Chapter 9

The gentle, pleasant evening breeze of August was a joy for the senses. Chris was having his usual walk in the large, luxuriant backyard, occasionally looking up at the starry sky and spotting a shooting star. He remembered the fiery sky of Hell, and wondered whether that sphere of unreachable jewels above him was Heaven or something real and worldly, belonging to Nature. Because his experience as a ghost had taught him that the borders between this world and the others can be very, very blurry. The only constant in his strange journey had been Mary, and he couldn't help turning his thoughts to that unique woman; beautiful, smart, independent, and at the same time extremely fragile and sensitive... Mary was everything, a prism of different lights under a deadly shell she had created to safeguard herself for all her life. And now, that shell was coming off.

Chris walked back towards his residence. The windows had been opened to air the beautiful house; the wide veranda overlooking the backyard had been lit up with scented torches, creating a magical, romantic effect. Lounging on the small couch and enjoying the night air, Mary caressed her nine-month belly, humming a lullaby; she knew it didn't make any sense, but nothing that had happened to her had ever really made sense. This made her smile, but the conflicting feelings that were successfully destroying the hard stone of hate in her heart resulted in tears welling up in her eyes. She continued humming, and let the tears fall silently: she would have never, ever, abandoned this baby, until she lived, and even after that, she would have been its invisible guardian.

...the most beautiful of diamonds is found buried and encrusted into the roughest stone...

That was it? Was the baby an essential part of this strange plot from Heaven? Was it a means or an end? She was still not sure; and at the moment she didn't really care. Her only concerns were for the baby... and for the man that had unknowingly given it life inside of her.

Chris heard Mary's sweet humming, and slowly headed for the veranda. Mary's cheeks were streaked with tears, but her face was peaceful; her ash blonde hair was completely loose, and with her ivory skin and white nightdress, she looked like a fairy from the moon.

His heart was racing when she looked up at him and smiled between tears. She held out her hand at him, and when he took it, she drew him to the space next to her. He tried to keep his breathing steady when she placed his hand on her swollen belly, gently pressing it on one side: a twitch immediately responded. The former demonic Hessian Horseman, perhaps the deadliest man in the world, had to gather all his courage to bend over Mary and rest his head on her belly, as if trying to hear the baby's voice coming from a prenatal dimension.

There was no need for words. Words could not convey the emotions they were feeling. She was still holding Chris's hand on her side, and let her free hand run through his soft, silky hair, her white fingers disappearing into his black strands, like a dove and a crow entwining the feathers of their wings. Chris slowly got up to face her; his hand traveled from her belly up to her face, and their lips met. There was nothing of the last, bloody kiss that had almost ripped her mouth off, months before, in the Hollow; this one was long, slow, sensual, hot with love. Neither of them had experienced such a thing before, and both wondered how the hell had they lived without.

"Ich liebe dich, witch," Chris whispered, words burning. "I love you like crazy."

"I really hope you mean it, demon," she replied, smiling against his lips, "because I love you too."

They spent the night together in the master bedroom, telling each other everything that had to be told with kisses, until they fell asleep in each other's arms, legs entwined, former black hearts become one.

Mary and Chris had a private wedding just a few days later, with the Schuster family as the witnesses. For both, it was the second time at the altar, but the first and only marriage of love. He wore black, she wore white. A crow and a dove. The new moon and the full moon. Whatever they did, they would always have this otherworldly aura to them.

Thousands of miles away, in New York City, Katrina Crane went into labor two weeks earlier than expected; but the baby boy she gave birth to, Timothy John Crane, was healthy and beautiful. For once, Ichabod Crane seemed to forget about passing out, for he was too busy admiring the miracle he and Katrina had just made.

Two nights after their marriage, a groan followed by a gasp woke Chris up. Next to him, Mary's eyes were wide open, and her breathing was heavy. It didn't take a genius to see that she was in labor.

"Scheiβe!" he snarled. "I'll get Inga and the doctor."

Less than a minute later, Inga appeared at Mary's side and cupped her face. "Shh, calm down now, my dear," she said sweetly. "Let's see."

Inga lifted up Mary's gown and removed her silk underwear: it was still dry, indicating that Mary's waters had not broken yet, but the dilation was already wide; Inga barely had the time to put thick sheets under Mary, that the waters gushed out. They were clear, which was a good sign of health. The labor had started.

Chris went so pale that it looked like he would soon become transparent.

"Chris," Inga said. "It's better if you wait outside. This might take a while."

Chris nodded slowly, then he bent over Mary. "I'm going to wait outside, meine Liebe. Be strong, and call me if you want me here."

"I'll do my best... Ow!... My Dark... Avenger," she said. They kissed, then Chris exited the bedroom, joining Benno and Otto in the corridor. The doctor soon came to assist Mary.

The labor lasted all night and part of the following morning. It was painful. Sheer pain. Mary felt like being in an empty space, alone with the pain, and her only weapon to fight it was the breathing; Inga and the doctor had instructed her on how to breathe properly, and it definitely helped. She felt her body being smashed, tortured, torn apart; but paradoxically, all this pain intensified her love for the baby. It was like two loving hands held together, tightening their grip onto each other before letting go.

At around nine in the morning, Mary was exhausted and had lost a lot of blood. She had faced the long hours of labor with her usual self-control, trying her best to avoid screaming, and now her head felt light with semi-unconsciousness. Her sight blurred, and strange spots appeared, changed and disappeared before her eyes. Inga kept encouraging her to push, vigorously massaging her thighs.

Suddenly, the room faded away. A large black spot appeared from nowhere; it slowly took shape... Two huge black wings... Lush black hair, surrounding a stark white visage... A feminine figure... Blood red lips smiling at her, with no trace of evil.

Oh no...

The Dark Sootheress. Death.

She spoke, her voice a wonderful choir of mezzosopranos. "Don't let go. One push more. The Sibyl is coming."

And she disappeared in a black, sparkly cloud.

In a split second, Mary wondered: Am I going to die? Is my baby going to die? Are we both going to die? This was the plan? A horrible punishment?

Pain and fear merged. Mary shut her eyes and screamed her lungs out, finally pushing the baby out of her body. Then, the pain was gone.

She opened her eyes...

And there she was.

A healthy, perfect baby girl, filling the air with her first screams.

Mary laughed and cried at the same time. Inga cleaned her up and changed the bedsheets, while the doctor cleaned up and examined the baby, then he gave Mary some instructions about the post-partum and left.

Chris was called in, and melted at the sight of the baby girl cradled in her mother's arms. Inga hugged and congratulated him, then Chris and Mary were left alone.

Even after a long, excruciating childbirth, Mary looked ethereal and serene. Chris sat beside her on the bed. The demon and the witch, come back from Hell with the arcane warning of a massive twist in their lives. The twist lay between them, wrapped in a puffy white diaper and a light peach-pink sheet.

Both the pain and the Dark Sootheress had been immediately forgotten, replaced by love and adoration for the baby. But for a second, Mary recalled some words from the back of her mind, curiously unable to remember who had uttered them.

The Sibyl is coming.

The diamond encrusted in the rough stone.

The baby girl was called Sibyl Julia Schiller.

A.N. So! We are halfway through the story. This is like, end of Part 1. Review! :D