CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: Redemption's Fire

As the rain poured down upon them, Augusta desperately clawed at Jamison’s arm. “Look!" she wailed. "Behind the bushes! I tell you he is THERE! The red eyes burn, why won’t you look?”

“Yes, yes I see them, darling,” Jamison said soothingly as he tried to urge her towards the house. “Now let me take you back. We’ll catch our death out here.”

“But he calls me!”

With a final anguished cry, Augusta collapsed in a faint on the rain-soaked lawn. Cursing under his breath, Jamison set down the lantern and slung the rifle over his shoulder. Lifting his wife up in his arms, he hurried the rest of the way to the house, past the fountain and up the back steps. Paxton stood at the French doors, bleary-eyed and uncharacteristically rumpled. As he pushed by the butler into the drawing room, Jamison could smell whiskey on the man’s breath.

“Yes, Paxton,” he said, trying to quell his anger. ”She managed to get out yet again. God only knows how she got past you.” No doubt when you were replenishing your stock. “I’m taking her back upstairs. Where is Roderick?”

Paxton shifted uneasily. “The master has not been seen since this afternoon, sir. He may have gone into town with Dr. Marcus.”

“Very well.” Jamison adjusted Augusta in his arms so that Paxton could take the rifle from him. “I shall…I shall have to restrain her this time. You’ll need to get the...” He broke off, unable to say the word.

“Aye, sir,” whispered the butler. “It’s the only way.”

Jamison carried Augusta up the back stairs and into the spare room they’d used earlier that day. Striding over to the single bed, he laid down his frail burden.

Paxton came close behind him, holding a lamp in one hand and a bundle of material in the other.

“I brought some dry towels and another gown, sir, along with the…other.”

“Thank you, Paxton. You can leave it all there on the dresser. “

"Are you sure you don’t need my –“

“That will be all, Paxton. Go to bed. Leave me the lamp and close the door behind you.”

“Very good, sir.”


As soon as the butler was gone, Jamison gently peeled Augusta’s sodden nightgown off her. Gazing down at his wife’s small, naked form, he breathed a weary sigh. When he had come upon her in the barn, that machete lifted high over her head and her eyes burning with madness, Jamison felt as though he too would go insane.

He reached down and caressed her cheek. Her skin was so cold and blue, he thought with concern. Almost as if...
But no, he could see the pulse fluttering at her temple.

So frail, and yet…so tenacious.

He’d once loved her so dearly. Now he felt nothing for her but pity, frustration and some unnamable guilt. Shaking off the black thoughts, he grabbed a towel and briskly rubbed warmth back into his wife’s limbs, then eased her into a dry nightgown.

Steeling himself for his next task, he slowly unrolled one of the four thick leather straps that Paxton had brought up. Placing it over one of Augusta’s wrists, he wrapped the ends around the bed frame, then cinched and buckled it tight.

“Please forgive me, Augusta,” he hoarsely whispered, reaching for another strap. “If I only knew what it is that torments you! If I could burn it out of your mind, I swear to you I would.”

----------------------------~*~---------------------------------

Outside, the storm redoubled its fury, lashing down at Halstead Manor and all its inhabitants. In the dark garden, underneath the brambles by the old stone boundary wall, in a lair that was dug out a long time ago, a great black creature lay hidden. A fiery slice of pain burned deep in its shoulder where the bullet had creased it – the animal’s impulse to attack had been overcome by the need to retreat. The red light in its eyes was beginning to dim and it shook its great head. Panting hard, a violent shudder wracked the creature’s frame. It slowly dragged itself farther back into the cave and then up, up towards a crack in the wall that was so narrow only its own lithe form would be able to squeeze past. With a desperate effort, it heaved itself through and into the wider passageway beyond. Then, with a frenzied shriek the animal collapsed, convulsing. White flecks of foam dripped from its jaws, and its eyes, now pale blue, rolled back in its head. The animal’s features began to swell and contract with a horrible popping sound, and its long canines retracted behind lips now thin and red. Bones snapped and reformed, muscles twisted and flexed. The thick black fur melted into white, quivering flesh and angry red scars appeared in a criss-cross over the thing’s back and shoulders.

Through it all, the creature writhed and screamed in a sort of ecstasy, as if it was suffering both the tortures and the pleasures of the damned.

----------------------------~*~---------------------------------


Jamison lurched blindly down the hall, desperate to shut out Augusta’s plaintive cries. He’d not been able to escape in time; she’d awakened and had immediately become hysterical, struggling against the restraints. Finally, he’d had to dose her with the laudanum Dr. Marcus had left for just such an emergency. As he turned the corner, he realized he was close to Alexandra’s room. Just the thought of her calming voice soothed him. She knew nothing of what had transpired and would surely want to be told, he thought to himself. Once he arrived at her door, however, he hesitated. She’d complained of not feeling herself early that evening and had kept to her room. Jamison checked his pocket watch – nearly midnight – much too late, he chided himself; the poor woman was no doubt sleeping soundly. He was about to walk on when he heard a muffled voice and a trilling laugh.

Jamison stumbled back against the wall. That laugh! It was a laugh he’d not heard over half a year – not since the last time he’d seen Brigid Halstead alive.

----------------------------~*~---------------------------------

In the bowels of Halstead Manor, far below the wine cellar, past the storage room where old trunks lay full of rotting journals and incriminating letters, and where certain portraits of ancestors considered too depraved even for the upstairs gallery were turned face towards the wall, there was a passageway. There was no light in the passageway. There was no dust there, nor any cobwebs. The rats did not crawl there, although they reigned freely over the rest of their domain. At the end of this passageway there was a blank wall of brick and mortar, nothing more. But behind the wall, a grinding sound could be heard, and the wall slowly began to slide back, revealing a dark opening. A tall figure stumbled through it and down the passageway, collapsing as the wall ground shut once more. The dim light of a single blue candle in the storage room revealed Roderick, naked and panting against the barren floor.

Raising his head up, he called out, his voice echoing in the gloom, “ ‘Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down into destruction. How are they brought into desolation, as in a moment!’”

He winced in pain, clutching at a bloody wound on his shoulder. Pulling his hand away, he stared at the blood, and the answer he had been avoiding all these years came to him.

“ ‘It is the blood that maketh an atonement’,” he whispered as awe, fear and desire finally became one in his broken mind.

“It is fitting,“ he said, nodding. Drawing himself up, he reached for the long purple dressing gown he’d thrown off earlier that evening. “It shall be done. Our bodies and our souls shall be set free from that demon’s curse at last!”


----------------------------~*~---------------------------------


Jamison recovered from his shock long enough to rap on the door. “Alexandra? Are you all right in there? It’s….“

The door swung open slightly. “Alexandra?? What are you-” he managed to ask, before a slim arm reached out and yanked him inside.

----------------------------~*~---------------------------------


In the spare room down at the end of the hall, Augusta drifted in and out of consciousness. She cried out in her drugged sleep and struggled against the bonds that secured her, just as she still tried to fight the devils that plagued her mind. An insistent creaking sound dragged her up out of the grey mist long enough for her to open her eyes. Turning her head, she was amazed to see a tall angel with shiny purple wings ooze out of the wall. A swath of moonlight had fallen from the window, spilling across the floor, and the angel drifted over it. Hovering next to her bed, the angel looked down at her with eyes that shined like silver and Augusta felt her skin burn under its fierce gaze.

The angel bent over her. With long, white fingers, it touched the awful thing that held her leg fast. She felt a soft, trembling hand draw its way up her thigh, then higher, lightly caressing the secret places underneath her nightgown.

“Angel,” Augusta whispered hopefully. “Have you come to save me?”

The angel gave a great, heaving sob, and pulled away its hand. Augusta held her breath as the angel rose up again to its full height, its great iridescent wings parting to reveal skin so like alabaster it seemed to glow. Something in its right hand sparkled and gleamed.

----------------------------~*~---------------------------------

It was dark inside Alexandra’s room, except for a sliver of moonlight. In front of him, Jamison could see a familiar silhouette and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alexandra! What in heaven’s – “

“Shhhh! Jamison, there’s no time to explain. We must get Augusta out of here. If you don’t, she is only going to worsen. She may very well die.”

“Oh God, I haven’t wanted to believe that, but after what happened today…”

“Exactly. Jamison, you know you can trust me, don’t you? You’ve sensed there is something…unusual about me. I came here for a reason.” Alexandra stepped back into the light and Jamison gasped. Far from looking ill, she seemed even more beautiful than before, somehow more…youthful.

“You’re different, Alexandra. You’ve changed. Your voice…it’s not the same somehow. That laugh I heard, and your hair…”

He realized with a start that Alexandra’s glossy black hair was now accented with a pure-white widow’s peak. Just like-

“Jamison, you don’t understand. We don’t have time for this. Augusta must leave tonight! Or it will be too late. I can’t tell you everything, but the one thing you must know is that no matter what has happened in the past, Augusta is not to blame! She was never meant to suffer.” She held out a thick envelope. “Take this. It contains all the documents and information you’ll need. There’s the address of a convent in Italy where she’ll be safe and well cared for, as well as-”

“Italy!” Jamison spluttered, backing away. “I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes, you can!” Alexandra insisted, shoving the envelope into his hands. “The only chance she has is to get as far away from here as possible, away from everything that has been tainted by this place!” Her eyes softened and she gave him a sad smile. “Even you, my dear Jamison. You must send her away and never see her again. Trust me. For this treatment to work…ah…she needs absolute isolation. Even your love would be too much for her to bear.”

“But I –“

“If you want her to live, you’ll do as I say! Send her on a ship with William and a good sensible maid, perhaps Adelaide, but get her out of here tonight!”

Jamison looked deeply into her eyes and saw the truth.

“It’s Roderick isn’t it? He’s the danger. His hold over her, the sanctimonious--!”

Alexandra gripped his arms firmly. “Listen to me. We will deal with Roderick later, but our first priority must be Augusta. She must not be harmed. There is much at stake here, more than you know. I’ll get her ready, you call for the servants and the coach.”

Jamison still didn’t move; he had to know. “Who are you really?”

“I tell you there is no time!” Alexandra spun him around and pushed him towards the door. “Go, Jamison! Go now!”


----------------------------~*~---------------------------------


As she watched Jamison finally run to do as she demanded, the being that looked like Alexandra permitted herself a smile. “Time enough still,” she whispered, “to give my dear Roderick everything he deserves.”

A sharp pain stabbed at her mind.

“No!” She quickly crossed over to the mirror hanging above the dresser and looked into it. Staring back at her were eyes not her own, and they were filled with terror. She gripped the edge of the dresser tightly and spoke sharply to the image before her. “I have no wish to harm you, Alexandra. You have given me the information I needed to help Augusta, and I thank you for it. However, I need complete control of your body as well to do what I must. The more you fight me, the harder it will be. I am much stronger than you, and if I have to…I will destroy you as well.”

She closed her eyes and concentrated. The pain receded and slowly the patrician face in the mirror melted and changed, shifting into the features and form of Brigid Halstead.

----------------------------~*~---------------------------------

Roderick stood in the moonlight with his arms outstretched, the purple dressing gown falling open to reveal his naked body. The sight of his sister bound by straps like Saint Catherine on the wheel had nearly been his undoing; he’d almost succumbed once more to the demonic lust he felt for her - the effect of that lust on his body was still painfully evident. But then she’d spoken; she’d called him “Angel” and with her soft words, Roderick felt the power of the Lord wash over him and scour him clean. He knew then that what he was about to do was right and good.

“Yes, my sweet child,” he answered softly. “I am here to save us both.”

He raised his right hand, and the long silver dagger he held up glittered like Jehovah’s fire. " ‘God judgeth the righteous’,” he intoned solemnly, “ ‘and God is angry with the wicked every day. If he turn not, he will whet his sword; he hath bent his bow, and made it ready. He hath also prepared for him the instruments of death…’”

Augusta’s eyes widened and she smiled up at him with delight. “And you’ve brought Brigid with you from Heaven! Oh, thank you!”

Roderick stopped, momentarily confused. Then he heard an odd, rustling sound behind him. He turned quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid the iron poker that swung up out of the dark and slammed into his skull.

As Roderick crumpled to the floor, Brigid dropped the poker, stepped over him and hurried to the bed. “Oh, Augusta! Yes, I am here. Brigid will take care of everything.” She knelt down and unbuckled the straps. Augusta sat up and hugged her fiercely, then smiled brightly.

“You’ve been gone for so long, I’d nearly given up hope. I’ve been sick. A black beast called to me in the garden. I don’t like Alexandra. She doesn’t belong here. I made a present for you, but Brother wouldn’t let me keep it.”

“It’s all right,” said Brigid, smoothing the pale hair back from Augusta’s face. “Would you like to go on a trip?”

“Outside, you mean? Away from Halstead?”

“Yes, to a place where the houses are filled with sunshine and the people sing, and it only rains long enough to help the flowers grow. Would you like that?”

Augusta's face lit up with joy. “Oh, yes, Brigid, I’d like that very much!”

“It will mean a long boat trip, darling. You will have to be very brave.”

“I will be, Brigid. I promise! After all, you’ll be with me, won’t you?”

“I – I will join you later.”

“And Jamison will come, and…” Augusta’s smile dimmed, and Brigid could feel the small body tensing in her arms. “What about Brother? Will he be going, too? ”

“No,” Brigid said grimly, glancing over at the body on the floor. “Brother needs to stay right here.”

Augusta looked down at her lap and plucked fretfully at her nightgown. Finally, she nodded and in a quiet voice said, “I don’t think he would like a place that is sunny all the time.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” said Brigid, gently pulling Augusta to her feet. “Very well, then. Let’s hurry back to your room and get you dressed, then we’ll go downstairs. I’ve already packed you a few things and will send the rest on later.”

As they started for the door, Augusta stopped and looked back with concern at the unconscious figure lying by the bed. “Brigid, you didn’t kill the angel, did you?”

“Of course not, darling,” said Brigid soothingly, urging her sister-in-law out the door. “I have other plans for him.”


----------------------------~*~---------------------------------

Jamison waited by the carriage house, going over the details with the two servants he was sending on the boat with Augusta. He still couldn’t believe that in the last hour his entire world had changed. But he knew that Alexandra was right – he’d been avoiding it for too long. He had to get Augusta away. Away from this horrible place and that damnable brother of hers. He knew that William and Adelaide were dependable and could be trusted. He also knew they were sweethearts, and that the money he’d promised them upon their return would be more than enough to set them up for a life together outside of service.

“Do not worry, Monsieur Legard,” chirped the little maid. “We will take good of Madame. Vraiment, even if it is to Italy and not France we go, I know she will be very happy there.”

“You have my word, sir, we’ll see she gets to…” William squinted down at one of the papers Jamison had given him and struggled to pronounce the unfamiliar words. “Er...this ’Castelnuovo Rangone’ place safely.”

“Thank you. Bless you both. “ Jamison looked up at the house impatiently, then down once more at his pocket watch. What could be keeping them?

----------------------------~*~---------------------------------

It had taken longer than Brigid had anticipated to dress Augusta – the girl seemed to sense that she would not be coming back; she kept picking up one thing and then discarding it for another, unable to choose the few precious items Brigid would allow her to take.

“But Brigid!” Augusta wailed. “The little black cat poppet you made for me! I can’t go anywhere without that!”

“I swear to you I’ll find it. Now put on this coat and we’ll go to Jamison.”

“That horrid Alexandra person won’t be coming with us, will she, Brigid?”

“No, Augusta. You needn’t worry about her. I’ll take care of everything. Come along now. We have to hurry.”

They ran down the hall to the great stairs, Augusta clutching a small valise close to her chest. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Brigid stopped and turned Augusta towards her. “Now listen to me, darling. I want you to go straight to the carriage house – Jamison is waiting there for you.” She stole a glance back up the stairs. “There’s…something I must do before I can join you.”

Augusta’s chin began to tremble. “But you-“

“Now, you promised you’d be brave. I’m depending on you.”

Augusta took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “All right, Brigid.”

“Go on now, Jamison is waiting for you!”

With a final hug, Augusta kissed her goodbye and ran out the front door, slamming it behind her. Brigid sighed with relief. Now to-

Suddenly there was a great crash at the top of the stairs and she looked up, startled.

Standing above her was a horrifying sight. It was Roderick, leaning heavily on the balcony rail and gasping for breath, Blood and gore streamed down from the gaping wound on the side of his head, blackening the purple dressing gown that still hung over his naked frame. His eyes burned with an insane fury as they focused on her.

“YOU!!” he screamed in disbelief.

“Yes, Roderick. It is I.” Brigid said icily. “I told you I’d return.”

“DEVIL’S WHORE!!!” he cried. "What have you done with her? She must be washed in the Blood of the Lamb!” Roderick began to stumble down the stairs.

She couldn’t let him go after Augusta – everything depended on it!

“If you ever want to see Augusta again, Roderick, you will have to deal with me first,” she taunted, edging away from the front door. “You see, my Master actually hears my prayers.”

“THOU SHALT NOT SUFFER A WITCH TO LIVE!” Roderick bellowed and started after her.

Brigid turned and ran into the drawing room. Pushing aside the ornate, high-backed chair by the sideboard, she opened a secret panel, then waited until she saw Roderick lurch through the double doors. Dashing inside, she raced down the narrow passageway. She could hear Roderick raging behind her.

“WHERE ARE YOU, YOU BITCH!”

Brigid hitched up her skirts and ran to the end of the passageway, then up the circular stairs that led to the second floor. Coming at last to the panel she sought, she slid it open to reveal Alexandra’s darkened bedroom. Slamming the panel shut behind her, she dragged the dresser in front of it. She could hear Roderick pounding up the stairs. There was just enough time. Wrenching open the bottom dresser drawer, she pulled out the grimoire and the amulet. Although this corporeal form was proving useful, it badly limited the kind of magic she was able to perform without aid.

Taking a calming breath, she turned to a page she knew well and set the book on the floor. Reaching for the amulet, she held it lightly in her right hand.

BOOM!

The room reverberated with the pounding. She stepped away from the grimoire and turned to face the sound.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Roderick’s voice echoed from the other side of the panel. “YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME, YOU HARLOT OF SATAN!"

“I am right here, Roderick.” Brigid called out, steeling herself for what was about to happen.

BOOM!

With a splintering crash, the panel shattered, revealing Roderick’s torn and bloodied face. His mouth widened in a vicious, calculating grin when he saw her, then he wrenched away the remains of the panel.

“Hello, Roderick. It took you long enough,” Brigid said evenly.

“You won’t escape me this time, whore,” Roderick hissed, shoving the dresser away from the opening he’d made. “I killed you once, I can do it again. This time, however, I won’t just throw you down the stairs. No. I swear I’ll drag you to the highest turret, and I’ll cast you off, then I’ll rip your sin-infested corpse to bits with my bare hands and I’ll grind your bones to dust.”

With a scream of rage, he leapt through the jagged opening he’d made in the wall and started towards her.

As he did so, Brigid held out her left palm, exposing three deep scars. Seeing them, Roderick halted, and for the first time, something like fear crossed his features.

Brigid smiled. “You remember when I made these, don’t you?”

“The curse! This family’s misery is all because of you!”

“No, dear husband. The curse on Halstead Manor started long ago. But THIS curse is yours and yours alone.”

Holding the amulet up in her right hand, Brigid cried out, “Ia! Muh’lhng ftagn! Loscadh is dó ort!"

Roderick stumbled back, raising up his hands as if to ward off the spell. "NO!” he screamed.

“She’s gone, Roderick! Augusta is free from your evil forever!” Brigid slashed down at her left palm with the amulet’s sharpened edge. Blood spurted up from the scars and her hand burst into flame.

But before she could fling the blood and fire down upon the grimoire and complete the curse, Roderick saw the book on the floor. With a shout, he hurled himself at it and threw it behind him.

“You won’t use your black arts against me this time, sorceress!” he bellowed, launching himself at her once more.

Brigid tried to run, but it was too late. Roderick grabbed her around the throat and they grappled together in a macabre dance of hate. He smashed her against the wall, choking her, and as she tried to gain purchase, the fire she held in her hand leapt to the heavy brocade curtains and exploded into a fiery ball.

Brigid struggled to free herself from Roderick’s grip, but his long fingers were wrapped firmly around her throat.

“ ‘Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone,” he cackled. “ ‘This shall be the portion of their cup!’”

The fire spread in seconds, shooting up the walls and over the beams in the ceiling. Tongues of flame lapped at the four-poster, feeding on the bedcovers and the ancient wood.

Although Brigid still fought with all her strength, she could feel herself losing consciousness. Tears sprang to her eyes.

I’m so sorry, Augusta. I should have never left you alone.

Through the grey smoke that now filled the room, she could still make out Roderick’s face grinning in exultation as he squeezed his hands even tighter. His eyes burned as fiercely as the flames, and he cackled in triumph.

“She’ll never leave me, Brigid. I will finish with you and then I shall bring her back. The child-“

Suddenly Roderick’s eyes went wide with surprise and his hands fell away. Brigid scrambled back, but Roderick just stood there, frozen. His mouth gaped opened, as if to speak, and then a great gout of blood poured out of it and cascaded down his chest. Falling to his knees, he clutched at his throat, gargling and gasping for air.

“My…child…” he managed to whisper, before collapsing face down on the floor at Brigid’s feet.

She looked up in amazement. Standing behind Roderick’s corpse, with the flames behind her growing ever and ever higher, was the pale, blonde figure of a girl. In one hand, she clutched a stuffed toy. In the other, she held a long, silver dagger, now stained to the hilt with Roderick’s blood.

“Augusta?” Brigid croaked.

“I came back.” Augusta held up the toy. “I remembered where I put Kitty.”

“Augusta!” Brigid ran to her and hugged her tight. “We’ve got to get out of here, now!”

“And then I found the angel’s sword where he had dropped it.”

“Yes. Of course you did.” Brigid gently took the dagger from the girl’s hand and placed in on the floor. “Now come along with me, darling,” she urged, eyeing the encroaching flames.

“I heard him screaming at you and I came to help. He was hurting you.”

Spying an quilt the fire hadn’t yet touched, Brigid grabbed it and wrapped it around Augusta, covering her head. “You saved me, darling. You saved my life. But we need to-"

“You know something, Brigid? I don’t think that was really an angel at all.”

Brigid spared a glance at Roderick’s body. “Whatever he was, Augusta,” she said firmly, “he won’t hurt anyone anymore. Now we have to run as fast as we can!”

Holding Augusta close to her, Brigid dashed through the smoke and flames to the open doorway. Racing down the stairs, they were almost to the foyer when Brigid skidded to an abrupt halt.

The BOOK! She’d forgotten the book! Roderick had fallen on top of it when he’d died. She couldn’t leave without it!

Uttering a black curse at her own stupidity, she was about to tell Augusta to run outside, when the front door burst open and Jamison appeared. Augusta ran to his arms.

“Augusta??" cried Jamison. "Where did you go? I turned around and—BRIGID?” He stared up at her, gaping.

“No time to explain, Jamison! Call the rest of the servants. There’s a fire on the second floor. Roderick is dead. I…I killed him. He’d gone completely mad.”

“Good God! But you…you’re wearing her clothes…”

“Take Augusta and GO!”

“BUT WHERE IS ALEXANDRA?”

Brigid stopped, momentarily nonplussed. “Ah! She’s…she’s safe. Still upstairs. Trying to fight the fire. I – I will go back and get her, Jamison. Now go!!!”

“Very well. I’ll be back in a moment. But do not go up there without me!” Jamison hurried Augusta out the front door. As soon as he was gone, Brigid turned and ran back up the stairs.

The fire was already spreading out into the hall. Brigid plunged her way through the flames once more. The heat and smoke nearly blinded her, but in the center of the room she could still make out the shape of Roderick’s body. For some reason the flames had not encroached upon the circle in which he lay. Running over, she kneeled down and heaved the body over. Grabbing the amulet she’d dropped in the struggle, she then reached for the grimoire. Picking it up, she noticed with dismay that it was wet with blood.

The black figures on the page were swimming in a chaotic frenzy and the entire book was beginning to vibrate.

It was soaked through with Roderick’s blood!

No time to think about what that would mean. The flames had nearly consumed the entire room - only the circle she stood in was still untouched. She slammed the book closed, held it tight and turned to go.

But just as she stepped over Roderick’s body, something shot out and grabbed her ankle. Letting out a shriek, she looked down - Roderick’s white hand was clutching her with an iron grip. He smiled up at her with a ghastly rictus grin. Brigid kicked at him and tried to pull away, but he twisted her leg and wrenched her down onto the floor. Crawling on top of her as she struggled frantically , he straddled her, pinning her arms with his knees. Then he laughed, and red bubbles of foam dripped from his mouth down onto her face.

“You see, dear wife?” he rasped. “I’m not so easy to kill, either!”

Reaching through the flames, he grabbed the silver dagger Brigid had left on the floor, ignoring the sizzling sound his flesh made.

“As you are my wife,” he intoned, “Thou shalt cleave unto me all thy days. One spirit, one flesh, forever and Amen.”

Roderick raised the dagger high over his head. Brigid heard the sound of cracking timber, and behind Roderick she could see an entire wall of flame falling toward them. As Roderick plunged the dagger down towards her breast, Brigid's triumphant smile made him falter. And as the burning pyre collapsed upon them both, Brigid heard a voice in her head scream a name she did not recognize.

MITCH!

Then Brigid's world exploded into a fiery inferno and she heard no more.




L.A.G.