Caitlyn Box Set by Elizabeth Davies

Author:Elizabeth Davies [Davies, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

The dream was a strange one, yet I was reluctant to leave it. I was watching my mother in church as she knelt at the altar to take the flesh and blood of Christ, the priest laying a hand on the top of her head and chanting the usual words. I saw her throat move as she swallowed and knew how much it cost her to do homage to this god who was not of her choosing. I would not be surprised if she spat out the wine and the bread when she thought no one was looking. After all, it would not be the first time; she kept a scrap of cloth in her pocket for that very purpose. But she had to take great care, because if someone witnessed her sacrilege it would not go well for her, so I was surprised when she turned to me and opened her mouth to show me it was empty.

What was she trying to tell me? That she had made peace with the Christian God and now worshipped Him? Or was she trying to convey to me that if this God could embrace my mother, a non-believer and a worshiper of false gods, then maybe there was hope for me too? Was she telling me that my soul wasn’t forever damned? That because she had taken the Host into herself, I could do the same?

But when she closed her mouth and smiled, I could have sworn her lips were tinged with red and it was not from the stain of red wine, either. It was blood, and as her tongue came out to lick it off, someone called my name, distracting me.

‘Caitlyn.’ It was said with some urgency, and I looked about me, wondering who it could be.

No one was there. The church behind me was empty save for the single figure of a woman, an old one, hunched into a shawl, her head bowed. When I turned back to look at my mother, the priest had gone. My mother was still there, but she had a mouthful of blood and it was dribbling down her chin. She continued smiling, and now she was pointing at the painted figure of Christ on his cross.

I opened my own mouth to scream.

‘Caitlyn.’ A light tap on my cheek accompanied the voice, and the image of my mother faded, becoming fainter, more ethereal.

‘No,’ I moaned, wanting to run to her, to feel her arms around me once more. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, what I could do to help her, but another strained “Caitlyn” chased the remains of the dream away and I opened my eyes, albeit reluctantly.

My head rested on someone’s lap, and an upside-down face loomed above me. A calloused palm stroked my cheek. ‘Thank the Lord,’ the voice said, and at that my memories came flooding back.

I struggled to sit up, but Brihtric held me down. ‘Stay still, my lady. You’ve had a nasty fall.’

‘I didn’t fall. The little shit threw me.

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