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She stood facing the open window with her back to the door. He watched her back, his feet planted on the floor. The room was chilly and he wanted to go to her, comfort her. It was dark; the breeze had blown the candles out. He fumbled in his pocket for a match to relight them. She drew the shawl across her shoulders and shuddered.

She turned to face him as he struck the match. The fire went out. She pursed her lips as she watched the burned match slip from his fingers. She sighed when it hit the floor, as if the sound annoyed her.

“No.”

“But...what do you mean? You...I'm sorry Beatrice, but you can't say no.”

“I just did.”

She tossed the shawl onto the dusty bedspread and brushed past him. He grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“Ronald! Stop it, you're hurting me!”

“I don't wanna hurt you Bea, but you can't say no. The Guild demands that you come.”

“Fine, but does it have to be now? I'm tired and confused and in shock. I don't believe he's dead, Ron.” Beatrice clasped her hands in front of her heart. The light shined through her untidy hair from the hall behind her, casting her pregnant belly in shadows. Her hands, once so slim and elegant, now looked thin and pale. Her fingers were wrinkled and ashy, the knuckles raw and pink and bony.

Ronald gazed up into her eyes and his heart stopped. Her face was smooth, but colorless and drawn. Had her lips always been so thin? He remembered pouty lips that begged to be sucked and nibbled. Her dark wavy hair was dry and frizzy and stood up framing her face. Her eyes were brimming with tears. He would break if she started to cry.

“I know. It's a shock to us all. The Guild just wants to protect you, and the baby. Please, Beatrice, come with me. Your apartments have be...

... middle of paper ...

...olled down the stairs. He screamed louder.

“Cole loved you like a brother, Ronald. And you betrayed him.”

“I never...you were the one who grabbed...my cock...” He screamed his rage and pain at her.

“No, Ronald. Not that.” She almost looked sad when she said it.

But then, Ronald saw her leap into the air, and then all her saw was her black hair, dry and disheveled, flying all about her face. Her wild hair blocked out the light and then she was upon him.

He wavered between ecstasy and fear, consciousness and and sweet black nothing as she lay straddled on top of him, sucking and slurping at his neck like a hungry babe on the teat. It was only when she sat up and gazed down at him like a sated lover that he realized what was missing.

“Your...your stomach...what happened...baby?

“There was no baby; there never was. Now, sleep, Ronald. Sleep forever.”

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