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open-palm gesture to indicate that Joey should take Communion. Was it a test? Was he being punished? Would he be wrong to take the Carrionite, or wrong to refuse?
    Hearing someone enter the quiet chamber, Joey glanced quickly over his shoulder towards the door to see Padre Jock strut in. It wasn’t unusual to see the old man at these events. He never took part but rather seemed to find some amusement in the ritual and pomp of Communion. Jock looked straight at Joey, then at the Carrionite in front of him, and finally threw Joey a look of pure contempt before leaving.
    The look cut Joey to the bone. Who the hell is he to judge me?  
    Father Grayson reached down and placed a hand gently on Joey’s shoulder. “Take it,” he whispered.
    “Why?” Joey asked.
    Grayson’s eyebrows rose in surprise but he held his anger and spoke softly.
    “Some Brothers, for their own safety and for that of his Brothers, must be initiated early. Take it.”
    Releasing the boy’s shoulder, Grayson rose to his full height, spread his arms wide and yelled, “Today Brother Joseph leaves his old life, his childhood behind. Even one such as he,” Grayson pointed a long finger at Joey, “even this boy, despite his rebellious nature, despite the nature of his arrival into our midst, even he is welcomed into our sacred Brotherhood.”
    Joey’s ears pricked up at this. He’d almost never heard anyone refer to the fact that he wasn’t born into The Brotherhood, almost never heard any of the Brothers refer to how he came to Mary King’s Close as a baby. Exasperated at the futility, he’d stopped asking Brother Andrew years ago. That Grayson was mentioning his arrival in a public forum like this was astonishing. Was he about to tell him who his parents were?
    “Full members of The Brotherhood are privy to all of our secrets, young Joseph.”
    Grayson indicated again for him to take the Carrionite. Looking out at the assembled Brothers, Joey searched their faces for help. Bobby, Andrew, former friends all either turned their gaze away from his desperate eyes or were too high on Carrionite to notice. Joey found himself wishing that Padre Jock would come back to scowl at him, to inject some will into him with the anger he projected towards everyone in his line of sight. But Jock was gone, as disgusted with his participation in Communion as the Brothers would be with his non-participation.
    Grayson had trapped him. He’d made no secret that he felt Joey didn’t belong in Mary King’s Close. He didn’t like outsiders, people not born to the service . Joey had no idea why The Brotherhood had ever taken him in as a baby. It damn sure wasn’t out of compassion as The Brotherhood would dutifully leave any living person to be ‘blessed’, to be fed on by the Children of Elisha. If he refused the Carrionite, Grayson would make him leave. If he partook, he’d be just like them .
    “Do it, “Grayson screeched at him, losing his composure in his eagerness.
    Looking around the chamber, filled with the passive faces and bodies of the only people he’d ever known, Joey made his decision.
    “No,” he said simply and left for his chambers.
     
    Sprinting at full-speed along the tunnels of The Close, Joey reached his chamber within seconds and began pulling together all of his belongings. He had maybe twenty minutes before The Brotherhood began to rouse from their Communion and came for him. Grayson wouldn’t tolerate a non-believer in the underground town and would more than likely make him an offering to the Children of Elisha.
    Pulling his clothes and possessions into the middle of the cold, damp chamber he’d called home for fifteen years, Joey packed what spare clothes he had into a rough canvas rucksack along with some other items, including a pouch of Carrionite. He dressed quickly in black denims, thermal long-sleeved T and sturdy hiking boots, all scavenged from a mountaineering shop.
    Assembling his bow, Joey slipped his quiver full of