Betty and The Beast Slayer (Book One: Deliverance)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Once Again

There was a gentle tapping on my shoulder, and then the searing white heat of my pain returned. I heard a voice, a familiar voice I could faintly recognize. It was not calming nor is it inspiring fear in me, and my eyes struggled to focus as the world became a haze of blurs and colors.

"Betty," it beckoned me. "Betty, please wake up."

That voice was so quiet, small. Roan was calling

me. Was I in hell now? Was I trapped by the devil? My lashes blinked into the light, seeing his hazy figure obscure the sunlight drifting through my vision.

"Betty, you must wake up," he pleaded. His hand grasped my shoulder, the cold lifeless fingers firmly grasping me. "You are dying, Betty."

"He is gone," I said, croaking out words between the coughs of blood. The copper tones of congealed blood swirled in my mouth, and I let out another groan as I foolishly attempted to sit up. It was an attempt in vain. The sun was peering between the trees and I pondered about the time that had passed. Had it been hours, minutes, days? How was I still alive? My wound was still present, a gaping hole in my side.

"I know," Roan said. "I asked you to come to me, to stop this from happening again."

"Again," I whispered. "What does that mean?"

"I have watched you die, and Marcus, countless times," Roan said. "You cannot understand, but it always ends the same. You bleed out, and all is lost."

"You sounded so convinced that I would come to you, to pledge myself to you to save Marcus. You said it was my fate."

"Wishful thinking," Roan said. "I know this is not different than the other times. I hoped if I believed it enough, you would take the bait. The darkness could save you, save him. But you always choose your soul or peace. You never take my offer."

I glanced up at the sky, listening to the birds sing their morning songs.

"Where is Samuel?"

"Sleeping in his bed," Roan sighed. "He is rather pleased with himself, I suppose. The British will reward him for killing the witch, as they call you. Then he will be given safe passage to Europe and live a life full of debauchery and hedonism. He will take another wife, and beat her as well. She will die one night from trauma to the head, but no one will question it."

"Dear God," I sighed. "And I will die, Marcus will die, and Grace..."

"Grace is a soul yet unformed," Roan said. "Just a tiny spark. She will never be."

"Why did you come here?" I asked. "Why watch me, and chase, and bring so much chaos? Surely you know that you have caused so much of my suffering?"

"Because I have tried to stay away. It makes no difference, Betty. And I knew this was coming, and I did not want you to die alone. Not again."

"Again, what does that mean?"

"It matters not, Betty. Not anymore."

"Will I go to Hell, to be with you? Tormented for all of eternity?"

"I know nothing of the afterlife, not really. But I assume if God judges hearts, he will see yours as pure. He will see that you never wanted me or my darkness. You were a sinner, yes, as we all are. But you lived a life of love and truth. Not many can claim that."

The sun was higher now, and I could feel it. My raspy breath was slowing and everything was calming down. The lights were growing dimmer and the world was growing colder. A sensation, the feeling of cold fingers intermingling with mine, surprised me. I did not grasp his hands but did not recoil at his touch.

"What was the offer?" I said. "What did you want from me, all this time?"

"I can still offer it, though I know in my heart you will deny it," Roan said. "If you are willing to bind yourself to me, to sacrifice your body and soul, I can save them."

"Save who?" I said. "Marcus is dead. Grace was never even here."

"Betty, I can raise the dead," Roan bellowed. "It takes a few steps, but it can be done."

"Raise Marcus from the dead? As a beast to wander the earth?"
"No, as a man," Roan said. "And the spark of life, Grace's spark, could be transferred."

"What would that take?"

"You pledge eternity to me, as my bride," Roan said. "Our souls could never be severed, and you would be as I am, filled with darkness. I would trade your soul for his."

"And Grace," I whispered.

"Take a life for a life," Roan said. "If you offered a sacrifice, Samuel's life, I could use the magic within to place her somewhere safe."

"Where is safe in this world?"

"You do not want this path," Roan said. "You have said no thousands of times."

"My eternity for theirs," I whispered.

"Betty, do not tempt me," Roan sighed. "You cannot fathom how difficult it is to watch

you die for all of eternity. To entertain the notion that you will choose the other path, it is too painful."

I glanced over to the lifeless body of Marcus in the distance, his glassy eyes watching the world. But he was gone, and that queer smile would never trace his face again. I thought about Tituba and her words, the dream I had just hours ago. Protect Grace, for it is by Grace that the world will be saved. I sat up, somehow finding some strength within my failing body.

"You will be kind to me," I said. "If I choose this, and I am yours, you will be kind to me."

"I have made it clear that I do not care for Samuel or such a man that feels powerful by striking a woman. No harm will come over you, save for the darkness that will bind us to the earth. You would feel evil, and you would become it, Betty. But I would never harm you. But I could show you things in the darkness: love, happiness, freedom. Things you've never known."

His hand stroked my cheek and our eyes met. The blackness was horrifying to me in the past and yet somehow, something about him called to me. Some part of me desired Roan, and I knew him. It was that basest urge that I had been taught for so long to repress. It was my own darkness, beckoning me to his. I glanced at Marcus, thinking of the life he deserved. I pictured him running through the field with a small child, a daughter. I pictured a world without darkness or fear. For it is by Grace that the world will be saved.

I had to do this, to choose. Roan, Marcus, no one would understand why I would. I would lose myself, my soul, and my sanity. But it was for something greater. I would die so she could live.

"I accept," I whispered.

"Pardon me," Roan scoffed. "You accept?"

"I accept your terms, Roan. If you will save Marcus and Grace, I will bind myself to you."

"Body and soul?"

"Body and Soul."

"To be my bride for all of eternity?"

"Aye," I said.

"You can never touch or love Marcus again," Roan whispered. "I will not tolerate it."

"Aye."

"So, you choose the darkness," he whispered. "You have chosen me."

"Where do we begin?"

"First," Marcus said. "I will heal you. Then we begin the ritual. It is time now for you to shed blood. It is time for you to kill Samuel Proctor."

"Well," I said, my voice losing all of its shakiness or meekness. "Then I suppose he will have to die."