The other nuns closed ranks around the one with the key and shuffled her back through the hall away from me as Sister Francis created a wall between us.
Fighting a group of nuns didn't sit well in my gut but the idea crossed my mind more than once. I rather enjoyed this new aggression in my veins. It was a level of physicality I'd never felt before and I wanted to use it. Brute force.
I turned back to the door that separated Jayne from me. There was no doubt in my mind she was in there.
"Jayne! Get away from the door! Now!" I shouted.
I moved away from the door and pressed myself against the wall across from it. With all my strength I pushed off the wall and kicked my foot against the antique doorknob. It rattled and hung loosely in its housing after the direct impact.
"Stop!" Sister Francis' voice was a mere flicker in the back of my mind. Her insignificance rang clear now. She didn't matter to me any more. She was weak.
I leaned back against the wall again and hurled myself at the door a second time. My foot landed solidly on the knob again, this time breaking it at the hinge. Pulling my arms in tight around my body, I smashed my shoulder into the door and it flew open.
I fell into the room. Catching my balance, I scanned my surroundings.
There, cowering in the corner, was Jayne.
Her frail form quivered in a heap on the floor. Her unclean, stringy hair fell across her face as she peered up at me. Like a feral animal, she bared her teeth in defense.
"Jayne. It's me. Isobel," I whispered.
Her bare feet pushed against the floor, pressing her deeper into the corner.
I dropped to my knees and inched closer to her. Reaching out for her hand, I spoke gently.
"Jayne. I've come back for you. I'm going to get you out of here. You're coming with me."
Her eyes darted around me. It was like she didn't know me anymore.
My eyes moved along her bony shoulders and down her skeletal arms. The skin on her forearms was raw with scratches, deep abrasions from repeated friction. Her knuckles were swollen and bruised, likely from pounding on the door for her release.
Rage brewed in my gut. What had they done to her?
I stopped to think about how long I'd been gone from this place. The ritual of the solstice and everything leading to it had taken about two weeks. Then we started more planning and maybe two more weeks had passed. It had been about a month since I'd last seen Jayne and it was clear now that she had been in this room for that long.
Guilt washed over me for not getting to her sooner. I just had no idea the level of evil that this place was capable of. If Sister Francis couldn't have me, then she took the next best thing for vengeance. Jayne.
Tears filled my eyes as I stared at her broken spirit.
"I love you, Jayne. You're my best friend." I wept. "I'm going to help you get better."
She blinked her eyes and looked straight at me for the first time. A tiny smile hinted at the edges of her mouth and a flicker of her spirit flashed in her gaze.
Oh, thank Christ. She was still in there. She was hiding somewhere deep within herself, but she was there.
I reached for her hand and just as I was about to connect with her...Slam!
The door pulled shut and the sound of a hammer pounded on it, again and again.
I ran to it and tugged. It was stuck and resisted every bit of my effort.
Then more hammering.
Another nail driven into our coffin.
The taunting, shrill voice of Sister Francis moved through the door and circled around us.
"Rot in there together for all I care. Yeh've both been sent here under my ward, prisoners of the state, if you like. And I make the rules," she barked from the other side of the door. "You'll be rehabilitated, children of God!"
Jayne cowered further into the corner and I reached for her hand.
"Don't worry, Jayne. I have a plan." I squeezed her cold fingers to warm them. "And we are leaving. Today."
I stood and pulled on her hands. She hesitated at first, but then worked with me. I helped her up to standing and she swayed in her weakened condition.
Malnourishment. Psychological isolation. Emotional abuse.
My fists squeezed with rage at her neglect and atrocious treatment.
And in that moment, I made a vow. With help from Rory and Paul, two respected citizens of Galway, I planned to press charges. Against the home for wayward girls. Against the individuals who ran it. Against those who sentenced us there.
Human rights violations. I'd have the place shut down. Condemned.
But that wouldn't be the end of my wrath.
I'd hold each offender responsible for their actions. They would need to pay. And I intended to collect.
I walked Jayne over to her cot and sat her down. Tugging on the shredded edges of her old sheet, I ripped strips off it. With the long pieces of fabric, I wrapped Jayne's arms and her knuckles, to protect her wounds from further assault.
"Jayne. You’re strong spirited. You are powerful." I spoke to her in a gentle tone as I cared for her broken state. "This is not your fault. This is not who you are. They did this to you and they will face judgement for it. I promise you." I pressed the greasy strands of hair off her face. "I won't allow them to harm you any more."
She stared down at her hands that sat limply in her lap.
She'd been psychologically traumatized. I wondered if I'd ever get her back.
But then I remembered her fighting spirit. It was stronger and brighter than any I'd ever seen before. I prayed it would be enough to bring her back.
"I'm going to shut this place down, Jayne. Every girl in here will be freed. I'll see to it." I kept talking in hopes of reaching her somehow. "And not just sent away. I'll see to it that they all have a place to go. A future to look forward to."
Her head tipped as if she were listening to me, so I continued.
"And you. I know you always wanted to go to college. I'll be sure that happens. I have a friend at the university who can help." I closed my eyes, dreaming of what could be done and how to make it happen.
Opening my eyes, I watched her face. Her eyes were closed almost like she was envisioning what I was saying. Her toes wiggled on the floor and I looked down at them. At first, they moved and pressed into the floor. Then the movement travelled through her ankles and up her legs. Her knees bounced once as the energy moved higher, straightening her spine. Then her shoulders propped up and her chin lifted.
Her lips quivered as if she were about to speak. I held my breath and stared.
Her eyes flickered open and she looked into my face. She stared deeply into my eyes and found me in our gaze. Staring back, I caught a glimpse of her true self as well. It was hidden deep, but she was there.
Then her lips parted and she whispered.
"Devil's bitch."
Chapter 5
I'd never been more delighted to be called a bitch in my entire life.
Jayne was alive. Deep within her broken, abused body, her spirit was alive. There was definitely something missing, though. When I searched deep in her eyes, I had noticed a void I’d never seen before. Something that had been stolen from her. But she knew me. That was what mattered in the moment.
A smile beamed across my face.
"I knew you were in there, harlot!" I pushed on her shoulder. "You're one tough wench, Jayne." I shook my head in disbelief and took her hand in mine. "You've pushed yourself pretty deep in there though, for protection. But I'll help bring you back out." I squeezed gently.
Her hollow eyes sent a chill up my spine. Her damage ran deeper than I could imagine.
I nudged her gently. "What's the first thing you need? Water? Food? Heat?" I glanced around the vacant room, devoid of any comforts. "I'll be sure you get everything."
Her hand tightened on mine in a weak attempt at squeezing back and she smirked.
"I want to kick Francis' ass,” she whispered. “And then have her spend time in Purgatory. To re
pent for her sins." She paused. "That would be good."
I nodded my head. "Yeah. That would be good."
I wrapped the stiff wool blanket around Jayne's shoulders and used parts of the torn sheet to protect her skin from direct contact with its scratchy surface.
As her shoulders relaxed into the comfort of being cared for, I began telling her the story of the Druid curse, the ritual of the solstice, and finding Maeve. Her eyes faded in and out of focus as she struggled to remain awake, but it didn't matter. I knew my presence alone was what she needed. The sound of my voice and my reassuring friendship.
Time passed without measure as I added layers to the story that I'd forgotten along the way. Jayne slept for a bit but I kept talking, in a gentle, lulling cadence so she would know I was still there.
The room darkened as the sun went down and without any lights in the room, I had to wait for my eyes to adjust. Dusk meant it was probably around 10:00pm, or maybe closer to 11:00, and I stopped talking long enough to think about what the plan would be for our escape.
Maeve had made it clear to me during my capture that she would help me, but we had not had time to discuss what that meant. But knowing her, she wouldn't waste a moment. And Ryan would be there to make whatever needed to happen, happen, unless, of course, he was in a cell of his own. I had to keep my faith strong that they wouldn't wait too long.
Jayne's eyes shot open and she gasped. "Shit! I thought you were gone!" She jolted. "The silence in the room made me think it was all another dream."
She'd clearly been dreaming of this day. Probably every day for four weeks. The thought stung my heart.
"No. I'm not leaving without you, Jayne. We're doing this together," I said.
She sat up taller and listened to my every word. "You dyed your hair," she said.
I reached for my long strands and stroked them. "No. It's the same as when I was here before."
"No. It's different," she stated. "You added purple to it."
I launched to my feet and turned my head, trying to get a glimpse of my hair.
She continued, "It's actually…glowing." She pulled her chin back. "Wait. You're glowing purple all over." She reached for me, trying to touch the hue.
"Oh my god, Jayne. That must mean Maeve is close!" I ran to the second floor window and looked out. "This happened last time she and I were together." I scanned along the base of the building and then moved my eyes across the beach along the water's edge.
There, moving like a ghostly apparition, was a woman in a long flowing white dress, walking along the wet sand. A purple glow lit her up like an unearthly being and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.
The haunting woman moved along the length of the beach and then trailed back along the fringe of the lapping waves. She continued her rhythmic march along the water's edge as if waiting for a lover lost to the depths of the sea. The glow of purple light that shone from her created an ethereal, unearthly feel that made my nerves tingle.
"Jayne!" I waved for her to join me at the window. "Come see!"
She forced herself from her stiff position on the corner of her cot and limped over as her bones and muscles resisted the effort. Lifting on tip toes, she glanced out the window and gasped.
"Jesus! A ghost?"
"No, Jayne. It's not a ghost." I smiled and made more room for her at the window. "It's Maeve."
She gasped as she followed Maeve's form along the shore.
"She looks like a ghost. But purple, like you.” She glimpsed at my glow again. “What is she doing?"
Jayne’s voice grew in strength as hope fueled it.
"I don't know yet,” I murmured. “All I know is she found us. And I can only hope Ryan's not far off." My hands moved to my mouth in cautious trepidation as my eyes scoured the darkness for clues.
Before long, voices of the other girls rose up from the dormitory below us. They had noticed the apparition and their tones grew louder and shriller as fear mounted in them. They began to cry out to the nuns.
Maeve continued her unflinching movement along the beach, unaffected by the skirmish among the girls at the windows. I was sure she heard them and knew it wouldn't be long before she was approached by the night shift nuns.
Jayne and I pressed against each other at the window, straining to get a better look at what was happening—and then from below, we heard the slam of a heavy door. Three women moved into view, wrapping shawls around them to keep the evening chill off as they barreled toward the beach.
In an instant, Sister Francis' voiced filled the night air with its accusations.
"And why might you be out of your bed, girleen? Yeh've no permission ta be out and..." Her voice stopped short as Maeve turned to her, making clear that she was not one of the residents of the island.
Sister Francis jumped back.
"Who are you? Yeh've no permission ta be on these grounds," she blasted.
Maeve lifted her arms, sending streaks of purple mist off her body. "Ta na forais seo domsa." She responded in the ancient language of the Gaels, in a hollow voice of death. "These grounds belong to me. And I am here to reclaim them."
Sister Francis and the other two nuns stepped back in confusion.
Maeve continued, "You will remain on this island with me. For all eternity. You must repent for your sins." She stepped closer to them with a gaze that was enough to send shivers through me from my safe position here at the window.
"Get out of here." Sister Francis waved her hand.
"Confess!" Maeve demanded.
"What?" Sister Francis' voice shook.
"Confess your sins and ye may be spared from an eternity of pain." Maeve moved closer and placed her fingers on her ring and rubbed it.
Wind picked up all around them and swirled into a funnel that rose above. The women cowered in the blasts and shrank from Maeve.
"Confess!" Maeve shouted. "Before me. Present to me your sins. Bring them to me."
"I, I don't know what you mean." The nun's voice quaked now.
"Two souls. Suffering from your abuse. Bring them to me," Maeve insisted. "Present to me your sins."
Sister Francis turned to the other nuns in shock. She shook her head in refusal.
"Do it!" the nun with the drooping eyes blasted at her. "It isn't right what's been happening here." Her shrill voice shot at Sister Francis.
My eyes widened as I realized I’d gotten to her. Our brief exchange when I’d first arrived rattled the nun who’d been neglected as a child. She was seeking forgiveness for her vengefulness.
Sister Francis moved to the meek nun as if she would hit her but before she reached her, Maeve shouted again.
"Present to me your sins!" She moved toward Sister Francis as if she would run right through her and scatter her dust into oblivion.
Sister Francis jumped back and shoved the other nuns toward the home. The three of them hurried toward the building, looking back over their shoulders to be sure they weren't being followed by the wrathful angel sent from God.
Maeve turned back to the sea and returned to her rhythmic pacing along the water’s edge.
Holy crap! She was good! She had me shaking in my own skin even though I knew it was a hoax.
I grabbed Jayne's shoulders. "This is it. We're getting out of here."
Jayne froze in my grasp and fear washed over her face. She'd been in this institution for a very long time. Longer than I even knew. She'd been mistreated. Tortured. It would take a lot of healing for her to find her strength again. Her courage.
Her fear of leaving this place surprised me at first. I figured she’d jump at the chance for an escape. But she had become institutionalized over time, having lost the ability to exist outside of the walls of her prison. Leaving this place was as frightening to her as staying.
"I won't leave you, Jayne. Ever,” I said. “You can stay with me and I will take care of you until you are ready."
She nodded with a blank stare, deciding whether to stay or go.
I gazed
into her eyes, using every ounce of my effort for her to see her freedom outside of this place, and then came a smash on the door.
The sound of metal and wood scratching together shredded at the door as the nails were pulled from it. With a final shove, the door flew open and smashed against the wall behind it.
Sister Francis filled the doorway, hammer hanging from her hand by her side, and the shadow of the other two nuns darkened the space behind her.
I looked at Jayne again.
"Are you ready? Ready to do this?" I asked her with a gentle voice.
Before I could read her expression to know her choice, she pushed past me and flew toward the door. The sound of a runaway train escaped from her throat as she screamed, barreling toward Sister Francis in a blood-curdling attack.
The inhuman sound of Jayne's banshee scream tearing out of her sent shudders through me as I watched her crash into Sister Francis. The shock on the nun’s face looked like it could be the last she’d ever endure before laying down to rest in her own grave. The sight of a ghost on the beach demanding repentance and now Jayne's transition into an attacking corpse—it was enough to twist one's mind to darkness.
Jayne's frail build barely bumped Sister Francis off balance though and in a quick move, the nun passed her to the others waiting behind her. The frantic look in her eye wasn't lost on me, however, and I knew we were gaining ground.
"Come with me." Sister Francis stepped to the side of the doorway to allow me passage.
Her eyes moved over me as she noticed the familiar purple hue she'd seen on the apparition at the beach. Without a word, she pulled her gaze away and refused to look at me again.
We moved along the quiet corridor and down to the stairs to the side door that led outside. Muffles of excitement streamed through the halls from the girls’ dormitories. They'd likely been contained and shielded from the windows by the other staff members. All they could do now was speculate and gossip about the unusual activity around the home.
Truth Seer (Irish Mystic Legends Book 3) Page 4