“I am broken.”
~From the diary of William Wells; August 1686
~*~
Tenderly, Elizabeth traced a finger from Elijah’s forehead to the tip of his nose as his eyelids began to flutter.
“It’s been a long day for you, hasn’t it, baby boy?” she cooed, cradling him tightly in her arms as she covered the top of his little head with the fleece blanket.
Elizabeth examined her son closely in absolute awe—she could easily spend the rest of eternity in this moment, simply staring at him, memorizing every possible detail. Her tears had yet to cease. Each time she thought they had quelled, she discovered something new about him, causing her vision to blur. Elizabeth had not been prepared for this—the sheer intensity of emotion that completely engulfed everything else, even her own physical pain. All of it felt inconsequential—her very life was insignificant. Elijah was all that mattered; and her heart swelled with the ache of loving him. A flood of comforting warmth encircled her, and she no longer feared. Somehow, she knew for certain that William would come, and that he would instantly fall in love with their son just as she had.
“Thank you, William,” she murmured thickly, “Thank you for giving him to me.”
Elijah’s brilliant cornflower blue eyes tried unsuccessfully to focus on her while an expression of serious contemplation passed over his miniature, pink features, as though he were still trying to puzzle out his existence in relation to such a large, bright world. He seemed to temporarily abandon the effort of abstract thought, however, as his long lashes brushed closed, eyes at last settling into well-deserved slumber. His tiny fist, soft as silk, rested against his mother’s breast as his full, rosy lips fell limp.
“Hi,” Winifred whispered as she cracked the bedroom door open to peek inside, “Did he eat?”
“A little,” Elizabeth replied, her eyes not leaving her son for a second, “I think he wants to rest for now.”
“All right then. We’ll wake him up in an hour or so and see if he’s hungry,” Winifred replied, slipping into the room and perching on the edge of the bed.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered, “Without you, I don’t know…”
Winifred smiled and nodded, reaching a hand out to caress the smooth ivory skin of the baby’s arm.
“Tell me how you’re feeling, Elizabeth. Are you hurting?”
“Dizzy right now and I…well, I’ll have to get used to feeding him. I’m just a little…sore.”
“It gets better,” Winifred assured, as she opened her arms to take the sleeping baby.
Looking beside her, Elizabeth discovered that at some point, a cradle had been placed next to her bed, though she had no recollection of that event occurring.
“No, I’ll hold him,” she insisted, her voice growing tense.
“Only for a minute, honey. We need to check you.”
Elizabeth sighed and unwillingly relented, gingerly passing Elijah up to Winifred so that she could tuck him securely into the cradle. After pulling the blankets back that covered Elizabeth, Winifred gasped.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asked, too exhausted to care.
“More blood than there should be,” Winifred answered uneasily, brushing her fingers over the curve of Elizabeth’s pelvis.
Suddenly a sharp pain, like jagged shards of glass cutting into her flesh, tore through Elizabeth’s hips; and she had to bite down on her lip so that she wouldn’t scream and wake the baby. It had only been an ache before—numb and throbbing, but mostly tolerable. After she’d been touched, however, she felt as though something had moved unbearably out of place.
“Bone’s fractured here,” Winifred noted, her forehead creased in worry, “I figured as much.”
“Why?” Elizabeth breathed, hissing through her teeth.
“Happens sometimes to smaller women. Nothing can really be done except getting a lot of rest. In a week, you should be walking fine, but it might still be a little painful. Just stay in bed and keep still for now.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” Elizabeth murmured numbly, even as her eyelids grew impossibly heavy.
“I’m going to bring you some tea to soothe the pain, and then I want you to sleep for the rest of the day. Your poor body needs it. I’ll look after Elijah.”
“No, I can’t…don’t want to miss anything. What if he needs me? Or what if he’s gone when I wake? Someone could take him away. I dreamed it—I dreamed…” Elizabeth slurred, as the weight of sleep began to pull her under a strong current.
“Don’t you worry, honey. He’ll be right here,” Winifred promised tenderly as she pulled the blankets up over Elizabeth, “We’ll take good care of him.”
--
The leaden weight of Elizabeth’s exhaustion propelled her into pleasant, pitch-dark oblivion for a long while. She was conscious of nothing outside the void until slowly, little by little, flecks of light began to appear around the edges. When she awoke to a haze of blurred color, she knew it wasn’t reality she saw—her physical body remained in deep sleep while her mind freely observed and explored. The picture before her was easy enough to recognize: the common room of the Redding home. They were all there: Nathaniel sat on the bench at the long table, reading by candlelight, Dawn huddled in the rocker with her knees drawn up to her chest while she stared ahead with glassy eyes, and Jenny hovered over a cradle in the far corner of the room, her back obstructing Elizabeth’s view of a gurgling infant.
A soft pattering echoed all around. Rain. Water droplets streamed over the windows and echoed against the tin on the chimney. The sound was peaceful, constant, almost soothing…like a lullaby. Until abruptly, a sudden, violent crash rang through the gentle quiet. Nathaniel stood hurriedly, dropping his book to the floor as Dawn yelped and skittered out of her chair. Jenny whirled around, shocked, while the baby wailed in terror.
A voice, which had become so reassuring and familiar, boomed from the entryway. The sound of the words alone was chilling—so cold, shaking with menace. Elizabeth felt a foreboding fear creeping into her consciousness, though she did not understand its source. Perhaps, it was because part of her already knew.
“I have come for the children, Nathan.”
The Reverend narrowed his smoldering dark eyes at his elder brother and sneered.
“Welcome back, Rupert. I confess I honestly believed that we might have seen the last of you all those months ago. It was a perfect escape, if I do say so myself. You let the little girl take the fall for you both—quite strategic really.”
“I am not interested in banter with you.”
“She’s going to die, you know. Her execution is scheduled for this afternoon. Perhaps it has already occurred. Either way, there’s no saving her now. You’re too late.”
“Give me the children, Nathan, and I will leave you and your wife in peace.”
“Get out of my house,” Jenny hissed, stepping closer to the cloaked man in the doorway as she shifted the screaming baby against her shoulder.
“I am not leaving without the girl and the infant. Do not make me use force.”
“You are not taking my children. How could you presume to ask such a thing?” Jenny snapped.
“Who are you?” Dawn asked meekly as she cowered in the corner.
“Someone who can save you from this place.”
“Don’t you dare speak to my daughter,” Nathaniel growled as he closed the distance threateningly, “I’m stronger than you remember.”
“So it must come to this. When will you learn, Nathan, that you are no match for me?”
Raising his arm, palm facing out, Giles seemed to hurl something powerful and invisible in his brother’s direction. In the blink of an eye, Nathaniel flew through the air, his body slamming against the back wall of the room with a giant crash.
“That’s not all you,” the Reverend sputtered, trying to recover, “It’s borrowed. You borrowed magic from the coven. You’re nothing but a weak coward.”
“Give me the children now and I will show you greater mercy than you deserve,” he said slowly and deliberately with a calmness that was terribly unnerving.
“Never!” Nathaniel roared, as he sprang to his feet and flew forward.
Holding his hand out, the Reverend closed his eyes briefly, before crying, “Forzare!”
A blue glow swirled around his palm, forming a sphere. Using all the strength in his arms and panting with the effort, Nathaniel propelled the light across the room. Catching the spell easily in his hands, the older man nonchalantly pushed it back toward his brother. The force of the blow hit the Reverend in the chest, knocking him off his feet and sending him careening back into the table. Instantly the two large beeswax candles tumbled over, igniting a brilliant red-orange blaze that quickly danced across the floor. Swirls of thick black smoke crawled up the wall to hover at the ceiling.
“Jenny, get the children out of here!” Nathaniel rasped, clutching his chest as he tried to catch his breath.
“I’m not leaving you!” his wife cried shrilly.
“Let’s spar, brother. What I’ve mastered in your absence may surprise you,” Nathaniel boasted, ignoring Jenny’s desperate pleas as he choked on the smoke that clouded the air.
“I would like to fight you properly. But frankly, I just don’t have the time,” Giles replied quietly as he reached into his cloak pocket.
Swiftly drawing a gleaming dagger through the air, Giles plunged the blade into his younger brother’s belly. He twisted it harshly after it sunk into the flesh, soft as butter. Nathaniel fell forward to his knees in shock, choking and retching on the blood that filled his mouth.
“No!” Jenny screamed, rushing to her husband’s side.
Reaching down quickly, Giles swooped the crying infant out of her limp grasp. She looked up then, briefly, her eyes meeting his for only a split second. Elizabeth watched the exchange curiously—there was a moment of hesitant recognition—and a spark of empathy, or perhaps understanding, that flickered between the two. Just as quickly, it was over, and Giles rushed toward Dawn while Jenny grew hysterical, lingering over Nathaniel.
Crouching in the corner, Giles grabbed Dawn’s arm with his free hand. The girl simply stared ahead numbly into the flames that licked the walls, tears glistening in her eyes.
“Father…” she whimpered.
“Dawn, come with me now. If you stay here, you’re going to die.”
“He’s dying…you killed him.”
“Yes. I had no choice. Dawn, listen to me. I am your uncle. I want to help you. Let me help you,” Giles prodded as he hauled her to her feet and began dragging her toward the door.
“Mother!” Dawn screamed as the rafters began to catch fire, one of them crashing down to the floor.
“Jenny, come with us!” Giles yelled over the roar of the blaze.
But the woman seemed not to hear as she sobbed, cradling her husband’s head in her lap.
Everything grew intensely bright: searing blue, yellow, orange; and Elizabeth’s dream eyes shrank away from the blinding sight. The picture lost its color as everything flashed white. There was screaming and the sound of the baby crying. Blackness faded into the light until all was dark again. But the baby still cried—it was the only sound that carried into the void.
“Needs his mother. He’s afraid. Give him to me,” Elizabeth mumbled, her voice sounding weak and scratchy to her own ears.
“Elizabeth?” Winifred’s soft voice broke into the darkness.
Blinking her eyes slowly, Elizabeth found herself returned to the darkened bedchamber. Winifred stood above her, holding a swaddled, crying Elijah.
“What happened? What’s wrong with him?” Elizabeth stammered frantically, suddenly in a blind panic as she struggled to sit up, her arms reaching out to take her son.
“Nothing’s wrong, honey. He’s just fussing is all. I came and got him so you could sleep,” Winifred explained apologetically as she delicately passed the bundled infant to his mother.
“I didn’t intend to sleep so long…There’s not much time, Winifred. I don’t have much time,” Elizabeth murmured, rocking the baby softly in her arms until his cries began to dwindle and calm.
“They don’t know yet. I was supposed to let them know…when he was born. But I’m not telling them a darn thing.”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re coming anyway. They know that enough time has passed. Very soon now, they’ll arrive.”
“How can you know that?” Winifred asked doubtfully.
“Some things—some things I just know. I can’t understand it, or explain it…I don’t understand why I can do it. Everything has a purpose, right? But I never—it’s almost over and I’m not finished. I’ve been shown so much and I’ve done nothing,” Elizabeth said thickly, her voice breaking.
Winifred sat on the edge of the bed beside Elizabeth and wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders.
“Nothing is over, Elizabeth. Don’t give up hope. You can’t. Not now.”
“The Reverend and his wife will be dead soon...Elijah must get out of here in time.”
“What?” Winfred asked sharply, taken aback, “The Reverend? What makes you say—“
“I told you. Some things I just know.”
A look of perplexity and confusion swept over Winifred’s features as she silently studied Elizabeth, the words beginning to sink in.
“Are you afraid of me?” Elizabeth asked shakily, dropping her eyes from her friend’s intense gaze to look down at the now soothed infant cradled in her arms.
“No, of course not,” Winifred answered slowly, “And I know you’re not a witch either. You’re a special person with a great many gifts…And I believe I was meant to help you.”
--
A dark foreboding sensation weighed heavy on her heart, probably lingering after what she’d witnessed in her dream. Winifred stayed on for some time playing nursemaid, and despite her insistence otherwise, Elizabeth attempted to stand and walk. Feeling trapped in bed caused her to panic; but she found that if she focused on caring for Elijah and regaining her own strength, that she could remain in control of her fears. Merely attempting to walk the length of the room soon proved a far more difficult task than she’d anticipated, however. The shooting pain returned to sear through her hips and pelvis, cutting her like falling pieces of glass. She could scarcely manage a few steps before collapsing into the brunette’s outstretched arms. Not long after, Elizabeth abandoned the pursuit and resolved to rest, praying that perhaps just another night would grant some healing.
Hours slipped by rapidly until the night grew entirely deep and silent, save for the chirping of crickets and cicadas, and the whistling of a midnight breeze that danced past the curtains of the open window. Warm and satisfied after he’d been fed, Elijah snoozed peacefully, his chubby apple cheek snuggled against his mother’s shoulder. Winifred sat in the rocker beside the window as she idly traced the flower pattern on the curtains with her fingers.
“My favorite time of year,” she murmured wistfully, “When the air grows sweet and thick before the rains come.”
You’re almost free, little girl. You’re almost free. Snow’s stopped falling. Rain’s comin’ soon.
Susan’s words echoed softly in Elizabeth’s mind, and she found their memory comforting.
“It has grown quite late, Winifred,” she whispered into the long silence, “We should all try to get some sleep.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Winifred replied quickly, nearly jumping up, “I’ll let you get your rest. Would you like me to tuck him in the cradle for you?”
“No, thank you. He’ll be fine here.”
After Winifred took her leave and retired to her bedchamber, Elizabeth vowed to remain awake for the rest of the night, enjoying the calm before the storm. Stroking her fingers through the infant’s silky thin hair, she mused that the honey locks were already beginning to curl.
“I think I was wrong, Elijah,” she spoke softly, brushing her cheek against the crown of his head, “Maybe I wasn’t meant for greatness. My visions were never supposed to change the world. The line of the Slayer will pass to another girl, far away from here. But none of that matters now…I think maybe you’re the reason fate brought me to Connecticut. My precious boy…your journey has only just begun.”
[Reviews - 248]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 4428 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +