All I wanted-- all we wanted-- was a child. That’s all. It wasn’t so much to ask, was it? We were good people. Kind people, and moral. I guess we just weren’t good enough. Whatever happened to karma and the balance of nature? Good deeds for good deeds. We helped the environment, were kind to animals, tried to spread love and understanding. And we did everything we could, tried every natural way, to conceive a child. A boy, a girl. It didn’t matter. We just wanted to show a child our love. What was so wrong with that?

Something had to be wrong. Maybe not with us, but with the universe. Cosmically, something outside of our control. And were just screwed. That’s unfair. It’s unfair that bad things happen to good people. My husband--he was a good man. He did not deserve to die. He did not deserve to die!

I wipe my tears. I won’t cry again. I’ve spent too long weeping for the dead and the damned. I feel... Cold. Cold inside. Like I’ve swallowed a lump of ice and it’s melted in my heart and the chill has spread through my body. I’ve figured it out-- that the universe toys with good people. There’s a kind of frosted satisfaction to knowing this, because now that I do I don’t have to play nice. I’m tired of playing the good girl. I don’t want to be sunshine and daisies. I want... I don’t know. Vengeance? Can you have vengeance on nature?

The thought it almost funny. I laugh anyway. It’s a bitter laugh, but it feels good in a rough sort of way, like sliding my fingernails down a chalkboard. Oh yes. That does feel good.

So, now what? I ask myself this as I sit in our bed. Our bed where we tried so hard. Where nature screwed us while... Stop there. Don’t ruin those memories. Leave them untainted.

What now? That’s it. Yes. Focus on the question.

Revenge. How do you get vengeance for being screwed by something you tried to keep good and whole? Maybe... Yes, that might work. That might restore the ‘balance’. Ha. Irony. It’ll feel so good to restore the balance of my life by spreading chaos, steeping myself in darkness until there is no light left in my soul. Oh, I’ll be real balanced then.

What do you do when the light betrays you? Why, you turn to the darkness!

So, I turn to the darkness.

---

I am alone. So alone. I just want... Someone. Someone real, someone I can touch and hold and love. I want to love, even if it hurts again. I want... A child. I was meant to be a mother. Sean always said so. I’ve heard that there are ways to get favours from the spirits-- the demons. Maybe they have the power to grant me a child. I would do anything for a child.

I’ve started asking around. They-- my friends or whatever-- have given me books and prodded me in the right direction. I think I’m almost ready to try. I think I’ll try tonight.

A baby in any form is a blessing, right? If I ask them for Sean’s baby, they’ll give it to me. I’ll have a piece of him inside of me, beside me forever.

It calls for a sacrifice, the ritual I might try tonight. I only have one thing left to give-- well, two, technically. I give my rings. Our rings. Two slim golden bands exchanged in love for the one thing we desired above all else, the one thing we wanted our love to make.

I’ll try tonight. I want a baby. I want more anything to hold a child, so much that my arms ache with it. They’ll give it to me... Won’t they?

---

Nothing. Nothing and nothing again. I did the effing ritual. I did it perfectly, without any little changes or mistakes. Not a hair was out of place. But nothing has happened.

I don’t understand it.

And now I feel even more pathetic. I’m sitting here alone, eating dinner. I’m sure other people are watching me. I feel their eyes creeping over my skin, wondering how pathetic I am that I-- a grown woman-- am eating alone in restaurant. What kind of woman dines alone away from home? Did I get stood up?
No. I’m a widow. Are you all happy? Go back to your own food.

I try to focus on my food. I move around the vegetables with my fork. It’s getting cold. I should eat, but I don’t have much of an appetite.

“Hello.”

A smooth, masculine voice. I look up and see a stranger, but one whose face makes my heart beat faster and a hard lump form in my throat. His hair is red, his face is freckled. He looks so much like Sean. And he has the same easy, open smile. I want to smile, but I feel frozen. It takes a minute to reply.

“Hi.”

“Can I sit with you?” I nod to him, too afraid to look up with more than my eyes. He sits across from me and just watches me for a moment. Something about him... There’s something magnetic about those eyes. They are beautiful eyes. Deep eyes.

“You’re much too beautiful to be here alone. What’s your name?” He’s reclining in the hard wooden chair, so at ease. I’ve never seen anyone so comfortable in his skin, as though nothing matters outside of him and-- well-- outside of me. He’s focused, intense, but relaxed.

“Rosemary.”

“What a perfect name.” The waiter comes and asks if he would like something from the wine list and he looks straight at me, this handsome stranger, and says deadpan, “I don’t drink... Wine.” It makes the waiter laugh. It makes me laugh. It’s not even a bitter laugh, but a warmer one, almost hesitant. I haven’t laughed like that in a while.

We talk for a little while and he eventually stops toying with the lass of water the waiter brought him (dabbling little patterns on his napkin idly) and peers at me silently for a moment. “Are you finished eating?”

I nod. I’m not really hungry anymore.

“Good. Let’s go. I’ll walk you home-- You do live nearby?”

I don’t drive, so I don’t have much of a choice but to eat nearby. I nod and pull my purse onto my shoulder while I stand. “I’d like that.”

“Good. If you’d have said no, I’d have been a bit disappointed. Here I am playing Prince Charming and I don’t even get to see you to the safety of your castle? Some hero that’d make me.”

I giggle and flirt back the whole way home. It’s so strange, but so comforting, so right. He has that spark. It puts me at ease and fascinates me. I feel myself watching him every chance I get drinking in his smiles and his laughs.

All too soon, we reach my home. But I don’t want to be rid of him yet. It’s unlike me, but... “Come in.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes are so serious. There’s something different about them, but he’s been so charming tonight that I can’t resist. I can’t stop now.

“Yes. Please.” I open the door and he follows me inside and...

Oh, God. What have I done?

---

A dream. It was all a dream. Please, God. It was all a dream. I went out to dinner last night. Or did I just fall asleep early? That’s it. I must have fallen asleep before going out and I just dreamt that I really did. Because if I did...

Even the thought makes me boy ache again where he... It... No. Nononono. Oh, it was such a vivid nightmare. It makes me tremble. It hurt so badly. I can still feel the claws--

But it was a dream. I tell myself this over and over. There’s no bruising-- I take a hot, scorching bath to rid myself of the unseemliness creeping and crawling over my flesh. Dirt inside of me! Burning. Grime-- but no bruises. If it were real, there’d be marks.

The dirt, the grime. Inside of me. A part of me. I have to scrub it out. I have to get rid of it.

And... Eventually, after scrubbing hard enough and sobbing until all my tears are gone again and I’m left hollow once more, I’m clean. I have to be. It was all a dream, after all. It was all one horribly lucid nightmare.

The thought is a comfort. I feel much better when I leave for work that day. And the next. And the next. Until it really is a dream, vague and surreal. Just a brief flash that gives me the chills now and then when I am alone in my bed.

---

It’s been nearly three week. Ad something is wrong. I should-- but I don’t. I’m late. I... I think I might be pregnant. But that can’t be unless-- No. I won’t think about that.

I’ll take a test. It’ll be simple. I’ll go to the supermarket and pick-up a test. And it’ll be negative and--

It’s positive. Why is it positive? I can’t be pregnant. I know I wanted a child, but not this way. Not demo-- no. There are false positives. I’ll take another one.

This one is positive, too. And so is this one. They all are. They can’t all be wrong. I’m pregnant. I have to deal with that.

I have a demon-child inside of me. What does that mean? My arms still ache for a child, but what does that mean? Did they give me Sean’s child? Could what happened have been part of the payment? My pain and his-- its-- pleasure for Sean’s child? Maybe that’s it. I can hope for a beautiful child, for Sean’s child. At least until... I’ll deal with that when it happens. I have to see a doctor, I guess. A doctor. Hmmm.

I don’t want the books any more. I don’t want any reminders of-- Him. It. I’m getting rid of them.

And then I’ll find a doctor.

---

“Birth defects.” What an ugly phrase. My baby may be “defected”. What kind of word is that to use for a human being? Then again, he’s not exactly a human being, is he?

What if all “defected” babies are like him? Demon spawn. I think that’s kind of comforting. They can be normal-- well, loving, kind, working human beings. That’s all that matters, isn’t it? Even if my child is the seed of a monster, that doesn’t mean he or she can’t be beautiful.

And maybe I can help that. I can bring up my child so that he-- I feel in my heart that it’s a boy, the child Sean would have played ball with and swung on his shoulders-- knows that empathy and sympathy are two key elements of humanity. He’ll love his humanity. Maybe that love will help him overcome the other part.

I’ll search. I won’t let my child be a monster. I love him already too much for that. I want him more than anything-- even more now that he’s growing inside of me and will soon be in my arms.

---

My belly is huge, swollen. I feel like I’m going to pop. I have to waddle wherever I go, but that’s alright. It’s all for my baby. A friend is helping me check on him, keep him healthy. And I think I’ve found something.

My baby will be here soon. I’ve been trying to think of a good name for him, but I haven’t decided. What would Sean have liked? It would have to be a strong Irish name. Sean would insist upon that as much as I would. Whatever I decide, I have to do it fast. The baby will be here soon.

It’s growing colder. October is waning. The baby is coming either at the end of this month or the beginning of the next.

He’s kicking. He does that so much. It hurts, but that’s because he’s so strong. Such an active boy. Shush, darling. You’ll be out soon. So strong, still kicking. So lively. My strong boy, you won’t leave, me will you? Not you. We’ll always be together.

It doesn’t matter how you came into this world. All that matter is that you’re almost here.

I love you.

---

Pain! It still hurts. Oh, God. He’s crying. He’s out and he’s crying and he’s not a normal baby. My baby, covered in blood. He’s a demon. He has teeth and I’m crying because babies don’t have teeth but he has teeth like a wolves canines and I’m sobbing and his feet how they hurt when he kicked and I see now it’s because they are hooves like his father and horns like his father now nubs but they’ll be horns one day and...

He’s crying. I think he wants to be held. He’s still my baby. He looks like the demon, but the demon is not his parent. I am. I’m his mother and I love him. He looks like this, but I love him.

“Take my faith and my love, my sweet boy.” I kiss his bloody forehead. I need to clean him, but I have to do this first. I put it all into this-- all of my hopes and dreams for him, all of my wants and my love and my faith-- I put it in a silver Celtic cross. Such a pretty thing, calling to our pasts. His father-- his real father in my eyes-- Sean and myself, we were both Irish. So it only makes sense. I’m putting the magic on him, around his slim little baby throat. And I see it work.

This is my baby, I tell myself. This freckled, light-haired child is my baby, no matter what he looks like without that cross. This is what my love makes him and that’s all that matters.

“I love you, my dear. So much. You have no idea how good it feels to hold you.”

He holds onto one of my fingers with his tiny little hand. I’m struck by how strong he is. “That’s my Ethan.” I look down at him. He’s perfect, except... His hand. His left hand has a sixth finger. I peer at them for a moment and swallow.

It‘s okay. I have him now. That’s the only thing that matters now.

---

He’s growing so normally. He’s so clever, my brown hair little Ethan. He’s walking now, toddling about on unsteady little feet. I have to laugh when he takes a few steps and falls on his bottom, looking up at me expecting praise for the work. He loves to please me.

He’s such a darling child that at times I forget there’s anything different about him, anything dark to the light I see. It’s only when I notice the finger-- it’s a second middle finger-- that I remember.

My son is a balance-- the balance I created. I lived most of my life in the light, serving good and bettering the world. I turned to darkness and let it consume me for a time and that made him. He came from the mixture of night and day. For now, the light is winning with him. As long as I keep him safe and show him love and understanding, it may never tip. But if it does... I’ll still be here. I’ll still protect him. My Ethan.