Progeny of the Storm

Progeny of the Storm

The breath of life filled Mary's lungs, drawing her from sleep as if reviving a corpse. She took several rattling breaths, trying to remember where she was. Rain pelted against glass, and an oil lamp flickered from the bedside table.

She had been having a nightmare-one of those inescapable affairs that lacked form or reason. In the dream, she had been standing on the shore of a lake much like that of Lake Geneva only a stroll away. The waters swirled around her ankles as she gazed into the lake's murky abyss. As she watched, a white apparition bobbed near the surface. Mary laughed, knowing very well that it must only be Percy playing a trick. But her amusement swiftly turned to horror when the creature breached the surface. It was Percy, Mary knew for certain, but his face was bloated and disintegrating like a sodden loaf of bread.

Now the nightmare had ended, but the storm harbored new fears.

A flash of lightning drenched the world in brilliant contrasts. The shadows seemed to grow darker-reach further into the room. Tendrils of night grasped at forest sketched walls and a chandelier swaying like gallows gentleman.

"Percy?" she whispered. Percy did not answer. The only response came in the booming roar of thunder just outside the glass. Mary reached across the bed, her hands slipping over the down comforter and finding no trace of him.

She slid out of bed and draped a wool blanket over her nightgown. In the gloom, Mary found her baby's basinet. She wanted to brush her hand across his back and assuage her own fears with the comforting rhythm of his small, beating heart. But her fingers found no such comfort. The basinet was empty.

William! My child! Where is he? Who has taken my baby at this hour? A frenzy of possibilities raced and collided in her mind. She prayed that he was with his father. Yes, that must be it. Our son was stirring and Percy has taken him out to comfort him.

These thoughts were still in Mary's mind when another burst of lightning illuminated the previously unseen figure standing in the doorway. The flash cloaked the man in a white haze while casting a wide shadow onto the tapestry behind him. This had the sublime effect of making him appear to be twice the size of a normal man.

"Mary?" said the newcomer uneasily. "Are you really here?"

The sound of his voice, although strange in this setting, was reassuring in its familiarity.

"Poli?" She squinted. It was John Polidori, Lord Byron's physician. The two of them had rented out this incredible retreat, the Villa Diodati, for the summer.

"It's me, Mary." His voice sounded grave as if he was on the brink of unbearable news.

"John! Why are you here? Has something happened to Percy-or to William?"

"Your children are not here, Mary. The proprietors don't have any interest in our progeny...just us."

"What are you talking about?" Mary felt an unease flickering along the back of her neck. "Proprietors? Do you mean Percy and Byron? And what do you mean by children? I have only William, unless you mean..." Mary couldn't believe that this man would invoke the memory of her dead daughter here in the middle of the night.

"Your children are not here, Mary. They have never been here, praise God. I'm not even sure where or what here is exactly."

The lightning flashed again, its light casting the man's visage in terrible clarity. An uneasy grin split his otherwise handsome features. Through blood-red lips, his teeth, or rather, his canines glowed starry white in the blaze. They were elongated and hung from the roof of his mouth like pointed stalactites. The sight forced a shudder through Mary's extremities.