Isabella's Heiress (21 page)

“Sure, I'll see you tonight.”

Emma watched as the train pulled away and moved onto her stop. She couldn't shake off the feeling that Elizabeth had wanted to tell her more but was either too scared or just unwilling to confide too much in her. She walked the familiar route to her old home without thinking and found herself standing at the front door before she could put the events of the last few hours behind her.

Emma was met with the usual silence of an empty
house but as she headed towards the stairs, she heard a shuffling noise from the kitchen and stopped. Her father came into view as he headed toward the work surface in his pyjamas and dressing gown. He flicked the switch at the back of the kettle and waited for it to boil. As it bubbled away, he pulled a tea bag from a silver container that sat against the wall. He dropped it in a mug and the water hissed and seethed as it flowed from the kettle. Emma looked on and wondered what had caused him to change from using the teapot that had always sat in the cupboard below the work surface.

Steam rose from the now-full mug as Emma's father disappeared and she heard the sucking noise of the fridge door as it opened and closed. He reappeared with a half-empty plastic container of milk. His steps were slow and unsteady and Emma ached as she watched his painful progress across the kitchen floor. With each step he let out a small groan until he finally made it over to the work surface and poured a small amount of milk into the mug.

He picked up the mug and walked back out of Emma's view. In spite of herself she headed into the kitchen and watched as he sat down at the table and placed the mug on a mat by an open copy of the Daily Telegraph. Emma smiled as she remembered all the times she had come downstairs to see it open on the table and then complain that there was nowhere to eat. He riffled listlessly through the pages before settling on an article and starting to read. After a while he grunted and turned the page. Emma stepped a little closer and for the first time saw the greyness in his skin. His eyes were sunken and he hadn't shaved in days. Emma wanted to hug her ailing father but knew it was impossible. Instead she had to settle for looking at the paper and try to find comfort in the familiarity it brought.

Her father let out a rasping cough. He pulled a tissue
from the inside cuff of his nightgown but all it did was muffle the pain he felt as he clutched his chest.

“Oh, dad.” Emma wanted to weep as she saw her fathers pain and stepped closer but something happened that made her stop in her tracks. Her father looked up and stared in her direction.

“Death, is that you? Not yet. You can take me to my girls soon enough, but not yet.”

Emma wailed and ran from the house. She didn't stop until she was two roads away and she thought her heart would explode. Her legs gave way and she crashed to the ground in floods of tears. Emma shuddered as the sobs wracked her chest and gave in to the pain.

It seemed like hours before she could get up, her legs weak from the tears. In that time, people walked passed her, oblivious to the scene being acted out in their midst. Occasionally, Emma flinched and drew her legs in to stop people walking through her until in the end she had to move as the rush hour started and it became impossible to avoid everybody who came her way.

She slowly made her way to the station, weaving her way through oncoming commuters until she found herself on the platform waiting for the up train. When it came, she got on and fell into a seat. Emma was oblivious to the few people around her and jumped when someone sat in front of her. It was Taryn and she was looking concerned at the state of her friend.

“Em, what's happened?”

Emma just pulled her legs up onto the seat and pushed herself into the corner, not saying anything. Taryn sat next to her and leant over, running her hand through the loose locks of her hair that hung across her brow.

“C'mon, babe, you can talk to me.”

Emma felt the tears returning and shook her head.
Taryn retreated to the other end of the seat and settled for looking on as Emma drew her knees in as close as she could.

As Emma sat, alone in her thoughts, she thought she caught the slightest glimpse of a man and woman looking on from the other side of the carriage. She spun around only to see nothing but empty seats.

The train arrived at London Bridge station and Emma found herself being guided off the train and through the concourse. Taryn managed to pull her through the station and onto the bridge.

“Em, we've got to head back.”

Emma mumbled a response and tried to get herself together but the thought of her father seeing her had shaken her to her core and she had no energy in her to recover. She could hear Taryn's words but they weren't registering and even if they had, Emma wasn't in any condition to listen.

“Emma! We've got to get back or we'll be out after dark again!”

Emma looked over and hardly registered her old friend as Taryn groaned in exasperation. Her limbs felt drained and her breath was coming in rough gasps. Taryn looked over to the end of the bridge, her eyes betraying her desperation. Around them the shadows lengthened as the sun set low in the west. There was half an hour of light, maybe an hour if they were lucky but it wasn't enough to get back to the sanctuary before the darkness came. Not at this speed.

Emma felt winded. Try as she might her body refused to respond and every other thought returned to the look her father had given her.
Did he see me?
She couldn't be sure.
Surely he'd recognise me, wouldn't he?
The thoughts raced though Emma's head. Everything else was forced out as
she tried to make sense of what had happened to her.
What if he didn't see me but only sensed me? What if he knew someone was near but didn't know who or what? That was worse wasn't it?

The thought that she might have upset her father in some way by going back to the house caused her to fall back to the ground as her legs gave way again. A set of arms caught her but they weren't the slender, willowy arms of Taryn slowing her fall. These were strong and lifted her instead. She looked around to see herself facing the couple she had glimpsed on the journey into London Bridge.

“I saw you on the train.”

“Yes, you did, and we should leave before it gets any later than it already is.” The man looked her directly in the eye and, using the arm that was still under her armpit, directed her towards the north end of the bridge.

“Who are you?” Taryn was adjusting her pace to keep up with the couple who were half-walking half-dragging Emma along the bridge.

The woman turned to look at Taryn, her eyes boring into her “We are guides. We've been watching you since you left this morning. Can you cross over under your own energy or do you need my help?”

Taryn looked stunned and for a second didn't know what to say.

“It's not a difficult question, girl. Can you cross over? We do not have much time.”

“Erm yes, yes, I can.”

“Well then we should do it now.” The man whispered something to the woman who hung back for Taryn. Emma watched as she said something but she couldn't hear what was said. Instead she was overcome by the familiar feelings of dropping and rushing forward at the same time as she crossed over to a familiar marble structure with gas lamps
and recesses. A second later she was joined by Taryn and the woman as they re-entered the realm.

Emma felt a hand touch her right cheek and guide her head round until she was facing the man who was still supporting her. She looked into a set of grey green eyes that posed questions of her without their owner saying a word.

“You need to pull yourself together. There's no time to wallow in your own grief. Can you do that?”

Emma didn't respond and felt a sharp sting on her right cheek closely followed by the shouted protests of Taryn behind her. She started to focus on the man in front of her and again felt the stinging pain, only this time in her left cheek.

“You need to pull yourself together, now.” This time it wasn't a question. The man was clasping her shoulders and Emma knew she had to respond otherwise they were likely to be shaken until her arms dropped off.

“I'm sorry. I'm okay, I really am.”

“That remains to be seen. Tell me where we are.”

“We're on London Bridge.”

“Good. We're on London Bridge. We need to move now before we get caught outside.” The man looked towards Taryn and the other woman. “Are we ready over there? Good.”

Emma watched the man's eyes flit over her right shoulder and then back to her.

“If you can't keep up, let me know and I'll carry you.”

Before Emma had a chance to respond, he had turned and was heading to the north end of the bridge. She watched as the mist floating past the nearest gas lamp threatened to engulf him. She hurried forwards until she could be sure that he wasn't going to be lost from view. Behind her she could hear the footsteps of Taryn and the other woman.

The four of them left the bridge in silence and Emma followed the man as he came to a halt at the junction of King William Street and Gracechurch Street. He slipped back against the brickwork of a large building on the corner and motioned for the others to do the same. He was looking for something in the road ahead and his eyes never seemed to rest as they swept from left to right. Emma was reminded of the first time she met Father Eamon and the way he had protected her in the doorway as the Gentle Men had hunted for her. Now his eyes seemed to fix on a spot enveloped in darkness. A figure emerged from the shadows and made its way over to them.

“Sister Ignacia, how are we doing?”

“We should leave now. I have checked to roads around. There is no one out but you can be sure that we are being watched.”

Their voices were little more than urgent whispers but Emma felt a wave of relief to see someone she recognised. Taryn must have heard Sister Ignacia's voice because she stepped forward to embrace her but Sister Ignacia raised a finger to her mouth and pointed to the buildings around them.

“We do not have much time, it will be dark soon and we cannot afford to be caught outside. They are getting more daring and do not seem to care much for the rules any more.”

They stepped out into the street and ran across the road before heading towards Tower Hill. Sister Ignacia led the way and they all kept close together. Occasionally they would stop and wait for a few minutes before carrying on, only moving when Sister Ignacia had ensured the way was clear. In this way, they moved from street to street until they found themselves at the junction of Fenchurch Street and Mark Lane, only a few hundred yards away from the
sanctuary. Sister Ignacia disappeared from view as she slipped round a corner.

“Where is she going?”

“She is going to ensure that there is no one waiting for us when we move across Fenchurch Street.” The man responded without taking his eyes off the road in front of him. They danced between pavement and rooftops, never stopping for more than a second in any one place.

“Well if there are, won't she be in trouble?”

The man turned towards Emma, his eyes registering confusion, “What do you mean
trouble
?”

“Well she's on her own. What happens if she's attacked?”

This brought a smile in response, “If anybody's going to attack Sister Ignacia, they'd better bring an army. I can't imagine anybody causing her to break into a sweat let alone beating her.”

Emma heard a crunching noise behind her as Taryn shifted her weight between her feet. In the dark silence that enveloped them, her imagination started to take hold and she started to see eyes all around on rooftops and looking out from windows. Shadows became people and reflections took on a life of their own. She wanted nothing more than to get back to the sanctuary and knew there could only be minutes before the sun finally gave up the fight against the encroaching night.

As her eyes moved along the high, flat facades of the buildings that lined the street, she caught the faintest twitch of a curtain behind a sash window and froze. In an instant it was gone but she was sure she saw a face watching her before disappearing behind the heavy canvass of the curtain. At that moment Sister Ignacia arrived back.

“We have less time than I thought, agents are abroad and we must not stay here.” Her voice was calm but her eyes were alert and sharp.

“We must run if we are to beat the sun.”

Emma found herself being dragged to her feet. She was shoved into the road and the sounds she heard behind her told her that Taryn was getting the same treatment. They were only two streets from the sanctuary but Emma knew that behind her the sun had set. The shadows started to merge into one black mass as the temperature dropped sharply. Her breath started to crystallise in front of her and she knew they had run out of time. Above her, a scraping noise could be heard from the roof of one of the surrounding buildings. Sister Ignacia looked up trying to work out its direction.

“They are coming out, we have no time to lose.”

They turned the corner into Seething Lane and the entrance to the sanctuary came into sight as the last vestiges of light gave way to the night. The gate creaked open in anticipation of their arrival and they all fell through into the garden. Emma heard a metallic rattle then bang as it closed behind them. It was followed almost immediately by a deep groan and a whinnying noise as something large and black flew past the archway, momentarily cloaking the scene outside in an impenetrable dark veil before heading off towards Thames Street.

Emma looked up but whatever had caused it was gone, she turned around just in time to see the look of concern on Sister Ignacia's face.

“What was that?”

“Emma, we must get in first.”

Sister Ignacia stood up and hurried to the tower door. As she opened it she looked back into the street, her eyes scanning from one end to the other. Emma felt a hand on her back and the man motioned for her to go inside. She walked in and found herself in a main hall empty of everybody except Father Eamon and a man who seemed
to be taking orders. They were in conversation when the noise of Emma's entrance caused them both to turn.