Isabella's Heiress by N.P. Griffiths Page B

the beams to warp and splinter. Everything was in a neglected state but for all of this the thing that made Emma shiver the most was the silence. There was nothing, no wind or background noise from the river. It was an artificial, unnatural silence brought on by a complete lack of life. By the houses lay wicker baskets and large wooden water carriers, three quarters the size of Emma, thrown to the ground. To her left a small bucket, half full of cloudy and stinking water sat unattended beneath a lead pipe protruding from a wall, all the signs showed that people had been here but now there was nothing. It was as if everybody had suddenly just dropped what they were doing and disappeared.
    â€œWhere is everybody?”
    â€œIt’s getting dark. They don’t stay out after dark.” Taryn’s voice was quiet, her words down to a whisper.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt’s not safe.”
    â€œWhy? Who are these people?”
    â€œThey’re fallen initiates.” Father Eamon sounded distracted
    â€œInitiates? Like us?”
    â€œNot like you. They faded into the twilight long ago. They are but shadows now, drawn to those who still have a chance of redemption.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause you have hope and they are drawn to that. Their existence is one of permanent hunger. They can see people around them but cannot talk to anybody unless they are in the presence of initiates. They cannot eat; they cannot love. All they have are the memories of their previous life and the knowledge that this life is all that they haveto look forward to. It’s a slow torture that starves them of their soul until all that is left is a husk. They live in a permanent spiritual penury.”
    They walked further up the road until they came to a junction and Father Eamon guided them down a side street. Emma was starting to lose her bearings. Apart from London Bridge, nothing she had seen leant itself to her old world. What roads there were led off in unfamiliar directions. She looked at the terraced houses that lined either side; their walls were the soft colour of earth and clashed with the broken red pottery and rotting straw thatch of their roofs. A harsh wind started to play between the gaps in the houses, stinging Emma’s face and causing the hairs on her neck to bristle.
    â€œEhmma…How do you like our whorld, Ehmma?”
The voice rung in her ear and at first Emma wasn’t sure she had heard anything at all
“Ehnjoy it while you can, Ehmma. Your time is limited.”
    â€œIgnore it. All they can do is talk, nothing more. They cannot touch you or interfere with you in any way.” Father Eamon was by her side but his words were lost in her fear.
    â€œYou cannot protect her forever Eamon. You have failed before, you will fail again.”
    Emma looked over at Father Eamon but he was unruffled, acting as if nothing was happening, Taryn, for her part, looked terrified and had moved closer to the two of them, all the time looking straight ahead. As Emma watched, she could see why. Through the half-light, she could just make out movement in the alleyways that ran off in between the buildings that they passed. Dark hooded forms hung just out of sight but just close enough that they could follow the group’s progress. Emma watched as one came forwards from the shadows. It was only a fleeting glimpse because as she noticed it so did Father Eamon.He turned to look and whatever it was melted back into the shadows with a hiss which tickled Emma’s ears.
    They moved further in to the warren of roads and alleyways and it seemed to Emma that they were getting more and more lost, with no hope of finding their way out. The straight roads with regular intersections were long gone and they were now in a darkening maze of alleys and courtyards. It seemed like they were the only people in the world and Emma found herself fighting off pangs of loneliness.
    â€œWhere are we?”
    Father Eamon