“Squeeze, Mary! You’ve got to give it one big push.”
“I can’t, Mother! I can’t take it anymore.”
Mary’s eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted. The midwife quickly slapped her across the face. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Wake up, child! You’ve got to concentrate now.”
The 19-year-old had been in labor for over 24 hours, and Agnes was very nervous. She had acted as a midwife a few times before, but never under circumstances like this. A damp, secluded cabin was no place to birth a baby, certainly not in 1905. Mary lay on her back in a stinking pile of moldy straw. There was no running water, no electricity, and no bedding of any kind. Agnes had hoped they would have a few more days, but the contractions started sooner than she had guessed. They were lucky to spot the cabin, because otherwise she’d be delivering the baby outside in the snow. If any of the others knew about this, her life would never be the same. To say nothing of what would happen to the girl.
Agnes turned to her. “Please hurry, Mary. It’s only a matter of time before they find us. We have to keep moving.”
Mary focused on her kneecaps. She bit her bottom lip, took a huge breath, and pushed as hard as she could. Sweat rolled into her eyes, and she felt her bladder and everything else release. She collapsed back from relief.
Then they heard it. The excited barking of a pack of dogs followed by the shouts of an angry mob chasing close behind. Agnes glanced out the window and saw a dozen torches flickering in the distance. At the front of the group she recognized the towering figure of Father Patterson. His shotgun glinted in the firelight as they chased forward.
“What are you doing here, Mary? You know you can’t be here!” Agnes started to shut the door of the back porch of St. Theresa’s. Mary, shivering, quickly stuck her foot in to prevent it from closing.
Mary buried her face in her hands and started to cry. She knew her baby was due any day now. “Please, Mother. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Mary, you know full well what Father would do if he knew I was talking to you. This isn’t that kind of shelter. Why don’t you go to the Sisters of Mercy? They help women like you.”
“Please, Mother. I want to be here. The nuns there are cruel. They say rosary after rosary over me and tell me that they won’t help me if I don’t tell them who the father is.”
Agnes removed her veil to scratch her head. She was exasperated. “Child, you’ve kept up this charade too long now. If you can’t be honest with yourself, how can you expect anyone to help you.”
Mary grabbed her hand and pleaded. “Please, Mother! I’ve told you a thousand times, I have no idea. I told the Sisters of Mercy that too, and they called me a liar.” Her voice was becoming hoarse with crying. “They said I was going to hell. That I could go to jail for having a baby out of wedlock. Where else can I go?”
The Mother Superior took pity. Without saying anything, she opened the door and quickly pulled Mary inside. She led her to a small cot in the convent laundry room.
“I imagine you remember this room, Mary? You’ll sleep here until just before dawn, then we’ll sneak out. I’ll leave Catherine in charge and tell her there’s been a family emergency and that I have to go away for a few days. Meanwhile, we’ll hike into the hills just east of here. An elderly woman lives in an abandoned sawmill there. I think she’ll let you stay until we can figure out something more permanent. I hope this boy’s worth it, child. Now get some sleep. You’ll need it.”
“Do you believe her, Agnes?”
“Of course not, Father.”
Sitting behind the mahogany desk in his large office, Patterson unfastened his white collar. He was a big, muscular man with a kind face, and he always wore the black uniform of a Catholic priest, although even the largest shirts seemed to strangle him. The head nun paced back and forth, feeling cold in his office. The weather was already turning cool, but she knew that he would keep his windows open for at least another month. Patterson and Agnes were both in their late 40s and they had worked together for a long time, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye.
He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the desk, then spoke, “I’m not sure, Sister. I’ve known Mary since she was a little girl, and I’ve never known her to lie, not even over the smallest things. She has a particular honesty about her that—“
“—But, Father, this is absurd. She’s a young woman in trouble. Anyone would be confused in her position. She’s committed a most heinous sin, and it’s time she admit it. The sooner she tells us who the father is, the sooner we’ll know how to proceed.”
“I’m not sure she can do that. There’s something very peculiar about this.” He swiveled his chair around to face the wall. That was not like him, Agnes thought. She had never known him to turn away during a conversation. After a long pause, he asked over his shoulder, “Do you think she could have been raped, Sister?”
Agnes’s eyes widened. She swallowed and answered slowly, “No, no I don’t, Father. You know there are never any men allowed in the rectory. Besides, Mary would definitely come forward. She knows there’s no sin in that case. I don’t think she’d protect anyone who could do that.”
Patterson swiveled back around. His face was very pale. “You’ll have to excuse me, Sister. I’m suddenly not feeling so well. I need to think.”
She turned and walked out. He called out after her, “Peace be with you, Agnes.” She called back, “And also with you, Father.”
Mary sat on the narrow bed inside her cell, wrapped in a sheet. She looked queasy and sick to her stomach, just as she had for the past two weeks. Sister Anna, a plump woman trained as a nurse, was standing in front of her. Mother Superior Agnes stood by the door. All three women wore large wooden crosses.
“Well, no doubt about it,” Anna proclaimed solemnly, “Mary is pregnant.”
Agnes dropped the crystal candle holders she was holding, and they shattered on the cold stone floor. There was a pause while the noise died down. Her shock slowly turned to fury. “How could you do this to us, Mary? You’ve brought shame onto yourself and disgraced our entire order!”
Mary was just as baffled. “But, it’s impossible, Sister Anna! I can’t be pregnant. I’ve never known any man. I’ve never even kissed…” Her voice trailed off.
Anna shook her head sadly. “There, there, Mary. There’s no point in hiding from it now. Did you think you could keep this a secret forever? Poor, poor girl. Lord have mercy on you.”
Mary sat rocking back and forth. Agnes walked over and removed the crucifix from her neck. Mary didn’t even protest.
“Mary, I want you packed and out of here by this afternoon. You will renounce your vows in a small ceremony next week. I’ll notify Father Patterson.”
“No! Please, no. Where will I go, Mother? This is the only home I have.”
“Well, you should have thought about that before you committed adultery against Christ! I suggest you go find the baby’s father and start planning for a wedding. You have to get married, you know. You don’t want to be in trouble with the law as well as the church.”
Sister Anna ducked her head and quickly walked out of the tense room. The whole convent would know everything within a few minutes, and she didn’t want to be in the midst of the gossip she hated so much.
Mary was too stunned to cry or beg. “Mother, I don’t know who the father is.”
Agnes stared at her evenly. “You mean there was more than one? I can’t believe you, Mary. The church has always provided for you. You didn’t have to take vows. When you turned 18, you were free to go or stay, even as a laywoman. Just thank God that you’ve only completely your novice vows. If you were a full Sister, you would be excommunicated!”
Mary’s eyes widened in terror. She knew the excommunication ritual by heart from her childhood reading. A bishop would take her down into the tiny chapel of the church crypt. The bell, the book, and the candle would be waiting ominously on the altar. After reciting the centuries-old incantations, the bishop would ring the bell, close the Bible, and snuff the candle, leaving them in darkness and damning her soul to oblivion.
Agnes continued, “Christ forgive you, child.”
“Are you ready, Mary? Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, Mother Superior, I’m sure.”
Shy Mary Philips was finally going to enter the convent. She had waited until the spring after her high school graduation, just to make sure, and she had stayed living in the school dormitory, tutoring the younger kids. Mary had never expressed interested in boys, and she had lived in the Parish since her parents had died when she was a baby. In her early teens, she had fantasized about moving to Atlanta or New York to become an actress, but deep down she had always known she’d become a nun. The Sisters of St. Theresa had raised her and made her the girl everyone liked today. She knew that as a nun, she’d be able to help the neediest people. She could travel to exotic places and help out the poor and the sick all over the world. She would never need be afraid, since Catholic nuns were recognized and respected everywhere.
When the morning of her first vows arrived, she was as excited and nervous as any bride could be. Today she was going to marry Jesus Christ, and join the ranks of the most famous and important women in history.
Agnes, who had been the strict disciplinarian all through her childhood, embraced her and led her into the small chapel. At the altar was the parish pastor, Father Patterson. He was her trusted advisor and mentor, and she was delighted that he would be presiding over her initial vows and mass.
As the big priest asked her question after question, whether she promised to worship God with all her heart and soul, to love and serve mankind, to reject Satan in all his forms, Mary solemnly repeated, “I do.” Then she said the special mass for new clerics. She had studied Latin all through school and had memorized every recorded church ceremony, no matter how old or obscure. As Father Patterson recited the Liturgy of the Eucharist, she mouthed all the words, her eyes gleaming when he transubstantiated the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ.
When he placed the transformed host onto her tongue, she felt a burning sensation in her mouth. Her face flushed red from the heat, and she felt electricity ripple through her body. She imagined she must be experiencing true communion with God, the rapture that medieval mystics attained after years of meditation. Finally, she swallowed the host and reopened her eyes. Father Patterson was looking at her strangely.
He recovered his composure and raised the chalice to her lips. But when she tasted the dark red wine, it was cold and incredibly bitter in her mouth. Her eyes watered and she coughed and gagged, quickly cupping her hand over her mouth so that she wouldn’t spit out the Blood of Christ. The small crowd of elderly parishioners whispered in dismay, and Agnes frowned at Mary.
But the priest broke the awkward mood. He smiled at Mary kindly, and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, Father. I’m sorry, Father,” she replied meekly.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. The same thing happened to me during one of my vows. Sometimes the church gets a batch of particularly young or sharp wine, and even the miracle can’t change its strong taste. Congratulations, Sister Mary, and welcome to the clergy.”
“Mary Philips! You are in big trouble, young lady. What on earth are you doing awake? Get back to bed this instant. We’ll discuss your punishment in the morning.”
The nine-year-old girl sighed. She knew there was no point in making up excuses. This was the third time this month the Mother Superior had caught her in the library after midnight. Mary read voraciously. She had always been reserved, so when the other orphans did sports or played games, she would curl up with her books. She read religious texts almost exclusively, the older the better. When she had first learned to read, she studied the Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles, and the lives of various saints. After that, she had learned the old Testament and rest of the new Testament, paying careful attention to the Book of Revelations. She became fascinated with church history, including the Aryan split, the Roman conversion of Europe, the Crusades, and the Inquisition. And when she thought no one was around, she even read the early Protestant texts, which were kept in the forbidden section of the library.
Of course, Father Patterson had long known about her insatiable reading, but he refused to let Agnes put a stop to it, as much as she wanted to. The head nun considered many of the library books to be extremely dangerous, especially for young minds, but the priest was not worried. He believed Mary was an exceptionally bright girl, and that she could handle what she read.
What Father Patterson didn’t know was that Mary had recently developed an obsession with the occult. She read Hildegard of Bingen and Dante, memorizing all the levels of hell and purgatory. She studied séances and numerology, Satanic cults, and different interpretations of the Apocalypse. She didn’t know whether to believe any of it, but she loved the unholy imagery and mystery surrounding it all. She also took special delight in her illicit adventures. Just before getting caught, she had learned the Rite of Exorcism and also found a special prayer to ward off curses.
The following evening, Mother Agnes put her to work serving food and changing bed-pans in the parish infirmary. Mary usually didn’t mind this, since the patients would often tell her stories. But tonight there were only a few people and they were all asleep. But then she came to a sick old man. He eyes were half-open, but he seemed to be in a coma or deeply asleep. A sheet at the foot of his bed indicated that he had tuberculosis.
A tear slowly rolled down Mary’s cheek. Father Patterson had told her that both of her parents had died of TB, and that it was a miracle she had survived. She knew this man’s chances must be slight. As she was putting more water in the flower vases by his bed, she suddenly had an idea. Maybe she could help him.
While Sister Jane, the nurse on duty, slept, Mary went into the church and collected some holy water and a rosary. She returned to the man’s bedside, and began to recite the Catholic Exorcism, stumbling over the archaic Latin chants she had just committed to memory. She figured it probably wouldn’t work unless an ordained priest performed it, but she wanted to do something for him. The prayer went on for several minutes, growing louder and more intense as the texts had instructed. She glanced over to make sure Sister Jane was still asleep, then she concluded the rite. She sprinkled holy water over his entire body, and then pressed the rosary’s crucifix firmly to his forehead. As soon as it made contact, the man’s life immediately slipped away and Mary felt a piercing cold flash rush up through her arm and settle deep inside her.
She was suddenly terrified. She raced back to the dormitory, where all the other girls were getting ready for bed. She hastily said her prayers, then curled up in the covers and fell right to sleep.
Sister Jane found the old man dead the next morning, and everyone agreed he had died peacefully in the middle of the night.
* * *
Agnes heard the mob growing closer. If they could make it down to the stream in time, there was a chance the dogs would lose their scent. But would Mary and the baby be able to run? They wouldn’t have a choice.
Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain. Mary was squeezing her arm so hard her nails had broken the skin. She turned and saw a look of pure terror on her face. Then she realized that some of the sounds she had thought were the mob were coming from inside the cabin. Mary’s shallow breathing had completely stopped, and in its place was a gurgling, hissing noise. It was coming from between Mary’s legs.
Agnes gasped. She looked down and saw the greasy, purple flesh of a horribly deformed child. The baby rotated his head and stared up at her with bright green, almond-shaped eyes. He grinned broadly, flicking his thin tongue between rows of razor-sharp teeth. Then he pulled himself the rest of the way out of Mary, revealing a long tail and lizard-like body. The creature quickly scurried over to a pile of straw in the corner.
Agnes fell to her knees and began frantically whispering prayers. Mary scooted backward toward the ladder down from the loft. There was a sharp cackling sound, and her baby flung itself toward her. It landed on her face and dug its claws into her neck. She screamed in pain as she felt the piercing cold flash again.
Outside, the cabin was now surrounded by the lynch mob. The men held pitch-forks and burning boards. Patterson fired his shotgun into the air.
They saw Agnes appear in the small loft window above them. “Father,” she gasped. “You’re too late!”
Then she collapsed. A strong young man rushed to the door and yanked it open.
“No, Bobby!” yelled the priest. But the young man was already covered in blood. Blood flew out the front door, followed by what remained of Mary’s body. Another man pulled Bobby back and flung the door shut. Bits of flesh and blood continued to fly out from various windows.
“Burn it down!” yelled Patterson. He threw his torch into one of the windows, and the other men followed suit. Immediately, the entire wood cabin was blazing. The front door exploded, and the creature scrambled towards it. Mary’s baby had just reached the dark, snowy outdoors when Agnes summoned her last ounce of energy and flung herself at it.