Isabella's Heiress by N.P. Griffiths

staying here and headed towards the bedroom door. When she got there she turned around and took a final look.
    â€œBye, dad.”
    She left the room and headed downstairs to be met by Father Eamon and Taryn, who was still struggling to get herself together.
    â€œAre you ready?” It was Father Eamon, his eyes searching hers.
    â€œOne second.” Emma headed into the kitchen to see her mother and sister in the same position they had been in when she had left, oblivious to her presence.
    â€œBye mum, bye Sam.”
    â€œThere really is nothing more you can do here.” Father Eamon was now by her side, his voice quiet and sympathetic.
    All Emma could do was nod, any energy for speech now gone. He turned to the door and the shimmering returned. Emma took one final look at the house as sharp pangs of guilt picked away at her for not having the strength to stay longer.
    The journey to the station passed without Emma realising it, with her only aware of the occasional supporting arm from Father Eamon or Taryn, offered when it looked like she was about to keel over. They arrived and headed down to the London bound platform, where Emma sat down and waited for the train to arrive to take her away from her old life and back to her new one.

Chapter Seven
Voices In The Mist
    The smell of freshly ground coffee and stale pastries hung in the air at London Bridge station. The three of them had passed unseen along the concourse and were now in the mid-afternoon sun. In front of them taxis purged their human cargo only to take on more before completing their trip around the tarmac crescent and leaving.
    They left the station and headed back towards London Bridge. At the southern approach Father Eamon turned to them.
    â€œWe have to return to our plane.”
    Our plane
, the words struck Emma as absurd. Her natural world was here. If nothing else she’d managed to reduce her pirouette to an elaborate side step and she was pretty sure she could reduce it even further, maybe to a nonchalant flick of her hips, with a little practice.
    â€œI want to stay here.”
    â€œYou cannot stay, Emma, staying here takes energy. Energy that you do not yet possess. Staying here is but temporary respite.”
    Emma shuddered and looked back at the station before giving Father Eamon a weary look. “Ok, let’s get this over with.” She took his wrist whilst Taryn went to take the other.
    â€œCome now Taryn, Sister Ignacia tells me that you are becoming quite the expert in crossing over. Surely you do not need me to help you.”
    Taryn looked a little nervous, “okay, I’ll give it a try.”
    Emma closed her eyes and felt a rushing sensation as her world was turned upside down. Even with her eyes closed, she sensed the darkening sky as the air changed around her and the smell of exhaust fumes was replaced with an overwhelming stink that caused her to gag as her nose and throat were overwhelmed. London Bridge had once again been replaced, only this time there was no mist and she could see all the way across. The long cobbled roadway was bordered by high walls and at regular intervals gas lamps burnt brightly atop ornate iron columns. At the start of the bridge, there were two stairways, one either side. They were long and wide and disappeared downwards towards the water.
    Emma couldn’t take her eyes off of the opposite bank of the river. The bridge led in to a city that had undergone a transformation in her absence. The flames and rubble she had left behind had been replaced by high spires and low roofs topped with terracotta pantiles. Clouds drifted lazily overhead and Emma had to wait for her vision to adjust to the gloom before she could make out the full extent of the change. As her eyes adapted a huge gothic behemoth of a building with a spire soaring up to the sky came in to view. It was by far the biggest building there, its presence looming over everything around it.
    They headed across the