Up one moment, down the next. Down to the floor.
He must have hit me again, harder this time, and there was a blank space between hit one and two. Dimly, I was aware that he was in such a rage as to kill me, but all I could think to do was curl into myself, shielding my stomach with my legs and hands.
His hits were a hundred different snake strikes coming at me at once. Hands and boots his fangs. Each place he connected with grew a hot pulse, and blood sprayed from my nose, exploded from my lips, and streamed down with a mixture of tears and snot, sullying the cream dress in crimson stains.
“P-please.” I lifted a trembling hand. “P-please s-stop.”
If it were not for the little girl I carried in my heart, and the baby boy in my womb, I would have died on the floor, attempting to stand on my feet, refusing to beg for my life. His feelings before had nothing on him—I had never felt anything like it—so cruel, so determined, a forcefield of resentment. But it wasn’t only me on the floor.
Using my hair to bring me from the floor to my feet, he brought my face close to his. “I am nothing,nothing!” He yanked even harder. “Nothing likethatdevil.”
He flung me across the room, onto the bed, and I scrambled to right myself, to face him, but it was hard to do—he must have broken a few of my ribs. I was having a hard time catching my breath, and the pain made my head woozy.
He loosened his shirt, his belt afterwards, forcing me to watch him undress.
The door to the cabin flew open, a surge of cool air blasting in—and I almost sobbed at the fresh smell of it, at the aloe it spread across my blazing skin.
Burgess stomped in, the reek of him even more potent. It was hard to see his face through a blur of tears and swelling, but it didn’t take eyes to see. He was panicked, paler than the ice outside. Bruno stood in the doorway, watching.
“Kill her now,” Burgess hissed, “or we’re all going to die!”
A gunshot rang out in the cabin. The blast made my ears feel like they were about to explode, but I still heard the moment Burgess’s body hit the wall before he fell to the floor.
He wasn’t dead. I could hear horrible wheezing and gurgling sounds coming from his mouth. It mixed in with the ringing in my ears.
Primo said something in Italian. It sounded like he was praying, then he disappeared.
Cesare moved away from me to stand over his newest victim. “You.” He spit on Burgess. “Do not tellmewhat to do. You agreed to this. Such a fool. You worked your entire life to put men like the Faustis behind bars, and never could keep them there. You’re a waste of air. Then to have to borrow money from them to keep yourself out of trouble?Hah!Your wife even preferred them over you. Better off dead than to be the sorry sack of bones you are. I have made a real ghost this time, ah?”
Burgess was on the floor, attempting to keep the air in his lungs through what felt like a thin straw of existence. The man wanted me dead, had basically begged for Cesare to end my life, but I felt sorry for him.
Even the worst creatures in existence deserved mercy.
Cesare turned around with the gun in his hand, pointing it at the center of my forehead.
Closing my eyes, I held on to the cross at the end of the rosary necklace.
A few heartbeats passed between us, in the silence the fading beat of one, the incorrigible beat of another, two from me, the hiss and pop of the flames, then a surge of cold air blowing in from the open door.
Another blast of cold air hit me, the fireplace wavered, and then the door slammed shut behind the monster.
* * *
Perhaps it was the mother in me that made me go to Burgess, or simple kindness, one human being to another. Mercy shown was mercy given—to oneself.
I had to crawl to him, not able to walk.
His blue eyes were rimmed with red, guileless as he stared at the ceiling, but he knew I was near because he squeezed my hand.
Even his weak grip made me wince and forced the tears faster from my eyes. Blood steadily dripped down my throat, my eyes were swollen, perhaps even some of my back teeth loose, and I had to take shallow breaths to keep the pain from my ribs somewhat bearable.
Each breath felt like it brought a new complication.
The baby—if he had somehow—no. I refused to even entertain the idea. He was all right. The monster hadn’t kicked me anywhere near my stomach, though he would have, if I wouldn’t have shielded myself.
Burgess made an urgent keening noise in his throat, unable to communicate with words. His time was growing near, and there was no sense of peace about it. He wasn’t going easily. His soul was fighting to leave, but his body commanded it to stay.
His mouth opened and closed, a gaping fish, searching for the oxygen to sustain its existence.
