A Monster's Coming of Age Story

by G. D. Falksen

  “Most unusual,” Varanus said. “But I approve nonetheless.” She sipped her wine. It was an acceptable substitute for blood, which was in short supply in France. Without willing donors, it would have necessitated an unacceptable level of violence. “And you are the Baron von Fuchsburg?”

  “That is correct,” Friedrich said. He seemed surprised at the question. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well…” Varanus began. “You were born out of wedlock.”

  Friedrich blinked and said, “I was?”

  “You didn’t know?” Varanus asked.

  Friedrich shifted uncomfortably in his chair and took a sip of brandy.

  “No,” he finally said.

  “How could you not know?” Varanus asked. “Your father was murdered on the very night our engagement was announced.” She gave Friedrich a quick smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We loved each other very much, and I know that he would have been very proud of you, had he lived. But he did die before you were born.”

  Friedrich was silent for a moment before he laughed loudly and said, “My aunt has a very different and—I see now—a very fabricated story.”

  “And what is that?”

  “My aunt claims that there was a secret wedding,” Friedrich said. “She even produced a priest and a number of witnesses.”

  “I’m certain she did,” Varanus said. “And you had no knowledge of the truth?”

  “None,” Friedrich said. He did not seem particularly concerned. “Of course, I see why my aunt lied. My father was murdered. If I were illegitimate, who knows to whom the title would have passed. The lie allowed me to inherit. It was very good of her, all things considered.” He drank some brandy. “But I wish she hadn’t lied about you, Mother.”

  “We have both had a great deal of time stolen from us,” Varanus said. Ilse would have to answer for that, she thought, but she said nothing on the matter.

  There came a knock at the door.

  “Enter!” Varanus called.

  The door opened and Ekaterine looked in.

  “Is everything well?” Varanus asked.

  “Yes, Doctor,” Ekaterine said. “I simply wanted to tell you that the household is retiring to bed, as am I.”

  “Yes, of course,” Varanus said. “And Luka?”

  “Luka is examining the grounds,” Ekaterine said. “Evidently a man was spotted near the forest. Luka is taking one of the dogs to investigate. I suspect he will retire after that.”

  “Very good, Ekaterine,” Varanus said, trying not to laugh. It was so peculiar speaking to her as if they were mistress and servant. “I will see you in the morning.”

  “Now then,” Friedrich said, interrupting, “just a moment.” He rose and extended his glass toward Ekaterine. “You could always join us for a drink.”

  Ekaterine smiled at him, then looked at Varanus.

  “Good night,” she said.

  “Good night, Ekaterine,” Varanus said. “Sit down, Alistair,” she said to Friedrich. She waited for Ekaterine to leave before she added, “Alistair, I will thank you not to invite my maidservant to drink with you.”

  “My name is Friedrich, Mother,” he replied, returning to his seat. “And she is no servant.”

  “Oh?” Varanus asked. “What is she, then?”

  Friedrich took a drink of brandy and said, “I do not know, but I know servants, and she is not one. She carries herself like a woman of means, and whatever words you use with one another, you speak to each other in the manner of equals.” He shrugged, smirking a little. “I am no fool.”

  Varanus hid a smile. Friedrich was proving to be an observant man. That was good. At least his mind had not been dulled by his long years away from her.

  “You certainly are not,” she said. “Still, I will thank you not to invite her to drink—”

  She stopped mid-sentence, for at that moment she fancied that she heard the sound of glass breaking. The noise had been muffled, and it was very faint. Some distant part of the house perhaps? Or downstairs? Or was it just her mind playing tricks on her?

  “Yes, yes, as you wish, mother,” Friedrich said.

  Varanus turned quickly to look at him.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I will refrain from asking Mademoiselle Ekaterine to drink with me,” Friedrich said. He drained his glass and reached for the bottle. “Mind you, I am very good company after a few drinks.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Varanus said. She stood quickly and walked to the door. “Will you excuse me for just a moment, Alistair? I must check on something.”

  Friedrich shrugged and poured himself a fresh glass.

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “I have brandy to keep me company.” He raised the glass and looked at the richly colored liquid. “And what fine company it is.”

  Varanus smiled and slipped out into the hallway. As she shut the door behind her, she thought to herself:

  Wonderful. I finally have my son returned to me, and he’s a drunk. A charming drunk. A brilliant drunk. But a drunk all the same.

  Ilse von Fuchsburg had much to answer for.

  * * * *

  Varanus walked softly through the dark house, her ears alert for any sound. Alas, there were too many of them, and she turned this way and that at every creak, rustle, and murmur. She listened for voices, but she heard none. There was a curious scent that had entered the house, that much her nose told her. But it proved elusive.

  As she entered the foyer, she heard the creak of a floorboard on the opposite side of the room. She quickly ducked into the shadows and waited, every muscle tense.

  She saw three men cross into the dim light of the moon, which filtered in through the windows. The men were dressed in rough clothes, and a sniff of the air told Varanus that they were the source of the smell. One man carried a cudgel and a lantern while the other two had shotguns in their hands.

  There had been an intrusion, and these men were behind it. But who were they, and what did they want?

  Varanus slowed her breathing until it was almost silent. She waited in the darkness as the men approached, considering what to do. She could manage three men, even armed with guns, if she took them by surprise. The shotguns were a slight concern, but she was more worried about someone coming to her aid at the sound of gunfire and being shot by accident.

  At that moment, there came a tremendous crash from the library followed by Friedrich’s shouting:

  “Swine! Who are you? Unhand me!”

  The three men in the foyer looked at one another.

  “They’ve found him!” the man with the lantern cried. “Quickly, help them!”

  “No!” Varanus shouted.

  She darted from the shadows and into the path of the men before they could make sense of her. The man with the cudgel reacted first. He drew back his arm and brought the weapon down at Varanus’s head. She evaded easily and grabbed him by the wrist. She pulled with a single sharp jerk, feeling the shoulder dislocate. The man screamed in pain, and she punched him on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground in a senseless heap.

  One of the remaining men turned his shotgun on her and fired. Varanus twisted away as quickly as she was able, but a cluster of buckshot still hit her in the side. She gasped for air and stumbled, but it was not enough to stop her. She grabbed the gun by the barrel and tore it from his hands. Stepping in close, she smashed him in the face with the butt of his own weapon.

  Varanus was about to turn and attend to the third man when she heard his shotgun go off. She was hit dead center in the chest and knocked backward from the force of it. She fell against the wall and clutched her stomach. The shot had torn through clothing, corset, and body.

  Good God, what bore were the men using?

  The man adjusted his aim and fired his second barrel, hitting Varanus in the chest and throat. She was knocked into the wall a second time and struck her head. Her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor.

  Varanus snarled and struggled to move, but the t
rauma made it difficult for her body to respond.

  “By the Wolf, how are you still alive?” the man demanded. He broke open the shotgun breech and reloaded.

  Varanus heard a door open and Friedrich shouting “Mother! Mother!”

  She tried to respond, but blood welled up in her mouth, and she gagged on it. As if in a dream, she slowly looked down the hallway toward the library and saw Friedrich running in her direction. A gaggle of men with bruised faces and bleeding noses and mouths chased him. Friedrich’s eyes widened at the sight of her, and he began screaming obscenities in German.

  “You swine!” he cried. “You whore-spawned pig-dog, how dare you hurt my mother! For this, I will cut out your bowels and force them down your—”

  Friedrich rushed at the man with the shotgun, hands outstretched to murder him. The man drew back a step and struck Friedrich on the side of the head with his shotgun butt. Friedrich fell sideways and tumbled to the ground, senseless.

  “No!” Varanus screamed, though it came out as a thick gurgle.

  The man with the shotgun turned on her and fired both barrels. Varanus saw a flash and then everything was darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Doctor? Doctor, can you hear me?”

  At the sound of Ekaterine’s voice, Varanus awoke with a start. She tried to sit up, but Ekaterine quickly held her down and tried to sooth her.

  “Calm, Doctor, calm,” Ekaterine said. “You’re safe.”

  Varanus tried to speak, but she found that a tube had been place in her mouth and partly down her throat. She choked and gagged and pulled the offending thing out. Fresh blood spilled all over her lips and face.

  “What is going on?” she demanded, pushing Ekaterine away and sitting up.

  She saw the body of one of the assailants on the ground next to her, a bloodletting pump attached to his arm. How like Ekaterine to think of feeding her at such a time.

  Varanus felt her chest. The buckshot had torn numerous holes in her clothes, but her body had fully healed. Even the shot was now gone, pushed out by her closing wounds. The metal pellets now littered the floor.

  “What happened?” she asked, pressing her hand against her forehead. She suddenly felt a tremendous headache.

  Ekaterine knelt beside her and placed her hands on Varanus’s shoulders.

  “Doctor,” she said, “I need you to promise that you will not panic.”

  Varanus frowned and repeated, “What happened?”

  “Your son has been taken,” Ekaterine said.

  “What?” Varanus demanded.

  “I came as soon as I heard the shooting,” Ekaterine said, “but I was too late to stop them.”

  Varanus felt panic rising in her. Her son kidnapped? Who would have done such a thing? And in her home? In the dead of night? By force? Who could have possessed such audacity?

  “Where have they taken him?” she asked.

  “Luka followed them,” Ekaterine said. “We will know when he returns.” She picked up the feeding tube and held it out to Varanus. “Now please, Doctor, finish drinking. You will need your strength.” She nodded to the corpse. “And he is hardly in a position to complain.”

  Varanus frowned, but she did as instructed. She could not deny that the taste of fresh blood was invigorating.

  “What about the servants?” she asked, after her first swallow.

  Ekaterine sighed and said, “They were rather disappointing, I am afraid. Most of them hid at the sound of gunfire, although that Vatel fellow came at once. He is a good man.”

  “What must he think?” Varanus asked.

  “Oh, fear not,” Ekaterine said. “I took care of all that. I covered your body so you didn’t appear to be shot, only unconscious. I told him that Luka killed the attackers, who were all anarchists seeking to outrage respectable people in the dead of night. It was quite readily believed.”

  “I’m certain it was,” Varanus said. “Where is he now?”

  “Looking after the servants,” Ekaterine said. “He promised to make certain that no one panicked.”

  Varanus forced a smile and patted Ekaterine’s arm.

  “What would I do without you?” she asked.

  “You’d be lying half dead and starving on the ground,” Ekaterine replied. She looked up suddenly and stood. “Luka!” she cried.

  Varanus turned and saw Luka walking toward them, a rifle in his hand. She quickly stood and hurried to meet him.

  “What news, Luka?” she asked. “Where is my son?”

  Luka’s expression clouded.

  “I followed the men all the way to the des Louveteaux estate,” he said. “I saw them bring him into the house. I thought to intervene, but…”

  “No, you did well returning to tell me, Luka,” Varanus said. “Saddle horses for Ekaterine and myself while we arm ourselves.”

  “Very good, Doctor,” Luka said, bowing his head.

  “Ekaterine,” Varanus said, turning to her, “I require trousers at once.”

  * * * *

  Varanus could find no trousers in her size on such short notice—not that it came as any surprise—but she discovered a collection of her clothes in a chest in her room, including her old bloomer suit. It was more than a little absurd, but at least it was better than trying to fight in layers of skirts. And worse, Varanus reflected, she was rapidly running out of proper mourning wear. It would not do to rescue her son only to be left traipsing about the place in pastels. What would the neighbors think?

  The ones who were still alive, that was.

  She rejoined Ekaterine, who had stolen—“borrowed”—some clothes of Luka’s, which fit her well enough under the circumstances. Ekaterine also had a set of weapons and ammunition that Luka had brought with them. “For just such an occasion,” she said. Varanus was inclined to agree.

  Luka had the horses ready when they joined him in the courtyard. He was armed as well, with a rifle, pistols, and a bandoleer of gunpowder charges wrapped in paper. He nodded at them wordlessly, and Varanus nodded back. There was nothing to be said, only things to be done.

  They rode to the des Louveteaux house in a matter of minutes, hopefully, Varanus thought, compensating for the head start enjoyed by the kidnappers. There was no telling what the des Louveteaux would do to Friedrich. Varanus silently prayed that they planned to hold him for ransom, or that if they meant to kill him, they would first gloat over his captivity. She urged her horse on to greater speed, knowing that each moment brought her son closer to death.

  At the edge of the des Louveteaux estate, she diverted from the road and led them cross-country. The front gate would be watched. Their best chance would be to enter the grounds from the side.

  She stopped a short distance from the house and dismounted. Luka and Ekaterine halted behind her, tying their horses to the branch of a nearby tree.

  “What are your instructions?” Luka asked.

  “I am going to find my son,” Varanus said. “The two of you remain here and protect the horses. We may require a fast escape.”

  “No,” Ekaterine said.

  “Ekaterine, it’s too dangerous—” Varanus began.

  “No,” Ekaterine repeated. “I will not let you go in there alone. Neither of us will, will you Luka?”

  “Neither of us,” Luka agreed. He looked at his pocket watch impatiently and said, “And if I may, there is no time for argument. The young man has been in that house for nearly an hour. We are trying the Almighty’s patience.”

  “You’re right,” Varanus said. “But be careful. Neither of you is as resilient as I am, and I won’t have your deaths on my hands.”

  Luka looked at her sternly and said, “Doctor, if I can survive a century traveling the world with Lord Shashavani, I can survive a few Frenchmen.” He handed his rifle to Ekaterine and drew a dagger from beneath his coat. With the dagger, he pointed in the direction of a darkened window along the side of the building. “Now,” he said, “we enter through that window in two minutes. Bring the
firearms and ammunition. I will clear a path.”

  “Two minutes,” Varanus said, nodding.

  It was two minutes longer than she wanted to wait.

  * * * *

  William waited in the shadows by the gate, watching the des Louveteaux’s thugs patrol the grounds. He sniffed the air. They smelled of Louis’s scent. Indeed, the whole house stank of des Louveteaux, even at that distance. Suddenly, he detected another smell approaching from his flank: horses carrying Babette and her two servants.

  Most peculiar. Clearly Babette had come for her son. Good. The damned fool boy should never have tempted the des Louveteaux’s anger. William had allowed the von Fuchsburg woman to take the boy away on the understanding that he would be kept safe from Louis and his family. And now, the damned fool had gone and gotten himself kidnapped by them! William’s line was diminishing rapidly, and if something happened to his great-grandson…

  Well, he was not about to see that happen.

  William waited for Babette and her servants to act. It would not do to be seen by them. As far as Babette knew, he was dead and interred, and he saw no reason to dispel that illusion. He watched the manservant Luka cross the dark grounds and kill the three men on patrol without detection. A handy fellow, William decided, more a soldier than a servant. Where had Babette gotten him? William sniffed the air. Was he the same man who had accompanied Lord Shashavani in France fifteen years ago? He scarcely seemed to have aged.

  Once Babette and her servants had infiltrated the house through a side window, William left his hiding place and ran across the lawn. It was so much easier moving on all fours at times, and much faster as well. Yes, he reflected, the change was quite advanced. He could not allow Babette to see him like this. She would not understand.

  He circled the house and approached the kitchen door. A man was on guard there, standing with a lantern and a pistol. The man spun around to face William and raised his weapon.

  “Who goes there?” he demanded.

  William walked into the light and bared his teeth. At the sight of him, the guard relaxed.

  “My lord,” he said, “you are late.”