“Yes, of course I dream about it. Doesn’t everyone? I am a romantic—a fool for love—I always have been and always will be, I suppose. The years have made me cynical, and I’ve begun to realize that Donne’s Sunne Rising is a work of fiction and nothing more. But the idea of a true home—something I’ve never experienced all my life…beautiful curly-haired children playing in the garden, the smell of baking bread, and an achingly lovely woman with worn hands and sparkling eyes keeping a warm bed…I may be a fool, but I refuse to believe these things are lost to me simply because I’ve done horrible things like pickpocket in London…You’d think ridding the world of monsters might tip the scale.”
~From the diary of William Wells; June 26th, 1685
~*~
“Elizabeth, I’m surprised to find you awake so early. I trust there was no trouble last night? What…what on earth are you doing?” Giles asked, perplexed.
Elizabeth looked up from sweeping the floorboards, raising a brow sarcastically. “What does it look like?”
“Oh, well yes. Yes, of course. I just meant that it’s not even six.”
“It was getting dusty in here. And I couldn’t sleep.”
Giles stood at the window, thumbs hooked in his belt loops as he surveyed the silvery world outside lit by the glow of the fading moon.
“Finally there seems to be a lull in the storm. Hopefully it’ll last for a few days, and some of this rubbish will have a chance to melt away. Perfect timing, since we’re nearly out of food…I think I’ll be off to hunt today. Perhaps trap a deer if we’re lucky, but it will be rabbit most likely, with this weather.”
“Mr. Giles, while you’re gone, unless you need my help of course, would you mind if I read through some of your books? I’ve been longing for Homer lately.”
“Oh please do, you’re welcome to anything on the shelves upstairs. And I’ll be fine on my own for the hunt.”
“Thank you, sir,” Elizabeth called, wasting no time as she dashed upstairs to the study.
After closing the door softly behind her and sifting hurriedly through the bookshelves, she sat cross-legged on the floor with The Mystics, Hebrew Numerology, The Slayer Line, and the Bible splayed out before her. From the desk, she’d borrowed a scrap of paper and a quill, eagerly taking notes on anything that might be useful. She began with the most familiar to her.
Crack open the Good Book…The Bible. What’s in the Bible?
After flipping through Genesis to the Revelation of St. John, Elizabeth found no obvious revelations. The same psalms and parables she’d known since childhood were exactly as she remembered—no hidden meanings instantly revealed themselves. She did not come upon her first significant discovery until reading the “related theories” section of the Watchers’ records in The Slayer Line.
“Connections between the Slayer and Western mythology,” she murmured as she scanned one of the headings in the ancient text, “The number 31 as encoded in the Old Testament is believed to be an expression of the Slayer…First union of divine and human qualities…Strength of a fallen angel in service of the Lord…What else? That can’t be all there is! Thirty-one…that certainly seems close enough, doesn’t it?”
She took up Hebrew Numerology and searched for the deeper meanings of the numbers in case there might be any further clues to help piece her mystery together.
“Three represents subconscious, conscious, and inhuman super-conscious…One is a new start, going back to the source…So a repeated one would be two beginnings, two chances?...The sum of five is sacrifice, representing the five wounds of Christ.”
So I have two chances, Susan? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? But two chances for what? What am I?
--
The following days brought no answers. Elizabeth did not take her questions and discoveries to Giles, because she somehow felt that it was a private matter, as he’d said before: Susan was clearly trying to communicate something meant only for her.
What she remembered of Susan’s words played in a cycle in her thoughts over and over, and by the fifth day of living trapped in the cabin, Elizabeth began to lose her mind. She couldn’t read, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Her brain turned in circles until her frenetic thoughts threatened to cause her head to explode. And of course, she worried ceaselessly over William. She craved his presence, his voice, and his arms in a way she’d never wanted for anything in her life. When she could do absolutely nothing else to distract herself from her primal need of him, she simply perched in the rocking chair and counted the minutes as they passed. Her impatient, frustrated energy clearly effected Giles as well; often he would take to pacing, gripping a cup of tea in one twitching hand. Finally, he drew a seat beside Elizabeth and tried to shake her from her trance.
“Miss Elizabeth, you are going to drive yourself mad if you simply sit here all day…The storm has let up significantly. I think it would be all right—if you felt up to it—to take a turn outdoors. We have seen no sign of the creature since it first appeared to you and William, and so long as you keep away from the field and return before dark, I’m sure you would do well to stretch your legs in the fresh air for a bit.”
Elizabeth nodded absently at the suggestion—walking and worrying did seem slightly preferable to sitting and stewing. Once she’d bundled up so tightly that she could scarcely move her arms, she stepped outdoors onto the crunchy, freshly-fallen snow. It was nearly deep enough to swallow her boots completely.
“Stay close, Elizabeth! I’ll be on the hunt this evening, so I may not be here when you return. Just—do be careful!”
“I will!” she called without looking back.
Traveling the trails alone felt terribly strange—she knew them well enough after her many excursions with William, but walking these paths without the comfort of his presence was so foreign, causing a sense of misplacement. She could understand why he enjoyed it so—the exercise and icy bite in the air felt liberating—reassuring, even. Her feet took her onward without much thought to time or direction. Making her own winding path, her eyes remained transfixed on the ground below and back at the tracks her boots left in the white powder. She was not surprised then, when she finally looked up to see the barn standing before her at the end of the long afternoon journey. Her subconscious had evidently taken her to the cherished destination automatically. The little stream was completely frozen over, but Elizabeth still leapt over it for fear of sinking through the ice.
Entering the barn instantly caused her longing for William to increase tenfold. Stop this! You’re being absurd. He will return soon, and it isn’t as though you haven’t been on your own before. Still, without his voice, without the warmth of his presence, the barn was terribly cold and deathly silent. Something felt eerie about the large room as well; as though she were being watched by pairs of eyes hiding in the shadows of the rafters. Without William at her side, Elizabeth felt as though the place no longer belonged to her. He discovered it with Susan. It was hers before it was mine. He was hers before he was mine… What if she’s here, following me? Could she be here still? Or does she truly rest forever in a churchyard?
“Susan?” she called, though immediately berated herself for the ridiculousness of it. Of course she isn’t here. It’s just these dreams…they’re turning me mad.
Elizabeth huffed, shaking her head, and grabbed a stake from the weapons trunk before proceeding to run through a series of advances and retreats. She repeated each of her parries with a smooth hand and practiced the intricate footwork combinations she’d learned recently. When she grew tired of it, she curled up in the far corner on a pile of quilts, and soon she accidentally fell asleep.
--
She woke with a start, shivering with cold. Gusts of wind whistled outside, tree branches quaking under the force of it. A light sheen of moonshine spilled in through the windows, but for the most part, her surroundings were completely engulfed in chilled, unnerving darkness.
“Damn it!” she seethed, “How could I possibly have slept so long? I only wished to rest my eyes for five minutes!”
No matter now, she certainly could not risk journeying back to the cabin in the dead of night just as the blizzard was picking up again. Not to mention, with the field lurking close by…
“I hate Connecticut! Stupid demon, Puritan-infested colony!” Elizabeth spat.
She knew she should light a fire for warmth, but she wasn’t about to wander outside in search of dry wood. Also she didn’t like the idea of a tiny fire in the barn acting as a beacon in the darkness from miles around. No, she would simply wrap herself in blankets and wait the night out. There was no other choice.
To help herself ignore the wind and the cold darkness, she began to sing softly. A little tune she’d learned whilst sitting on Nenna’s knee. The light melody brought her some comfort and made her feel less alone.
“I see the moon
The moon sees me
The moon sees the one I long to see
So God bless—“
Immediately she choked off her words when she heard a rustling in the brush that could not possibly be the wind. Footsteps! The steady footfall was so loud and heavy in the surrounding silence that it rang and reverberated in her ears like thunder. Each step sounded louder and more menacing than the last as they drew closer. Demon—it had to be. Refusing to cower in the corner like a scared child, Elizabeth raised her stake in one hand and silently crept to the door. She stood with one hand looming over the handle while the other gripped her weapon so tightly it hurt. Purposefully she controlled her breathing so that it was deep and slow, as quiet as possible. The sounds of animate movement drew nearer. Obviously the demon knew she was there—it must be able to sense her somehow. You won’t get me. I won’t let you.
The thing slowly began to approach the door. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and mouthed a silent prayer before kicking the door so that it flew open on its hinges in a creaky swoosh, and she instantly pounced on the dark, unwelcome form that prowled outside. She surprised it, seeing as how it let out a startled “Oomph!” before falling backward under her weight.
“Don’t you even think of interfering with me! I’ll kill you,” she hissed, raising the stake above her head.
“Jesus Christ, Elizabeth! Lemme up will ya? I think you broke a rib,” the intruder groaned.
“William?” she whispered in shock, not entirely believing he was real.
“Just me, pet. Just me…Damn, I taught you well.”
“Oh my God…William!”
Her hands rose to his face, moving the scarf aside and pulling the hat up on his forehead; and her fingers then brushed over the high cheek bones, sharp bridge of his nose, full bottom lip. William! Instead of moving away to let him stand, she brought her mouth to his for a frenzied, heated kiss. She’d never been so forceful before, nor acted with such abandon; but she assuredly opened his mouth with her lips and the urgent thrusts of her tongue. When she finally pulled away, gasping for breath, William fell limp beneath her.
“Oh sorry! Are you all right?” she asked worriedly, easing off him and offering a hand up.
“Whew. Miss me, darlin’?” he drawled huskily, brushing himself off as he carefully stood with her help.
“Yes. God, yes. Come inside. Your clothes are all wet!”
She quickly guided him over the threshold by his shoulders and immediately peeled the soaking wet cloak from him.
“Tried to cross a stream on foot, but I hit a patch a thin ice,” he explained.
“I don’t think we’re going to find any kindling for a fire, since it’s all under the snow now. But here—blankets. Lots of blankets.”
After wrapping a quilt around his shoulders, she forced him to sit and piled as many covers over his shivering body as she possibly could.
“Slow down, Elizabeth! I’m okay. Just sit with me for a minute. Lemme see ya, sweetheart,” he murmured tiredly, opening his arms to her.
Desperate to oblige, she settled into his side, encircling his shaking body with her arms to give him some of her warmth. William breathed in deeply, burying his nose in her hair, and released a contended sigh.
“Over a week trekking through the bloody frontier, this is what kept me going. Coming home to you. My Elizabeth,” he said softly, before noticing in alarm that her shoulders were shaking, “Hey, pet, what—are you crying?”
Elizabeth raised her head from his shoulder, sniffling, and wiped her cheeks and nose with the back of your hand.
“It’s just—it’s just, I missed you. And every day I waited and you didn’t come and I kept thinking about what might’ve happened to you and weird things are happening to me and I’m having all these dreams—or nightmares—and everything scares me and I don’t want you to leave anymore!” she hiccupped.
“Shhh, sweetheart calm down. Take a breath. You’re having nightmares?” William asked gently. There was a catch in his voice, and he flinched slightly when he spoke.
Elizabeth nodded, rubbing her thumbs at the tears gathering under her eyes.
“What’ve you been dreamin’ about, luv?”
She shrugged, shaking her head evasively. “I don’t really know what they’re about. Su—people I don’t know—talk to me, tell me things I don’t understand. I think what it means is—they’re about loss and sacrifice…and chances. And I can’t help but wonder if…” Elizabeth’s breath hitched before she choked out another sob, “I can’t help but wonder if something is trying to tell me that I might lose you.”
“You’re afraid I’m going to die?” he murmured, brushing his lips over her temple as he traced his knuckles over her tear-stained cheek, “Cause there’s no other way you’d lose me.”
“Don’t even say it! Nothing scares me more than that. I never even thought about it until Mother…After that beast nearly killed us both it’s all I can think about. When you left, I just kept dwelling on the thought that you might—you might…”
“S’alright, pet. I don’t plan on dyin’ anytime soon. Though it really doesn’t scare me all that much, cause it’s not the worst thing that could happen.”
“How can you say that?! Of course it is!”
“Well, I promise I’m not gonna die, and if I do, I give you express permission to hurt me,” he chuckled.
“Not funny,” she whimpered, shoving his arm.
“Sorry, luv. Seriously though, you don’t hafta worry over it. I’m back now, and I’m not gonna leave you again. Everything’s all right. I’m not hurt. And I got to the village just fine and stayed with a shaman and one of their elders. They can help us, Elizabeth,” he said, excitedly turning to face her, “They gave me some tidbits for a protection spell and another consecration ritual, and if that doesn’t work, one of them will travel south to help. So, see? It was all worth it—we’re not gonna hafta worry about that beastie bugger anymore. When he gets his giant arse back here, we’ll be ready.”
“William…you really think we can beat that thing?” she asked thinly, her voice trembling.
“’Course I do, and we will. We’ll be free of it soon, I promise. All the fretting, all the worrying, it's almost over…Elizabeth, there’s somethin’ I been thinkin’ real hard about. I’ve never wanted to do this before, but you…What I’m tryin’ to tell you is that I—”
“Where’s Sassafras? Is he all right?” she asked, cutting William off anxiously as she suddenly realized that she hadn’t heard him ride up on the horse.
William released a shaky breath and smiled, brushing damp hair back from her forehead. “Sassy’s fine. Perfect traveling companion. I put him up at the pond. Went there first, but nobody was home, so I figured you might be here. Now what I’m sayin’ is that—“
“Oh, Mr. Giles wasn’t back yet?”
“No, no luv, he wasn’t,” William answered tightly, his jaw clenching, “I’m sure he’s just out on the hunt for a bit, yeah?”
“Maybe we should make sure everything’s all right—“
“I’m sure he’s fine pet. Can we just…not talk about Rupert right now?”
Elizabeth raised her brow curiously as she carefully studied William’s face. “What are you so nervous about?” she asked, intrigued.
“Pssh, I’m not nervous.”
“You are. You’re doing the jaw-clenchy, nervous William thing.”
“Am not! Oh buggering hell. What I’m trying to tell you is that I love—I love the way you make me—the way we…Bollocks, I’m not any good at this!” he huffed, before taking another breath to compose himself, “I uh, I brought somethin’ back for you. From the village.”
Elizabeth sat upright while he reached into his boot, removing something folded in a white handkerchief. Surprised, she took the bundle as he offered it and slowly unfolded the cloth. Inside she found a small knife, the blade polished and shining, the handle adorned with elaborate, brightly-colored beadwork.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, turning the weapon in her hand.
“Thought it might be useful for ya. Pocketknife always comes in handy. This one was made to be concealed in the boot. Had it blessed too—by the shaman. Supposed to bring strength or luck or good fortune or something…can’t remember right. But…you like it, pet?”
“I love it. Thank you, William. You really didn’t need to—“
“I wanted to. After we got the spell nonsense sorted out, I told ‘em I could trade beaver skins for somethin’ pretty for my lady.”
Elizabeth smiled, tracing her fingers over a row of shining red beads that looped around the blade’s handle. “Why were you so anxious about giving it to me?”
“Uh yeah, about that. It’s the other thing I’m kinda worried about,” he said softly, sitting up slightly to reach back into his pocket.
“William Wells, you were supposed to be fighting evil while you were gone, not buying me presents!” she laughed, giving him a playful slap on the arm.
Abruptly, her giggles faded when his expression turned serious.
“Elizabeth—I…this isn’t what it should be. I wish I had more to offer you, but I thought…”
Taking her hand in his, he pressed something small into her palm and gently folded her fingers over it. She raised a brow in bewilderment, but he simply gestured to her fist, his eyes shifting to anything but her. Slowly, Elizabeth lengthened her fingers, revealing a silver ring nestled in the cradle of her palm. Holding it up to have a better look, she saw that the band was crafted into the shape of two intertwining serpents, with a blue glass bead in the center of the two devouring heads.
“It—uh, it means eternity. That’s what they tell me, anyway. I thought eternity was perfect for us, cause…I feel like I’ve always known you, Elizabeth. Before I knew myself even. Is that possible?” he trailed off to gaze at her for a moment, tilting his head to one side while smiling wistfully.
“What do you mean?” she asked, admiring her ring.
“What if I’ve said these things to you before? A hundred times before, in other lifetimes, other places, and we just can’t remember?”
“That’s a nice idea. I want to believe it,” she whispered, her eyes becoming lost in his.
“I love you, Elizabeth. And I don’t want our time to end…ever. It doesn’t have to. There’s so much I want to show you—share with you. I want you to see Notre Dame. Take all the stairs to the top and look on every light in the city. I want to be with you the first time you see Italy. We could strip all our clothes off like a couple a plonkers and nightswim in the Mediterranean. And then I wanna go sailin’, if you could teach me how...I guess what I’m askin’ is…Elizabeth, will you be my wife?”
She thought she felt her heart stop in that frozen moment as she sucked in her breath and felt a knot forming in her chest. Never before had she realized that it was possible to love another person so much it hurt.
“Yes,” she breathed, scarcely a whisper.
Releasing a shuddering, nervous breath in exquisite relief, he began to laugh like an excited little boy. Grabbing her cheeks in his palms, he brought her mouth over his and kissed her slowly and sweetly. When she pulled away for air, both their cheeks were damp.
“Sorry luv, oh—“ he stuttered, taking the ring from her hand and fumbling with it until he managed to slip the silver band over her finger. “Beautiful…my wife,” he murmured, lowering his head to place a delicate kiss over it.
“So how was the proposal? Did I do okay?” he asked lightly, tears shining in his eyes.
“Oh William, once you finally got it out, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder.
For a few moments they held one another in comfortable, exquisite silence, contemplating all of the wonderful things they would do together. When a thought occurred to Elizabeth after pondering the future, she stirred, her brow creasing.
“We will have to leave here to marry," she said.
“Yeah. I talked it over with Rupert ‘fore I left. He’s been wishing to return to London for some time, since we’ve done almost all we can here. Some tribes from the Five Nations been talkin’ of moving further south to keep watch over this place. So I figure, soon as the weather clears, we find a ship bound for Europe. Start in London—I could find some work there for awhile and save up for our travels. It won’t be a lavish existence, but I’ll find an honest livin’. Every penny goes to you, pet.”
“I—what about Dawn? I can’t just leave her behind.”
“You won’t have to. We could take the Bit with us.”
“That would never work. I don’t know if she would be willing to leave her parents. We’d have to kidnap her. And besides, my uncle—“
“Sod your uncle. If there’s a way, we’ll find it. From what you tell me, seems like your lil cousin’s just as eager to get outta this colony as we are.”
“I think she would be eager to go…London,” Elizabeth sighed, a soft smile playing across her lips, “It would be lovely to get away—to start a new life…”
“We will, luv. World’s at our fingertips...I’m gonna make you so happy,” he murmured, kissing her brow.
--
“I love you!” she cried as another series of shudders gripped her body in a wave of ecstasy.
Reaching down to where his head rested between her thighs, she stroked her fingers through his soft curls. But still he didn’t stop, and somehow her gratification intensified. The heat of his lips and tongue laved her most secret place; and though she felt the light stubble of his cheeks brush against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, she certainly didn’t mind the slight discomfort. Unconsciously she tried to pull him closer, arching into his caress and cradling the back of his head with her palms. Soon his fingers filled the delicious ache inside, while his lips and tongue sucked and caressed her bundle of nerves, and a scream that sounded foreign to her own ears tore from Elizabeth’s throat.
There could be no shame in the act now—only pleasure. This man was going to be her husband; she would spend the rest of her life with him. They could have hundreds of nights just like this one.
“My husband,” she murmured once her breathing slowed, though she didn’t realize she’d said it aloud.
“Yes,” he breathed, “Yours.”
He stretched out over her body to kiss her softly, and she could taste her own musky sweetness on his lips. It would have been mortifying before, but now it made her desire him even more intensely. His hardness throbbed against her moist center, so she hooked her legs around his back, opening for him. As he moved inside her, the pumping of his hips countering the upward thrusts of hers, she shut her worries away and truly believed that everything would be all right. He is mine, and I am his. Forever.
--
Creeping forward slowly, she felt her way through the darkened alley. An acrid, putrid odor of decay and human waste assaulted her at once, causing her to gag violently. Bracing herself against the chilly, rough brick at the side of the building, she moved on.
A wavering sing-song voice filled her ears. Light and feminine, it lilted a child’s melody.
Run and catch
The lamb is caught
In the blackberry patch
A lady stood there—all in black velvet and lace, tall and willowy and hauntingly beautiful. She giggled softly, clapping her gloved hands together while she bounced excitedly on her heels. Elizabeth could only stare at the scene playing out before her as her heart leapt into her throat.
“We can chop her up into bits and bits, and scatter the pieces in the wind like tiny pink flowers! Soft as baby’s breath. Will you let me do it, Willie, my prince? Hurry and have your fun—I want to play!”
“Play you shall, my pet. Once I’m quite finished,” replied a familiar voice, sending Elizabeth to her knees.
She screamed, but the figures didn’t respond to her. They couldn’t hear—it was as though they were trapped in a painting, etched in time. His back was turned to her, but she could see the girl. Her hair was long and the color of fresh honey, pretty tendrils curling about her face. The style of her dress was strange; the garment flowed long like a nightdress, and she wore no bodice. Blood flowed from her nose like crimson wine, and she trembled with the shock of pain and fear, tears silently flooding her pale cheeks. Elizabeth tried desperately to close her eyes—to make it disappear—but she could not tear her gaze away. For the first time, she noticed that the girl’s dress was hiked around her waist; and a man with wild, dark hair moved ferally between her thighs.
He's known as 'William the Bloody'. Earned his nickname by torturing his victims with railroad spikes.
It was Mr. Giles that spoke. She could hear him clearly, though he sounded quite different. The comment was clinical, uncaring, detached.
When the girl’s head fell limp, the spark fleeing from her dull, blue eyes, the man turned swiftly, letting her drop. He laughed, licking at the blood that stained his lips.
“Don’t worry, my sweet. Saved the best part for you.”
Even hidden behind the visage of a demon, she recognized him, and her heart stopped.
--
“No! No William, oh God, please!”
“Sweetheart, shhh wake up it’s only a dream. Elizabeth, luv, you’re all right.”
She felt his warm palm on her cheek, and slowly, the vision faded. Blinking her eyes open blearily, she saw his face just inches away, soft and beautiful with gentle, crystal blue eyes. Her William—gazing at her with nothing but love and concern. Wrapping her arms around him tightly, she buried her face in his neck and inhaled deeply, his familiar scent of sweet hickory relaxing her.
“What is it, sweetheart? Tell me,” he soothed.
“We have to get out of here. This place—the evil in this place is showing me things. Can we leave now? Please,” she sobbed, her voice muffled.
“What do you mean, showing you things? You saw somethin’, luv?”
“Just a nightmare. Let me forget. Please God, I just want to forget.”
“Okay. It’s all right; you don’t have to tell me. But it’s over now, and it’s not real. It’s not real, baby.”
“Go with me tonight, William. If we don’t leave now, something terrible will happen.”
“Can’t leave right now, pet. There’s no ships travelin’ in the storm. But we’ll go as soon as we can. I promise. I’ll take you far away from here. Just sleep. I’ve got you. Sleep now.”
Somehow, secure in the comfort of his arms and listening to his gentle whispers, consciousness drifted away. The thaw will come soon. We’ve managed this far—we can go on a bit longer. William is right—the nightmare was meant to frighten me, and nothing more. Nothing more. She fell asleep to the peaceful vision of a warm, summer sea far away and teaching William to sail on clear, docile waves. Thankfully her slumber that followed proved dark, warm, and dreamless.
She woke sometime later, when a hint of dawn barely kissed the horizon. A pain in her chest accompanied with a raw, sick feeling in her gut told her that something was terribly amiss. Opening her eyes slowly and squinting out the front windows, she perceived an orange glow moving closer in from the edges of the surrounding forest. Elizabeth didn’t need to wake William when the heavy scent of smoke abruptly stung the air around them. He flew up instantly.
“What the bleeding hell…” he mumbled groggily, looking about in bewilderment.
Suddenly a cacophony of muffled voices reached their eyes, and torchlight flickered through the windows. William and Elizabeth scarcely had time to scramble up and cover their nudity with blankets before the doors of the barn splintered under the impact of an ax. A group of men, hatred burning in their dark eyes, stormed inside. Elizabeth hid behind William, clinging to him for dear life against the intruders. One large man with thick red hair and a beard sprinkled with grey stepped forward. He had a rolled piece of parchment gripped in his fist, which he soon unfurled dramatically. The pieces began to fit together in Elizabeth’s panicked mind. The magistrate. Wethersfield! Dear God…
“Oi! This is private property! You boys best march your arses outta here ‘less you plan on startin somethin’,” William growled, bracing his arms out protectively to cover Elizabeth.
“William Elijah Wells, we come by the authority of His Majesty the King to charge you with the murder of the child Eleanor Anderson, as well as the kidnap and rape of Miss Elizabeth Summers,” the magistrate declared shortly, thrusting the paper out before him.
William started to reply, but evidently, the accusation stunned him to silence so greatly that Elizabeth could feel him shaking. Peeking around him frightfully, she recognized the constable standing beside another man with whom she was familiar.
“Do not fear, Elizabeth,” Reverend Nathaniel rasped, the firelight causing the scar across his cheek to shine silver, “Lucifer shall strike down this vile thing for what he has done. May the Lord be praised! We have found you at last.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This one's a little longer. It took quite a bit of editing, so I really hope you like it! Tell me what you think? Pretty please? *begs shamelessly*