the deed of abandoning his infant child. He had asked after my health and then begged that the holy order try and save my soul. She had considered it strange at the time and now understood those words after years of wondering. But even she did not think she could save my soul and had she known my secret she may not have accepted me into the cloister.
Accepted. It was a word that no longer defined me.
I found the courage to ask if she knew where my parents lived. She said she did not know. She blinked quickly and I was curious that she might be holding back information that may have changed my fortune that day; that perhaps she was protecting them also as she was protecting the monastery.
‘What was he wearing?’
Sister Gertrude viewed me quizzically. ‘Why do you ask that?’
‘Is he…’ It seemed a difficult and shallow thing to wonder at the time but she finally understood.
‘He was neither poor nor wealthy. His clothes were well stitched and I did not smell any beer on his breath. I believe his decision came from his heart and that alone.�
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I did not know whether to feel relieved or not. If he had been a beggar I would have perhaps felt more understanding but the specific request to save my soul meant that he knew what I was and that hurt more. What if he had the skill and could show me how to use it, if not for the purposes of curing the sick?
Although I was being abandoned once more, there was at least some comfort in knowing that I was no longer anonymous. I wondered what Jesus thought about my father’s and Sister Gertrude’s decisions, angrily hoping that they would somehow be punished, and then retracting my desire and silently praying for forgiveness for my thoughts.
I left her office feeling distraught. The monastery was the only home I had known. My dreams of becoming a sister, to carry on their work: to improve and perhaps even gain more monetary support from nobles; all those dreams were shattered. I returned to my room and wept.
I did not hear her enter but felt Arianne’s hand on my back. When I turned, her face said everything – she was just as wretched.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘This is all because of me. I was too greedy for life and as punishment you will be thrown on the streets. This cannot happen. I will speak to Gertrude again.’
Her tears seemed to dry my own. I touched her arm. ‘No. I will go without argument. She is perhaps right. My healing may not be an act of goodness. I am perhaps not meant for holy orders.’
‘Don’t you believe that,’ said Arianne angrily. ‘There is not an ounce of evil in you. Ignore what the church and those ignorant inquisitors say about such. You are more a child of God than any of us.’
‘Arianne, I am not sure that you are right.’ I told her what Gertrude had said of my father.
‘Whatever his reasons, he was not spiritually equipped to take care of you.’
She also told me that Gertrude had again told the other sisters that this must be kept secret. Should the Papacy ever get wind of it there would be an inquisition and at such times their lives could be in danger. Such healing practices were considered works of Lucifer and what members of the order had witnessed was to be forgotten; otherwise, the monastery itself might be thought to harbour devil worshipers. I sincerely hoped that this would not be the case for although there were some like Sister Nora who did not seem to carry the will of God, most were kindly and did not deserve penalty.
Arianne offered to leave the monastery in place of me. She had told Gertrude and other members of the small trial committee that she was mostly to blame by encouraging the healings. Her requests proved fruitless and I was glad of it. Arianne was meant to be here. Although I had cured many of the sick, there were many more homeless and starving who she had helped. Sister Gertrude also knew Arianne’s worth, but she would not go unpunished either. She would be expected to show penance in the chapel and take on extra duties. There would be no more missing prayer time. Not that Arianne did that for selfish reasons. It was always her work that took precedence. She would say: ‘Why should I spend so much time in prayer when I could be doing something useful?’
Arianne handed me a leather satchel inscribed with her family name. Not having my own connections, she said that I could use hers should anyone enquire as to my destination. She also said that such a surname in the parts where I was heading would offer me some protection. ‘Many are afraid of my father. Some will not dare to touch you if you are a cousin of such a well-connected family. Those who would rob you will instead beg for scraps and employment.’
Inside the bag was enough food for days: bread, cheese, dried pork strips and figs. Arianne gave me directions to her parents with a final request: ‘My parents will take you in and give you work but I would like you to watch over my younger sisters. I want to make sure they are well.’
It was a strange thing to say since I knew that Arianne’s parents were well-to-do and her sisters, from what I gathered, would not be wanting for anything.
‘Also, should you have to leave in a hurry there is a key hidden in one of the large vases on the terrace that overlooks the rose gardens. Take it! It will unlock my mother’s jewellery box. Inside are pieces of gold, silver, garnets and sapphires that you can sell if you have to.’
‘I cannot steal from your parents.’
‘They will not even notice them gone. Trust me.’
‘But …’
‘It could mean the difference of life and death for you. You will have something to barter.’
I wanted to protest but it was hard. When Arianne set her mind to something she was both irresistible and daunting at the same time. I nodded but I could not foresee any reason ahead needing such a criminal act.
The sisters were told not to visit me before I left; that I must be left in solitary to pray for my past sins and the choices ahead. Though I struggled with the concept of healing as a sin, I felt much remorse for raising a dead child.
Most of the sisters distanced themselves from me, afraid to be tainted by black magic. Only a handful of nuns crept in secretly to wish me well. Some had tears, others told me to be brave. Their tears gave me some strength.
Late in the night I heard what could be described as whispers through the thick stone walls. These silent and very personal prayers of others within the monastery grew louder over several hours causing me to toss and turn, and my attempt to block out the sounds and vibrations with my hands was unsuccessful. Eventually, they ceased and I assumed the occurrence was a result of the illness and the trauma I had suffered. I was wrong. I would soon learn that the sound inside my head was yet another curse of my skill.
I had just turned fifteen and I was no closer to knowing who or what I was.
Chapter 4
Gabriel
The moon loomed large and bright, hanging low above the trees and perfect for hunting. The forests at night were exhilarating and I ran, bounding through new pathways, brushing past low branches; feeling the rush of fallen leaves churn from the ground and sail behind me. The intensity of wild rosemary made me light-headed, and midnight felt like a fine silk sheet around me.
Sometimes I would stop to scratch messages in the bark for my strigoi friends: Giorgio, Nokëg and others. We were all clever at this childish game of hide and find, though none as good as I. The elders were the best having spent many years at such frivolous pastimes; several of whom looked younger than me, so long had they slept to rejuvenate. I was just a few years past two hundred; my own youthful appearance restored from many years buried beneath the earth.
During our hiding games, I would carve patterns, maps and letters into the bark – ancient messages read only by our kind in witch speak – and these were left to help the others locate me. Our senses would be drawn to the fragrance of freshly etched wood.
Often our games took us across borders and sometimes we lost a few participants along the way – those not specially gifted, or inexperienced reborn distracted by the smell of prey – but always there was a winner and most often it was me. Sometimes such merriment went for days and the object was to catch me before I returned to our castle.
But that night, there were no games. It was time to feed.
The lights of a small town glimmered ahead. I travelled far for hunting. It seemed less civilised to hunt close to home; to deplete supplies from one area. I was trained from elders who knew best about endurance and had always been discreet. I often carried with me a heavy purse and silver cane, and my finely woven shirt and leather trousers had been tailored by the best enabling me to comfortably consort in fashionable towns. It was easy to lure those human predators with an eye for someone else’s coin.
I did not always reveal the destinations where I travelled well beyond the listening skills of my master, Lewis. It was just one of our many disagreements, since I felt that we were entitled to some liberties. Lewis was too rigid with rules; though as coven master, it was his right to make or change them. A stoic leader, nonetheless, but one I regarded out of duty sometimes more than respect.
It had been a month since my last hunting and nearing th
e town I could smell that familiar distasteful reek of human waste and fear. Although I was fond of some humans, I admit that many were quite disgusting in their behaviour, and if not for my appetite for blood I would avoid those sections where debauchery was the main source of entertainment; where they drank, pissed on themselves, and abused the weaker of their kind.
Once at the town I stood outside a small, well-built house. A celebration of some kind was taking place within. A young boy and girl danced to the sounds of a lute while adults clapped them on. I took a moment to sit and listen, enjoying the sound of their feet tapping on the floor. There was more applause at the end and cakes on silver trays were offered by servants wearing aprons edged with lace.
These honest people would not do; of course. My prize was elsewhere. At the other end of the town, where it was darker, where the river smelled of rotted meat, was the place where I would find what I was seeking.
I lurked near the door of a csarda where the air was fetid with the smell of beer spilling out into the streets. The establishment was full of harlots and men who boasted of very little and spread rumours about nothing, while a few weary travellers kept a safe distance in their corner booths away from the revelry. The rowdy group drowned out the pleasant sound of nightingales.
It was not uncommon to find a person of interest leaving these taverns for a more dubious destination. And tonight I easily found my mark.
The man had recently come to town; a tinker with trinkets and chains, and anything else he could get his greedy hands on to sell. Though, others would not have known that his goods were stolen. He had killed for some of these items; worthless pieces of silver, some ripped from the teeth of his victims.
I waited patiently for him to roll out drunk. He had a strumpet with him – a girl barely older than fourteen. Her thoughts were open to me and I learned that she had been earning her living for two summers already, possibly a trade handed down from her mother. The rogue leaned on her heavily.
Lilah Page 3
