dEaDINBURGH Read Online Free

cross that particular bridge when he came to it.
     
    Approaching the main chamber, Joey halted his sprint, smoothed down his robe and painted on a convincing look of serenity. He pretended not to notice Brother Andrew scowling angrily at him as he took his place on a bench towards the rear of the chamber. As he sat, a loud creak of protest from the wooden bench echoed around the chamber. Father Grayson, The Brotherhood’s patriarch, stopped mid-sentence and glowered at him for a moment. Joey picked a spot on the concrete floor and stared at it until the chamber filled once again with Father Grayson’s commanding voice.
    “We,” he boomed, “Elisha’s chosen, have performed our sacred duties through four decades. It has fallen to us to walk with and care for the Children of Elisha who have inherited the world, by God’s will.”
    “BY GOD’S WILL,” a hundred strained throats cried back, sore and unused for three months. The Brotherhood winced collectively as they broke the silence. Some held their ears.
    Grayson continued. “Today, we give the daily offering of our blood so that the Children of Elisha may continue in their sacred existence. “
    “BLESSINGS BE UPON THE CHILDREN,” the Brothers croaked.
    Grayson spread out his arms in a crucifixion pose, a gesture made to include everyone in the chamber. His long black robes billowed slightly.
    “Today we receive our Communion directly with Elisha and his Children.”
    “BLESSINGS UPON THE HOLY ELISHA.” A ripple of excitement and of anticipation moved through the chamber as Grayson reached for the simple wooden bowls containing the Carrionite.
    “Step forward, Brothers, and commune with our blessed Saint and his Children,” Grayson commanded.
    Joey still had his head bowed but glanced up occasionally to watch the procession of Brothers in single file take Communion one at a time. As Brother Andrew approached the altar, Grayson scooped out a portion of the powdered Carrionite from the bowl with a silver teaspoon, tipped the powder onto the altar, drew a line around ten centimetres long and watched with approval as Brother Andrew filled his nose, inhaling every speck of the Communion powder.
    “Blessed are we,” said Grayson
    “Blessed we are,” Andrew replied, drawing the ceremonial blade in his right hand across the palm of his left. He clenched his fist over a large goblet, allowing a stream of his blood to flow into it. Finally he wrapped a clean cotton cloth around the wound and made way for the next Brother.
    As Andrew walked slowly back to his bench, Joey noted the familiar glaze had already slid over Brother Andrew’s eyes. His facial muscles had relaxed and he was effectively dragging his dulled limbs back to sit in his allotted position on bench two. The Carrionite kicked in fully as he sat, making his gaze and countenance look so much like that of the Children of Elisha that Joey might have considered running from the chamber, if he hadn’t seen the effect on the face of his Brothers dozens of times before. As he continued to observe Andrew, he saw him slip into the comatose state, characteristic of the Carrionite.
    “Joseph MacLeod, come forward,” Grayson boomed.
      Joey shot up to a standing position, in shock at having been called by name. Kids Joey’s age didn’t take communion; only fully initiated Brothers did so. He must’ve screwed something up when preparing the Carrionite. Public humiliation followed by atonement was very much a favoured technique in Father Grayson’s repertoire.
    Joey ignored the murmurs of those who hadn’t taken Communion yet and pushed past the catatonic bodies and floppy limbs of those who had until he reached the altar. Looking up at Grayson, he asked, “How may I serve you, Father?”
    Grayson didn’t answer, but lifted his spoon into the Carrionite and spread out an offering for Joey.
    He shook his head at the patriarch.
      “Father, I’m not of age.”
    Grayson didn’t reply, but used an