Chapter 28 Corabeth
Twenty-eight
Corabeth
In the village, there was a single house where the lights stayed on the entire night.
Where a mother and father sat, now childless, although they did not know it yet.
Some part of them must have suspected, though.
All around them, the people were outraged in a way they had never been for Corabeth or her mother.
Armed people patrolled the main road the whole night through.
Murmured conversations carried in the night, speculating why the Village Elder’s family was suddenly hit with such misfortune.
Suddenly, everything unfavorable was erased.
Ely was a sweet boy, Turner steadfast and strong, Giles merely an innocent child.
Corabeth now held that child, ready to end it all. She tried not to focus on the possibility that after tonight, there would be no more Rooke. No more quiet evenings in the library or walks through the garden. No more black, beady eyes peering at her with a quiet resolve, along with a tilted head.
Corabeth swallowed, pushing down everything she was trying not to feel. Dawn was bathing the world in its pale light. Bitter cold was biting at Corabeth, but it did not touch the boy in her arms. He could not feel it anymore.
A raven glided through the air, wind carrying it towards the house with the lit window, and perched on the sill. It started pecking at the glass, the quiet tap-tap-tapping meant only for the people inside.
Inside, a man and a woman looked up. The mist in the forest parted just enough to reveal Corabeth, long, black hair swaying in the wind, and their child in her arms. Head tilted towards her, arms tucked in on his chest, as if he were simply a child sleeping in his mother’s arms.
Through the glass, their eyes met.
Hyram Fabel’s expression went blank. Corabeth vaguely registered that next to him, his wife launched into action. But she kept staring at the man she had come to fetch.
A scream ripped through the night and pulled Hyram Fabel out of his stupor. In a second, he was gone from the window.
Susanna Fabel stormed out of the house in nothing but a nightdress and dressing gown. Her slippered feet struggled to find purchase on the snow.
“Giles!” she cried into the night. Not far behind her came Hyram. On the road, torches turned toward the commotion.
“Tell everyone to stay back!” Corabeth called, clutching Giles a little closer to her chest. She was standing in the trees where Rooke would pick off anyone who dared to come close. But there was no protection against bullets. With Giles in her arms, no one would dare to shoot at her.
Susanna came to a stop some feet from the tree line, Hyram nearly crashing into her from behind. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. Together, they faced Corabeth, their breaths rising up in clouds into the night air.
“Give me my son!” Hyram demanded. He stood tall next to his wife, ever the commanding presence. But there was a slight twitching to his features, a tremble in his hand that Corabeth had not seen before. His bloodshot eyes told the tale of many sleepless nights.
The first men, carrying guns and torches, appeared between the houses. Corabeth’s gaze jumped between the men, each one of them familiar to her. But she saw no recognition in their features. She was the danger now. The enemy.
“Tell them!” she called again.
Reluctantly, Hyram lifted a hand to signal to the advancing men to stop. “Halt,” he shouted.
The men obeyed, although several guns were trained in Corabeth’s direction.
“What do you want, you wretched girl?” Matron Susanna cried.
“I have come to offer an exchange,” Corabeth said, her voice carrying through the cold air. “Giles for him.” Her eyes jumped to Hyram.
Susanna blanched, looking up at her husband beside her. “No, no,” she whispered with pure terror.
Hyram did not turn to look at his wife. His eyes never left Corabeth. For a long moment, no one spoke.
“You’ll release him?” Hyram finally asked.
“No!” argued Susanna. “Just shoot her! Shoot the witch!” she screeched, looking feverishly at the men behind her. But none dared to risk harming the Village Elder’s son.
“You have my word,” Corabeth promised, although it tasted like ash in her mouth. Like the ash that fell on the night her house burned.
Hyram hesitated for a moment longer. He was a Village Elder, a husband. But in that moment, he was simply a father, desperate to save his remaining son.
“It will be alright,” he said quietly, turning to the hysterical Susanna. “You take care of him.”
“No, no,” Susanna cried over and over again, clinging to her husband’s arm.
“Put him down first. Susanna will come and get him,” Hyram said, prying Susanna’s hands from him with some difficulty.
“No,” Corabeth refused, “They’ll shoot me.”
Hyram looked behind them, where at least ten guns were now aimed at the woods.
“You can come together. Susanna will be unharmed,” Corabeth said. At least this she could promise. There was no need for Susanna to die. She had simply married into the family. She had been cruel and indifferent, like the rest of the village, but she was untouched by the curse.
“See?” Hyram said, turning to Susanna once more, false hope coating his words. “You and Giles will be unharmed.”
Susanna was nothing but a crying mess as Hyram pulled her along towards the woods. She staggered, dragged her feet, but followed.
“Elder Fabel!” someone shouted behind them, but Hyram did not stop now.
Unsteady feet carried the two of them past the first trees. The mist around them thickened, only the path to Corabeth remaining clear. Rooke followed silently behind them, a shadow like Death itself on their heels.
Panicked shouts rose from the village.
Hyram and Susanna came to a stop before Corabeth, mere feet away. In the blink of an eye, Rooke stood between them and placed a hand first on Corabeth’s shoulder, then on Hyram’s.
The fog shifted.
Shots rang out, but they were already elsewhere.
Corabeth blinked, and only Susanna stood before her, the older woman’s eyes spilling over with tears. Her hand searched absentmindedly for Hyram’s on her arm but found nothing. Still, she stared only at the limp boy in Corabeth’s arms.
“You can claim his body,” Corabeth said, her voice thick with unspoken emotions. “But the rest of your family will remain lost to you.”
The realization made Susanna crumple to the snow, her agonized wails echoing in the forest.
Corabeth placed Giles’ lifeless body on the ground before his grieving mother. Then she turned and let the mists swallow her as well.