THE DALWICK DEMON
ASHLEY BENNETT
Iris
Hot hatred burned inside of me as I watched Jeremiah sleep in bed beside me. Occasionally a snore would tear out of his gaping mouth, and I had to fight the urge to smother him with a pillow. He was one of my least favorite clients. More often than not he’d get drunk and be too rough or smack me around a bit for being disobedient—but money was money. When you have no family, no dowry, and no marriage prospects, you have to take what you can get.
So badly I wanted to get up and leave, but if Jeremiah woke and I wasn’t there, there’d be hell to pay in the form of his fists colliding with my face the next time he caught me alone.
I let out a deep sigh and gazed out the window at the falling snow. At least for now I was warm.
I laid my head back against the headboard and just as I closed my eyes in an attempt to get to some sleep, a commotion erupted from the first floor of the inn.
“Where’s the whore?” someone yelled.
Shit, shit, shit. What could they possibly want with me?
“She’s upstairs in room three with Jeremiah. What business do ya have with her?” I could identify Henry, the old innkeeper, by his voice.
“Mind yourself, old man. This is none of your concern.”
Heavy footsteps clambered up the stairs as I hurried to put my dress on with shaking fingers.
Just as I finished cinching my bodice, the door burst open and Jeremiah bolted upright on the bed. Four men flooded into the room. The only two I recognized were the town guard, William, and Father Aldous, the town priest.
“What’s going on here?” Jeremiah yelled as he clutched the blanket to his bare chest. The large man looked scared out of his wits. It would have given me satisfaction to see him in that position if I wasn’t so concerned over my own well-being.
“We’ve come for the girl,” William said, and pointed a gloved finger at me.
My heart pounded in my chest and my breaths came out sharp and fast. “W-why? What have I done?” My words were strangled, I could barely speak.
“Iris Browne, your crimes include prostitution, theft, and witchcraft. It has been determined that you will be put to death by sacrifice to the demon that resides in Dalwick Cave.”
I grew up hearing the legend of the demon of Dalwick Cave. A horned beast with bright red skin, said to be the spawn of the devil himself, that feasted on the flesh of the unfortunate souls that were tossed into the cave. But it had been ages since the last sacrifice.
“No! Please!” I insisted, my body trembling with fear.
“Grab her.” William disregarded my plea and the two men grabbed ahold of each of my arms.
With brute force, they pulled me out into the hall and down the stairs.
“Please, please. Don’t do this.” I begged with tears tracking down my cheeks.
My words fell on deaf ears as the men ignored me and the patrons of the inn focused their attention on their food and ale. It was as if I was invisible. That the town whore suddenly ceased to exist now that the judgment had been made against me.
I shivered as the men pulled me out into the cold, my bare feet dragging through the snow. I hadn’t been allowed to put on my coat or my shoes, but I guess for someone being sacrificed, it didn’t matter.
The men were silent as they dragged me through the woods to the cave at the base of the mountain. Father Aldous would occasionally flash me a look of disgust if my cries became too loud, so I sobbed as quietly as I could with snot and tears rolling down my face.
Before long, we arrived at the wide mouth of the cave.
I remembered the games of my youth where we’d get close to the edge and toss stones into the black depths before running away screaming out of fear of the demon.
My blood ran cold and fear overwhelmed me as the men holding my arms marched me toward the edge.
This couldn’t possibly be happening to me.
“Please! Please, don’t do this!” I screamed, my cries echoing down into the pit below us.