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mira-eyeteeth · 8 years ago

Text

Testify

I wrote an Old West AU Beastnoch fic, because of a song that made me immediately think of the two of them. (I’ll link the song at the end of the fic because it kind of spoils the ending.)

Enoch got over the ridge and spotted the little cluster of buildings huddled by the muddy river just as the last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon. He heaved a sigh of relief and patted his horse’s neck. “Almost there, Pumpkin.”

They wearily wound their way down the switchbacks in the fading light. A man waited at the bottom, and swept his hat off of his head when Enoch drew close.

“I’m sorry to make you come all this way out here for nothing, Reverend,” the man said, casting his gaze downward.

Enoch brought his horse to a stop before him. “I was told that the condemned man wasn’t to be hanged until sunrise?”

The man’s expression went sour. “Oh, he’s still alive, sure enough. Speaking with him isn’t going to wash the evil out, though.”

“Words indeed cannot do that. The blood of Christ is the only thing that can wash away the wages of sin.” Enoch swung down from his horse, something that was not as easy as it used to be for him.

“Begging your pardon, Reverend, but there’s no saving the devil.”

“No matter his reputation, he is just a man. And no man is beyond redemption,” Enoch replied.

Enoch’s guide gave a little half shrug of his shoulder and turned toward the town. ‘’I’ll be taking you there, in any case. Perhaps after he dances the gallows jig you can give a sermon to the town, make some good out of this trip after all.”

“Those closest to death are the ones most in need of my services, but by all means I would be happy to speak to the citizens as well.” Though Enoch could do without speaking with this man, if he had the choice.

His guide nodded curtly and lead them into the town and to a rickety-looking outbuilding. A nervous, gangly looking boy hurried up from his place before the door. “Wirt will take your horse. There’s no proper jail here, so we’ve had to improvise a bit. I’ll stay with you; make sure he doesn’t pull anything,” the man said, jerking a thumb at the building.

Enoch hid a grimace by turning to his horse and fishing his Bible out of the saddlebags. The man obviously hated the criminal; probably something personal. Enoch would never get a thing done if he was looming over everything. “I think it would be best if you left us in private, actually. It is a personal thing, coming to God.’

“You don’t want to be left alone in there with him, Reverend.”

“I have complete faith that you have secured him safely, sir. I will be perfectly all right; I’ve faced greater perils than this during my days on the road.”

The man looked ready to argue, but just heaved a sigh. He picked a lantern up from the doorstep and lit it, handing it to Enoch. “Just yell if there’s any trouble.”

“I will. Thank you,” Enoch replied as he mounted the steps. His ears pricked at the faint sound of scuffling and jangling from the other side of the door. He swung it open to reveal a whipcord-thin man half arched off the ground, the shackles around his wrists pulled tight against the post they were attached to. The man paused and turned his face in the direction of the door, and the lamplight gleamed off of a pair of glasses that he wore.

He slowly sank back down to a sitting position on the floor, letting his arms dangle loosely from their restraints. His gaze swept up and down Enoch’s body once. “Why, hello Father,” he said, voice deep and dark. “Here to make my last night on earth a memorable one?”

Enoch blinked and swallowed. “I’m here to do God’s work.”

“It’s such a shame that He can’t do it Himself, don’t you think?” the criminal asked, crossing one leg over the other.

“Well, if He did, then I would be out of a job,” Enoch replied.

That earned a little huff of amusement. “True enough. Come in, come in. Have a seat. I’d be a better host, but, well…” He jangled the chains around his wrists.

“Not to worry.” Enoch stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. After checking that the dusty chair off against the far wall seemed sturdy enough for his not-inconsiderable bulk, he settled into it, setting the lantern on the floor. “My name is Enoch. You can call me that, if you like. Would you tell me your name?”

“Haven’t you heard of the Beast of the West?” the criminal asked, tilting his head to one side.

“I have, actually. But you aren’t going to tell me that your name is actually Beast, are you?”

“...You can call me Herod.”

Enoch smiled. “Herod. It’s good to meet you.”

“If the circumstances were better, I might be able to say the same.”

“I think this was the most important time for us to meet. Have you made your peace with God, Herod?”

“He and I don’t tend to see eye-to-eye, I’m afraid.”

“You have tonight to change that. It’s never too late.”

The prisoner rolled his shoulders, making the chains clink softly. “Then there’s no rush, is there? Unless you find it distasteful to speak with me. Then you can write me off as a lost cause and slip into bed,” the man drawled.

Enoch let out a careful breath and shook his head. “I would not be able to sleep, knowing I had not tried my utmost to rescue a lost soul.”

“Thoughts of me would haunt you, would they? Well, it’s not the first time I’ve caused men to lose sleep. Though the guilt would be new. Usually it’s fear, or, well. That book of yours doesn’t tend to have terribly nice things to say on the topic of that either, does it?”

“I’m sorry?” Enoch asked.

“There’s a word for it, I believe. On the tip of my tongue. Not adulterers, not blasphemers… You know, the men who like to fuck other men.”

Enoch coughed. “Ah. Well, it’s not… Lust is not well looked upon, certainly.”

“I suppose that’s just one more thing to add on top of the murder and mutilation and banditry, really. Are you going to want to hear my confession, Enoch? It might take a while.”

“I’m not actually a Catholic minister; I don’t tend to subscribe to confession. Though if you feel the need to unburden yourself, then I will listen.”

“I’d better not. Who knows how many nights you would lose sleep then, knowing all the dreadful things I have done.”

“It’s your decision,” Enoch replied gently, quashing the inappropriate curiosity that needled at him.

“Ah, I’m in the presence of a gentleman. What, no exhortations involving hellfire? Warnings of the torments that await me, lest I repent? Red hot pincers, lake of fire, that kind of thing?”

“Would that convince you?”

Herod shook his head slightly. “I’m afraid you’ve been set to a very difficult task, Enoch. ‘My heart's so harden'd, I cannot repent: Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven’.”

Enoch raised an eyebrow. “Gretchen was saved, you know. Not everyone who falls in with devils is doomed.”

“Ah, you’re thinking of Goethe’s version. In Marlowe’s Faustus, and in the original German folk tale, I believe, everyone is damned.”

“Perhaps. Faust had better musical accompaniment, though.”

“Hah! You’ve heard it, have you? I’m a bit surprised; they tend not to have a very high opinion of opera in these parts.”

“Well, the church was not always my calling. And I believe part of the musical animosity of this area can be chalked up to your influence, anyway.”

“So you have heard of me. I’m flattered.”

“It’s a striking scene to contemplate, the sound of your song heralding your arrival. I’ve never heard it myself, though,” Enoch remarked.

Herod looked him over again. “No, I didn’t think you were one of the ones who got away.”

“You keep track?”

“Oh yes. It’s important to be professional, you know.”

Enoch wondered if Herod was pulling his leg or not. “Well, I am a bit sorry that I never got to hear it.”

Herod raised an eyebrow. “You’re that interested in meeting your God so soon?”

“No, no, not like that.”

“Hmn. I’m not sure in what other event it would happen.”

“I suppose,” Enoch replied, his mind wandering a bit. Just hearing the man’s speaking voice gave Enoch an idea of how breathtaking his song must be. Oh, to have such a voice added to the host of heaven...

He should not be thinking such self-centered, sinful things.

“Are you still a patron of the arts, or has your calling limited you to just the one book,now?” Herod asked, bringing him back to the present.

“I still manage to indulge from time to time. Travelling has given me more opportunities than some have, and I’m grateful for them. There’s been a lovely performance put on in Oakridge, down the river. Into The Unknown, I believe it was? It’s something to behold, if you haven’t aready.’’

“I have not. I’ll have to... Ah.” He tilted his head back against the post he was chained to, looking up into the dusty rafters of the ceiling. “ Well, I suppose I won’t be getting the chance, will I?”

Enoch paused for a moment, awkwardly. He’d all but forgotten what he was doing here in the first place. “...I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t,” Herod replied.

He supposed he wasn’t. He had a duty to those under his care, and the Beast of the West was a threat to them all. But he would be very sorry at the thought of someone of such… potential, to be lost forever to Hell.

It was a tragedy to see any soul fall into Hell when they could have been saved, of course.

“Judgement comes for us all, sooner or later. You’ve been blessed with a chance, though. To see what is coming and make your peace before it is too late. It’s more than many get.”

Herod shifted a bit, making the chains jingle. “Don’t I know it,” he murmured.

“Won’t you let me help you?”

Herod breathed in and looked back at Enoch. He stared for a long moment, his startlingly pale eyes all but gleaming in the flickering light of the lantern. Then he looked away again, down at the floor. “I doubt that you can. I don’t think that He would listen to me, even if I were to pray.”

“No one comes to God without their sins, Herod.”

“It’s not just that. ...I’ve never been baptised, you see.”

Enoch drew back. “What? Never? Your parents didn’t…?”

“That was not high on their priorities, I’m afraid.”

Enoch lowered his head with a frown. “I… Wait, there’s a river right here!” he exclaimed.

Herod looked up. “No, it’s not right here. It’s out there,” he said, inclining his head. “I don’t think that one can count ‘within a few hundreds yards of water’ as a baptism.”

Enoch got to his feet. “True. But I might be able to take you those last few yards.”

Herod eyed him skeptically. “Getting anyone out there to agree to taking me out of here before dawn seems unlikely.”

Enoch smiled, picking up the lantern. “Faith can move mountains, Herod. In comparison, this should be simple.”

“You’ve moved mountains before?” Herod asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, not yet. But I have faith.” Enoch replied, and opened the door, leaving the building. Night had fallen, and though the sky was clear, there was no moon to light it. Enoch lifted the lantern higher.

The sour-faced man who had brought Enoch into town was leaning against the wall outside, checking over his revolver. He looked at Enoch. “Finally gave up?”

“No, actually. I need to take him to the river.”

The man stared. “What?”

“I need to baptize him, so he can be absolved. I’ll only need a few minutes.”

“You’re joking.”

“I take my job very seriously, sir. This is a man’s eternal soul we’re talking about here.”

“A monster, you mean,” the man growled.

Enoch drew himself up to his full height. “Yes, you’ve made your opinion on that clear before. But I will not have a soul be lost if I could save it, and I will not let my sworn duty to God be stopped by you or by anyone else. I really must insist on this.”

The man glowered for a long moment, but finally lowered his gaze. “Fine. Let me get more men to guard him while you do your fool task.”

“Bring as many as you would like.”

The man grumbled something under his breath and stumped off. Enoch stood outside of the closed door and ran a fingers idly over the cover of his Bible.

A half-dozen men returned with Enoch’s guide shortly afterwards, each one of them carrying a gun. Enoch raised his eyebrows. “You did disarm him before you locked him up, didn’t you?”

“Better safe than sorry,” the man replied.

Enoch shrugged and stood aside as the door was pulled open and several of the men entered. They emerged from the building with guns leveled at Herod, who still had the chains binding his wrists together, though no longer attached to the post.

He tilted his head at Enoch. “Well, mark me impressed,” he said.

“Keep moving. The sooner we do this the sooner you’re locked up again,” the man growled over whatever reply Enoch might have had.

They made their way down to the shore by lantern-light. The murky river looked almost black in the moonless night.

Enoch handed his Bible to one of the guards and stepped into the water, ignoring the chill of it as it seeped through his pants and shoes. He gestured for Herod to follow him, and the prisoner came forward.

Enoch frowned. “Wait. Take the manacles off.”

“What?”

“You can’t be serious!”

“He’s dangerous!”

“I don’t care. No one enters the kingdom of God in chains,” Enoch said forcefully.

Everyone seemed surprised at this, even Herod. If the sour-faced man had been the one with the keys, he probably would have had a harder time of it, but the others seemed to be made of less firm stuff. After a beat of time one of the guards came forward and unlocked the manacles, and everyone else clutched their weapons more tightly.

Enoch extended a hand and Herod took it, letting Enoch lead him deeper into the river. Herod took off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt’s pocket before stepping into the circle of Enoch’s arms. Enoch was careful to support Herod as he started to tilt him back.

The man blinked up at Enoch. “You’re very confident. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“I have. No need to fear, you’re in good hands with me.”

“Indeed. It will be such a shame to leave them,” Herod murmured, and Enoch couldn’t help but agree.

He couldn’t very well say that, though, so he just smiled gently and lowered the man in his arms into the water.

The second he was submerged, Herod twisted in his grip and lashed out with both feet, slamming them into Enoch’s stomach and driving all the air from his lungs.

Enoch wheezed and felt Herod slip out of his slackened grasp, invisible under the murky water. He couldn’t straighten up, he couldn’t call out; his lungs didn’t seem to work. He finally managed to wheeze in a tiny whistling breath after a moment or two of panic, but it was not enough for his clamouring brain and screaming nerves. It was all he could do to stay standing.

“ ‘Ey! Are y’drowning the bastard down there? I’m not about to complain, but some folks have their hearts set on seeing him swing!” one of the guards called from the shore.

The sour-faced man seemed to catch on more quickly, because he cursed and rushed forward, slogging through the water and seizing Enoch by the shoulder. He yanked Enoch upright and stared at his empty hands for a moment before snapping his gaze downstream. In the faint starlight, a barely-visible object broke the surface for just a second before sinking back under the water.

“He’s getting away!” the man shouted, stabbing a finger in the direction Herod was swimming. “Don’t let that happen!”

He left Enoch in the river and dashed for the shore as the other men cried out and scrambled to get off in pursuit.

Several shots were fired, but Enoch wasn’t sure if they’d hit anything. He was still too occupied with just trying to find a way to get back the breath that had been stolen.

The men returned after dawn, empty handed.

They implied that it would be best if Enoch were to be on his way, and so he complied.

Two weeks later, a letter had arrived at Enoch’s parish church for him. The majority of it consisted of a hand-written review of Into The Unknown, but the last page also included a short apology and a hope that he was doing well.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrI1FHQTUZM&ab_channel=AlanDoyleVEVO

#beastnoch #dumb gay eldritch psychopomps #this is not halloween themed in the least but fuckit #it's finally done #oh Enoch my poor sweet dear #never had a chance #Old West AU #fic

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