I do apologize for this taking so long to get out. It's a laundry list of excuses that I won't bore you with.
Thank you to Fran for looking over and wielding a red pen. I don't take all the changes she suggests because we agree to disagree, and I claim the errors as my own. Civilly. Like grown-ups.
Chapter 25:
Michael Newton rode atop his fine steed, spurring it furiously in his haste to find Deputy Rupert and his intended. Neither could be found in town and their whereabouts could not be ascertained through his usual sources.
Steam rolled off the powerful beast's sweating body in the cold early afternoon air, lather spilling from its mouth. Yet the rider did not care, pushing the animal closer and closer to its breaking point. The selfish sheriff was on a mission and nothing else mattered: not the health of his horse, not the dangers of being alone in an unfriendly part of the woods, and not even the potential for an animal attack as daylight faded.
"Where are those fools?" he muttered to himself, roughly pulling on the reins as he arrived at the burned remains of Isabella and Charles' home. Neither Rupert nor Hubert had reported to work that morning and no one seemed to care where the deputies might be.
"Looks like that idiot Rupert did something right."
The sheriff dismounted and walked around the smoldering ruins, his beady eyes searching for any evidence of Deputy Rupert. The deputy had done a damn fine job destroying the house; Newton would grant him that, but there was absolutely no trace of which way he had gone after completing the job. And no evidence of his future wife could be detected.
"Where did that miserable excuse go?" he grumbled, roughly grabbing the reins of his mount and after three attempts, regaining his seat before urging the horse toward town. Surely his deputy had not taken a notion to steal away with the fair Istanbul Swan, not when he was under orders to bring her to him.
"When I find that bumbling excuse for a deputy…" Michael panted after the extreme effort he put into climbing into the saddle. "I'ma going to bury my boot so far up his ass, he's going to cough shoe leather for weeks."
"Going somewhere?"
The query came whispering through the trees from no particular direction.
Newton spun around in the saddle, wildly searching for the source of the question but to no avail. His horse felt his nervousness and began to tamp at the ground anxiously.
"Hie there," the sheriff muttered, jerking the reins once again, earning a pained whinny in response. He paused but when he heard nothing other than the muck squelching under-hoof, the sheriff roughly spurred his horse into action, but it refused to move.
The slowly accelerating crack of an ancient oak tree as it fell to the ground a short distance behind spooked the fine steed and it took off at a full gallop.
Michael wrestled with the beast, trying to force it to obey and bring it to a halt but the more he tugged on the reins, the harder it bolted. The forest hurtled past at a breakneck pace as the frightened steed dodged in and out of the trees. Choice words and threats spilled out of the mouth of the rider, spurring it on rather than calming the poor creature.
"Beast is going to hurt him," Rosalie muttered under her breath, watching from a safe distance away.
"Newton's regaining his seat," Edward replied, his eyes following the almost comical scene below as the sheriff bounced up and down, great gobs of fat wrestling with others as it tried to break free from the bindings of his too tight clothing.
Edward found himself amused at the sight, something that never would have happened before Isabella. He had always been the most serious of Carlisle's family and the notion that he would find anything comical in Sheriff Michael Newton's appearance was an unfamiliar concept.
"I meant hurt the horse." The 'you fool' went unsaid but hung in the air between them. "That idiot of a sheriff is going to harm him." She scoffed under her breath. "Newton doesn't deserve to live."
"Agreed."
After a moment's pause, Edward continued. He and Isabella had discussed this event, and she had been quite adamant in her opinion on the matter.
"I will not take your revenge from you, Rosalie."
Her amber eyes cut over to where Edward stood. Rosalie watched him closely, looking to discern whether or not he was teasing her, not that he ever had before.
"Although you want it with every fiber of your being," she finally murmured.
"Aye. I do. But Isabella believes it is your privilege, and I'll not stand in your way from obtaining it."
A thin smile tugged at her lips. She knew what he was going through. Where he once would have broken Michael Newton's neck without a second thought, now, because his Isabella had asked him not to harm the sheriff, he would let Rosalie exact her judgment. Love changed you. She had once been as harsh and cruel as he, but that was before she found Emmett.
And now he had Isabella. His beast within had met its mistress. Gladly. Happily. Wholly.
Mine.
Edward flexed his hands, fighting the urge to bolt down the small rise where they stood and watch as the life force drained out of the miserable excuse for a human being that currently was cursing his mount so loud birds were rustled out of their roosts.
"Go to her, Edward. Emmett and Alice took her to her father. This won't take long," Rosalie assured.
A small barking laugh escaped his lips.
"Oh, he will suffer. I can promise you that."
He nodded before leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Don't be long, Rosalie. I have a father-in-law to secure. If he gives his blessing, it'll be tonight."
And if Charles did not give his blessing, Isabella would still be his wife tonight.
Rosalie thought through the details of her plan; it was quick, painful, and fitting.
"It will be just fast enough."
Edward nodded before turning and running to town where his beloved had reunited with her father.
Rosalie turned toward the bumbling sheriff who continued to attempt to regain control of his horse as it bucked and turned, growing more and more agitated.
Michael Newton cursed and tugged on the reins causing the bit to cut into the horse's mouth. Rosalie had seen enough and with a growl, bolted toward them in an angry blur. With a quick motion, the buckle securing the saddle was unfastened. The next time the sheriff spurred his mount, the horse reared, throwing the overweight codfish into a muddy puddle.
Shaking his head as slime and goo dripped down his face, Michael took a quick self-assessment, checking for broken bones. One meaty hand wiped at the muck, more smearing it than removing it.
Once he assessed that his pride was hurt more than anything else, the sheriff searched for his horse only to see the beast disappear over a ridge. With a juicy curse, Newton pulled himself to his knees, succeeding after the third try.
From the still air, a lilting voice broke the silence.
Emperor, your sword won't help you out
Sceptre and crown are worthless here
I've taken you by the hand
For you must come to my dance
"Who's there?" the sheriff demanded, spinning around on his knees, grinding mud further into his soaked britches. His beady eyes desperately searched in a vain effort to ascertain the source of the singing.
The sound was beautiful, eerie, and alluring all at the same time.
He searched frantically as he tried to establish from whence it came. Scrambling from his knees to his feet, the sheriff turned in place.
The verse repeated, a little slower and a little louder.
"Show yourself!" he shouted, pulling out a pistol and waving it in the air threateningly. "I order you to show yourself! In the name of the law!"
Rosalie laughed, the bitter sound echoing in the cold air.
"The law. You know nothing of the law," she scoffed, still out of sight.
His eyes widened at the ghostly, ethereal sound of her laughter as it faded into the quickly darkening woods.
"Show. Yourself!" he shrieked, stomping one foot in a tantrum as his face flushed bright crimson.
All around the mulberry bush
The monkey chased the weasel
The monkey stopped to pull up his socks
Rosalie suddenly appeared in front of Sheriff Newton. She was a heavenly vision in heavy white brocade and lace. He jumped back in shock, his eyes comically wide. Catching himself, with shaky hands, the sheriff pointed his weapon at her.
Pop! Goes the weasel!
As she finished the children's rhyme, she took the pistol now aimed at her and bent the weapon in two.
"What…what are you?" he demanded, futilely attempting to hold the useless, shaking weapon steady.
"Your deputy, Rupert, called me something out there as he tried to hide within Charles and Isabella's home before I burned it to the ground with him inside. So kind of you to provide the accelerant to send him on his way to Hell."
Rosalie curtseyed in gratitude of the sheriff's inadvertent courtesy.
"Acc… accel…" The sheriff tried to say the word he did not understand as he backed away from Rosalie.
She laughed gaily as if the two were talking about the weather or some other such nicety, swaying her hips while she fairly danced before him.
"Accelerant. The oil that caused a small hovel made of damp wood to light up the sky like a rising sun. Fitting end to a man who is no doubt roasting in the merry fires of Hell."
Rosalie appeared to pay no mind to his retreating so he widened the distance even more. She smiled a secret smile, knowing exactly what he was trying to do, but her intent was to give him just enough rope to hang himself.
Figuratively, mind you, for a rope would be too kind of an end for the good Michael Newton.
"And then your other deputy – Hubert. He visited me in what he thought was merely a pub. There he supped and drank with me. And in his gratitude, do you know what he called me?"
Michael shook his head slowly as bone-chilling dread gripped at his heart.
"Deputy Hubert called me a demon.Can you believe that?"
She smiled slowly, showing all of her pearly white, razor sharp teeth. The mere sight gave the sheriff a bone-rattling chill. Something about this beautiful creature in front of him spoke of danger. Newton took another step back.
"What he saw was the effects of the belladonna and his own pathetic mind playing tricks on him. I'm not a demon, now, am I?"
She paused, her face serene and angelic, matching the sweetness in her voice before continuing, not giving the sheriff time to reply.
Rosalie's posture changed as she steeled herself for what was to come. Her back stiffened, and she brought herself up to her full height, fury crackling all around her as she spoke.
"You dare." Her voice deepened as if judgment itself had been authorized to her alone.
Michael gulped, uncertain of what he was being accused.
"I dare what?" he squeaked when finally able.
"You dare bring three innocent babes into this world, and the moment their mother does something to affront you or it inconveniences you, you dispatch her and bring another woman into your house before his mother is cold in the grave!"
He shook his head in denial but Rosalie continued to enumerate the good sheriff's many sins.
"Margaret known as Maggie, aged twenty. Her son, Liam, will never know of her wit and innate ability to know when someone lied to her."
"She fell off her horse!" Michael shrieked, taking another step back as Rosalie moved even closer to him.
"Did she now? And it had nothing to do with your second wife, Tia, aged seventeen, who miraculously gave birth to Benjamin, a healthy baby boy four months after you wedded her? And don't even try to lie to say it was someone else's babe."
"I…"
"Silence, fool! And then the most recent, Jessica. Was she even fifteen when you…"
Michael covered his ears, trying to block out the accusations.
"Three wives, thrice the widower. Three beautiful babies, all healthy, all loved by their mothers. Women they will never get to know because of you!"
"I… I…"
"Do not feed me your excuses, you foul excuse for a human being!"
"I'll change! I'll repent! Anything! Just!"
In his panic, Michael tripped, falling on his ample rump.
Rosalie stood before him in stony silence, watching as he futilely tried to scramble back from her.
"I… I'll…" he stuttered, not realizing he neared the edge of a ravine.
Rosalie continued her stance, saying nothing, listening to the faint to human ears sound of a pack of wolves gathering below. Amazing how a few well-placed rabbits would cause the carnivores to gather.
"Sheriff Michael Newton, you have been found guilty of crimes too sundry to list, and for that you must pay with your life."
He shook his head furiously as a few tears ran down his splotchy cheeks.
"Please! Anything! I have money! I can…"
She scoffed at his useless attempt at bribery.
"You have nothing I could ever want. You had everything and squandered it! Wives that cared and babes that could have loved you, as worthless as you may be!"
"Mercy! Mercy, I'm begging you!"
Too late, the good sheriff realized he had climbed too far out on the precipice and under his own body weight, it began to collapse.
"Save me!" he pleaded as the dirt and rock crumbled, sending him plummeting down.
Rosalie heard the whine of a wolf in pain as Sheriff Newton landed on him, closely followed by more human cries of pain and beastly growls and snarls.
"May you burn in Hell," she murmured, not bothering to witness the carnage below before she calmly straightened her dress and headed back to town.
She had a wedding to get to, after all.
If any of you saw my ramblings on Facebook, you'll know I did indeed sing a la Elmer Fudd "Kill tha shewif" (instead of "Kill tha wabbit") while I wrote this. It was quite therapeutic. I hope I did Newton's demise justice. And no, the wolves that did him in were not Jacob and company.
The first song Rosalie sings is Dance Macabre (also known as a dance of death). This one is from: Totentanz textbook (Anon.: Vierzeiliger oberdeutscher Totentanz, Heidelberger Blockbuch, approx. 1460).
One more chapter, dear readers. Isabella and Edward go to Voltemorrah to face Aro and company and meet Tanya.
See you in a few weeks, and I'd love to know what you think!
DeJean