Time to turn a criminal theory into an actual crime…
I still had some internal conflict about what I was going to do, but I didn’t feel like I had been left with much of a choice. Enrolling in school was only going to buy me time, and I couldn’t risk ending up on the streets in a few months if I wasn’t able to attend classes. There was a chance I would end up with a good foster family who wanted to help me go to school—but families like that were rare. I had been in the foster system since I was eight years old, and the number of families I had been placed with that just wanted to collect a paycheck far exceeded the ones that were actually interested in my well-being. Ending up on the streets was dangerous, especially for an eighteen-year-old girl. I heard the horror stories—and most of those stories started with drugs or prostitution. If I wanted to carve my own place in the world, I had to take it by force—and that was exactly what I was going to do.
No turning back. Eyes on the prize.
I drove to the mansion in the woods, parked my car in front of the fountain, and took a deep breath before I exited my vehicle. I had adrenaline coursing through my veins like I did when I slipped the ski mask over my head outside of the convenience store. I looked around the front yard of the house and saw a piece of the fountain that had broken off. I grabbed the chunk of concrete and tested the weight—it was definitely heavy enough. I didn’t want to bust out a window and risk crawling across broken glass, so the best option was to just bash the door knob until it broke. The door was too sturdy to break down with my shoulder, but I was pretty sure I could do enough damage to get it open.
I should go through the back door—just to be safe.
I tried to silence all of the voices in my head telling me that what I was doing was a terrible idea. My conscious did put up a fight—but the devil on my shoulder was whispering all of the things that could go wrong if I was booted from the foster system without being able to support myself on the streets. A couple of thousand dollars would go a long way—and if there was more than what I could see from the window, then I would have a head start on the rest of my life. Seizing my future was the only option. I walked around to the back of the house with purpose driving every step—but when I got to the door—it wasn’t closed like it was the last time I was there. I took a step back and felt panic sweep through my veins.
Did someone beat me here? Violet? Was she lying to me because she already came here on her own? The door doesn’t look like it has been bashed in—it’s just open.
Four
Adam
It had been a week since I had seen the vision of loveliness at my house. I was beginning to think she wasn’t coming back. That should have been a relief, but there was something inside of me that actually hoped she would return—and that she would come alone. I didn’t even bother to repair the gate, because I didn’t want to keep her out. Seeing her brought dormant desires to the surface and while that felt like a betrayal of my wife’s memories; I just couldn’t get it out of my head. I accepted that it was the man inside me missing the touch of a woman until she brought her friend—the blonde haired girl might as well have been invisible—she didn’t make my pulse race like the beauty with the honey-brown curls.
She’s back, and she looks very determined this time…
I watched as the beautiful girl’s face tensed up—and then she grabbed a chunk of concrete that had broken off the fountain. She was planning to use it for something, and I was pretty sure I knew what that was. I quickly ran to the front door with every intention of opening it before she could start bashing it in. If she tried to break out a window, there wasn’t much I could do. She stopped in front of the front door—then turned and started walking down the wrap-around porch. I assumed she was going to the back door, so I beat her there and twisted the lock—then I pulled it open enough for her to see that there was no resistance. If she wanted to come inside, and she was that damn determined, then rolling out the welcome mat was a better option than letting her break down one of my doors.
I guess I’m going to find out what her intentions are…
Once the door was unlocked, I stepped into the hallway and hid in the shadows. Thankfully, the old house had a lot of them, even in the middle of the day. She hesitated once she got to the door. I could tell she was surprised to find it open—or maybe she was just looking forward to being able to smash it with the piece of concrete. The first thing she did was walk to the glass case that held the figurines my great-grandmother collected. I knew they were valuable, but money wasn’t a concern to me.
If the vision of loveliness wanted them, then I wasn’t going to stop her, but it was clear that she was there to steal from me. I was conflicted about revealing myself. If she just took a few things and left, then I could stay hidden. If I revealed myself, then she would know that the house wasn’t empty—and I preferred that my entire existence remain a secret—the last thing I wanted was to have people driving by just to catch a glimpse of the beast that inhabited the mansion in the middle of the woods.
She’s even more beautiful than I realized—so fucking gorgeous. What is it about her that draws me in when I feel completely numb to the rest of the world?
She opened the glass case, pulled out one of the figurines, and then walked into another part of the house. If her intention was to steal, then she didn’t bring anything to carry her loot—maybe she was hoping to find something to put it in once she was inside the house. I avoided all of the spots where the floors would creak and moved as quietly as my behemoth frame would allow. I saw her walk down the hallway—and pause when she got to my library. There were books in there worth more than the figurines, but I doubted that a teenage girl would know which ones were worth money. I barely remembered myself. I walked along the hall until I could see her. There was a definite curiosity towards the library that didn’t seem to involve greed—she put down the figurine and stared in awe as she walked around. She finally stopped and reached for a book.
The Time Machine by H.G. Wells—one of my favorite books.
I only had one copy of that book, and I hoped that she didn’t take it. I could probably ask the guy who delivered my groceries to pick up a copy, but the one in her hand was special—reading it helped in my darkest moments. It soothed the ache of wishing I could turn back the clock and save the woman I loved, by providing a apathetic realization that fate probably wouldn’t allow me to do so. I was always destined to lose her, just like I was destined to endure the curse that came from the pain—and it would all turn to ashes in the end. Maybe the vision of loveliness was always destined to walk through my door too—but I wasn’t sure what it meant if she was. Desire was one thing—love was something else entirely. My heart didn’t beat that way anymore—if it could even beat at all.
She’s putting it back. Good.
I watched as she walked around the library for a few more minutes, then she grabbed the figurine and started exploring the rest of the house. There were areas I couldn’t follow—especially when she went upstairs. There were a few items of value up there, but I had locked away the heirlooms I cared about in my great-grandfather’s vault. There was no way she was getting that door open, even if she had a weapon. It was designed to withstand an atomic bomb unless the house was ground zero—in an era when that was something people actually feared. She came back downstairs with a few pieces of my great-grandmother’s jewelry. I wasn’t excited about watching her leave with it, but it didn’t have as much sentimental value as it once had.
It’s not like I’ll ever have children to pass it on to…
I watched my home get burglarized, and I just let it happen. If the vision of loveliness had brought friends that planned to ransack the place, I might have been motivated to scare them off, but it wasn’t worth revealing myself if she was just going to leave with a few things. I still felt the strange connection to her, and I didn’t have any motivation to stop her from stealing from me. I was sure that would have been different if it was her blonde haired
friend, but I couldn’t explain the odd desire that made me want to let the honey-curled beauty keep walking around the house, just so I could stare at her from the shadows. She walked back towards the back door—then I saw her stop—and she reached for my pocket watch. The odd desire was wiped away in an instant. I wasn’t going to let her take that—it was the one thing in the whole house that I would literally kill to keep.
“No!” I stepped out of the shadows—my voice came out like a primal roar.
“What? Oh my god!” She dropped the figurine and it hit the edge of the table—a crack formed before it landed on the ground.
“Leave the pocket watch! You can take anything else!” I took a step towards her, and my hulking frame cast a shadow that engulfed her smaller silhouette.
She didn’t put the pocket watch down. She seemed to be frozen in fear for a moment—then she made a dash for the door. I had to stop her. She wasn’t leaving with the pocket watch, even if I had to tackle her to the ground. I cut her off before she got to the door and hit it with my hand. It slammed shut, and I growled as I put myself between her and the clear avenue of escape. She was terrified—her body was trembling, and her eyes were wide. She looked towards the front door and seemed to shake off the fear enough to start running towards it. I had to close the distance between us, but I knew the house—I could navigate it in the dark—she had to find her path. I got there before she had a chance.
“Put the pocket watch back where you found it.” I tried to calm my words, but they were still thick and followed by a growl.
“I’m sorry…” She looked down at her hands and took a step back. “Please don’t hurt me!”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I took a step towards her—a menacing step which probably didn’t back up the words I said. “I just want you to leave the pocket watch. You can take everything else…”
She carefully stepped backwards—following the path she took as I matched them. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but she did what I said. She put the pocket watch back on the table and clutched the rest of the jewelry close to her chest. I didn’t make another move towards her. She walked to the door and pulled it open, never taking her eyes off me—until she was outside—then she started running. I watched from the window as she tripped on the front steps, regained her balance, and scrambled to her car. She was gone—much quicker than she arrived—and probably for the last time. I hated that I had to reveal myself and scare her, but it was the only option. I couldn’t let her take the pocket watch—I probably should have hidden it when I realized she was going to break in, but I didn’t think about it in time.
I’ll have to take precautions just in case she tells someone that the mansion in the woods is home to a cursed beast.
I walked back to the table and picked up the chipped figurine. It was worthless to anyone that would have cared about the value after being damaged, but I still put it back in the glass case with the rest of them. The pocket watch was safe; that was all I truly cared about. I picked it up and ran my finger along the rose that adorned the front—it was the centerpiece of my family crest, but that wasn’t what I cared about. What mattered was the woman who gave me the pocket watch, and the inscription that was inside it. I memorized those words the first time I saw them, and I had read them a million times since then—but I didn’t need to—I could just sit in the dark with the memories burned into my brain. I pushed the button on that opened the pocket watch and stared at the inscription. Seeing those words—inscribed by someone who traced her handwriting to put them there—brought tears to my eyes.
‘My dearest Adam. Marrying me may have cost you your crown, but you’ll always be the king of my heart.’
“I would give up my crown a million times to have one more day with you.” I closed my eyes, and the tears soaked my beard.
Five
Anabelle
“Oh my god! Oh my fucking god!” I slammed my door and tried to get my fingers to stop trembling as I cranked up my car. “What the hell was that!?”
The house wasn’t empty—it wasn’t abandoned—it was home to what appeared to be a man, but he was a large behemoth with long hair, and a longer beard. He looked like something out of a horror movie—a beast brought to life. He had piercing black eyes that looked like they could stare a hole straight through steel. He was dressed like a normal person, but his appearance was disheveled—like he hadn’t bothered to take care of himself in years. His voice was like gravel when he spoke—it was a roar, even when he softened his tone.
My heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was going to explode. My pulse was racing faster than it did when I was running from the police officer. I could still hear his voice vibrating in my ears—still feel his piercing eyes burrowing through my soul. I realized that I was still clutching the jewelry in my hand—so hard that one of the pendants had sliced open my hand. I threw it all in the passenger seat and kept the gas pedal against the floorboard until I got to the main road. I looked in my rear-view mirror—almost expecting to see him chasing me on all fours with every intention of tearing my car to pieces with his bare hands.
What if he calls the police? He saw my face—he saw my car—oh god, I’m fucked. I’m so fucked.
I turned the car in the opposite direction of my foster home and just started driving. I had no idea where I was going—I just needed some time to think. I looked over at the jewelry I took from the room I found upstairs. It looked old—everything in the room looked like it was from another time. If the stone in the center of that pendant was a ruby, then it was probably worth a fortune—if the gemstones surrounding it were diamonds, then it was worth more than we would have gotten from robbing the gas station. I also had a ring with a large emerald, a couple of bands that appeared to be solid gold, and a bracelet with what appeared to be sapphires. If all of those gemstones were real, I wasn’t just sitting on a treasure trove—I had a fortune.
But he let me take them. The only thing he cared about was that pocket watch…
I drove in circles, continuously looking in the rear-view mirror, but I slowly started to calm down as I processed everything. An immense feeling of guilt began to wash over me. It was easy to convince myself that I could be a criminal—that I could break into an abandoned house and take what I needed to secure my future—but it was something else entirely to face the person that those things belonged to. The man—or beast—whatever he was—obviously wanted to be left alone. He watched me walk through his house and take things without stopping me until I touched the pocket watch. There was a chance that he wouldn’t call the police because he didn’t want to be bothered—which somehow made me feel even worse.
I feel like pond scum. No, pond scum is better than me.
I pulled up outside a jewelry store and looked at the items in the passenger seat. I needed money, especially if the cops were going to show up. The best option I had was to park my foster mother’s car at the bus station and buy a ticket that would take me far away from California. I threw everything into the glove box except for the emerald ring. All of it could be costume jewelry—or very good replicas. That might have been why he let me walk out of his house with it. I needed to know if I had an option for escape, or if I just had a bunch of colored glass that would cost me a few years in prison if I was caught with it. I hoped there wasn’t already an APB out for my arrest.
“Hello! Welcome to Marquis Jewelry, how can I help you?” A friendly salesman in a pristine suit walked out from the back as soon as I stepped into the jewelry store.
“Hi! I was hoping you could help me with a—family heirloom.” I forced myself to smile, but I could feel my armpits sweating.
“Sure, of course.” He walked up to the counter.
“This belonged to my grandmother.” I walked up to him and held up the emerald ring. “I don’t know if it’s real or just costume jewelry.”
“Let me have a look.” He unfolded a cloth, placed it on the counter, and picked up a small sing
le-eye magnifying glass.
“It’s been in the family for years…” I put the ring down in front of him.
“Wow…” He picked it up and leaned forward. “This is—impressive.”
“It’s real?” I raised an eyebrow.
“As real as it gets.” He exhaled sharply and nodded. “This is 19th century—Victorian—I don’t even have to look very close to see that it’s real. Look at this pattern…”
“Hmm?” I leaned forward.
“You see the etching in the band? This is a tell-tale sign of jewelry that was made in the early Victorian Era—probably 1840s or 1850s—some call it the Romantic Period.” He pulled the magnifying glass away from his eye. “Victoria became queen when she was eighteen, and of course—her courtship with Prince Albert is a thing of legend. Jewelry reflected that—plenty of romantic symbolism in anything that was crafted during that time.”
“Huh…” I nodded. “Is it worth anything?”
“I mean…” He blinked a couple of times, and his head recoiled like he had been slapped across the face. “Yes, of course. A piece like this would probably get a great price in an auction if someone wanted to sell it.”
“An auction?” I raised an eyebrow. “It’s not something I could just sell?”
“You said this is a family heirloom?” He tilted his head and gave me a suspicious glare. “And you would want to sell it?”
“I was just wondering.” I quickly realized that my story wasn’t sounding believable—I pushed too hard.
“It’s not something I would purchase. There are buyers, sure, but I’m sure you could get twenty or thirty thousand in an auction.” He clutched the ring in his fingers. “Maybe we should call your parents—they would probably like to hear this themselves.”
Beast Daddy: Once Upon A Daddy Page 3