Vampyre bloodGoddess of Chaos

by Scarlet D. Inker

Catherine, born into a world of religious unrest and corruption, must choose her own path in between the rival sides. In her quest to survive, she earns the title or 'Catherine, Goddess of Chaos'.

Vampire blood: goddess of chaos Written and edited by opal w fudge and her silent partner, gypsy queen.
Dedicated to Vamps, Ruby, Chicken strips and Munster.
Who kept me alive when I wanted to die.
Introduction I was flying, running, screaming, crying. I was running so fast that my feet barely touched the ground.
Leaves and sticks hit me in the face and around my heaving shoulders.
Sobbing so hard my saliva turned to blood, dripping down my torn-up shirt.
Thorns and twigs ripped into my legs, tearing me and mutilating my perfect, sun-kissed skin.
Pain embraced me with a death-grip, both physically and mentally. it filled every line around my eyes and clawed into my open heart, stealing away my happy, content virginity, until I was so filled with it my soul started sophocating.
I was out of body, waiting for myself to quit, to die, so that I could be in this agony-free state forever.
Crimson liquid was spilling down my legs from all the cuts and lacerations.
I didn t know where I was going.
All I know is that I started climbing at some point.
Up the cold, dark slopes of the nekrotos. ..

Thus begin the chronicles of Catherine Anna Christian, goddess of chaos, captain of the nekrotos vampyre wars, murderer of the nuns of Alcon and killer of the chief magi in Dennlock.

Chapter 1 My father was the most stubborn man in all of Dennlock. Or so I thought, what with refusing to go to the s abattres, rituals & Beltane festivals, even on the Chief magi s request.
Ever since I could remember, my father, Edward Chant, had been stubborn. Of course, his senseless, and sometimes insane, will had gotten us our fortune. His skills as a merchant were unquestionable. This iron will had made its way up the social ladder in Solaris, and then to high esteem in the smaller, yet more influential city of Dennlock. Before I was born, when mother was pregnant with Lucas, Father gave up the ways of the Wise. Never a very religious man, this step was not a difficut step for him. After that, his religion was non-religion, although he would not admit to it. Those who do not carry any religion adamatly, carry non-religion.
When I was about 5 years old, my father converted to Catholicism. We all knew it was sensless to argue, even though mother and Rowena did try to convince him to at least remain non-religious. He did not convert because of like religious conviction, but because of business. Although he did not say it, his intuition had tipped him off, the voice in his head had told him to conform to the message that the friars were spreading; that of a blessed virgin, and of saints, and of sacrements. He knew that in an undisclosed amount of time, his Old Ways would be challenged and overthrown by this new message. A traitor to the family, Edward Smith publicly denounced the ways of the city when I was only 5 years old.
When it came time to wed, Father married honorably. His Bride, Minerva Wise, although not the best match possible, was of like social standing, and of like character. She was very stubborn also, which created rifts in the family when she and father had a disagreement. At times these rifts were difficult for us children to tiptoe around. Minerva Wise was, as stated by the well-known and self-evident name, one of the wise women of Dennlock. When she was 10, her family had given her to the Chief Magi and the Wise Women, to be taught in their ways. She did not dissapoint her family or her teachers. She was a rather powerful Wise, and although she had fallen out of the everyday work of the Wise when she married father, she was a very apt teacher to those who came to her for help. She was also the instructor and counselor for I and my 5 siblings, when we wanted assistance, and many times when we didnt. The family,(mother, johann,18, Rowena,18, Laffeye juliet,16, Arthur,13,Roslyn, 11,Lucas Ethan ,9 I, Catherine Anna, 8, and, newborn into a world of treachery and despair, baby Maria.) Made no attempt to convince father otherwise until the year I turned 7. The year I turned 14, the 'fat friars', as the family had termed their wobbly guts and greedy appitites, visited us with startling news. A monestary was to be built not far from Dennlock, in a large clearing just over the first hump of the Nekrotos. Many wondered about the choice of location(the Nekrotos were filled with many a demon-haunted forest and smiling strangers which bear the smell of death about them.),but the friars pursed their saggy lips and poo-pooed the warnings of the city people. Of course, these warnings were not bestowed with much care, for no one really cared wether the friars survived in the mountains or not.
At the mention of a monastic settlement, Father's countenance changed for good. Although he had not been prone to make us accompany him on his weekly journeys to the tiny chapel located on the outskirts of the city, or to join him in his fasts, or vigils, or chants, he turned on us.
Father told all of us that year that we had no choice but to convert on pain of disownment. The whole house was in a scandalized uproar, mother throwing pots and pans and anything she could pick up, in one of her very rare furious tantrums, Johann was moping around in his bedroom, his chores left to the hired hands and servants. Rowan crying quietly in her room, all airs of pride lost in and for the moment. Laffeye was brushing her hair and slapping the baby around more than usual, her snobby nose powdered (as she told everyone,) more than usual. Lucas and I, meanwhile, were putting our heads together in the runaway of the year, swearing to one another that we would leave this chaotic life behind for one of adventure and danger.
******** This new Father was nothing like the one i used to know. The old Father, although harsh in his punishment, unwavering in his command, and stubborn in his ways, would laugh, and look past the barrier between each family member. He would usually buy little trinkets for all the girls at market, and knives, or swords for the boys. The old papa loved us, even though it was hard to tell, beneath his furious purple facade when mother had ignored his counsel, or when Johann had played one of his careless pranks on the maids and father had unwittingly been the recipient.
My new papa didnt laugh. He did not smile. He did not even try to understand the disagreements that each of us had. His Father had forbidden us to even speak to our old friends and acquaintances. We were to forget them all and move on.
They do not worship the Great Redemptress,no He said blandly, pointing his finger down at me authoratively after I begged to see Lela, my one and only true friend.
Fine. I said, swallowing tears and pride around a painful lump in my throat. I went to ask mother. She consented and I went resolutely to meet up with Lela.
I walked slowly out to see Lela. I kicked every horned toad I saw, pulled every clump of sage I could reach for.
I knew that I couldn t always go to mum to get my way, because she in turn, would have to answer to father for her evil deeds .
I knew what I had to do. I didn t want to do it, not at all.
I dragged my feet into our little secret place, a place that we had created for ourselves, by ourselves. We had performed made-up love spells and raised our own little garden there, sharing many happy moments on our free time, carrying each others mild troubles in our hearts until our next meeting.
Here today, beneath the willow branches I waited, dangling my toes over the nekrotos stream, cool water splashing up my ankles.
It was such a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly and the temperature was somewhat towards the warm side, for a day in late February. I moaned to myself inwardly under the comforting shade of the trees. This was going to be tough and sad but I willed myself not to let the troubles of a later time worry me for the moment.
I fell back onto the mossy bank, and, stretching my arms skyward I looked to heaven.
There was the tree house we had built several years ago, consisting of some large planks thrown across two adjacent willow branches. Lela and I had to push the planks back together after every rain, because the wood would swell. I noted dully that we had forgotten to push them together again. The planks were a little ways apart, letting the suns beams fall around me.
I closed my eyes.
I was going to miss this place. I was going to miss laughing and forgetting all my troubles in Lela s arms. I couldn t stop myself. I started to cry. I hated to cry, but I couldnt help it. I pulled my knees to my chest, my back against the willow, away from the sun s watchful beams.
"Why does he do this? Where is my old papa?" ..
I didn t hear her coming. All the girls were jealous of her quiet steps and graceful feet. She won every dance contest. She was the queen of everything. That s what her mother told her. Her parents dressed her in royal clothes and called her their princess. She could do whatever.
People said she was a snob. That she could never stoop to my level, but she had, oh joy, she had!
She was my sister, friend, secret keeper, servant, queen and lover. We kept nothing from each other. We shared the same feelings, gifts, thoughts and dreams. Together we could do anything, raise the dead, or bring peace upon warring countries. All we had to do when we wanted to see the other in spirit was to close our eyes, hold the crystal neclace we wore around our necks and there one or the other would be, smiling and talking as though nothing had changed. We had learned to project at a young age, by a woman who called herself the 'gypsy queen'. She was a traveller with the circus. Her specialty was reading tarot cards for the common people, or for people who had never mastered the art. This woman had been of a much interest to both Lela and myself for several months. She taught us that the world wasnt how it looked, wasnt the illusion we thought it was. That it was filled with much more than our young minds had thought possible; terrors and secrets and pleasures. No adult has ever thought of a child s feelings in the light they should be esteemed. No one, that is, except the gypsy queen. No one, not even Laffeye, my sister and family slut, would think that I, the daydreamer and nearly the youngest in the family could actually have any feeling worth any time or consideration; like the real feelings only adults are allowed to have. Because none of them had felt a trouble in their spirit as deep as mine, no one suspected that it was there.
Lela took a seat beside me. She and I had both thought that this day would come, but that did not lessen the blow.
"We can still meet in our dreams, though." Lela said after I had stated my distress at our discontinued terrestrial relationship.
"And you can still run away sometimes when no one will notice, right?" She added, elbowing me lightly in the ribs. That was Lela, through and through! Not giving up, no matter what!
"Yes, I guess, Lela. Your right. I dont even know WHY Im crying. I guess its all the big changes that are going on right now...How do your parents feel about my father right now?"
"Lets see, how does hideous oaf of a traitor sound? I think that is the overall rating of the whole city." Lela answered, a hint of a smile playing around her lips. She was always smiling at things that werent funny making them funny to her small band of adorers.
"But surely, your father, as a merchant sees the rise in the popularity of these fanatical catholics! This really IS a move that will affect business favorably!" For some reason, although my childlike faith and natural love for my father had dried up and withered (or, at least, I thought it had) away when my father had denounced our faith before all, I still felt an urge to defend him against the world; surely this was all a dream; surely he was not in the right frame of mind; surely he needed someone to stand for him!

She saw my pride, gone.
She saw a girl who rarely cried. A girl couldn t stand the charity of the fat friars or the adoring glance of an old woman.
The pride of one of the most highly esteemed families in Dennlock was broken.
She stood over me and looked down upon my huddled figure, searching for evidence. Bruises, cuts, or scrapes. What was wrong?
She sat next to me. She put her arm around my neck and whispered,
What have they done cat? Don t let them hurt you darling. I didn t tell her anything. We just sat, my head buried in her welcome arm, crying bitter goodbye tears. She cried to, I think. I had never seen her cry, so I pretended not to notice, saving her own dignity.
.

It was dark in the circle of willows when we woke. I don t think either of us had meant to nod off, but that didn t matter at the time. We both started up, all weariness and sadness washed from our eyes with the water from the stream. Lela looked at me.
"Your Father...?"
I nodded.
Lela smiled.
"Then we will meet in our dreams. When you sleep. and we can meet when you can get out of the house. It will all work out! Dont worry! Study! There are many ways the Wise get around little 'snags' like thise!"
My eyes were wet again, but this time happy. I gave up so easily, but Lela was there for me in those times.
"And lets see how many ways we can learn to talk without actually meeting! This is such a great opportunity for us to practice our skills as Wise,and to become more powerful than any of these people!Even the Magi will bow to our skills one day!"
It was normal for Lela to talk of these things; of power, of domination, of conquering. When i first heard her talk of these things, it rang as blasphemy in my ears. The Great Magi, bowing down to my Lela! At first it was an unthinkable thought. But as time went by, it seemed more and more plauseable. Lela was quik to learn all that she could, whether free knowledge or restricted, and had a small gathering of other minds who where like-minded. It was time for a new order to arise. Many felt this way, and the growth of the despised Catholic Church only antagonized the flames of rebellion and new way of thinking. The old peaceful ways of the Magi and the Wise were not good enough for this new thirst. The people wanted power to themselves, not only for the higher class or more priviledged.
As Lela learned things fast, so did I, making me a desireable asset and available counsellor.
I was not naturally a fast learner, but Lela's dedication to her studies prompted me. Her thirst for power and hunger for a vindication of a wrong never committed her also stirred a deep sense of bitterness

We hugged briefly and kissed goodbye and went our separate ways,

each knowing that the other would be in their thoughts and dreams for a very long time until we would meet again.
Chapter 2 I went to visit and console every member of the family for the next couple weeks, our pride hurt at having to submit to father s insane wishes. Everyone pretended to accept this change, but inside, everyone (I, at least) was torn and bleeding, missing the rituals and friends and mentors that had taught them and raised them in the old ways.
Johann was tearing up papers when I went to him in his room. He threw me a look of general disgust as I walked in.
Have you decided to convert? He asked bitterly.
I stood silently for a while, examining the papers Johann was tearing up thoughtfully before answering.
This is dad s holy book, Johann. I observed bluntly.
Johann nodded slowly. At 17, eldest in the family, he was a very quiet boy (as mother put it.), the last to exhort to violence in a brawl, least in the family to be expected to do this.
I laid the papers down.
I m going to convert. I said, sighing. I don t really have a choice. Johann murmured his agreement at my words. At 8 years of age, I wasn t the best suited to support myself, nor did the family have any relatives that I could live with until I was of age, except in Lassa, the capitol city of Sulria, over the Nekrotos to the northeast, a very dangerous travel and way to far for my feet to carry me.
All this Johann was privy to. Everyone in the family felt that father was being unfair but we had no choice. The boys couldn t just walk away from their inheritance, the girls were to well-treated to know any skills to support themselves in the market, and the Great Magi (who was one of the few people that mother listened to,) would have none of mother leaving father with the girls to live near the temples, were she could marry us off to the passing merchants.
There was nothing else to do but to get baptized into this new religion. .******** ...
None of the girl s were taking it any better. I slept in the same bedroom as Roslyn and that room was across from Rowena s, which was next to Laffeyes.
Late at night we would all sneak into Rowena s (the best furnished and warmest) bedroom and just talk.
Mostly about boys, social status, old friends, and maybe sometimes about the old religion. Never before had we been so close. Already we were social outcasts, what with father and Arthur spreading the news of the family s willing conversion to save our hell-bent souls .
We used to scream and yell at each other, our differences our downfalls. Now we had secret handshakes and unknown smiles. Private codes and linked arms. We were suffering together, our friends and schoolmates gone for the moment, but we were here, now and forever, outcasts together.

Not that I m saying that our problems and woes were all gone, because they weren t.
Rowena was still dim and bossy, Roslyn still had to tell someone how stupid I looked doing something-or-rather and Laffeye still was vain as ever, bringing strange boys into my home late at night, giggling loudly.
I, well, I remained a child. I remained a wise woman in my mothers care.
I remained a faithful reader of runes and palms, concocter of potions and witty apprentice to my mother, Elizabeth Christian .
.. . On the morning of the Beltane festival,( which we are NOT going to As father so cheerily put it.) Roslyn woke me. Catherine! Get up! The fat friars are here! I woke with a start, knowing that father would expect me to be dressed, washed, and downstairs as quickly as possible, if not sooner.
I waltzed out of my room, moments later, cursing Roslyn for not rousing me earlier. I pulled my bathrobe on clumsily and charged into my slippers to get a basin of water from the back well. The friars, as I learned from a brush with fate, were already in the house. I skipped back up the front steps quickly so they wouldn t see me and went the long way, down the hall, to the right, down the steps past the nursery and servants quarters, through the servant s kitchens and out the back door to the back well. I filled the basin up and made it upstairs without incident nearly.
Catherine! Laffeye whispered to me from the boy s bedroom from the end of the hall as I turned into my bedroom. Help me hang this lavender in the boy s bedrooms! Quickly! Wh-. I began.
Laffeye tossed her head annoyingly at me.
The friars are sleeping here tonight, cat. She purred slowly, spitting every word perfectly, pretending I couldn t understand normal speech. Mother said that the wisest woman of Dennlock are to meet one final time tonight, to discuss the conversion before the baptism tomorrow. Mother wants no interruptions from the friars during the meeting. Laffeye waved a tiny sack around in her fingers.
Fine, I said, mad about the delay. Were do I put these? Laffeye handed me 4 small sacks in total and instructed me on were to hide them while she hid the rest.
I had a suspicion that lavender wasn t the only herb in those bags but I was to busy to properly question the suspect.

The two friars and family were already eating when I went down to breakfast in the dining hall.
Father gave me a look of total revulsion as I curtsied to him from across the room. He said nothing, but looked me over, probably noting the untidy braid I had pulled my hair into and the wet spots on my petticoat and socks were I had spilt the water.
He made no movement to arrest my flight to my stool so I scurried over, nearly knocking it over in my haste to sit.
All eyes were upon me as I accidentally performed the sign of the cross backwards over my eggs, a dull red rising to my pale cheeks, as friar peter helped me do it properly.
I looked down the table towards my father. His face was completely void of emotion as he cut his veal with incredible vigor.
I looked towards Lucas. He slide his finger across the base of his neck and told me something I already knew.
I was a dead man.
I put down my fork. I had suddenly lost my appetite completely.
Father called me to his study near lunch. This I was thankful for. I hadn t been able to function properly since breakfast, especially now that the friars were watching every move we made, insisting on telling us awful stories of a man being nailed to a cross. I was so happy that father had finally called for me, I was almost cheerful about going to my pending doom as I set off smiling through the fields (from picking herbs) in front of my very befuddled family.
I lost all the bounce in my step when I arrived though, recalling how very un-perturbed he looked at breakfast. When Edward Smith (now Christian) was really angry about something, he never showed it until it was too late . Too late for us kids meant that we would probably be beaten so badly it hurt to walk for weeks after.
Sometimes you wouldn t even see his hand move he was so fast. You would be in shock until he booted you out of his study, and then, WHAM the pain hit you like the power of three with interest.
His vendettas were long and rough, sometimes costing the family a small fortune in lost goods to a passing merchant or so forth. I raised my hand and knocked, wondering about the legend of reincarnation with a kind of sullen dread.

I walked into my fathers study very slowly, closing the door noiselessly. His back was towards me completely, he must ve been reading some papers or something.
I waited what seemed like hours and then hesitantly cleared my parched throat.
My father threw his pen away from himself disgustedly and spun around growling.
I readied myself for a slap, blow or even a flying object.
It never came. Instead he took my bloodstone necklace from the fold of my dress and, jerking the chain roughly, broke it from my neck.
This is a piece of the old religion and a piece of your past. God forbids any token of worship to disrupt our search for higher things. We are to put away any other gods from before him. I gasped. To have anything else in the entire world stripped from me I could bear, but I was emotionally attached to my necklace. Mother had slipped it over my head as soon as I was born and it hadn t come off since. She gave one to each girl. Rowena, garnet, Laffeye, coral on a pewter chain, Roslyn, moonstone on a silver chain, me, Catherine, bloodstone (I was born on the eve of February 19th, so I have powers in both water and air and my proper birthstone should be amethyst or jacinth, though the magi decided I was to be a bloodstone.) and Maria, agate.
So there I stood in my father s study, quivering and tearful as he flung the necklace fiercely into the fire.
He looked down at me sternly.
Of course as a new Christian follower you will put everything away joyfully for the sake of Christ s spilt blood. I stiffened my chin and stood taller, squaring my shoulders. I looked up at his face with a painful grin on my face.
Of course, father, all for Christ and his holy mother, the virgin Mary. I crossed myself.
His eyebrows came down from their angry pedestals and he reached out and patted me on the shoulder gruffly, smiling an uncertain smile.
All right Catherine, I didn t know you actually cared for the Christian way until now, but praise all the saints in heavens glory, you do! I nodded and turned away numbly.
Praise the saints in heaven, indeed.
I went to my mother s bedroom, finding solace in her arms. Apparently father was burning all the girls necklaces, as most of my sisters came one after another into my mother s bedroom, quietly crying tears of bitter anger. Lastly, father went into the nursery, waking baby Maria up in the clumsiness of trying to slip the necklace over her head gently. The baby wouldn t stop crying for hours, driving the nannies up the walls. Laffeye, being forewarned by a hysterical Roslyn had ripped her own necklace off and ran down to father enthusiastically claiming that she had seen the wisdom in fathers conversion and begged his forgiveness at not converting with her whole heart before now.
All of us girls were mad with jealousy at the genius in her plan, what with making father actually believe the scum she told him. But we recoiled with shame inside also, at the thought of stooping to Laffeye s level of insanity and lust.
Suffice it to say, father had never seen a happier day, parading around the house, escorting the friars in a full tour of the house, while the women of the house mourned as if someone dear to them had died.
Mother's face was a mixture of dread and anguish. I had never seen her in this state before, but at this point, many in our family were revealing who they actually were in the bad times. Mother was usually a proud, tall figure, not one to choose a fight, but one to win any fight that was brought to her doorstep. Now she sat, quiet, trying to calm us, looking very distraught. I could tell she was thinking, debating in her mind, arguing with herself over what options she had left.
I did not care. I was still young. The despair of the moment soon swept me up in its cold, harsh arms, and I was a child, weeping in my mother's arms.

Chapter 3 All of us were to be baptized the next day.
Father, (as I have told you before,) was gracious enough to let us, the wisest women of Dennlock, have one last meeting, in the servants kitchen, late at night, so that the sleeping friars would not hear us.
Mother woke me after 2, later than planned. The friars had been drunk on her own dear stock of sweet cider, so father made us wait until they had woken from their drunken stupors and gone to the boy s unused bedroom, the boys themselves sleeping in the less comfortable guest bedrooms. Why must we sneak around our own damned house? Laffeye whispered shrilly.
Mother shut her up quickly as we passed the bedrooms of the glutinous friars with a quick slap. We made it down to the kitchen without further bother.
All the new Christian women sat around the kitchen table, the fireplace full of dying embers, their light reflecting off the hot cider in our mugs.
Laffeye was stirring the simmering pot of cider with a dull vigor, hushing the flames every so often to keep it from boiling. Her eyes were half-closed in a exhausted trance. She, like most of the girls her age, was a vain slothful thing, doing mostly what she pleased, whenever she wanted, and doing very little productive labor, unless she were forced to.
Rowan, at 17, sat near the head of the table, at mother s right hand. She was well-awake and sitting upright, the air of dignity and duty surrounding her.
Roslyn, 11, sat next to Laffeye, reading some ancient text for the last time before father burned them after our baptism the next day. She was the bookworm in the family, along with Johann. They would sit together and read, read, read, never really experiencing any of the spells, but storing them in the archives of their minds until such a time as they thought them worthwhile to perform.
I sat in the corner, next to the cage full of sleeping love birds, curled up on my couch, wishing that I didn t have to hide my ways to stay in the family. I, unlike most of the people in this family, actually enjoyed performing rituals and learning protection and banishing spells, I was doing them when I had to and when I didn t. I was powerful, almost as powerful as Laffeye.
Sometimes when we were practicing together to, say, make a mug levitate, she would smash her mug over my head and break my concentration, laughing when I would cry at the outcome (a broken mug).Sometimes we would duel and fight with our wills, sending searing bolts of energy at each other. I usually got mixed up then, but she stayed calm, even when she would loose or the spell got really complicated. I would throw fits if I didn t win.
Now we were in the same room, pretending that we never had any trouble getting along. We did this to salvage what we could of the night, for the meeting s (and mother s) sake.

arn! Arithmetic to befuddle ourselves with! Follow me. She led me into the adjoining room and sat me down at a table piled with blank paper, a pen and inkwell and a stack of pre-ordained scripts, scrolls, pHow are we to worship a god we have never known? Rowena asked contemptuously, her fair hair shimmering in the dull light. She was the slowest to learn the old magic, but kept everything after she learned it, forgetting almost nothing from all she had ever learned.
We must read, pray, and fast, thus will god make his wishes known to us. She said sedately, her head bowed and her hands folded meekly in her lap. the friars have refused to give us another holy book as the treatment of the last was, how did they put it, oh yes, an abomination to the lord. All of us girls tittered and even mother let a rye smile grace her lips.
Father had tried to punish Johann, with a severe whipping, for tearing up the bible, but Johann had shoved father into a closet and locked it for the afternoon until Lucas had had the good heart to persuade the keys from Johann and let father out. Mother had to calm father down enough to deflate and let his natural color return to his face in time to go down to greet the friars in the drive and instruct the servants to supper.
Mother waited for us to fall back to silence before going on in a stony complexion.
Your father says that we are to give up our evil ways and live according to as the church says. All of us girls knew this already, but it fell as a painful blow in the chilly quiet of one of the last moments in which we would all meet together, like this, as the wise woman of Dennlock.
The meeting went on, but I slept, my childish mind not wishing (or caring) to know any more about this disgusting religion, my thin shawl wrapped tightly around me.

When I woke, Roslyn was hovering over me anxiously. It was light out and seemed almost time for the rest of the house to wake also.
wake up little one, Roslyn whispered, her warm breath blowing over my ear and down my neck making me shiver. we must be about washing and dressing for the baptism! I sighed wearily. All my dreams of late had been troubled with flashes of what our initiation into Christianity would be like, faces shouting, leering down on me, a finger pointed accusingly as I neared the waters edge, alone and dressed all in white. The wind would blow silently as I dipped my toe in, pulling at a few rebellious strands of my hair. A hand, dark and dried would break from the waters surface, grabbing my ankle coolly from behind and drag me into the black depths. I would meet it without resistance or struggle; accepting (or even welcoming) it until I felt hundred more hands tearing into me, carrying me were no mortal could live.
I stood slowly, unraveling myself from my shawl.
I don t think the friars are going to wake any time soon, with the combined efforts of being dead drunk and the lavender and who knows what else- sacks about their beds. Said Roslyn stoically, pushing me out the kitchen door and upstairs to my bedroom.
I washed and dressed gloomily, pulling on the traditional white garb that the friars required of all new converts.
I stood in front of my mirror for ages, wishing this unpleasant experience over, or even better, completely banished.
My pride and dignity crushed, I walked resolutely out to the main hall, greeting all my sisters dully.
Mother wasn t there yet, neither were father or Johann. Arthur and Lucas came down just as I arrived, Lucas blushing scarlet with the thought of having to walk in front of his former friends through town in his white linen robe.
Arthur however was unperturbed. He was the cursed sibling who had suggested to father to make us all covert. Mother and all us other children had disowned him completely, refusing to talk to him unless we absolutely had to or if father was present.
We waited a time, draping blankets over ourselves to cover our embarrassment from the household servants.
Suddenly shouts erupted from the kitchens below. Mother was shouting at father. It sounded like Johann was trying to antagonize the fight also.
no Edward! I will not cover my head! Why should I show more humility than completely necessary? mother screeched hoarsely. By the sound of it father had tried to get mother to wear the lace head covering she had been so adamant against since we bought the baptism outfits.
Just wear it ovilia! The friars say they refuse to baptize all of us if you don t wear this! I will not damn myself and my whole family because you, you stubborn bastard child! Edwards shouted. All us kids could hear the color rise to his face with his voice tone.
Quiet murmurings followed in which mother and Johann conversed. Then a loud oomph as father shoved him aside to force the lace covering on mothers head. A quick succession followed in which blows were exchanged, though from whom to whom none of us knew. Mother was as apt to violence as father, though only when provoked dully.
Mother and father came walking up the stairs soon enough, the lace covering on mothers head, her head held high, not a sign of a fight on either of them.
Father held mothers hand tightly and mother leaned on him a little, her feelings supported on both their shoulders, a new understanding between them.
Johann was another story. A long red mark ran down his cheek (not unlike the burn of an energy bolt), and he walked with a slight limp as if father had finally gotten revenge on him for ripping up his bible.
Johann winked at me as he walked past, a rebellious air hovering around him.
Just a slight difference in opinion. He whispered as he walked past.
I stood, following mother out. This was the time. We were to leave all now and follow him, the Christ and his holy mother, and his saints, and disciples. Leave everything that all of us had ever known to worship apart, prejudice of the average person. Allegorically separated and pulled away with our bodies while our hearts bled for the opposite, the crevasse of hope on the cliff of spiritual death.
This was the end of my life as Catherine Anna smith.
Now I am Catherine Anna Christian.
Forevermore, Christian.

Chapter 4 The leering faces. The taunting voices. The accusing fingers and whispers of disgust and outrage. The rotting vegetables and shouts of blasphemy all around.
It was all true and unfolding right before my wet, tear-stained eyes. Just like everything in my dream. We (the family) hovered together; sheltering each other from the names they called us as well as the putrid compost.
When Johann and Lucas found Arthur trying to find solace in our shelter they threw him out to the jeers and cruel laughs of myself and my sisters.
Martyr Arthur we called him and so be it that he should live up to his name.
Several of his schoolmates ran to him from the crowd, to help him so we thought, but soon discovered it was only to kick him around.
Someone had to do it, we thought, and now that we were at the banks of the Nekrotos River, ready for our initiation into this alien religion, we were powerless to fight back; it would probably set a bad example for converting Christians everywhere anyway and God knew we would never have wanted that.
The friars, having called an escort, had been taken to the banks of the river in relative safety, dismounted and led father into the water.
Mother wasn t weeping. She was standing apart with baby Maria, apparently lost in a lullaby she was murmuring in the infant s ear. The boys had finally intervened and wrestled Arthur s schoolmates off him and now Arthur stood, his chin quivering slightly as he wiped some blood from a gaping cut near his eye.
Rowena, Laffeye and Roslyn were in a bunch, waiting their turn, impatient to get it over with.
I stood between parties, unsure as to which to join. I stood for an eternity, waiting for someone to join me, alert me as to whom to run to, how to make the crowd stop shouting my name over and over. Death to Catherine smith the witch .
No one else in my family seemed to hear them shouting at me. No one else seemed to notice the world twirling and whirling and trying to buck me of its hesitant back. My ears were ringing with it. Catherine smith the witch .
My mind felt for any scrap of sanity left. I swore to myself never to quit the old ways, once, twice, three times.
The twirling stopped. Friar John had me by the arm, pulling me towards the water.
My turn.
Never give up the gift, Catherine. My mother s words echo-ing around my head.
Friar John taking hold of me tightly on both sides while mumbling some meaningless Latin words into my ear about the blood of Christ.
Blinding panic as he pulled me under the water.
I wasn t ready. Inhaling water I tried to get up, seeing his reflection above, talking to the pagan audience onshore. Would he ever let me up?
Felt myself go limp and sink lower, I was free for the pits of hell, more fit was I to go there at least, I thought as I blacked out of sheer stress.

I woke to my mothers screaming.
You vacuous imbeciles! she screeched, seizing both friar john and peter by their collars and hoisted them closer to her furiously twisted face. You stupid, bumbling cows! You ve killed my daughter! I coughed and rolled over. Looking through stinging eyes, I saw no one around to ease the pulsing in my clogged ears. Apparently in death also, I was neglected.
Mother, a soft, ridiculing voice called somewhere near my elbow Mother, she s still alive. See? She was just making a jest. I groaned. It was Laffeye, getting me in trouble again. Mother threw both the friars away from herself and rushed to my side, simultaneously hugging me and slapping me at the same time.
You stupid, stupid child! How could you drown after only a few seconds underwater? she was kissing my head and wrapping a dry blanket around me in a painful yet welcome, spasm of maternal instinct.
I sat up. Most of the crowd had dissipated after the eighth, long, baptism (Lucas) so my comfort was in no immediate danger of molestation. I sighed and got up. I must ve been last to be baptized for everyone around me was dripping and shivering, even baby Maria. In my insane attack I must ve lost track of time.
It s a good thing to, that we were all baptized before mother roughed up both the friars, for they were both on their way back up to the house to pack their things and leave, never to return.
Father sat on a rock near the river, kicking pebbles into the turbulent current and mumbling, first the bible, then the whole damn church. .
We all went home without any disturbance from the merchants and townspeople around us. We found out later that the gracious magi had intervened on our part and lessened the temper of the people we passed. No matter how offensive our conversion was to many of our friends and relatives (and the magi,) they had forgiven all of us except father, who, they knew was the only person rash enough to change our entire family s religion.
Father went directly to the burn-heap when we arrived home and burned all the occult books we had put outside. I stood outside watching the blaze and throwing more books on the fire numbly. That was my life, smoking and charred before my eyes. What I thought absolutely necessary I had copied down from old manuscripts the night before, late into the night until Roslyn had slapped me soundly and blown out the candle. Other than that I had nothing, even of my own beloved private stock of only the best written scripts.
I stood alone until Laffeye joined me cheerfully.
Hello sister. She said enthusiastically, catching up the last of the books to feed to the hungry flames.
Hullo. You seem a slight bit under the weather. I looked at her incredulously. How much ale have you drunk today, Laffeye? I asked, knowing all to well of my sister s love for mother s cider.
She looked stunned at first and then let out a bark of a laugh. None, you stupid clod! Why, what would make you a say that? I didn t answer so she went on.
So did father burn your necklace? I was startled by the quick change of subject but nodded sorrowfully. She had mentioned it as if it were nothing, as if her necklace hadn t meant anything, just another piece of useless jewelry to hang low across her neck, drawing men s eyes to her generous, curved breasts, a birthright from my mother.
She whipped out her own necklace, a coral stone, and waited for my reply.
I stood in a stupefied silence.
H-how- She giggled gleefully.
When I heard that father was burning all our necklaces, I exchanged mine for a fake one from a merchant in the market, minutes before I ran to father with it. He was so surprised by my willingness to give it up, he didn t even bother to check if it was real, the foolish old sod. I still stood, my stomach rolling in waves of jealousy at her ingenious idea while my temper seemed to plummet to a murderous low at her selfishness at not sharing her plans with me.
Why didn t you tell me? I asked coldly, for the fist time feeling an actual, frosty, aching hatred for my sister. Why didn t you tell me I could ve saved the only thing that s ever mattered to me? Because you didn t ask. Because you wouldn t have taken my advice even in sheer desperation for your stupid necklace. Your pride and catholic- mindedness towards me as the whore of the family kept you from ever taking anything ive ever said seriously. Because you have never treated me as a sister should. Because I wanted to show you that even I, the worst of the wise woman s honor, could get something right. I knew she was right. All the time, I was either looking down my nose at her or rejecting her as a way of worship. My pride kept me from doing many things, especially conversing with the town slut. I had never truly admitted her existence and even in our happier moments we had always stayed as far from each other as possible. Despite the truth, maybe even for the pain the truth held, I found myself in a blinding rage. Laffeye always gave advice, especially when it wasn t wanted. What had stopped her now?
When I came out of my rage my hands were around her neck, crushing her wind pipe. Oh how I hated her! My small body was full of vengeful energy and pained hatred. I held fast with all I had, making up for my size with my anger.
She grabbed my hands, and, clawing them off her, threw me off her and into a shrub, my hands and face torn in the thorns as I crawled out to meet her. She fell atop me, wrestling me down, her knees pinning my arms to my sides, her face inches from my own.
I could kill you right now, runt. She spat. No one besides mother would care and no one would know. But I wont. She said superiorly, slapping me several times and then standing up.
You re going to study the old ways with me. I ll help you. We ll practice together. I sat up, rubbing my aching elbows.
Pardon? Mum said that she s willing to continue teaching us the old magic s and whatnot on our own time. She continued. These lessons will, of course, be confidential. I stood finally and stared at her. So we were to have our own secret lives? To continue the old ways seemed to be the best thing, a dream come true. An excited lump grew in my throat at the thought of something I had wanted so badly coming to pass. Are any of the boys going to practice with us? I asked hopefully.
Only Lucas. Laffeye said disgustedly. She hated Lucas almost as much as she hated me, due to his never-ending pranks he played on her.
I almost screamed with happiness. I jumped around the yard and somersaulted around Laffeye.
She shoved me over onto my rump and I looked up at her.
Quit being pathetic, Catherine Anna. Meet mum and me in her room after lunch tomorrow. I stood in the yard, staring disbelievingly and happy after her.

Chapter 5 We started lessons the next day, beginning were we left off as if nothing had ever changed.
Laffeye was nastier to me than ever before and Lucas was more mischievous. I was more vigorous in my attempts to learn magik and Latin (most of the scripts that mother had kept from the flames were older, and as such were written in Latin.). Mother was more severe when we messed up, making sure we never caused enough of a disturbance to get father or anyone else to check on us. We all became more of what we always had been, with the fear that father or an unwelcome guest would walk in on us at any time.
Two months into training, father summoned all of us girls to his office. The family had suffered a severe financial blow (because of the protestation of all our sailors refusing to sail at bay without more pay from father) and father told us all we would have to get jobs away from home to pay for our room and board. We could all choose our own jobs as long as the wages were high and the jobs of minimal work.
I went to mother for her personal opinion on who to work for.
She thought for a while. I ll be out most of the day dear, she said vaguely. I ll be back later tonight. Tell your greedy pig of a father that I m out. I grinned, not quite used to her terms of endearment for my father.
I napped most of the afternoon and cleaned my bedroom near supper. Just as the dinner bell rang the door to my bedroom opened. My mother walked in, unbuttoning her riding coat and laying it on her bed. She smiled when she saw me.
Laffeye said you d be here, cleaning like a nervous chicken whatever that is supposed to mean. I looked at her expectantly.
What were you doing today mother? She walked around my room, arranging books and fluffing pillows, avoiding my eyes.
I ve found an employer for you, cat. She s a librarian. She said you can start at 9 o clock tomorrow. She s just an acquaintance and I had to pull a couple strings to persuade her, what with our new name Christian but she did owe me one and was sensible enough that I didn t even have to threaten to hex her to take you on. Will she be able to pay me enough mum? Mother nodded confidently and left for supper, telling me she would explain my new job offer to father.

I lay awake that night, nervous. Mother had seemed uncomfortable and guilty when she was telling me about my new job. I loved libraries, she knew that. I wasn t nervous about anything she told me.
It was what she hadn t told me that scared me.

I woke late and had to rush around, making sure not to spill anything down my apprentice smock before I left the house.
Mother had written directions to the library on a sheet of paper and, as father had sent away most of the maids and servants, had simply pushed the paper under my door.
I walked quickly up Bone Street and down fair aisle. Through elm lane and across willow alley. Even having lived in Dennlock my entire life I had never actually explored the town, preferring to stay closer to home, in the comforting shade of our own grooves. I wasn t used to the slant-way streets or up-hill down-hill setup. Finally, after much back tracking and turnabouts I stopped in front of the library exhaustedly.
It was a tiny building, wedged between two tall straight buildings that went up, up, and up, batheing the library in a cool shadow. The library was marked with a large wooden sign of o scroll and a quill and a pigs head,( which probably has nothing to do with libraries.) The first floor of the library was of stone and plaster, but the above two floors were of wood, hay sticking out between the beams at awkward angles, the thatched roof coming to the middle of the third story. The door frame and window frames were of weathered oak, the yellow paint chipping and the shutters hanging crookedly. The cracking mortar gave evidence to the age of the building, which looked to be at least 50 or 60 years old. The crooked sign above the door read, Mrs. Jean Papyrus fine antiquated books and scripts .
I took a deep breathe and entered, swallowing my fear and squinted in the relative darkness, (compared to outside) in the library.
I was in a small, shapeless room (a kind of rounded rectangle), with a light fire crackling in the corner and the walls covered and stacked with books of all shapes and sizes.
Welcome child. I jumped as a voice near my elbow spoke softly.
The speaker was an aging woman (though I had no idea how old, for age became her), sitting in a heap on a window-seat, her legs crossed and her hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Some strings of her hair were a bright white but that gave no connotation to her age as her face looked only twenty.
She stood, dwarfing my size as an old pine does a seedling.
So you are my new apprentice. She said matter-of-factly, looking me over. Daughter of the great wise woman, Ovilia of Dennlock, now. I nodded. Yes, mistress-, Jean. Mistress Jean. Mistress Jean. I murmured, remembering the name.
Not much for the eyes, are you, child? Your mother could change that with a treatment of herbs. Very powerful indeed, that Ovilia. I nodded again, wondering if I was here for a job or a family heritage lesson.
Never mind all that now Catherine, let s get started on your lessons. I stood, confused.
Lessons? What lessons? Mistress jean looked at me as if I was dense.
Latin, (your mother says you have a nasty accent when reading it) green magik, white magik, defensive and offensive (your mother said you excelled at that most) magik. Cooking, fencing, sewing, western philosophy and pretty much anything else you can imagine. Ovilia did say you were the brains of the lot you are Catherine Anna or did she send me that dimwit Rowena? Yes, I mean no, I mean, yes, I am Catherine Anna, but I m here to learn how to sort books, and sell books, and loan out books, and- Mistress Jean rolled her eyes and sighed long-sufferingly.
I see that old cow hasn t told you that she s having me be your tutor. I don t know why she would be hesitant in telling you though; she said you d be exceptionally happy to have a tutor outside of home now that your ghastly old coot of a father has made you all convert. I don t think she can handle much more of you in the classroom as she says she s lost her teaching abilities. I stood, mouth gaping. I surely hadn t expected that this was what my mother had been hiding up her sleeve and it hurt me to know that she thought she wasn t worthy to teach me.
Well don t just stand there you oaf of a child! Work to do! Spells to learn! Leaflets and books to unearth and study!
School with Mistress Jean began without further adieu.

Everyone had ahown up who was supposed to, and the air was filled with happy laughter as Lela, who was blindfolded, ran around the yard, 'prophesying' who it was that had pecked her cheek last. She was already 15, and I, not a week behind her in my birthday, was sitting happily on the wall next to Roslyn, kicking my feet. The sunlight shown through the beams of the tall oaks and dropped spots of light onto the ground in between the leaves. It was warm and muggy, and the curls in my hair were making their appearance in return for the humidity. The day was still, except for when an occasional breeze blew down from the Necrotos, easing the almost unbearable heat of the summer day.
As the game of Prophecy finished up, Lela came panting over to me, looking very excited. I smiled. "Look over there, Catherine! Theres the man that papa called in from Arada for today!"
I turned around expectantly. Lela had told me of this man. He was rumored to be an actual native of Arada, specializing in the art of real divination, with no tools, only his mind. I gaped. He was young and handsome. His eyes swept the scene cooly, ready as he walked towards his tent. My heart pounded as his body seemed to slow before my eyes, his shirt rippling against his body, and his half-robes flaring with his step. I gulped.
"Oh, Lela," I stuttered stupidly,"N-not worthy..." My painted eyes watched him sit down majestically.
"No, thats just hormones, Catherine dear," Lela said, patting my wrist, her eyes glued to the beautiful creature before us. "C'mon, birthday girls first."
Lela dragged me over to the tent by my hand. I straightened my hair a little as she plopped down in front of the seer happily, outstretching her long hand to his gaze. The dark seer looked at me impatiently.
"No one else in room while reading takes place."
I blushed a scarlet hue and traipsed out of the tent, sitting down on the side away from the opening, burying my head in my arms. Why did I have to always mess up in front of the people that I wanted to impress?

The seer was ready for me soon enough, but it felt as if it took him an eternity to get done with Lela. When she came out, she looked flushed and excited with a sparkle in her eye. When she saw me, she blushed and looked away. O-o-ok.
I stood nervously and dodged into the tent, giving up any sort of hope in his affection or admiration.
I sat slowly, stretching my hand toward the waiting eye of the seer. I did not look into his face, I looked instead at the table between us, and the lace clothe which covered it.
"You are nervous, no?"
I looked up into his perfect, dark face. "Your hands are very wet."
Oh, may all the gods confound me! My hands were wet with sweat! I ripped my hands away and wiped them hastily on my dress as he chuckled. I started to stand, my head reeling with embarassment, but the seer took my hand quickly.
"Oh no hurt was meant to you, lady, I was only hoping to calm your beating heart!" The seer purred.
I blushed again, and smiled cautiously, sitting down again, my body tense with anticipation. I offered my hands again, but only after making them as dry as possible against my royally colored tunic.
The seer stared at my hand for so long that I began to get uncomfortable. At one point his eyes widened and he looked utterly shocked. He looked suddenly up at me, his young eyes unreadable.
"You have a hopeful prospect of marriage? It will be blessed by both of your parents. You will be very happy with your new husband. You will bear him many children, and will live happily in a wonderful union for the rest of your lives."
Both of my eyebrows raised. I had no intention of marrying anyone soon. I had no prospective suitor, or even hopeful friend! I looked disappointedly into his eyes and stood up. He was not a native of arada, after all, just a cheap seer who could be bought for any price, a mere amusment for a birthday party. "It was a pleasure being your reader today," He said in his thick accent, "Please exit the tent so that the next person's destiny may be read."
I stood up disgustedly and marched from the tent. Lela hurried to my side

. Chapter 6 For the entirety of the day I put up with tests and problems from mistress jean. She said I passed most of them (except Latin) with flying colors. I couldn t tell if I had or not, for, I was still so nervous and a bit shocked at the change of things.
I went home in a slight fury, hoping my mother was alone so I could scream all my frustrations out on her without anyone finding out what she was up to; though, I thought, maybe it would do her good to be found out for once.
I hurried through the market, taking no heed to the fish sellers; clothe merchants, exotic teas or tarot readers. So hurried, in fact, that I ran headlong into a farmer, wheeling two chickens and several pecks of peaches along the dusty street.
The chickens, no matter how well grounded and tethered to their cages, flew. The peaches, ripe from the orchards went rolling along until they were snatched up by street urchins and hungry pick-pockets.
The farmer rose gallantly from the mist and rubble, cursing as if it was he who had been hit full-on by a rough wooden wheelbarrow. He pointed accusingly down at me and started a fresh flurry of mortal oaths, seizing me by the collar and hoisting me to his ruddy face proclaimed that I was bloody well going to chase his chickens around the square into their cages and restore his peaches.
A voice from the gathering crowd called out loudly and a body made its way up to address the farmer:
Unhand her, Mitt. It was an accident, and I think you did her more harm than she did you. As for your chickens, my accompaniments have, erm, gathered them. I will restore your produce now with this gold if you will unhand that girl. A youth, scarce older than myself by one or two years emerged from the crowd, bedecked in fine clothes of the softest silk and rich colors. His hair was a dark almond and his eyes were but slivers of a bright grey, lost in a sea of black beneath a pure white brow.
The farmer held me in mid-air for one long moment, and then dropped me hard to the ground, having calculated his options with a quickness and conviction that relieved me very much.
The gold and chickens (flustered and wrong way up in their cages) were produced by some younger servant boys with resembling eyes and skin, though these boys had long, fair, yellow locks and wore white tunics that ran to above their knees. They also wore leather sandals that laced up their legs and tied off at their calves. They looked rather well dressed for servants, I thought, remembering that we dressed our slaves in the hand me downs and scraps we found. I was ignored for the moment, as the exchange was made. I stood awkwardly in the market square, unable to think of what to do next The farmer left and the boy turned to me, his brilliant smile not suiting him at all, the sun reflecting and glinting on his pointed teeth, making me squint.
Now you owe me. He said in a voice that hinted a laugh. He waited for me to smile, but I was not in the mood to be happy.
Thanks I said stingingly. Is there anyway I could repay you? As a rule, I never let myself owe anyone. It was uncomfortable, awkward and, as was always expected later, I would have to do something I hated for that person as a common courtesy. I also hated common courtesies. He looked startled for a moment at my humorless words but quickly hid that behind his mocking eyes.
No, I m sorry if I have offended you, I just didn t want you to be hurt by that man. He s not one of my mother s farmers, or I would ve had him flogged for public indecency. Are you sure you haven t been hurt in any way, miss? I m fine. I said shortly, feeling the stinging in the palms of my hands and wondered if I could even manage to hobble home on my swollen bloodied-up knees. My pride didn t permit me to ask for help; especially from someone I thought would attach strings to my debt.
I turned to leave, trying to walk erect and dignified on my bruised knees.
A voice called behind me:
Cousin! I just went to see Aunt Jean! Cat just left the shop several minutes ago. If we hurry, we can reach her before she gets to the house and her wretched father turns us out. I spun around.
Lela! Lela looked around, startled to hear her name called through the market place, but upon seeing me:
Cat! We were hugging and kissing and crying simultaneously. Never before had we been from each other for so long. Never had we felt the need for the other so strong.
Catherine, oh, dear cat! Your mother came to see us yesterday- by us, and she said that aunt Jean had decided to take you on in her shop and aunt Jean said it would be ok if I studied with you and she said that her son here- she pointed to the pale boy next to her, Gabrielle can study with us too. So we re all going to study with my aunt this year until Rie goes back to Alcon and then it ll be just you and me, darling Catherine! she hugged me closer and closer, making me slightly queasy with dawning realization.
I drew away from her embrace as a busy mother does a loving child. I turned to that boy Gabrielle who I hated so much.
I don t think we ve been introduced yet, I said, offering my hand with a wide, pained smile. My name, as you may have gathered is, indeed Catherine. Gabrielle looked surprised but then took my hand with growing comprehension.
Gabrielle. He said slowly, crunching my fingers in an iron grasp. Gabrielle Thomas. Jean Papyrus is my mother. Charmed. I choked through clenched teeth as he started rolling my hand between his fingers like putty, knocking the bones of my knuckles against each other.
I winced and almost whimpered as my fingers cracked, my knuckles numb with pain. Lela was telling me how much she wanted me to meet Rie because she just KNEW we would get along because we were so-HA!- alike and that she had wanted to introduce me to him since he came from Alcon 3 months ago.
Eventually he let go and, as they escorted me home slowly, supported between them both, (Lela jabbering happily the whole way) I got a few good kicks around his ankles without Lela seeing.
We had violence in common at least.

I skipped supper that night, slipping into my room quietly and falling into bed exhaustedly. I fell asleep almost immediately, worn from the tests and beatings the world and fate had dealt me so cruelly.
Food and bath in the morning, I decided. Sometimes it s just not worth possible re-re-opening of cuts, even for personal hygiene, which, I do believe is next to piousness.

Chapter 7 I went to mistress jeans every day except Saturdays and Thursdays, when father kept us home for the Lord s Day and to do the extra chores around the house.
I figured that father would start noticing the blank check that was my monthly pay but as time went on, I discovered that my mother was paying father, out of her own stash of money, to keep me fed and sheltered. I knew better than to ask her were the money came from or if father was indeed aware of what she was doing, for my mother was not one to answer to questioning, especially from an impertinent daughter.
I went along with my life in the next couple months, doing mistress jeans bidding and enjoying long hard afternoons studying with Rie and Lela under mistress jeans stern and watchful eye.
My Latin did not improve much, and for that I was scorned by all who heard me read. I understood and read silently better than with all eyes and ears attuned to my every word. Mistress jean had me in an ancient course in offensive magik, one that required twice as much from someone half my age, which, I must say, did not help in the least with my self esteem. I was never congratulated or appraised; all my triumphs were ignored and my mistakes magnified to the extent that I was almost left screaming in frustration at my own stupidity.
But, through it all, I always had Rie and Lela to put me back together after the day, Rie and I becoming friends almost immediately after the beginning of our sessions together. Life went on.
One day, Laffeye stopped into the library to see how things were . I knew that mother had sent her here to see if mistress jean was keeping up her end of the bargain.
Laffeye, the annoying and unwelcome slumped into a stool next to the stack of notes I was busy sorting through, her elbow knocking some carefully smoothed parchments to the floor.
Hello sis. She said carelessly, her hair somewhat askew and her lips more swollen and red than usual. Watcha doing? I grit my teeth and put the papers back into their neat pile. Ever since the conversion, Laffeye had been whoreing herself out even more than usual.
I m just sorting papers, as you can see you nitwit. If you would quit brushing every merchant that comes through town off his feet, you would notice there s another world besides the pleasures of bed. Laffeye looked at me steadily and I stiffened myself for a bitter reply, but before she could properly denounce me, her eyes fell onto Rie.
Speaking of the pleasures of bed little one, that man over there is definitely hoping that you don t believe a single word that came out of your mouth. I looked around for a gaudy customer and only saw Rie and Lela, working quietly in the corner, paying us no heed as they deciphered a star map. I blushed deeply as her words set in, making my lips quirk up and my knees wobble. I had never looked at Rie as a man, but there it was, staring me in the face.
You mean-you can t mean- what did you m- Laffeye shot up a finger to silence me. I ll tell mom your doing fine she said loud enough for any person within a 30 foot radius to hear. She ll be pleased. She bent towards my ear.
He s a handsome bloke, cat, go for it! God knows you need some of that sinful happiness you re always preaching against. With that she winked and left the shop, her dress falling down one of her shoulders.

Sitting across from him was pleasant, feeling his warm gaze on me made me happy and I finally noticed that Laffeye was right; he did love me.
Lela noticed that we were getting closer and stepped back, milking our puppy love with alone time and space. I thought nothing of anyone else but Rie. He was my night, my day, the air I breathed and the food I ate. We did share some sinful happiness , but even with the willful neglect from Lela, alone time was scarce. Soon enough I was leaving the house late at night, sometimes hand-in-hand with my repulsive sister, Laffeye, off to meet our gods, the men who pleasured us, who lived for us, who felt lucky even to let our names roll off their lips.
We would tumble around in the woods, grass, barn, pretty much anywhere were we thought it was safe to indulge our fantasies. My studies were nearly neglected as I was swept up in the happiness of love. My Latin went completely downhill and my offensive hexes bent into sloppy energy balls and damaged several bookcases.
Mistress jean was nearly beside herself with frustration as I ignored her guidance and instruction.
The bell hanging over the door tinkled, letting me know that I had to quit the runes I was studying to go help a customer. I stood up stiffly and, stretching, walked over to the waiting customer.
Welcome to Ms. Jean Papyrus fine antiquated books and scripts ,
How may I help you sir? The customer was wearing one of those really outdated traveling cloaks. The kind that go down to ones ankles and catch in all the wayside brambles and drag in the mud. I had seen some in my grandfather s shop were he repaired ancient garments for royalty.
The man didn t seem to hear me. Not that it mattered, not many people shopping for the ancient manuscripts that decorated the walls actually had one precise Booklet that they wanted.
I turned back to my desk. Mistress jean was out to buy some quality ink for the lowest price and Lela and Rie were out to lunch, leaving me alone to tend the shop. All at once the man was at my side, breathing softly in my ear. I had no idea how to act, but decided to mask my surprise and unease with ignorance and stupidity.
Were you looking for a specific author or genre today sir? I tried not to look at him, bypassing my desk completely, and shelved several misplaced books. Step for step he followed me, silently, never more than a foot away.
Please maintain your distance, sir. I said, my voice shaking slightly. Mistress jean had quizzed me on protocol, but this had not been included. My mind raced from spell to hex to curse as I tried to figure out what to do.
At my words the strange man hesitated, a slight smile playing at his lips. It would be a shame to leave such a beautiful flower as yourself to wither away in such a dismal place as this. He said, smiling widely; a smile to big for his face, a smile that would make a darling baby cry.
I was stunned to hear such words and scandalized myself by blushing, all hexes flying out of my head, dragging with them my sanity.
He stepped closer again, laying one hand around my shoulders, his fingers brushing my chest lightly. With the other hand he tilted my head to look up at him.
One brief kiss, hungry and hard. My lip started to bleed. And then he had left me, kissing my cheek and chin and then my neck.
I had wrapped myself around him, accepting this stranger from the street. I did not question either of our actions. I was purring and moaning under his lustful touch. Then it happened. A slow bite near the base of my neck, soft at first and then violently as he forced himself in, his teeth burying themselves ravishingly in my skin.
I tried to scream as he filled me and started to suck on my delicate skin, his tongue working between his teeth to lap up any stray droplets.
I tried to get free, to find a ray of hope for another second of life, willing myself to breath. Why oh, why had I gotten myself into this? How had all my common sense deserted me? Why wasn t anyone here to save me? Why couldn t I open my mouth to scream?
I wanted to die, leave my body and project to a different world and leave this creature behind in this vile, filthy world to die.
Then a blow, not for me but well-aimed for his skull, descended.
The stranger backed away immediately, blood streaming down his, or its face. Its canine teeth had grown a surprising length and his face was contorted into a mask of every evil feeling in the world.
He departed quickly, his cloak catching on the umbrella stand near the door, taxi-ing it several yards out the door.
The stranger was gone without a trace.
Chapter 8 Mistress jean stood, taller than ever, her walking cane quivering several inches above the floor.
I had lost my footing and was sobbing among some books that had fallen on the floor, they re pages dotted miserably with blood and spit. My neck was dripping and the wound was already petrifying.
Mistress jean took me upstairs, half carrying me as I struggled to maintain control of my stomach and legs.
She started a bath and helped me off with my clothes, dressing my wound and bathing me gently as I lay quietly in the cold water.
She was whispering to me, telling me to breathe and forget my mortal troubles. She left me once, briefly, to close up shop, and returned to find me sitting on her comfy bed, my wet hair sticking to me and my naked body illuminated eerily in the stream of dusk-light that came in through her cramped apartment.
She helped me dress, brushing the bruises away gently as she raised my dress for me to step under.
I was not ashamed of what had happened. Or was I? Many such happenings had been heard of in these parts and had been disguised and labeled as the vicious crimes that they were.
I was very confused. It would take more than a pretty word to loose my conviction. Something dark had happened and I felt that some action should be taken to avenge my own transgression, if that s what it could be called.
A cold sweat broke out over my body. Ashamed indeed was I. people would find out, people would hear what folly I had committed. I would be disgraced and no alliance would be made for me through a wealthy marriage. I would be a outcast, a name lost from interest or care, unloved.
I became aware of mistress jean singing to me softly as she brushed my hair. To hear such a sweet sound coming from her lips was a surprise. She had shed her normal, harsh self and had become the maternal being my sex is favored for.
How long were you watching? I asked quietly.
The singing stopped short.
Long enough to see that it was not your will to be spoiled so. I do not know when she had started giving such vague answers but I didn t have it in me to argue or debate for a better one.

Mistress jean had sent a messenger to my mother and she arrived almost right away, skirts flying and herb bag swing under her coat. When I saw her face I knew that everything was far more serious than I had imagined. The situation was dark, evil, and maybe other-worldly. My momentary insanity was brushed aside as an adolescent slip. My wounds were dressed with new bandages and herbs that should ve stopped the flow of blood immediately. My neck was blessed and hexed and twisted.
Finally, in an act of desperation, mother appealed to a saint to intervene on my behalf. Then she tossed some basil into the fire with a muttered curse.
Amazingly, it worked. The bleeding stopped almost immediately.
My mother turned rather pale and refused to acknowledge the miracle, instead retreating behind a book to find out what exactly had taken place on this, somewhat tiring, (as she so delicately put it), day.
I sat numbly on the bed, the entire while, waiting. I didn t know what I was waiting for, maybe a nod or gesture that everything would be ok. I wanted answers. Answers to all the many pounding questions that threatened to overwhelm my already labored breathing.
What would Rie say? Would he find out? Who would find out? Why did this happen to me? Was it somehow my fault? By a chance, had I pushed one man over the edge with one lascivious move? Why me? Why, why, why, me?
Finally I burst out,
Who did it? I mean, who was that? I had stood and stamped my foot, like some child, impatient for the world to catch up to me.
My mother and mistress jean looked at each other, a hesitant look shadowing their eyes.
Mother spoke first.
We can t exactly tell, darling. I don t think it was a natural being, whatever it or he was. So he is an it . And, you, the wisest of all wise women in most of this planet can cannot tell what it is? I said this incredulously. For the wise women of dennlock to not know something was something to wonder at indeed.
A thousand more questions flooded my brain along with a cold fear. The fear of the unknown that drives humanity to hate and hurt and even kill. I chose the most pressing questions with a dawdling apprehension. Will the bite heal? Will it kill me? Who can help me? Is it very dangerous, mother? You do not sense a child from this beast, do you? Sorry for being so frank with you, mother, but I am not exactly at my best today. My mother muttered some things I could not hear, maybe a dismissive word at my worries.
I bit my lip to keep from screaming. The filthy actions that had taken place this afternoon were beginning to return, my bruised spirit and bloodied lips stinging as the pictures flew through my mind.
Just tell me what you know, mother. I was beginning to despise her vague, stubborn attitude that I had respected humorously just a few hours before.
My mother stared into the flames bitterly for a moment then said,
That s just it, Catherine, I don t know a thing about what left that mark. I ve never seen or heard of anything like it. I don t sense a child near at hand, but But what mother? Mother looked at mistress jean and jean stood up crisply, nodding her head towards me and leaving the room.
Left for tea. My mother said sweetly smiling towards me.
Mother... Alright, Catherine. she said quietly, waving her hand to rid herself of a fly or moth.
It seems that this thing has only injected you with a sort of blood thinner. Something to make the blood nearly as thin as water, so it cannot clot or heal. There is something else also, Cat. Something that I have sensed in you has awoken. Mother sighed, looking down at her hands, and it was then that I realized just how tired she looked. She sighed again and continued;
"Dearest, you have always been my 'special' child. When you were born, you had a golden aura. I always knew that you would be powerful. I was afraid that others who saw you would try to cultivate your power and ruin you. That is why I kept you near me, to help you develop a spirit of responsibility as well as to bring you to your full potential."
I blinked. I already knew all that she was telling me. What did this have to do with anything. I waited, hoping that she would make her conection soon.
"Your birth was on the cusp of two major turnings of the stars. For this reason, you were born with the spirit of a leader and with the spirit of one who hungers for more power."
So she knew, then, of my desires to dominate. Why then had she been so careless with my education, opening so many secrets to me? If she knew me, why did she still trust me? I moved slightly, my body aching with every turn, my weakness very aparent as I tried to lift my hand to brush a strand of hair from my face.
Mother leaned forwards to help me, her long fingers hot against my icy face.
"I am telling you this, Catherine, because I have sensed that that side of you has been drawn to the front, brought out more in the events that have occured today."
I closed my eyes. I was so tired. My mind was reeling with questions, but my body was just too exhausted to stay conscious to ask them. Mother noticed my fatigue and went on hurridly,
"Catherine, you must stay awake long enough for me to tell you this. In order to preserve your health and to quench this spirit that has arisen inside of you, I have decided to send you to a place were you will be safe. A place were everyone will be safe. You will be there for a while, but everything will be alright...Its all going to be ok."

I fell asleep in her bed, my body hurt and my spirit handicap for the moment. The window was open, a candle was burning near at hand and the bitter smell of basil was fresh on the air.
Mistress jean was still singing and it was relatively warm under the covers. My neck had stopped bleeding for the moment and mum and mistress jean were debating on whether or not to stitch it up or not.

Chapter 8

..
In time, mistress jean noticed the bond between Gabrielle and I. she also noticed the bite marks on my neck that entitled him, little vampire , and the way my hair slopped about when I came in from running some errands with Rie.
One day she came to my desk were I sat doodling inky hearts onto her expensive parchment disrespectfully.
Cat. She said sternly. I ve decided to send Gabrielle back to Alcon early, for your sake and for your educations sake. I kept scribbling numbly.
I ve noticed that you dawdle more around him and that you two have a, well, a connection. I ve got to repay your mother and I can t have my son getting in the way. I dropped the pen in a shocked stupor. Damn you. I said coldly. Damn you and your stupid books. I don t need you to learn and I definitely don t need your stupid son. I m not staying here. I stood up quickly and threw all my papers into the air. I m not staying one moment longer, jean, and I m never coming back. I grabbed my book bag from my stool roughly, tipping it over and rushed out of the store, pulling several bookcases down and dumping all the open ink-wells.
I rushed down the street, the heavy rain pulling down my sleeves and hood.
Why didn t I wonder when Lela and Rie didn t show up in the bookshop that morning? Why didn t I go looking for them then? Why did Gabrielle have to leave? Why? Why?
I turned sharply at the four way beyond the market and came to Lela s house.
The tall red oak gates loomed over me, closed, the rain pouring through the miniature valleys and mountains in the intricate woodwork.
I started ringing the visitor s bell next to the door with a hysterical vigor, my fingers barley grasping the slippery iron of the bell s handle.
The gates swung open after a long while, one of the servants huffing and puffing under the hesitant weight of the rusty hinges.
He shot me a filthy look from under his dripping hat and escorted me inside, acknowledging me as the friend of the family that had been his wee pain for the past decade.
Lela s house was a gigantic four-story house, every inch of its outside coated in intricate woodwork. All the furnishings inside were ancient and simple, shining stylishly through their antiquity. There was a grand wooden staircase, every stair creaking under any slight weight.
Today I declined the stairs and went to the left and down the long, long hall that led to Rie s room.
I was panting, wet and muddy when I got there. He was sitting on his bed, apparently warned of my coming. Suitcases were piled up and around hid bed, objects sticking out from under the lids in awkward directions.
I rushed over to him on his bed and he held me close as I wept and wept, my tears bleaching his dark clothes.
He was crying to, almost silently as I blabbered about how unfair everything was.
Eventually when I calmed down we started talking. We both suggested a valiant run away but both of us had no sellable skills to market, unless you counted whoring, which both of us agreed would be worse than death. We discussed a ritual suicide but declined that also, our theories of the afterlife somewhat lacking in faith or confidence that we would be united in death.
In the end, (which was several hours later, after dinner and long after bedtime.) we decided that there was nothing for it. Our hearts would split and our lives would shatter, but there was no other option. We would visit each other as much as possible, and when we could finally be legally free of our parents and had enough money that we would marry and live together.
A huge gap separated us that night. We weren t each others anymore. We weren t one. We weren t the other person s life-force. We fell asleep in each others arms, my parents worries laid aside for the moment and our own pain brought forth. We slept like babes, snuggled together, like puzzle pieces. The missing link that would keep the other alive.

We woke early, and hugged warmly. We knew, but did not acknowledge the goodbye that was ahead. We washed each others face and hair, memorizing every line and detail in our skin, and finished packing.
We both skipped breakfast and stayed in his bedroom, lying silently in each others arms, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
At precisely 11:00 o clock, some servants came into the room, and, ignoring the both of us, took up the suitcases and trunks and led them to the carriages waiting outside.
We followed them, walking hand in hand and avoiding each others gaze.
Are you ready, young master Gabrielle? Lela s gruff coach-driver asked roughly.
Gabrielle grimaced and looked up, down, anywhere but at me.
Yes. I- I m ready. He said hoarsely, finally staring down into my face sadly.
He bent for and awkward, desperate hug.
You ll always be in my heart, cat. he whispered quietly.
And you ll always be my little vampire, Gabrielle. I choked, my chin trembling.
He smiled down at me, sadly and bent again to bite my neck gently, for the last time.
Love you. Love you too, I sobbed.
Bye. I didn t respond. I looked away and started to stiff` le my tears, seeing no point in crying when nothing could be done about the situation.
The carriage drove away slowly, its wheels creaking and the whips cracking.
Chapter 9

Sister Catherine rolled over and looked at me blearily. "You still awake?" She asked, smiling. She probably thought that I was just suffering from severe homesickness, hence my long, wakeful night.
I nodded. I did not try to hide the fact that I was awake. Not one of these nuns knew my plans, nor had any idea, save sister Mary, who may have had an idea, but probably did not think that I was capable of escape, or that I would actually put any plan into effect. Sister Catherine wished me a good sleep and rolled over, falling asleep momentarily. I looked out the window and swallowed. Now was as good a time as any. There was a sickened feeling as I pulled my legs slowly up towards my chest, inching my way out of the bed. I blessed the saints that sister was such a deep sleeper. Then I cursed them for letting me get into such a predicament. I did not move right away. I sat there, on my pillow, my body reeling with nausea. This was it. The first step off the bed would be the end of my stay here, or the beginning of my life in hell, being punished every day if I was caught. I stayed on the pillow for what could have been an age. Somehow I knew that something terrible would happen. But I also knew that if I didnt at least try to run, I would blame myself for the remainder of my stay for my misery at having to stay.
I stepped off the bed slowly, monitoring sister catherine. She never stirred. It took me several minutes to stuff the sheets where I had been laying, confihuring them to look like my bulk under the sheets. I stayed crouched next to the bed, willing myself calm, forcing myself to breathe normally. A sister, (sister Mary) walked by the room, scanning it hurredly before moving on to her own room. Good. The bundle of sheets in the bed did look like me. I calculated the time to be about 4 hours after the rising of the moon. If I was out of the Monestary in the next hour, I would have a remaining 4 hours to get to a settlement or town closeby and find help. I knew only enough about the immediate outside world to know that the monestary and its 'missions' where not at all popular with the common people. I would play off of this. I stood up. I was so tense that I felt as if I was wading through icy water, my joints achingly giving way to my mental commands. Walking to the door, I made sure the hall was clear, then quickly ran down the hall towards the door that lead to the commens and chapel. Through all the doors I passed, were other girls, just as sad as I, just as homesick for their lives and friends. I stopped myself in mid-thought. If I thought too long on them, I would probably want to do some idiotic heroic deed that would get both of us caught. No. I reasoned that if they didnt care enought to at least try to run themselves, then they deserved to be here.
I reached the door, but I was smarter than to go through. Obviously someone would be sleeping on the other side. That was just the way that they thought. Like we couldnt think. Like we didnt have brains. I turned into the room on the left, sometimes used for meditation or discipline. Altough it was a precipitous drop if I were to fall, a narrow awning was about 3 armlengths below the window. I took a breath. I loved the rush that came when I was doing something that was totally not allowed! Even if someone did catch me, I had had the time of my life getting here! I had chosen the right night to escape. The moon shone brightly on my work as I hastily slipped out of the window and onto the awning. I remember the night that Rie and I had held each other and danced slowly in the moon. And the night when gypsy queen had told Lela and I her secrets of power.
My foot slipped on one of the tiles. The damp moist air from the humidity of summer had wet the tiles. The noise was like thunder in my pounding ears. I did not wait to see if anyone had heard me. If they had, they could damn well try to follow me out. Either I would be free or I would be dead, and this would be an excellent place to jump off if I were indeed caught. I tiptoed over to the end of the awning and crouched slowly to swing myself onto the pathway underneath. This was not done easily, as I was terribly weak from having my meals kept from me. My grasp was weak, and I almost slipped. My breathing accelerated. I couldnt hang on! My legs flailed wildly and my feet wrapped around the railing, pulling my body onto the porch with them.
As I landed on the porch, my wrist caught slightly in a gash in the awning of the porch. I could not utter a sound, but I felt it tear my skin and open my wrist. I staunched the blood as best I could on a piece of clothe I was using to belt my garments closer to me, to keep them from catching on anything. The attention I gave to the cut was quick and clumsy. I did not have time to pause for peresonal injuries. I had never been to this part of the monestary, but had only seen it from the courtyard. I could not even presume upon where I was. I had seen no person ever walk the plank boardwalk which led past several sets of doors. My natural curiosity would have gotten hold of me to explore these rooms or halls if I wasnt in such of a hurry to be away. Fear and hurry make people do things that are not natural to their character. I hurried down, past the kitchens, past the quarters of the girls who were hopeful to become nuns. I wanted so badly to avenge myself of these girls...I threw a quick hex towards the door, not caring how the aftermath would affect me latere on. I ran past the large chapel, used on their sabbaths, or holy days, or whatever. The courtyard was next. This was not the only way through which to escape, but it was the easiest, and it was not near the dorms, where there was much more security.
In the halls of the convent everything echoed and seemed louder than it really was. My pace slowed, but my heart continued to throb. No grandios thoughts of what would await me when i got home entered my head. My mind was too practical and realistic for that right now. I walked quietly down the main hall. Goodbye to all who I loved, who I knew would be restricted in their priviledges because I had escaped; maybe some interrogated because of me, about me. I looked around me. No one there. I couldnt let my conscience come into play now. I couldnt live for them. I had to live for me. A momentary doubt choked me. I paused, standing near the courtyard doors, arguing with myself. Then I shook myself. Lela was right as always. I DID have a problem with indecision. I moved stealthily towards the courtyard doors. then it was over the gate in front of the upward stairs, and on top of the roof. I didnt quite know where the trough was around the roof, but i knew if it did not lead to a location that was suited for climbing, there was a roof over the main enterance and I could possibly jump to the ground from if there. I would figure something out. Then, I saw a light approaching. I pulled cooly into the opening of a door directly behind me. I accidently pushed against it and it gave way.
As the light loomed closer, a lantern borne in the hand of a sleepy brother, I fought to keep my balance. I pushed myself into the room behind myself, sliding down the wall slowly and pushing the door closed silently with my foot just as the light crept slowly past.
...

As with any story, mine is not average. Although in the age in which I was born, I was considered an average child, with average passions and average desires, these passions and desires grew to a level that was not (absolutly, positively, and purely)not average when the part of me that should have been normal was fed with the abnormal. The section of me which should have wanted a quiet, happy and settled life felt like it was never there...like I couldnt feel or love like anyone around me. Dont get me wrong, I do feel sad, and happy, and whatever else mortals are supposed to feel, but I am a lot more calloused than many humans. I am above average in the way that I face death. I realized that the world was not all that it said that it was, and I was hungry to know what it really looked like, even if that knowledge killed me. Anyways, the point that I wanted the reader to grasp was that my life was and is not normal, and, as such, it happened that the door that I collapsed into was not an empty room as I had hoped, but was a very inhabited, dully lite room. I did not cry out when I found that the room held the person of Father Mindeguez. I stood up swiftly. Clearly he was upset as I watched him register all that he saw.
I did not wait for his reaction. I had come too far to be stopped now. end chapter

Before Father Mindeguez could speak, or call for help, I ran to him and dealt a blow to his head that would have knocked any person senseless. He slumped over. I was glad that although Father Mindeguez looked as if he could tear the whole world apart in one breath, he fell like any other person when given a good crack on the head. I was excited, and relieved, but not enough to slow down. I spat in his face, turned the glowing coals into ash, and left, quickly checking for anymore roaming monks. As there where none, I continued on my way. I was trembling. I had just knocked out Father Mindeguez! If I were caught now...I did not think of the consequences; fear of what might happen would get me nowheres. I reached the courtyard doors without any more occurences. My footsteps sounded as though they shook the whole building. The boldness of my actions shook me. I wasnt shocked at what I had done, for I was always too happy to resort to violence in any brawl; but the fact that I had used violence against someone who was so powerful!I didnt think that I would have to resort to any violence tonight! I didnt calculate the cost. If I got caught, my consequences would probably be outside of my parent's power to hold back. Then I remembered: I was in no way affiliated with my parents anymore. I would miss mother, but father I would miss no more. He was not my papa anymore. I was alone and it was better that way. Then I would not have to live for anyone else, and have to calculate my actions as adding up to their preferences.
My footsteps crunched along the frozen ground. My breath billowed up around me as I neared the gate at the far end of the courtyard. I was in full view of every window that looked down on the courtyard now. I couldnt be afraid, I couldnt act worried. If I did, any If I looked enough like a nun doing her nightly rounds I would not be caught. I climbed over the wooden gate at the base of the stairs tenderly, for my wrist was bleeding more than ever, and I had non-intentionally swung that hand to knock the Holy Father out. I did not look at the mess of bandages, for I hated to see my own blood. As I reached the top, I readied myself for another climb on the roof. The roof stretched low over the door at the top of the stairs. That door led to a hall, at the end of which was the Library, in which many memories, both sad and happy, had taken place. I knew that friars and monks who were up late went to the library to converse quietly or to copy down old texts. If any perchance looked out at me...I clambered to the roof before anymore worries overtook my active imagination and I did something even more rash with the fear that I held inside of me. An icy wind blustered by when I reached the peak of the roof. It teased the ends of my hair, and the moonlight streamed across my figure as I stood up fully. Now all I had to do was find a way down, hopefully by way of a gutter near the main entrance. I crept slowly down the decline on the other side of the roof and tiptoed slowly in the direction of the entrance. There it was! The tile tapped quietly under my feet as I made my way to the gutter quickly. I stood for a moment, looking down. My body was in no way ready to take this climb. In the months of my stay here, my excercise had only consisted of strenuous cleaning when I was meant to be punished. My muscles tensed as I lowered myself and hung for a moment, my feet swinging wildly for a niche to secure my weight. Cramming my toes into a space, I began my descent, trembling. Although the length was no more than 30 feet, it seemed like an eternity before I was able to drop the remaining 3 feet to the ground.

No gaurds had been placed at the entrance as I had guessed, for no one supposed that anyone would make it so far as the doors before getting caught. I turned rapidly and ran. I had not thought much past getting 'out', so I had to stop a moment to gather my thoughts before continuing. I knew the general direction of the town, so I ran that way. I had heard enough of the town from certain mumblings amongst the monks that I knew that it was not held in very high esteem by the village people. Indeed, it was frowned on greatly by most of the world that had heard of it. This nonapproval was what I would take advantage of when I arrived...if there was no way for me to survive anonomously.

`

Business call for Patrice rouse 877 994 9115 I shivered and pulled my knees to my chest as a freezing air blew in from a broken window near the ceiling.
I turned suddenly as a branch from a bush outside scraped one long thorn down it, creating a hi-pitched squeak. A shadow flew past the window, and I heard my hearts pace quicken.
The women around the table were still talking, only Laffeye bothered to scold me for making noise from my dark corner.
I got up and crept to the window, my hands clamped together, under my nightgown. I was willing myself to stay calm as I reached up, crawling onto a stable box for height, waiting for the feel of my hand against the cold steel.
It never came. I fumbled my hands around outside, feeling for the boards that had held it shut originally, making sure not to slide my wrist across the jagged glass on the window.
I couldn t reach any wood. One of the maids had probably taken it out for a breeze during the day and forgotten to nail it back up.
I sighed reluctant at leaving such a draft to itself and started pulling my hands back in.
Something must ve bumped my elbow then because the top of my hand slashed viciously into the window, blood pouring everywhere.
Mum and all the other girls stopped talking.
Just then, a hand, stronger than I could ever be, started pulling my wrist. Out the window it tugged, my terrified screams echo-ing out into the night air.
A putrid, rotting smell permeated my nose and I gagged, pulling harder away, feeling the skin on the forceful hand rend, tendons and bone slidding down my arm as it kept pulling. The thing, started clawing, trying to keep a grip, pulling my cut farther open and tearing the skin from my arms.
I was screaming, being pulled slowly out and over the shards that created the window, my body writhing as the glass cut into my ribs.
Mother and my sisters were all pulling on my legs, a tug-of-war with my bones grinding, the body outside immensely stronger than my family.
Out of the darkness a face loomed suddenly, skin stretched and sagging, eyes dried up in their sockets, a grin with teeth forever gnawing towards my bloodied arms. Its left cheek was completely eaten through from maggots. Dressed in corpse clothes, eaten through with worms, it stood about six feet, bending slightly to reach this window.
My sisters, seeing such a horror, fell back into a terrified mass, screaming.
I was pulled through the window completely; no more seesaw to keep me from this monster. Skin was torn from my bare legs and feet.
It had me in its arms, holding me close, and its mouth panting soggily down into my face. It bent once and licked my face, a cut open to its hungry tongue.
It let back its head and swallowed, rolling my blood on its tongue, tasting my essence.
I couldn t sense anything anymore. I was kicking, screaming, wrestling with the devil.
It was dragging me down our stone driveway with amazing speed, unperturbed by my useless efforts to escape.
I saw the house, behind me, light up, everyone awake, running, trying to save me.
Fathers face in with the crowd, chasing me, all anger and opposition wiped from his face.
I blacked out.
It was Laffeye that saved me, I found out later. She had grabbed a torch from a passing lamp that light our yard and thrust it into the creature s stomach, as a weapon to fend it from me.
She had caught up with us, nimble and quick footed as she was, had tried pulling me from it.
After she stabbed it with the torch it dropped me, uttering a shrill scream, its soggy lungs filling with rotten air as it screamed a long dying demonic scream.
No one told me this willingly. I had to bribe witnesses years later to find out the truth.
Mother told me that I was sleepwalking when I woke up, days later and had crawled through some glass.
She knew that I didn t believe her. She and I were one and when she lied I could tell. Her eyes told me.
I had to be stitched up, my legs a patchwork of broken skin. What the nurses, doctors and herbalists couldn t stitch they bandaged, and left oozing and bleeding.
They gave me alcohol to drink before every operation, to ease the pain. I was partially drunk for days on end, ranting like a mad man every time they stuck the needle into my skin, pulling it together and like a garment being fitted, my skin became mine again,
I was left inside to lie in bed all day long, without visitors, or friends, or company, except the occasional doctor to pull out one strip of stitches at a time, as they healed.
I was locked up and guarded: like a curse.

Chapter 4