The Lamb and the Gray Battle

September 17, 1990

Mary refused Ren's touch. For days, she sat by herself and ate alone in the dining hall. She was still given creams, cheeses, pastries, all of her favorites, but they did nothing to cool her temper. Ren whispered to the servants that the babe was wearing on his mother and begged patience from all in the Fortress.

Knox couldn't take this. He tugged his T-shirt collar. Mary pretended she was anxious, but Knox knew her now. His brain was a violent river.

Mary put on her shawl and walked out of the front gate. She had a smile for everyone and greeted every single person by name. She only made it a few feet outside the Fortress before Zhangfu jumped into her path. The sunshine shifted to a brutal storm.

Mary lifted her chin. "I want to go out."

"Then I will go with you." He put his claw up to a couple of guards that had followed him.

She said, "I want to go where I want to go."

Ren bowed to her. "As you wish, Mo Bhanrion." But his lip rippled.

"You used to let me do what I want."

"You used to obey me," he growled back.

His claws dug into her skin and she couldn't break free, no matter how fast she scurried.

Mary halted suddenly, faced Ren so that he smacked into her and she punched him in the gut, dashed back, found the talisman she'd created earlier and zipped into Gloucester.

Behind her were rolling mountains and hills. Before her was the city square and St. Peter's Abbey, pointy and reaching up to Heaven. Bells were ringing, but it was the middle of the day and not close to the hour. It had been months since she'd set off any alarms; it took a moment for the gloom to settle around her. She ran toward the abbey.

A battalion cut her off and she spun around. She was surrounded by iron spears. She tightened her grip on her shawl.

"I'm Catholic."

The guards jabbed the spears at her.

She said, "I want to see the abbey."

She scurried back as the tips burned her and was met with more spears in her back. She was well-nourished by then, but youth clung to her. She couldn't fly yet. She was too young to shift into her demon form. She had a talisman to return to the Fortress, but she didn't dare look away from her assailants.

"Demon whore."

One of the men grabbed her by the hair, dragged her down to her knees. A sudden storm, buckets of water, beat down from the sky. And Ren's heart.

He clawed through the battalion, killing dozens of men to clear a path. He kicked the man who dared touch his wife and took off his head. The men stabbed him with the spears, but one after another, he beheaded them with his talons. Even as his skin smoked, he killed more and more, as if he were impervious to the iron.

Mary scuttled out of the fray. One of the men threw an iron chain around Ren's arms, but it didn't slow him down. His claws went through the guard's chest and he sprayed blood on the ground. In a matter of minutes, Ren had beheaded, shredded, quartered hundreds of men. Smoke came off his clothes and blood painted his face a dark red. The rain wasn't enough to wash away this much blood. His hair was drenched. He grabbed Mary by the arm, opened a portal back to the Fortress and threw her into a chair. He disappeared down the hall.

When Mary could make her legs move, she ran to her room and shrank into a corner. She threw the wedding ring away from her. Blood speckled her body and she was a drowned cat, but she made no motion to wash herself, no effort to change.

It was dark when Ren appeared, a tray of food balanced on his wrists. He set it down on her vanity and sat on the bed.

"I assume we're back to our old terms," he said. Every inch of him had been scrubbed, his face rubbed red, but he fumed. "Give birth to our son. Then you are free to join your grandmother and leave."