Black/The Half-Demon’s Sister/pages 60 - 92
Chapter Nine
Once the men had left, Eliza stared up at the burnt out remains of her home then back at the baby who slept unaware of the evil that swirled around her. The reek of smoke and charred wood mingled with the foulness of burnt flesh. How dare they think she was responsible for this death and destruction? She’d never hurt a flea.
Eliza packed up the sheets and tools, determined to head for Bells Corner, her first step toward London, when she realized she’d need provisions for the trip. She hiked up her skirt and climbed up the hill toward the garden that had been spared. She knelt down and dug up every leek, turnip, onion and garlic bulb she could find. She picked the two cabbages and all the pea pods, stashing them in her burlap bag. She moved on to pick the mint, parsley and sage . She stopped at the rosemary plant, weighing her options. Rosemary was too important. It, better than any other plant, granted protection. She ripped up the entire plant. It would go with her. She prayed it wouldn’t die en route to their future.
Slowly, she headed back to the graves, stopped to say a prayer for her mother and Midnight. By the time she returned to Pumpkin and the baby, she held the rosemary plant in her hands, wrapped in a rag for its own protection. She looked back up the hill. Only the stone chimney and the blackened hole that surrounded it remained.
The baby was waking. Eliza quickly cleaned the babe, changing her diaper, this time sprinkling it with some ground mint leaves then fed her.
Eliza had strapped Raven to her back and had just untied Pumpkin from the tree when she heard footfalls approaching from the house. She panicked and glanced up, afraid it was Ivan or Nathan.
A robust dark-haired man dressed in a silver doublet covered in sapphires and outlined with gold brocade marched toward her. His black cape whipped around his red tights, and his long, pointed shoes were ill-suited for the grass though he made good time as he approached.
Eliza gasped and grabbed onto Pumpkin, placing the cow between her and the man, as if the old cow could protect her. She’d never seen a man dressed such but recognized his countenance. The horns and tail were gone. No ridged brow or horrid underbite marred this face, but she knew him nonetheless.
Asmodeus smiled. His dimples ran the length of his rosy cheeks.
“Have to apologize about last night,” he said, pushing back a lock of black hair behind his ear.
Eliza trembled, speechless.
He towered over Eliza while Pumpkin mooed between them.
“I lost my temper.”
Eliza wanted to drop her bags and race away, but what good would that do? He’d simply reappear in front of her. Her blood rushed so she could hardly hear.
Asmodeus patted Pumpkin’s back. “I’ve decided to come back and take the baby. You don’t need to be saddled with her.”
Without thinking Eliza replied, “No.”
“No?”
Eliza swallowed hard. She couldn’t look him in the eye.
He waved a bejeweled hand. “Give her to me.”
“Why do you want her?” Eliza managed to squeak out.
The man shrugged. “I’ve recently become much more paternal than I used to be.”
She glanced up at him. “Since yesterday?”
Asmodeus laughed, touched a finger to his forehead. “Retrieving her completely slipped my mind.” He held out his arms for the babe.
Eliza took a step back. “You can’t have her.”
The demon’s smile slipped. “She’s mine.”
“We don’t know that. You can only have children every seven years. She was born on an off year. She could be any man’s child.” Eliza flashed on the scene she’d spied nine months prior. This was clearly the “man” she seen coupling with her mother. Could there be any doubt whose child this was?
The demon raised an eyebrow, studying her. “That’s an old wives tale. I’ve had children born at all times.”
“And you killed my mother. Almost burnt me to a crisp. All you would do is murder her, use her in one of your demonic rituals.”
“Don’t make this difficult, human.”
Eliza shook her head. Petrified as she was, she would never give up this baby to a full-fledged demon.
“You could come, too,” he said with a new smile. “I’m taking her to London. Isn’t that where you want to go?”
How did he know that? She shook her head again. “You’re not taking her to London. You’re taking her to Hell.”
Asmodeus scratched his cheek. “Well, eventually, yes. That’s the plan. Why don’t you come? You apparently have some sisterly love for this child. Join us.” He leaned over Pumpkin making Eliza back up farther. “It will be an adventure like you’ve never imagined.” His breath smelled of cinnamon.
Eliza turned away from him. “Never.”
She felt the heat of his stare on her or was he staring at Raven strapped to her back? She abruptly turned back again.
He raised his clipped eyebrows at her. “You have a stubborn streak. I like that. I’ll tell you what. You keep the child. Let’s see how you do. I’ll visit you on occasion, how’s that?”
“Devil, be gone!” she yelled with all the strength she could muster.
Asmodeus burst out laughing, glancing from side to side. “You’ll have to do better than that, human.” He waved a hand at her. “Fine. Go on your little trip to Bells Corneror wherever you end up. But remember this. You will give up this child to me. It simply depends on if you want to do it the easy way or the hard way.”
With those words, the demon flourished his cape and vanished.
1
Black / The Half-Demon’s Sister / Page 1 / (Pages 60 - 92)
Chapter Ten
Eliza dropped to the ground, unwrapped the baby from her back and cradled her in her arms. She couldn’t believe she stood up to that demon from Hell, and he’d simply vanished. Hadn’t smote her. Hadn’t even hurt her.
Why would he want Raven? She stared down on the newborn with the angelic features and thick head of dark hair. Maybe he couldn’t hurt Eliza as long as she had Raven. She shook her head. He’d broken their mother’s neck. If he wanted Raven, he wasn’t going to get her without a fight. The thoughts of what he might do to the child raced through her mind: flail her and use her newborn skin for some horrid tool; drain her of all her blood for one of his poisons; impale her on a pike to ward off others. She shuddered and kissed the babe on the cheek.
“You’re safe with me,” she whispered.
Eliza attached the baby to her chest with one of the sheets, hoisted the bag of tools and vegetables onto her shoulder—the rosemary snug inside—and swung the milk pot on her arm. She pulled Pumpkin behind her. It was a heavy load, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
At first, she could think of nothing more than the demon that who vexed her and what she was leaving behind: her mother, her father, the world as she had known it. But soon the chirping birds and the brook she followed rippling over the rocks soothed her. She tried to imagine the demon as nothing more than a figment of her imagination though she knew she was deluding herself. She tried to imagine a better future, and by the time the sun reached its mid-point, she was lost in thoughts of a new place, transported to an Eden, a town filled with tall buildings and bustling folk hurrying here and there. They would smile at her, nod or tip their hats. She marched with confidence and resolution. Tomorrow would be such a better day. She was beginning a new life, one filled with hope and good things.
When she tired, or the baby fussed, she stopped, and the reality of her loss settled over her. She fed Raven unwittingly. She broke her fast with the smallest of gifts from their garden. Then she packed up and marched on, and soon the fresh moss of the forest, the crunch under her feet, and the birdsong in the trees carried her away to a more pleasant future. She hadn’t seen a soul and was content to keep it that way. She trudged on.
But when twilight descended, doubt crept in. She’d never been alone before, not really. In the village she’d lived alone but she’d been surrounded by neighbors, could have called on them in case of a mishap, a stray ember igniting a rag or a lantern kicked over, but this was different. The forest could be a dangerous place no matter how comforting it appeared with its birdsong and earthy aromas. She’d heard the stories of travelers over the years. No one ever spoke of being attacked by wild animals, no wolves had been seen in decades, but men roamed these parts. They stole with impunity. They raped and maimed and even killed for the slightest reward. She felt blessed, watched over, because she’d not seen nor heard one human voice save that of the baby’s all day. When it grew too dark to make out the trees from the bushes, Eliza set up a site, throwing the one sheet she’d not cut into pieces for the baby’s needs over a branch to make a tent for her and Raven. The feedings—every three hours—had bonded them a little. Raven stared at her, expressionless. She cried less as Eliza began to anticipate the newborn’s needs. Eliza thought of the newborn more as a baby and less as a demon.
#
Eliza woke in a panic. Her gown and hair were soaked. An incessant stream of water ran down the sides of the sheet, drenching the ground she lay on. A flash of lightning lit up their make-shift tent followed by a crack of thunder that startled the baby awake. Eliza drew the child closer with one arm and her burlap bag with the other. Both were saturated. The water seeped through the sheet, making mud of their haven.
Raven wailed as the thunder resounded louder and closer. Eliza rocked the baby, shushed her which did nothing to calm the newborn. Poor Pumpkin bellowed. She’d been through so much, but there was nothing Eliza could do to change things.
Or could she?
She’d never tried to change the weather before. She knew that with a lot of effort she could heal some people sometimes. She wasn’t quite sure how she did it. She just focused and drew in all the energy around her then redirected it somehow toward the person who needed help. Could she gather these forces of nature and simply thrust them away?
She hated the thought that she might be a witch. This was just a gift from God. But hadn’t God sent this storm? Who was she to try to change its direction? It was surely a test of her resilience. Or was it a test of her skills?
Eliza set the whimpering baby on top of the bag and climbed out of the tent. Rain poured down, drenching her, the wind whipping her skirts. This might be a crazy idea, but she had to try. She turned her back on the tent, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She raised her face and hands to the sinister sky, the rain washing over her. She focused on the rumbling thunder. With all the power she possessed she willed the rain to move off. She imagined the deluge rolling back, away from them.
The rain and the wind continued unabated.
She breathed again, pushed harder, as hard as she could. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked directly above her. A sizzling filled the air as the smell of wood burning surrounded her. Eliza’s eyes flew open and in front of her the tree next to Pumpkin’s was ablaze, hit by a lightning bolt. The cow bellowed, pulling back on the rope tying her. Eliza ran to the animal, patted her, covered her with her own body. The cow was not soothed, mooing loudly. The rain intensified and the two huddled together, drenched.
“I’m so sorry, Pumpkin,” Eliza said, petting the old girl. “I tried to stop this.”
The cow slapped Eliza with her tail.
No one slept again that night.
Chapter Eleven
The rain stopped a little before daybreak, but Raven’s cries were interminable. Eliza, sopping wet, trudged out of the tent to check on the cow. Pumpkin’s udders were flat—no surprise—but at least the old girl was calm. The milk Eliza had been able to retrieve from her the night before was now more water than milk. She would have to feed Raven baby what she had.
The tree next to Pumpkin’s sat scorched and split in two. Was that providence or a warning? And the swollen creek rushing over the rocks and stones had breached its borders. She’d have to set up camp farther from its banks next time.
Should she stay put, laying out the sheet and rags, pulling out all her belongs from the bag so everything could dry or should she push forward? Nothing would dry wrapped up in a bag. Only the clothes on her back might dry and maybe not even them. Besides, Ivan’s men could be anywhere.
Eliza prepared to leave, fussing over the baby she had to bring along. Without Raven she wouldn’t really need Pumpkin. Eliza paused, regretted the thought the moment it formed. Pumpkin had been her only real companion since she was a girl. The butcher had given her to them when Pumpkin was a calf in payment for the birth of his son. Arrangements had been made over the years between Agatha and the butcher who owned a hardy bull so Pumpkin had birthed ten calves over the years. The cow had been good to them. Eliza felt ashamed that she even thought of abandoning the old girl.
She had less regret over her feelings for Raven. Then she would recall Asmodeus and his request to take the child, and she knew that could never happen.
She pushed on.
#
Eliza followed the creek south albeit with less enthusiasm than the day before. The water grew larger, faster. Was it still a creek? Four days travel the tinker had said. It seemed like an eternity. Pumpkin gave milk once a day and even then only two udders were full. Raven seemed satisfied, eating, crying, shitting and sleeping. The wood was not dry enough to make a fire so Eliza subsisted on the turnips, onions and leeks she’d brought. Wild blackberries were a treat when she found them.
#
On the third day, she heard the men splashing in the water.
Eliza pulled Pumpkin away from the stream. She couldn’t see the men, but she could hear them. That was enough. Eliza tied the cow to a tree, checked her udders and found one half full. She weighed her options and chose to seek out the men first. The baby slept.
Eliza crept off toward the men. Just when she thought she’d lost them, she smelled smoke and something pungent in the air. Meat? It had to be. But what kind of meat? Fish? It was illegal to fish from the rivers. That was reserved for the men of the manors, the nobles. As was hunting. Perhaps it was Nones. The eating of meat was restricted then. No one, not even the king, could eat meat on Wednesdays or Fridays or Saturdays, nor through Lent or Advent. It might be Lent. She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was.
The men came into view, naked, hairy creatures, sitting around a fire, laughing and chomping down on sticks speared with something. Their clothes rested on bushes that lined the stream, the swords not far off. Their hair glinted in the sunlight. She couldn’t make out what they were saying but something was very funny as they guffawed and slapped each other in a strange form of friendship.
They looked dangerous. All men looked dangerous to Eliza but these in particular. Bearded, hairy-chested, heavier than most. They must be outlaws. As she watched the circle of poachers, a familiar figure trotted into view. Ivan the leather worker approached on his chestnut horse. She held her breath. Ivan said he would travel north, not south. She was going south, wasn’t she? Eliza couldn’t hear what he said, but the men all shook their heads no which boded well. There was more serious talk, and then the leather worker in his high boots got back on his horse and trotted off.