Willow paced the length of her room, lightly bouncing Violet in time to her anxious thoughts. The very mention of the Bishop had set her heart thumping heavily in her chest, and the idea of the fat man with his little piggy eyes putting his hands on her child...
But Violet was not her child. Willow squeezed her eyes shut against the painful reality. That woman, the beautiful lady from the market, would stand beside Liam in the sanctuary. She would hold Violet, and stand before God and Man pretending that she was a good mother who wanted blessings for her baby. And the Bishop would pick Violet out of that woman’s arms, and dip his fingers in the bowl of holy water...
She pictured the ritual in her mind, but instead of holy water, the bishop dipped his fat fingers into blood, sme
