The Necromancer (33 page)
Authors: Kevin
“Susanna! What has happened to you?”
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She turned to him, covering herself with her gangly arms, crossing them over her breasts as if ashamed.
He sat beside her on the bed and placed an
arm around her shoulders, feeling at once how frail and insubstantial she had become.
“Have you been starving yourself?”
“You know I have not,” she said, on the verge of tears.
She lowered her arms and placed her hands on her belly. Her breasts looked fuller and more round than he remembered them, and her belly was tremendous.
“I...I know not what to think,” he said.
“The baby,” she said. “It uses all I eat, Edward. I am so tired. I haven’t strength enough to do anything.”
She began to cry.
*****
By the time the old woman appeared at the door of Edward’s and Susanna’s bedroom, Susanna’s water had broken and she was in full labor. Susanna lay on the bed, rocking back and forth.
“Fret not, child. All shall be well. I am here now.”
Thea entered the room and walked toward the bed.
“It pains me!” Susanna grunted, grimacing through her bared teeth.
“I know. I know, dear. Giving birth is never without the pains.”
Thea pulled the sheets back over Susanna’s knees toward her head, instructed her to bend her legs, and raised 302
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Susanna’s nightgown. She removed some fresh sheets from the dresser drawer behind her and placed them on the fl oor beside her as she knelt at the foot of the bed.
“Edward... Father!”
“They are not here, child.”
“Wh...Where are they?”
“They rode into town early this morning. They should be back by early this evening.”
Another contraction rippled through Susanna’s belly.
She let out a long, strained groan, her teeth clenching, the muscles of her face bunching up.
Images of the nightmares fl ashed vividly before her eyes: Ambrose. The boar’s head. The small, furry hand pawing at her from between her legs. Thea backing away in horror with blood on her outstretched hands and splayed fi ngers.
Now, more than ever, Susanna was terrifi ed.
*****
Edward’s wagon and brought the horses to the stables for the evening. The sun hung low in the sky, spreading long shadows everywhere its warm amber light didn’t fall. Twilight crept up and deepening to dusk.
After the horses were tended to, the two men walked to the house discussing the day’s events. They had decided to go into business together, importing various goods from England and parts of Europe, and though they had only started a few months ago, they had already made a substantial sum of money. Edward taught Roger a good deal of the business, and Roger learned quickly. This was a good business, he thought. Certainly more lucrative than blacksmithing.
Certainly not as laborious. Maybe his and Edward’s success was 303
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a sign of better things to come, a break with all the horrors and misfortunes of the past.
They entered the house. It was quiet. Edward went to the kitchen to see if his mother was preparing supper as she usually did at this time. But when he didn’t fi nd her there and no evidence that she had even begun preparations to cook, he knew something wasn’t right.
“Mother’s not in there,” he said to Roger.
“She must be—”
A shriek came from upstairs and Roger and Edward dashed up the steps two and three at a time.
It was Susanna’s shriek they heard. A shriek of labor...
and perhaps fear.
*****
Susanna gulped down a mouthful of air and pushed hard, her face turning red as she cried out again.
Roger and Edward appeared in the doorway, their
mouths dropping open.
“When...,” Edward said.
“More than six hours ago,” Thea broke in, glancing up at them, then returning her attention to the task of delivering the baby.
“Does it...Does it seem...normal?” Susanna asked, raising her head and peering at Thea over the bloody sheets which were draped over her knees and clung snugly to her thighs.
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“Normal?” Thea said. “So far as I am able to tell.
There is much blood.”
Roger and Edward drifted into the room: Roger to Susanna’s side; Edward behind his mother. Roger sat on the edge of the bed and took his daughter’s hand. She reciprocated by gripping it hard as she felt the next contraction.
“Push hard, child! Susanna, push!”
Susanna did as Thea demanded and the baby poured out of her body in a red stream into Thea’s waiting arms. She held the newborn upside-down by the ankles and struck its buttocks a couple times. The baby wailed, blood and mucous falling from its mouth in stringy gouts. Thea briskly wiped the muck off the infant’s body with a clean rag and cut and tied the umbilical cord.
“A boy,” she said, wrapping it in a thick white cloth.
“A beautiful boy.” She handed the child up to Edward and he received it awkwardly.
“A handsome child,” he said, smiling and looking up at Susanna and Roger. He was in awe of it.
But Susanna didn’t look right. Her face was still fl ushed, and she was still panting. “Susanna?”
She shrieked again, her head rising from the pillow as she cringed and pushed.
“Is it....” Roger said.
“Another child,” Thea said.
“God,” Roger whispered.
“Another?” Edward asked.
Thea made no reply. She was already too involved with bringing the second baby into the world.
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Susanna pushed, her low, strained groans giving
evidence of her agony. Roger felt his daughter’s grip on his hand tighten again. She looked up at him. He saw fear in her eyes and gaunt features.
“Be strong, Susanna,” he said. “Be strong, dearest.”
“Father,” she rasped between her clenched teeth. “It hurts! It pains me verily!”
Roger looked up at Thea for reassurance, but if she felt his gaze upon her, she refused to acknowledge it. Her attention was consumed by the event taking place before her.
The old woman’s eyes were bleary, her skin clammy. Even in this dwindling light Roger could tell she was exhausted, probably as exhausted as Susanna, if not more so.
Edward cradled the crying baby in his left arm as he wiped remnants of tacky blood off its face with his right arm using the rag Thea had employed for the same purpose.
The baby seemed extraordinarily heavy and big, especially for a twin. He didn’t know much about babies, but it seemed abnormal. And if the child’s twin was anything like its older brother, could it be any wonder the rest of Susanna’s body was so emaciated in comparison to her breasts and belly? He estimated the boy he held weighed better than ten pounds. An abhorrent word entered his mind which he tried to rid himself of but could not: parasites.
“Push, child! Susanna, push harder!”
Susanna pushed, and for that moment all she could think of was the dream again...or worse.
What if it was something
worse?
She felt it alive in her, shifting inside her, slowly wiggling its way out. It wasn’t a part of her. It had never been a part of her. It was foreign and it would be a great relief to have the wretched thing out of her body forever.
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“No!” she screamed. “No!”
“It’s all right, dearest,” Roger said. “I am here. Edward is here. You’re fi ne.”
“No!”
She began to weep as she felt the baby struggling to free itself from the confi nes of her womb—a foul and loathsome creature which fed off her fl esh for the past nine months, making her sick with its shit and piss and vomit, and every movement it made turned her stomach and pummeled her back and kidneys and bladder.
All at once it slid out of her into Thea’s arms, producing a sickening wet sound like a dog moistening its mouth with saliva.
For a moment there was silence. Then Thea spanked the infant with a hard wet slap, and it wailed.
“This one is a girl,” she said, cleaning it up. “Two beautiful babies.”
Thea wrapped the girl in a sheet and carried her to her mother. Susanna’s panting slowed, the fl ush fading from her cheeks.
“A girl?” Susanna repeated in a nervous laugh of relief.
“A girl.”
Edward followed his mother to Susanna’s bedside
and passed the boy to Roger as Thea sat down on the bed and showed the girl to her mother.
“My grandchildren,” Roger said aloud to himself
proudly as the babes cried on. “My beautiful grandchildren.”
Susanna was equally impressed. The nightmares and torments of imagination that had assailed her were obliterated by these cherubic visions. Now that she beheld them, marveled 307
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at them, how could she feel anything but love for these children of hers?
A few minutes later, having thus bestowed her babies with her love, feeling everything was fi nally right with the world, Susanna drifted off into a long, deep sleep.
308
Daniel And Molly
Susanna Colton’s Journal—
9 June 1698—I had another nightmare last night,
though I remember not—as with the others—what it was. Apparently I screamed because Father and the children came running into our bedroom to see what the matter was. Thea has not been feeling well of late and was not fit to leave her bed. Edward told them I was all right, that I merely had a bad dream. After Father left and put the twins to bed, Edward tried to comfort me, but I was much affrighted. I could not remember the dream, but the fear of it remained with me, and remains with me still. I had thought the past was gone from me. I fear I was wrong.
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Molly and Daniel ran around the kitchen chasing
each other, giggling. Though they were precocious children, each exhibiting an intelligence and depth of understanding superior to those several years their senior, they were still only children, complete with limitless amounts of energy to expend, energy that yearned to be released.
Susanna busied herself at the stove preparing some vegetable soup for Thea, but the twins kept bumping into her legs as they continued to chase each other around, screaming.
“Daniel!” Susanna hollered, dropping the knife she used to chop the vegetables and turning toward him. The twins stopped their cavorting and looked up at their mother.
“Take your sister outside. The two of you can play in the back yard.”
“Yes, Mother,” Daniel said in a low, monotone voice, then turned to his sister with a smile and chased her out of the room, both laughing.
Susanna watched them fondly as they ran. Despite the past, and the nightmares, and her diffi culty in dealing with both, her life was good. Since the twins’ birth she had gained back the weight she’d lost, and a few pounds more. She was voluptuous now, and she knew that pleased Edward. She and her marriage were strong, and even though she hadn’t had any children by him, Edward seemed to love her even more now than when he fi rst married her. The business he and Roger had started fi ve years ago was thriving, and the family wanted for nothing. The only thing that wasn’t right was the fact that Thea was ill—that...and the nightmares. But Thea was old, older than anyone Susanna had ever known. It made her sad to think that Thea would die, that she may never recover from her convalescence. But nothing—and no one—goes on forever.
Thea had lived a long life, and from the stories she had told 310
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Susanna, a fairly happy one. That is all anyone could ask for, she mused.
She turned from the doorway which the twins exited through and continued chopping carrots.
*****
picket fence in the back yard and ran down to the rocky embankment of the Hudson. Every so often they would see a small blonde girl about their age playing in the mud of the shore a little upstream from their home. They had played with her on several occasions, but she usually preferred to keep to herself, planting daisies down close to the water and playing with the frogs. More than once, her mother or father or both had yelled at her from the top of the slope to get back up to the house, and more than once a spanking would be awaiting her when she got there. Today, like so many other summer days, she was there by the water, kneeling in the mud, dirty from head to foot, playing with dolls she made from the mud of the shore.
“Rachel,” Molly called.
The girl looked up at them as they approached her, but she didn’t say anything.
“Making mud dolls again, Rachel?” Molly said.
Rachel returned her attention to the mud she shaped in her hands and nodded slightly, her head drooping a little.
Waves lapped against the shore, kissing the earth with soft, wet smacks. Daniel picked up a few fl at rocks and skipped them across the water.
“Is there something wrong, Rachel?” Molly asked.
“N...No. Not really.”
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“Are you sad?”
“Well...Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Rachel said, making eyes in the mud doll’s head with her pinky.
“Because why?” Molly persisted.
“Just because.”
“‘Just because’ is not a reason,” Daniel said, launching the last of the rocks he was holding across the water’s surface, then turning to Rachel.
Rachel fi nished making the doll and stood up,
displaying it to the twins.
“I can make him,” she said. “But he never comes out like I want.”
“How do you want to make him?” Daniel asked.