“That stupid girl won’t even tell me who’s it is”

Annie could hear them, Ma and her sister, discussing her in the kitchen. Correction, they weren’t discussing her, but rather the two month old residing in her stomach. After half an hour they came out into the main room.

“Melvin Thomas, the butchers boy.” Aunt Tilda said, staring down at her with those cold eyes of hers. “His father owes me a favour and the poor boy’s not very handsome. Just give him a son and he will be happy.” She paused, thought on it for a bit, and then: “Will you at least tell us if the child could be passed of as his”

“Yes, I think so.” A lie, of course. Everyone would know the truth of its provenance as soon as it came crawling out of her womb.

At this point Ma turned to her sister and spoke, a bit reluctantly.

“Wont he notice? I mean… that the baby is too early and too old?”

“Menfolk are stupid about these things.” Tilda smiled, teeth shining yellow. “They can’t tell a newborn from a toddler. Melvin wouldn’t bat an eye even if the child came out reciting the scripture. All that matters is that she’s married by the end of the month.”

And that she was. White dress straining over her belly and sparsely packed dowry coffer in tow she married the poor fucker. He was a fine husband, not ill or impoverished, just unlucky when it came to his wife. She was not like the other girls in her situation. Most of them came from out of town, hadn’t grown up with stories of the duke. Hadn’t lost sisters or daughters to him. They were charmed by his looks and bright mind, and were lost as soon as he greeted them with that warm smile. Most of them were burned, if it came to it, it was the rational thing to do. Horrible, but best for everyone. Annie was not like them. She knew him, and she let him, fully knowing the consequences.

Midwife and priest were called to the Thomas household, ready for yet another doomed birth. Tilda was brought to Annies bed. She was drained, but needed them to understand that it was not a mistake. She could feel it now, the teeth inside her, so she grabbed the hand of her aunt, whispering to her in a hushed melodious voice: “A wolf in mans clothing come to me one night, told me of a world were hellfire would rain down on those like us. And I was chosen to bring forth our saviour. We are weak. I will make us stronger.”

At the end all she could feel was the tearing of her flesh, and the hot tears of joy at the thought of the monstrous being she had unleashed upon the world.