Isabella's Heiress Read Online Free Page A

heaven?” Emma was not impressed.
    Father Eamon smiled. “No.”
    Emma felt like someone had poured a bucket of chilledwater down her back. She sat up, her eyes widening as she took in her new surroundings. “Then, this is hell?”
    â€œâ€˜Tis neither heaven nor hell, Emma. It is as I said earlier, you have reached a plane which is somewhere in between.” Father Eamon paused for a second before continuing. “Look on it as a halfway house of sorts.”
    Emma looked at him, unconvinced. “A halfway house? Why would I have to go to a halfway house? That’s the sort of place convicts and junkies end up in.”
    This brought another half-smile to Father Eamon’s face. “No, this is a place for people in your…position.”
    â€œPosition? What position would that be?” Once again Emma found herself asking a question to which she really had no wish to hear the answer.
    â€œYou died, Emma. Sixty years before you were supposed to.”
    Emma felt the bottom of her stomach drop away. She wasn’t certain what answer she had been expecting but she was pretty sure it wasn’t that.
    â€œEmma, when that lorry hit you, you should not have been where you were. It is complicated to explain but that lorry should have missed you. It is of great concern that you were taken when you were.”
    Emma’s eyes narrowed at Father Eamon’s last comment. “Concern? Concern to who?”
    Father Eamon caught himself. “I’ll explain that later. Right now you need to understand that everything has changed. Life as you knew it is over. I’m here to guide you through whatever may come next.”
    Emma felt bile rise in her throat. She sucked in air, forcing it back down, but the acid started to burn in her chest. Once again she noticed Father Eamon peering over her shoulder as if he was looking for someone else to appear. “So, what happens next?”
    Father Eamon continued scanning the walls that surrounded them as he answered. “Now I get you to the sanctuary.”
    â€œWhere?”
    Father Eamon stood up and looked at the darkening sky. “The sanctuary. ‘Tis a place where people like you go when something like this happens to them.
    â€œEmma we must leave now. ‘Tis getting dark and we should be inside.”
    Emma didn’t like the way Father Eamon’s voice had suddenly taken on a distracted tone. “Why, what happens after dark?”
    â€œLet us just say that it would be better for both of us if we were not outside. Please, Emma, you must trust me now. We must go.”
    Father Eamon offered Emma his hand but she got up without his aid, the feeling now having fully returned to her legs. He led her back to Tower Hill, which had returned to its original lifeless state.

    Emma followed Father Eamon as he walked towards the junction for Trinity Square. The mist had lifted since she had last been here and she could now see the surrounding buildings that had been denied to her earlier. The scene of devastation she witnessed banished any feelings of familiarity she may have felt. The once pristine facades of the coffee shop that sat on the corner, and the sandwich bar where she had regularly bought her lunch, were now shattered and twisted. The glass and metal that had once been their front windows now littered the pavement in small, untidy piles of debris.
    A harsh, grating cry filled the air behind her. She turnedaround with a start to see a large, black bird studying her with eyes of smooth coal. Emma heard Father Eamon let out a short groan.
    â€œâ€˜Tis a raven.” Father Eamon’s voice was low and cautious. “Emma, we need to go. Now.”
    They backed away from the bird, which for its part shuffled along the railings it was sitting on, keeping pace with them. When they reached the corner of Trinity Square, the bird hunched forward on its legs, craning its head round so that its long, narrow beak