Judas Payne. Michael Hemmingson

from between her legs. Payne gasped. He had expected something with hoofed-feet, horns, a tail—a demon of fitting pretense. No. This was a human child. Brown of skin, green of eyes, and healthy with cry. A boy. A boy child. The afterbirth came next, looking more of the thing of nightmares than the Reverend had expected—as well as a flux of blood. Katherine wailed, then fell still, blood pouring around the infant. What was wrong with her? Why was she bleeding so?

      “Jedediah,” she said.

      He looked at her face.

      Her glare pierced into him, undiluted, straight to his God-given soul. “Come here, Jedediah,” she said.

      She knew she was going to die. She felt her insides rupturing, bursting. There wasn’t much time left. She could hear the newborn’s wails. She saw that it was a boy. He looked beautiful. She beckoned her husband to come to him, her voice weak yet insistent. He moved toward her, and he was frightened. How much of The Devil was still inside her? She reached out and grabbed his wrist. He tried to pull free. Her nails dug in, puncturing flesh.

      Blood....

      “I’m leaving you now,” she said, coughing up her guts, “but you must make a vow.”

      “Katherine,” he said, still trying to free himself.

      “No matter what, no matter what—you will not harm this child. You will not give him away, you will not hurt him, you will not leave him to starve. He is my son, and he is the brother of your daughter.”

      “Katherine,” he said again.

      “Swear to this,” she said.

      He would not.

      “SWEAR IT!” she cried. “IF YOU DO NOT, AND IF YOU GO AGAINST YOUR WORD, BY THE LORD MY SOUL WILL HAUNT AND TORMENT YOU FOR ALL YOUR YEARS! I MAY GO TO HELL BUT I WILL MAKE A DEAL WITH SATAN TO LET ME HAUNT YOU UNTIL YOU GO MAD!”

      He was shaking to near paroxysms. “I swear,” he said.

      “SWEAR IT TO THAT UNJUST GOD OF YOURS!”

      “Blasphemy!” he choked.

      “SWEAR!”

      “I swear to the Lord, I—I—”

      “SWEAR ON THE BIBLE!”

      He did.

      She let go of him. “Give me my child,” she murmured.

      He would not do this. He had done enough. Evil was all around him. He began to pray out loud, asking the Angels for exact and swift relief. Katherine strained to grab the child by herself, pull him to her bosom. Blood was everywhere he looked. Payne went to get his daughter, to take her away from this sight. Evangeline was crying for her mother.

      The boy child stopped his wailing as soon as Katherine offered him her breast. As the child suckled, she took her last breath.

      Reverend Payne returned a few hours later, inquisitive more than concerned. His wife was still, her skin icy cold, the child asleep. Her stiff arms held the demon infant. He pulled the baby free, with abhorrence. The child began to cry. He wanted to smother it on the spot. But he had sworn an oath to her; he’d agreed to abide by God’s mandate in the dream. God had His Ways and those Ways were strange, yes, of course, he knew this. Payne had his own motives, however: he had to watch and make sure this child of iniquity did not do the biding of his true sire. If he gave the boy up for adoption, he may fall into the hands of someone who could lead him to a position to destroy the world. No, he would keep Satan’s child here, as a prisoner, and make sure he did no detriment to and in the world.

      Reverend Jedediah Payne looked down at the brown newborn with green eyes and said, “Your name shall Judas...”