Chapter 8 Avalynne
AVALYNNE
Amorning storm stitches shadows across the classroom as the sun capitulates to clouds.
Through the row of tall tracery windows, I watch as rain begins to fall and stretch my hands.
My fingers ache from hours of writing, and I can't wait to get out of this room.
Every minute at my desk reminds me of my grandfather and this morning's terrible phone call.
Tell me the truth and then you can come back to me, he had said.
I'll do almost anything to earn his forgiveness, but I can't betray Isabella, not when I'm the good granddaughter and she's my grandfather's scapegoat.
I drop my pencil to my desk, and my knuckles pop loudly. Professor Thatcher doesn't seem to notice. He hasn't so much as glanced at me since I returned to my seat this morning. I look at him, but if he feels my gaze, he doesn't peer up from whatever he's doing on his tablet.
A vicious rap comes from the door, shattering the classroom's silence. Professor Thatcher glances up from his tablet and frowns at the door.
"Enter," he says dryly.
The door groans open to reveal Sister Cordelia at the threshold. Light from the hallway frames her like an angel, drawing a halo around her black habit.
"I'm here for Ms. Immorier," she tells him. "Reverend Mother demands her presence."
My stomach drops to my knees. I know immediately even if Professor Thatcher didn't tell Reverend Mother about my phone call, Grandpapa did.
The realization stings.
He really has abandoned me.
Professor Thatcher's scowl deepens as he regards the nun for a long moment. Then he yields with a dismissive wave of his hand like he's swatting an insect rather than sending away a human.
I stand on shaky legs as dread coils in my chest. I look toward Professor Thatcher, but his attention has returned to his tablet. I've already been erased from his memory. I leave my books on my desk and walk to Sister Cordelia's side.
"Follow me," she instructs.
She escorts me through a labyrinth of corridors, and I lose track of the turns. The dim light plays tricks on my mind, and I think I spot a figure at an intersecting hall, but the thing vanishes in the blink of an eye when I turn to look at it.
Sister Cordelia and I take the winding stairs down to a part of the basement I haven't been before.
We pass beneath an arched stone entryway, and a draft sends shivers scuttling down my spine.
There are no lights in this part of the convent, but someone has lit candles, leaving them atop gilded candelabrums on the stone floor.
Wax drips in thick tears from them, pooling in small metal basins, and the flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows on the walls that gyrate with an invisible wind.
With each step, a frigid coldness coils deep in my chest.
We descend stone stairs going deeper into the basement, and the temperature around us drops even further. I shiver. The silence in this part of the convent is almost palpable, broken only by the distant, rhythmic drip of water seeping through stone.
Sister Cordelia remains quiet as we press ahead. I follow her, my heart thumping against my ribs until, finally, we arrive at another arched doorway adorned with black iron crosses on either side. We pass through it and enter a chamber filled with massive stone basins full of clear water.
The liquid shimmers beneath the dying candlelight, and shadows mar the walls and stretch across gilded crucifixes that hang on either side of the room.
Carved marble statues of saints I don't recognize stand positioned in alcoves, their eyes cast downward in perpetual prayer, and the air smells of sage and damp stone, blending with the aroma of burning candles set in tall golden candelabras.
When I look down, I find the floor beneath our feet is inlaid with mosaics of biblical scenes with thousands of colored tiles meticulously arranged to form images of angels and apostles.
Our footsteps echo as we pass one giant basin of water after another, until we reach the space where Reverend Mother Graves stands at the far end of the chamber.
Four nuns flank her, two on each side, their towering figures swathed in black robes that dissolve into the shadows at their feet. Her piercing gaze falls on me as we arrive in front of her.
"Thank you for escorting Ms. Immorier," Reverend Mother tells Sister Cordelia. "You are excused."
"Of course, Reverend Mother." Sister Cordelia bows her head before she turns on her heel and leaves the room.
Reverend Mother frowns at me, deepening the lines etched across her face.
"Your grandfather informed me that you tried to contact him.
" Her voice sounds like a gavel striking a sounding block.
"You have broken our rules, Ms. Immorier.
Now, you must bear the consequences. I am disappointed in you, but I suppose it's not a surprise.
Your ancestor was a tormented soul, just like yourself. "
Whatever is left of my waning courage disintegrates, but I won't let her see my fear.
"Disrobe and approach the bath." Her words are cold with finality.
Surely, she can't mean …
When I don't move, she nods to the nuns, who step forward to grasp my shoulders. Their grip is iron-tight, and their expressions are perfectly blank as they strip me bare, discarding my coif and veil first and then my shirt and skirt until I am only in my underwear.
What is going on?!
Reverend Mother Graves gestures towards the dark, still water in the basin. I can't see the bottom, and my stomach lurches into my throat. I'm going to be sick. I begin to shake.
"This is where we used to bring women like yourself," she tells me, eyeing the water. "It was thought that by bathing them in the holy waters, their demons would be excised. Your aunt would have been brought to this very room as well."
Reverend Mother's gaze returns to me. "Baptism is a sacred sacrament, child, and it is necessary to cleanse one of original sin and allow us to be reborn in the eyes of God. It is a profound honor to be baptized."
"Wait …" I manage, panic twisting my insides.
I can't go in that! I'll drown!
No, no, no, no, no, NOOOOOO!!!
She looks to the nuns and a breath later, two of them grab me again, each one latching on to one of my arms. A moment passes before I'm forced, pleading and fighting, into the water.
I'm pushed past the edge of the stone, sinking feet-first into the basin like lead weights have been tied to my ankles.
I thrash against the nuns, trying to break free, but I'm shoved beneath the water.
Black darkness greets me, and my feet flail. I can't find the bottom.
Water floods my ears and shoots up my nose before I'm pulled from beneath the surface, sputtering and coughing as Reverend Mother recites something. I blink rapidly, clearing the baptismal water from my eyes, before I'm dunked beneath the frigid cold again.
I thrash, but it's no use. It's three against one as Reverend Mother joins in, her hand pressed atop my skull.
They hold me down as above me, Reverend Mother continues, "For Peter said to them, Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. "
A scream claws its way from my throat as I am lifted out of the pool again.
I choke and cough, thick spit dribbling down my chin and across my chest. I shake uncontrollably as the sisters hold my arms and keep me afloat.
A breath later, my head is thrust beneath the surface again, only to be pulled back out and the sign of the cross drawn on my dripping forehead.
I gasp for air as my head lolls back, and I look up at the shadows stretching across the stone ceiling.
It hurts.
I choke on my own breath.
The nuns begin to chant in Latin.
"Sanctificare per aquam, peccata ablui," they say, before the water closes over my head once more.
I thrash, but I can't break free.
I can't breathe. I can't breathe! I. CAN'T …
I am yanked above the surface, holy water stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. I vomit, and water pours from my throat and down my chest in hot, slimy liquid. It makes me retch again.
Reverend Mother's voice swims in and out, all around me and inside me at the same time.
"We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death," she intones, "so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life."
A fleeting second later, I am again plunged beneath the consecrated waters. It feels like a death sentence. My lungs sear beneath my ribs, begging for air that never comes. I open my mouth, but nothing is there. Water invades my nose and throat, and the edges of my vision darken.
I can't see.
I can't shout.
I can only succumb.
I am drowning, sinking deeper into an abyss as my body spasms. When I'm hauled to the surface again, my head is jerked to the side, and I find myself face-to-face with Reverend Mother. She grasps my cheeks between her aged hands, her nails biting into my flesh.
"Do you renounce your sins?" she demands.
Coughing up water, I say nothing as the nuns continue their chant.
Again, I'm thrust beneath the baptismal pool, and it's everywhere, filling my nose and mouth, pressing in on all sides.
My heart knocks in my chest, desperate for oxygen, and the burning inside my lungs turns scalding.
Icy water drills up my nose, and the pressure feels like it's going to split my head in two.
Just when I think I can't take it anymore, I'm yanked topside again.
Reverend Mother's voice pulses in and out, slicing through the ringing in my ears.
"Having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead," she says.
Yet again, I'm submerged, the water engulfing me. Nails scrape against my scalp and fingers punch into my shoulders as time thins to nothing. I scream into the water before my vision fades. Then the world evaporates until there is nothing but cold and darkness.
Death tastes like sour metal as I sink into a void.
My body convulses, futilely attempting to break free. The harder I fight, though, the tighter the nuns hold me under. Then everything goes silent, and I float into unconsciousness.