“I heard the voice whisper sweetly in my head: So special you are. You are chosen. I will exalt you.”
She smiles brightly with a giggle. Cold fear slithers in my belly.
“I am the chosen one. I am the way. To follow me, you must be as I am.”
With two fingers, Felicity turns Pip’s face gently to hers. “Pip, what are you saying?”
Pippa wrenches free of Felicity’s touch and marches purposefully to Bessie. She offers the chalice of berries. “Would you follow me, Bessie?”
“Yes, miss,” Bessie answers hoarsely. She opens her mouth obediently.
With her eyes on Felicity, Pippa places the berry on Bessie’s waiting tongue. Horrified, Felicity runs for her and grabs her hand, knocking the berry free. Pippa pushes her, and Felicity shoves back hard. Pip’s face crumples for a moment, her eyes roll back in her head, and a high keening escapes her, like a laugh gone wrong. Her limbs jerk as she falls to the ground, her body swept into a dance of beautiful violence.
“Pippa!” Felicity calls. “Pippa!”
Bessie and the others back away, frightened. At last, the fit subsides; Pippa’s clawlike hands go limp, and she lies upon the ground, a misshapen stick. Slowly, Pip sits up, her breathing labored. A bit of drool runs from her mouth; there is dirt in her hair and along her dress where she has fallen. Felicity cradles her.
“Wh-what has happened?” Pippa whimpers. She tries to stand and stumbles, her legs as weak as a newborn colt’s.
“Shhh, it was a fit,” Felicity says softly. She guides Pip to the altar and helps her sit.
Pip’s lips tremble. “No. Not here. Not now.”
She reaches toward Bessie, offering the berry once more, but Bessie shrinks from her touch. The factory girls stand apart from her. Fear shows on their faces.
“No!” Pip wails. “I am special! Chosen! You will not leave me!”
She throws out her hands, and we’re surrounded by a wall of fire. The heat of it blows me back several steps. This is no magic-lantern show, no illusionist’s trick meant to frighten and entertain. This is real. Whatever power Pippa has inside seems to have grown with her seizure into something new and terrible.
The girls fall back even more, the flames shadowing the terror and awe in their widening eyes. A strange smile lights Bessie’s broad face, a cross between ecstasy and fear. She falls to her knees in devotion. “Oh, miss, you’ve been touched by the hand of God!”