million_star | The Abso (2/2)

Title: The Abso (2/2)
Author:

millionstar
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: R
Warnings: Dark themes, angst, religious themes, language
Summary: 1966. Newlyweds move into an apartment building. It's a decision one of them will regret.
Feedback: Always encouraged, but please, just enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, no profit is being made, and this is fiction.
Beta/Support: As always,

dolce_piccante &

waltzingstar. <3
Author's Note: I can't believe the response to part one of this; y'all humble me, I can't thank you enough. Here is the second and final part. I've noticed that some of you have commented you intend to watch the film this is based on and if you have done so since I posted the first part, let me be clear again, I am not following it to the letter, merely borrowing from it.

Happy Halloween,

museslash!

Lastly, Thank you to Ira Levin for writing such an amazing, dark tale.

Dr. Saul was a tall, elderly man, with a long face and a beard to match; indeed, he looked like something out of a children's fairy tale. However, he was exceedingly kind, and Matthew's doubts seemed to dissipate more with every minute that passed during his first visit.

"My dear fellow, these modern ways of treating pregnancy aren't very effective, if you ask me. Now, I don't prescribe prenatal vitamins, instead I choose to prescribe a concoction that is to be drank daily to fortify you as well as the child."

Matthew nodded. "Okay, whatever you think is best."

"And the best thing of all, is that your neighbor and my good friend Kelly Wolstenholme can make it for you! She is practiced in the old ways, as I am, and that would be easier for you than having it delivered by my office every day. How does that sound, Matthew?"

"It sounds fine, thank you," he smiled, cringing inwardly at the fact that Kelly and Christopher, again, would be so present in his daily life.

The first three months of his pregnancy were utterly horrible. Constant pain, paired with vomiting, kept him anxious and miserable. He had been following Dr. Saul's advice, every morning drinking down his herbal drink which Kelly delivered personally. He found himself on the phone to Dr. Saul at least once a week, certain he was about to miscarry.

"It takes time, darling boy, it takes time. That which fortifies needs time to adjust inside your body. Trust me, you are not the first to feel these effects and you certainly will not be the last. Would you like me to make a house call, would that calm you some? I would be happy to."

"No, no, thank you. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"As are all new fathers, and mothers too! Don't forget, you can call me if you need me, night or day. Rest well, young Matthew!"

"This doesn't feel right, Dom," Matthew frowned, patting his belly nervously later that night. "Why can't we switch to Dr. Hill? I feel weak and horrible all of the time; I don't think this drink is helping at all. I'd rather-"

"But Dr. Saul has been so kind."

"Yes, he has, but-"

"Don't you know that he only has your best interests at heart, yours," Dominic sat down beside his husband, patting him on the knee with the most basic of smiles, "and the little one’s? Dr. Saul is the best, Kelly said so herself! Give it some time, you'll see."

"I know you do, but," Matthew took him by the hand and implored, "I want a normal doctor. I want prenatal vitamins like normal pregnant men and women take. Something is very wrong with all of this, Dom. Can't you see that?"

A flash of anger rose in Dominic's eyes but only for a moment, for just as Matthew shrank back from it in fear it passed, a bright smile taking it's place. "All I can see is the man I love. My precious Matthew," he murmured, pulling Matthew close and holding him tightly. “Chili dogs, “he said suddenly, “that sound good to you? How about I run down to the corner and grab us some?”

“Sure! I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to eat one but I’ll come with you.”

“No, no, you stay here and rest, my darling.” Dominic kissed him and was gone before he could protest.

* * *

The ringing of the telephone woke Matthew from an already uneasy slumber a few weeks later. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, and in that moment he heard Dominic pick up the receiver. He strained to hear the words his husband was saying.

"No I'm afraid he's not up for coming out, Mia. I will tell him that you called, though." Dominic laughed lowly. "I know, I know, and he misses you and Thomas, as I do, but we have to think of the baby, you see. Of course, and next time, you're on, dinner and a show. You and Tom enjoy and let us know if the show is one Matt and I should check out. Love to you as well, dear."

An anger like he hadn't felt in forever captured Matthew and he staggered into the room, clutching his stomach. "Why did you do that? I want to see Tom and Mia, I want my friends! Surely I would be okay to go out for a few hours, with you there."

"To a Broadway show? No, it would be too taxing on you."

"Goddamn it, this is my body, and I know what I can and can't handle!"

Dominic looked at him coldly. "Dr. Saul told you it was in yours and the baby's best interests to remain in the building, you know that. Go back to bed, Matthew. You're not well."

Matthew was too weak to argue. The realization descended upon him, though, that he had become a prisoner in his own home.

* * *

And so the months passed, with Matthew's discomfort occasionally flaring up again, and Dr. Saul maintaining all the while that the anxious young man had nothing to worry about. Kelly showed up every morning with the herbal drink freshly prepared for Matthew. He accepted it with a smile on his face but some mornings his stubbornness showed itself and he simply poured it down the sink as soon as she left.

On those days, he became violently ill, his stomach rebelling as if the child itself were protesting the lack of the drink.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror and recoiled instantly. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes were sunk into his head and most alarmingly of all, he didn't seem to be gaining any weight as you would expect a pregnant man to.

More than that, he looked like a person who's heart was breaking.

No, this was not the Matthew Bellamy he knew so well, not in the least. Turning the bathroom light off, he trudged to the kitchen, his back aching as he opened the icebox.

His eyes lit on a carton of eggs, a bottle of orange juice and a pack of bacon. Kelly's herbal drink was there as well but this morning Matthew felt emboldened and refused to ingest it. He'd fully intended to pour himself a glass of juice but instead he found himself reaching for the raw bacon, which he placed on the counter. The effort got to be too much and he sat down at the small kitchen table, losing himself in his exhaustion and his thoughts, which also seemed to revolve around exhaustion as well.

Matthew stood, deciding firmly that a good breakfast might do him well, or, at least, that it couldn‘t hurt. He warmed up his skillet and opened the package of bacon, peeling the strips aside one by one. As he did his stomach churned, as though the baby were declaring it's own vicious hunger.

Suddenly he began to shove the raw bacon into his mouth as though he couldn't get enough of it. And oddly, it nourished him in a way that no other food he'd taken in had lately. He felt better than he had in weeks and spent the rest of the day knocking out three chapters for his latest novel.

He decided not to tell Dominic, though. If Dominic noticed the subtle change in Matthew's eating habits in the following weeks he didn't comment on them. Matthew typically cooked for both of them anyway, so if he chose to prepare his own steaks, etc., in a less-than-properly cooked state, only he would notice it.

He was disarmed at his sudden taste for blood.

He was even more disarmed at how it satisfied him so.

* * *

"Matthew!" his old friend and college roommate Morgan called out cheerfully on the end of the line, "how are you doing? Long time, no talk! I heard through the grapevine that you're pregnant!"

Matthew nearly burst into tears at the sound of his old friend's voice. "Morgan!" It had been a particularly stressful day for Matthew and he was very emotional. The sheer relief at possibly having someone to talk to, finally, overwhelmed him and a couple tears did fall.

"What's wrong?"

"Just this pregnancy. It's taking a toll on me. I could use a friendly face right now, even if only for a few minutes. Can I meet you somewhere? Where are you?" Dominic be damned, Dr. Saul be damned, Matthew was going to take at least a little time for himself and get out of this building.

"Of course you can! I'm working on an article about the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I'll be in the front of the building, okay? Are you well enough to travel, though?"

Matthew didn’t answer the question directly. He replied, "I'm on my way."

It took him nearly an hour, an hour in which Morgan grew very anxious for his friend, but that subsided when finally, a small, thin figure approached the museum wrapped in a long trench coat.

"Matthew," Morgan whispered, "... are you okay?" He didn't even try to hide the worry, and more importantly, the frank shock on his face. Morgan supposed that he should spare Matthew's feelings but he also knew that pregnant men and women were supposed to glow, they weren't supposed to look gaunt, painfully thin and near death.

"What? Oh, oh. Yes, I just," he smiled weakly, "I'm just really weak these days, must be the baby."

"Weak isn't good, though, Matthew. Not for you, certainly not for the child! Does Dominic know you're in this shape? Are you taking your vitamins?"

“No.”

"Surely your obstetrician prescribed you prenatal vitamins, yes?"

"The doctor I'm seeing insists on using herbal supplements instead of pills."

"Such as?"

"Something called tannis root, mostly."

Morgan frowned. "I've never heard of that. Mind you, I'm no doctor but still, it seems damned peculiar. And I am shocked that Dominic is going along with this! Has he no regard for your condition?" As soon as he said the words he knew he had crossed a line but when he saw the way Matthew's face fell it shamed him a bit. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No. You're right. It's like...it's like he doesn't care that I feel a heartbeat away from death. He cares about the baby, I do know that. He doesn’t want me to leave the building for fear I’ll overdo it, he makes excuses when our friends want to come and visit or go out. He's always spending time at our neighbors' place instead of with me and I don't understand why."

"Neighbors?"

"Yeah. The Wolstenholmes; they've lived in The Abso for twenty years. They're," Matthew looked around nervously before meeting Morgan's eyes again, "they're very odd, Morgan. They frighten me. It's like they're trying to control every aspect of my pregnancy or something. Ever since they came into our lives I've felt ill at ease. They give us advice on everything and Dominic insists that we must follow it."

Morgan was scribbling on a note pad. "And how do you feel about that?"

"I-I don't like it."

"Then it shouldn't be that way."

Matthew stood abruptly, reaching out for Morgan's arm to steady himself. “Actually, I can't be gone long. If he finds out I left the apartment he'll be angry with me."

"Matt," Morgan said carefully, "come back to the hotel with me. Stay with Lisa and I for a couple days, we'll look after you-"

Tears filled Matthew's eyes. "I can't. Just, keep in touch with me, please? Write me, call me, and hopefully Dominic will let me speak to you when you do." He allowed Morgan to pull him into a hug before he trudged away, still clutching his large belly.

Morgan found the nearest phone booth, clutching the paper in his hand that he’d scrawled on with a ferocity as well as a sense of determination.

* * *

It was on a snowy Monday morning three weeks later that Dominic woke Matthew up earlier than usual, a serious look on his face.

"Just had a phone call. It's Morgan," Dominic began. "Matt-"

"What?"

"He was killed this morning. Traffic accident, apparently."

Matthew's spirit shattered. He allowed Dominic to pull him close and murmur words of condolence but Matthew simply stared at the wall, his expression blank as he rested his head on his husband’s shoulder.

Would he never see peace of any kind again?

* * *

Morgan’s wake was held three days later. Matthew, determined to pay respect to his friend’s memory, did not ask Dominic for permission to go; he merely announced that he was going. Much to his shock, Dominic did not protest in the least.

They hadn’t been there long when Morgan’s widow Lisa came up to them and hugged them both, asking Dominic if she could speak to Matthew alone. Dominic acquiesced and nodded as he walked into the next room.

"He gave this to me the morning he was killed," Lisa said quietly, surreptitiously pulling a small parcel of paper out of her purse, "said to hold on to it until he could deliver it to you."

“Really?”

She nodded, her red-rimmed eyes looking very tired. “He had information for you on the building you live in, and your neighbors, I believe?”

“Did he tell you what he found?” Matthew asked, his heart speeding up. He had only spoken with his friend for a handful of minutes that way at the museum but apparently it had sown the seeds for what Morgan considered to be a bit of investigative work. Matthew couldn’t imagine what he could have possibly found.

“No, you know how he was when he was working on a story or lead; I was surprised he told me that much to be honest. Let me find it-

"No," Matthew said quickly, "mail it to me, do you mind? It… would be easier that way." He felt as though his daily mail delivery was the one thing he had left that he could control; he was afraid if Dominic saw it he would confiscate it. Dominic was, however, on the other side of the room, speaking with Morgan's parents. Still, Matthew wanted to be safe.

Lisa nodded. "I'll post it in the morning."

"Lisa, I'm so sorry," Matthew whispered, tears falling, "I loved him too."

"I know, Matt." She pulled him into a fierce hug and spoke into his ear. "Please take care. He was so worried about you. Be happy and healthy, sweet friend." With that she released him with a sad smile and returned to her guests.

* * *

Matthew had begun to think Lisa had forgotten about the package she’d promised to mail to him, but he supposed he shouldn’t be so insensitive. After all, she was in mourning. He was just so desperate for information that he thought he might die from curiosity.

Six days after Morgan’s wake it arrived. Thankfully, true to his daily routine, Dominic was not home when Matthew collected the mail; Matthew was glad he at least had that one freedom within the building. He moved faster than he had in months, clutching his belly as he leaned against the inside of the elevator. The brief effort had caused him to break out in a sweat and he swayed for a moment, then managed to steady himself as he arrived on his floor.

Back in the safety of his apartment, he locked the door and took the package to the kitchen table and opened it. It contained two items. One was a photocopy of an old article from an edition of the Times dated 1917, the headline reading:

Introducing The Abso. Luxury apartment building opens to much fanfare.

It was an article on the beginnings of The Abso all those years ago. The text was standard for the most part but Matthew’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw the photo accompanying the clipping.

“Graham Wolstenholme, pictured with his loving wife Lydia and his son, Christopher, at the opening of their brand new apartment building.”

Christopher.

Matthew did the math in his head. Christopher looked to be two or three in the photo, so if you took that into account a rough estimate of his age would be right at sixty, give or take a few years.

The math fit.

The other item was an article from the same newspaper dated 1935.

Shipping magnate Wolstenholme disgraced, resigns from the company he helped found amidst allegations of sexual deviance and witchcraft in the very building he built.

“The executive was named in diary of a young woman who ended her own life and that of her unborn child. The young woman in question had left behind a journal detailing satanic rituals that had taken place in The Abso apartment building in Manhattan. Said allegations could not be proven, but the scandal proved enough for Wolstenholme to resign his post at his company. The dead girl claimed that she felt as though Wolstenholme, as well as other residents in the building meant some sort of ill will toward her unborn baby, and would rather end her life than live with that fear.”

He finished the article with his stomach churning with nerves. The young woman had thrown herself from the roof of The Abso all those years ago rather than face whatever hell she had been going through. But was it true? Matthew wished he had the means to research it out further himself. He wondered, whatever had happened to Graham Wolstenholme, and did his son indeed follow in his satanic footsteps?

Matthew closed his eyes, willing himself to remain calm. He told himself that just because this happened to someone else in this building once before did not mean it was happening again.

The argument was falling flat, though.

True, Christopher and Kelly were eccentric, very, very eccentric, but that didn’t mean that they were involved in the occult.

Did it?

More alarmingly, did it mean they wanted his baby?

And what of Dominic and his increasingly odd behavior since Matthew conceived?

Matthew needed time to think. The last thing he needed to do was to act rashly; he would sleep on it and act in the morning. He would do whatever he had to do to ensure the safety of his baby, even if that meant running away or maybe seeking another physician. He tucked the papers where Dominic was least likely to look, in one of his magazines devoted to writing, and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up with Dominic staring at him from the doorway of their bedroom with a curious expression. Dominic crossed his arms. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Matthew mumbled.

“I’m off to the studio. I’ll be back before nightfall this time, though.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, by the way, I spilled tomato sauce on some of your books, they’re ruined. I’m sorry, you know how clumsy I can be,” he smiled calmly, arms still crossed. “I don’t think it’s anything you’ll miss though, just a couple magazines. Sorry?”

Matthew nodded, determined to remain calm. “Sure thing, no worries.”

Dominic grinned. “See you tonight, love.”

As soon as he was gone, Matthew moved quickly, reaching for the phonebook. He had no idea how Dominic had found the papers in his magazine, those were things that his husband never gave a second glance to. He was shocked and angry and it spurred him to righteous anger.

He knew that if Dominic found out what he was up to that he would be livid, but Matthew was past the point of caring. He also knew that he couldn't go on like he had been these past eight and a half months, sustained only on the barest amounts of raw meat and Kelly's herbal health drink that he was beginning to think was killing him.

Matthew was tired of being told how to manage his own pregnancy and intended to take matters into his own hands, especially now that he was so close to the end of it. Matthew gripped the telephone with determination as the call connected.

"Dr. Hill's office, can I help you?"

"Yes. I'd like to schedule an examination. I'm pregnant, and I'm not satisfied with the care I'm getting with my current doctor. I'm nearly full term, is that a problem?"

"Not at all, sir. In fact, we have an opening this afternoon if you would wish to claim it?"

Matthew could hardly believe his luck and the first smile to grace his face in days manifested brightly as he gave her his name. "I'll be there." He gathered his coat and patted his stomach as he made his way out onto the street. "It'll be okay, my love. We'll be okay."

He made it to his appointment ten minutes early and made himself as comfortable as he could in the waiting room. Curiously, he was the only patient waiting to be seen. The walls were a sterile white, and there were portraits on them of mothers and their children (as well as a couple of fathers) praising Dr. Hill for his expert care. Finally he heard his name called and, with some effort, he followed a young nurse down a long corridor to see his new physician.

Dr. Hall was standing behind a table and beckoned for Matthew to sit down next to the other two inhabitants of the room.

Matthew nearly screamed in shock and frustration as Dominic and Dr. Saul stood calmly and turned to face him. “You. How?”

“Dr. Hill called us,” Dominic said, “Matthew, we’re only looking out for you, love.”

"Forgive me, Matthew," Dr. Hill said gently, "but Dominic explained to me, with Dr. Saul's assistance, about your mental state; they told me months ago that you might come here. Let me assure you that his care is, bar none, the best around. You should trust his methods."

Dominic smiled and took Matthew in his arms. "Matthew, love, let me take you home. You're not well."

"Dr. Hill, please," Matthew begged, tears flowing, "they're evil! Please help me! I don't know what to do but I'm so scared. I‘m so alone! Please, please, take me away from here, put me in a hospital, anything, just don't make me go with them!"

"Matthew," Dr. Saul said, "where ever have you gotten such a fanciful idea? As if I would wish to harm you or your little one! And your loving husband here, he only loves you and wants you to be well again!"

Perhaps it was the shock he'd just endured, perhaps it was the stress and strain he'd been saddled with for so long, but something in Matthew snapped and he doubled over, screaming as white hot pain shot through his stomach.

Then, there was nothing.

* * *

Matthew woke from what had been a deep sleep with his head pounding. Thoughts refused to process completely and his mouth was dry; he was decidedly uncomfortable even though he was, apparently, in his own bed at home.

It was only as he sat up that he realized his ample belly was now gone.

He began to shake uncontrollably as he tore off the covers and lifted his shirt to see the undeniable scars that only a cesarean section operation leaves behind.

Matthew's screams could be heard throughout The Abso. Dominic rushed into the room, hurrying to the bed and sitting down.

"Where's the baby? Where is it, Dom? Is it okay? Please tell me it's okay," he wept. Continually he made to hold his large belly with his hands, only to find that it was no longer there, as though if he did that enough times it would suddenly be there again.

"The baby didn't make it, Matt," Dominic said softly, cradling him gently in his arms. "I'm so sorry."

"Did they take it? Dom you didn't let them take it did you? Oh, God," he screamed, his crying borderline hysterical. “Oh, God, have mercy, please!”

"Matt, please, no! The baby was born dead. Please, just hold me and let me hold you, please? We need each other right now, don't we?" he asked shakily, as though his heart were just as heavy as Matthew's was right now. It was like the old Dominic was shining through again and his heart was broken as well, like he'd just woken from a nightmare of his own.

Matthew stared at him through tear drenched eyes. "Dom?"

"I'm sorry," Dominic kept mumbling into Matthew's ear repeatedly through his own tears, as though he couldn't say it enough. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my precious love."

They held each other until Matthew fell asleep again, his hands still seeking out the bulge that was now absent from his midsection.

He woke again when night had fallen to a distinct sound that made him sit up straight in bed. He reached out for Dominic but Dominic wasn’t there with him.

Matthew concentrated very hard on the sound and became more and more confident in his diagnosis as to what it was.

He could hear cries.

A child's cries.

His child's cries.

He sat up, his ears searching for the source of the sound that Matthew knew somehow belonged to his baby. The baby that Dominic had told him was dead.

Matthew stood, the room beginning to spin as he did but he steadied himself with a deep breath and put his bathrobe on. All the while, he kept asking himself two things, how could Dominic have lied to him, and more interestingly, how was he so certain that the sound he was hearing was the crying of the child he had bore?

Somehow he just knew that it was, as naturally as he knew that two plus two equaled four. He wondered again about the article that Morgan had given his life to pass along to him and anger rose in his very soul. Did that have anything to do with what was happening? Were Christopher and Kelly part of this coven?

He was willing to bet his life that it was so. Like father, like son.

He grabbed a baseball bat from his closet, feeling as though it couldn’t hurt to be armed. He walked out into the hallway, The Abso’s residents were most likely all asleep ,as the hall was empty. The sound carried him to the stairwell and he stumbled along slowly, the blood dripping through his robe; he had long since pulled a few of his sutures free.

Matthew descended into the bowels of the building eventually, but to his frustration the crying was ceasing in its intensity, making it difficult to trace the sound. He passed the boiler room and noticed a faint light emanating from a closed door a few meters away. He crept toward it, taking care to be as quiet as he could, even though he had no idea what he would do once he entered. All he knew was that he had to do something.

Finally he came to the door and opened it, surprised when he met no resistance.

The room was filled with people, shaking hands and passing around glasses of champagne; it looked like your average dinner party or social gathering. Dominic was among them, smiling wider than Matthew had seen him do in months. He, somehow, looked more beautiful than ever. Two people shifted in the crowd and it was then that Matthew's eyes fell upon a sight that he would carry with him until the day he died.

A black cradle was in the center of the room, draped in black velvet; this was from whence the child's whimpers clearly had come, even though they had now abated. The baseball bat fell to the floor with a loud noise, the crowd turning to him in surprise.

Silence fell upon the room as Matthew slowly advanced toward the cradle. The crowd parted, bowing to him reverently as he passed them.

"So", Christopher commented, "that is why the crying ceased, the human vessel approaches! He senses His earthly father is near. Ah, the beauty of the newborn babe!"

"You don't look like witches. Where are the robes, the pointy hats," Matthew spat, every fiber of his being shaking with anger.

"Ah," Kelly replied with a laugh, "we aren't cartoonish, my child. We merely exist to serve our Lord and master. One does not have to wear clothing of a certain style to devote their lives to eternal worship!"

"He is not dead," Matthew spat to Dominic. "Why did you tell me my baby was dead?"

"Because he's not yours," Dominic replied.

"Give me my baby," Matthew said weakly, struggling to stay conscious, "give me my baby now and I won't call the police."

"He is not yours to claim. No. He belongs to us all," Christopher commented in a dark voice. "We have worked too hard to hasten His arrival, even in the face of those who would try to stop us."

"Morgan. You killed him, didn't you?"

"Sudden, unforeseen accidents are a part of everyday life. You have my condolences on the loss of your friend, the very one who sought to undermine us all."

"Why? Why? Why has this happened?"

"One can not make bargains without some form of consequence. Surely your husband's sudden success in the job world pleased you, no?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Only everything, my son," Christopher smiled, "only everything."

"I did it for us, don't you see? And the deal will carry over into your writing, with guaranteed success always." Dominic walked toward him. "They promised me you would suffer no long-term effects physically. And now that we've fulfilled our end of the-"

"Deal? I didn't want money. I only wanted you."

Dominic looked away.

"Look at me, you bastard. What. Deal," Matthew whispered, shaking with anger and disbelief.

Christopher interrupted, casually handing Matthew a glass of champagne, which Matthew looked at with disgust as he refused it. "When Dominic admitted to me that you were hoping to conceive and that he was concerned about the state of your finances and his career, I knew that it was a sign from the dark lord himself that you were sent to us for His Divine Will and a chance for me to succeed where my father failed so many years ago. Thusly, the deal was struck and has been seen through to the end, with both sides prospering."

"No," Matthew whispered, shaking his head.

"Oh, I do admire your naiveté," Kelly said, peering into the bassinet then to Matthew. "Surely you realize by now that Dominic is not the father of the child you carried? Come, come and gaze upon Him, Matthew, and behold! Bask in His eternal glory, and be proud that you, amongst all others, were chosen to bring Him into this mortal realm!"

The other members of the coven chanted their assent.

Matthew peered into the bassinet and his heart stopped. His knees buckled, someone holding him up from behind, no doubt another unseen member of the coven. His mouth opened repeatedly in silent shock, no words manifesting from his throat.

"What's wrong with it... the face?" he said calmly, too exhausted and shocked to weep any longer. Christopher appeared beside him, putting an arm around his trembling shoulder.

"My boy! Nothing at all is wrong with His face. Why, he looks just like His father," Christopher said softly, smoothing the blanket around the youngling with a gentleness Matthew wouldn't have thought he possessed.

"It wasn't a dream, was it," he said blankly, understanding dawning upon him as he stared into the same yellow eyes he‘d encountered in his nightmare that was anything but.

Matthew, in that moment, was decidedly calm in light of discovering that his husband had sold their firstborn's soul to the very devil in exchange for advancements in his career. He was overtaken with an abrupt sadness as he mourned for the kind and gentle man Dominic used to be, for the man he married so happily nearly a year ago.

The same man who offered him up to be violated in a cruelly inhuman manner.

"Indeed it was not," Christopher continued. "Now, my son, I do not want you to worry. No harm will come to you, you have my word. You do not have to join us if you do not wish to, although I hope in time that you will choose to do so. You are, however, permitted, nay, encouraged, to remain in the child's life. That is your reward for carrying Him successfully, you see. Now, my friends, let us toast once more! Eternal success and good wealth to Matthew and Dominic!"

Again, the coven chanted in assent. With one last burst of strength, Matthew stumbled over to his husband. Dominic smiled, his arms outstretched, and was shocked when Matthew merely spat in his face.

Matthew looked around the room and was struck again that it was true, that evil could come wrapped in the most beautiful of packages. The coven members looked like everyday people, the kind who love and laugh and live their lives. They did not appear, on the outside, to be dangerous in any fashion, and that, Matthew supposed, was what made them so very lethal. They smiled at him, a few bowing in reverence yet again when he made eye contact. Dr. Saul even walked up to him and saw to his bleeding stomach with a wet cloth tenderly. It was Dr. Hill, though, that took Matthew’s elbow gently and nodded to him kindly as he led him to the rocking chair that sat next to the cradle, helping Matthew to sit down in it.

One tiny limb reached up and made itself visible to Matthew, covered in a small black pocket of fabric. Matthew shrank back from it and looked to Kelly, confused. She smiled.

“Go on, you may touch Him.”

“Why are His hands covered?” he asked softly, absentmindedly rocking the cradle, his very spirit broken beyond repair. Where there had once been love and light there was only emptiness and bitterness.

"Do not trouble your heart over it; it‘s His claws, you see. The mittens are merely precautionary…”

Matthew’s blank blue eyes stared into her own as she spoke once more, the horror of what his life had been for the last few months suddenly as clear and vivid as the very fires of Hell must surely be. He rocked the cradle gently, the last vestiges of hope in his heart disappearing completely.

And so ,on a cold winter’s night, Matthew Bellamy-Howard dove headfirst into bleak acceptance as he finished Kelly’s thought for her, his voice coming very softly as he did, so as not to wake his newborn babe.

He smiled, still rocking the cradle as he spoke.

“…so that He doesn't scratch Himself."