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To Molly’s amazement, her mother laughed derisively at this news.
“He will lose them all,” she predicted, “You’d best have the carpenters in town get busy now making caskets. There will be many bodies to bury. This ogre cannot be defeated with mere steel or gunpowder weapons.”
“How can she be so sure?” said Molly, thinking aloud, “Sure the ogre is from hell but, even still, maybe it can be defeated.” can be defeated… can be defeated…
That night Molly crept silently to the secret room. Thinking ahead, she brought a can of oil to lubricate the pivots on which the bookcase rotated. She didn’t want the heavy door to squeak on its hinges lest her mother be alerted. Once inside, Molly looked around and found another lever similar to the one on the outside but not hidden, and pulled it. The bookcase rotated silently closed, plunging Molly into total darkness.
Hastily, Molly fumbled for her matches and lit a candle. “If that bookcase won’t re-open, I’ll be trapped in here” she thought, “Nobody will think to look. I will die here – alone.”
Brushing these thoughts aside, Molly opened the book on necromancy. She expected her grandmother to say “forbear” as before but, instead, she turned in her portrait and smiled at Molly. The skeleton, in spite of the wires holding it together, raised its hand to salute her.
There was a ribbon in the book that caused it to fall open to a chapter about immortality and how to achieve it. There were many notes written in the margins in her grandfather’s hand. It was clear that, as his health had begun to fail him, the old man had given up on conventional medicines and had turned to the dark arts to prolong his life.
“But he was trained in medicine,” Molly thought, “How could he have given up?”
Molly turned to the bust of Hippocrates. “He had taken an oath in your name. But he must have renounced his oath.” renounced his oath… renounced his oath…
Next Molly turned to her grandfather’s journal. Just as she suspected, on the last page was a contract – with the devil. Molly’s grandfather had sold his soul for immortality. Clearly, he thought that he had tricked the devil for, if he was immortal, how could the devil ever collect the promised soul?
But it was the devil who had tricked him. Immortality Beelzebub had granted, yes, but not in the form of a man. He had given the old geezer immortality in the form of an ogre. The old man had asked to be young and strong and strength was what he had gotten – in spades!
"People should be careful of what they ask for," Molly thought, "They might get it."
There was her grandfather’s bloody thumbprint. The deal that he had made with the devil could not be taken back. Using her knowledge of the law, Molly studied the contract looking for loopholes. But the devil, trained as a lawyer, had thought of every eventuality. What was done could not be undone.
Unless…
Like all contracts with the devil, there was one caveat. If a person with a pure, unblemished soul offered to die in the condemned one’s place, the contract would be rendered null and void, for the devil could not take such a pure one into hell with him.
“So, I must die.” I must die… I must die…
Heavy in her heart, Molly closed the book on necromancy, opened the secret door and returned to her room. She thought of her grandfather and of the terrible mistake that he had made. She thought of her handsome prince and the battalion of men that he would lead to their deaths the next day.
That night Molly could not sleep but lay in her bed tossing and turning. The one image that she could not get out of her head was that of the prince, so handsome, turning to wave at her.
“I must save him,” she said aloud, staring up at her bedroom ceiling, “I can’t let him die.” let him die… let him die…
The next morning Molly was awoken by the boom of cannon fire. An entire battalion – a thousand men – marched against the ogre. But how could they defeat one who is immortal? One who is from hell?
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