Heart of Thorns

by Nicolette Andrews

  "I see you have noticed my weapon," Edward said as he slashed it through the air. "It was a gift. And by my hand it will end your reign of terror on Thornwood." He finished with a smile.

  There was a grim set to Mr. Thorn's mouth. "You are a fool and a puppet. Let's end this quickly."

  "Where is your weapon? Or do you plan on facing your death without a fight?"

  "I will not be dying here today." Mr. Thorn opened his hand, palm up, and a flaming sword materialized there. It glowed green and illuminated the fog with a green tint.

  Edward felt less confident in his own rusted blade. He glanced down at it. I have the right on my side. God will see justice done.

  "Are you ready?" Edward asked.

  Mr. Thorn had spread his feet apart and led with the sword. "Come, guardian, prove to me your worth."

  Despite Edward's attempts to remain calm and in control, he snapped and charged. They met in the middle. Edward swung his sword, which clashed with Mr. Thorn's. Sparks flew where the iron met the flaming blade. Edward pulled back and swept low and slashed at Mr. Thorn's abdomen. Mr. Thorn twirled away, avoiding the iron blade. Edward rushed forward, and Mr. Thorn dodged Edward again and came back swinging his flaming sword, which caught Edward on the shoulder. The pain was intense, the flames did not catch on his clothes, but it sliced deep into his skin. Blood poured down his arm in rivulets.

  Edward slashed wildly and by chance caught Mr. Thorn across his chest. Mr. Thorn hissed with pain and bared his teeth at Edward. Mr. Thorn drove forward with his fiery blade. Edward countered the strike and pushed away his blade. They circled one another for a few moments. Mr. Thorn seemed prepared to tire Edward out, and Edward was afraid to make a daring attack.

  Mr. Thorn grew bored, and he thrust at Edward. Edward in turn threw up his blade to deflect but lost his footing as he guarded as he stumbled backwards. He expected Mr. Thorn to come in for a kill shot, but he waited until he regained his feet.

  "I am surprised you have any honor. I will remember that so I can make your death swift."

  "You will need to hurry or I may die of boredom." Ray extenuated his point by covering a yawn with his hand.

  Edward saw red. He charged again. This time he swung his sword back and forth with no artifice. His former fencing teacher would have been ashamed. In Edward's defense, this was not the same as practice; this was life or death. Mr. Thorn was surprised by the direct attack, and he took a few steps back. He blocked Edward's attack but made no attempts to return. Edward slashed back and forth at the other man. Ray frowned and concentrated on fending off Edward's lunges and thrusts. At last, Mr. Thorn faltered, and Edward took his chance to stab at him once more. He struck at his abdomen but was blocked by Mr. Thorn's sword. They battled for a few more minutes, meeting each other blow for blow.

  They had reached a turning point in their battle. Mr. Thorn was taking Edward seriously now. The problem was, Edward's strength was flagging. He had been trained in fencing as a boy, but he had been long out of practice. When he tried to parry another blow, he took a hard jolt to his arm, his knee buckled beneath him, and he crumpled to the ground.

  Mr. Thorn followed him down. He grabbed the sword from Edward's hand and flung it across the lawn. Edward could see where the metal had touched Mr. Thorn his skin had burned.

  "What are you?" Edward spat.

  "I am your nightmares, and the manifestation of all the stories your nurse told you before bed. Do not think to fight me or I will cut out your heart with my blade." He pressed the flaming blade against Edward's heart.

  His breathing was ragged, and he labored to keep it shallow so the fiery blade would not pierce him. Edward lay still on the ground. He was at the monster's mercy. Mr. Thorn loomed above Edward and his features had changed; they were sharper, more feral. Alien. He gritted his teeth. His suspicions had been correct. Mr. Thorn was not a man at all but some nightmare creature.

  "I told you, man." His voice whispered like the wind through the trees. "You do not know with whom you are dealing with. Lady Thornton was chosen for you, by us, and we can take her away from you at any time, if we so wish."

  He refused to hear this. Catherine belonged to no one but him. This monster thought he could take Catherine, but he was mistaken. Edward broke an arm free and swung it at Mr. Thorn's face. Mr. Thorn dodged it with ease. He caught Edward's hand and twisted his wrist. Edward suppressed a howl of pain. He would not show weakness, not now.

  "Face me like a man!" Edward snarled and bared his teeth. His body was burning up with anger; his skin felt like it would burst open.

  Mr. Thorn leaped off him as if Edward had scalded him. He watched Edward from a few feet away. There was a faint trace of disgust in his expression. He held the sword still in his hand though it was limp at his side. He thinks he's defeated me. If I could reach my blade, I could end this. Mr. Thorn had calculated his moves, and he stood between Edward and the blade.

  Edward tried to climb to his feet, but his limbs would not obey. He rolled onto his stomach, just as a sharp pain rippled through his body. He managed to hunch over on the ground. He felt as if every bone in his body were breaking one by one. The pain was immense and blinding. What have you done to me? He looked at Mr. Thorn through a haze.

  He shook his head as if Edward were a grave disappointment. "You seem more beast than man to me." Mr. Thorn turned to walk away.

  Edward tried to crawl after him. The only sound that came out of his throat was a feral snarl.

  Mr. Thorn was out of sight, but his voice drifted over Edward from within the mist. "I will not kill you. Even if you are a fool, you are our guardian. However, heed my warning, stay out of our way, as your predecessors did, and you will live a much longer, happier life."

  His words hardly registered as Edward arched his back and screamed. It felt as if someone had a grip upon his spine and they were trying to remove it forcibly from his body. The sounds escaping his throat were far from human. They were more akin to a growl. His mind roared and his body contorted. The bones broke and realigned. The hair on his head grew longer and raced down his back. His feet broke his shoes as they grew. Every inch of his body was covered in dark, coarse hair. His hands were tipped with claws. He felt and breathed anger. He was rage incarnate. And he hungered. He needed blood, to slake this thirst, this consuming rage, and hunger. He bounded across the lawn. He howled; the sound echoed over the landscape and vibrated through him.

  The manor was full of bodies moving about, waiting to be caught like the prey they were. He would not enter that place. It was forbidden. He knew this even in his wild animalistic haze. He hunted around the perimeters, waiting and watching for his prey. Then he saw her. He recognized her by her scent because he had devoured her kin. They were delicious. He remembered that delightful meal. He had caught the old woman unawares as she fed her chickens. He devoured her and the chickens, but it was not enough, it was never enough. He went in search of more meat and found the elderly man tilling his field. He had struggled, oh, how he struggled. Edward loved the fight, enjoyed the chase and the satisfaction when he brought down his prey. He always loved the hunt. He launched onto Miss Larson before she even realized he was upon her. In the distant part of his human brain he recognized her and he rebelled at the thought of killing her. The animal part of him delighted in her flesh, the taste of her blood that flooded his mouth, the sweet taste of her organs. She beat at him even as he ripped out her throat. The hot blood filled his mouth and soothed his soul, if for a moment. The rage was banked for now, but it would return soon just as it always did, in the end.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The coach lurched, and Catherine grasped the edge of her seat, white knuckled. Across from her Edward startled awake and blinked at her, bleary eyed. He drew back the curtains on the coach door. Gray mist melted into the dark night outside the window.

  "I cannot see a thing past this mist. Though, I am certain we are nearly there." He eased back in his seat and smiled at her.

&nbs
p; "I am glad," she replied.

  The coach continued to jostle and threw its occupants about the compartment. One particularly vigorous movement flung Catherine across the space and into her husband's lap. She blushed crimson before muttering an apology under her breath and quickly returning to her side of the compartment to study the closed curtain. She hoped he would not think her forward for falling into his lap in such an undignified fashion.

  As the lurching motion subsided, it became readily apparent they had stopped. The horses screeched, and the thud of their hooves as they pawed the ground replaced the creak of the carriage wheels.

  "Why have we stopped?" Edward mused aloud.

  Catherine, thinking her added commentary would be unwanted, remained silent.

  An animal howl echoed outside that sent gooseflesh rising along Catherine's arms. She squeaked in alarm before clamping a hand over her mouth to stop the offending noise. Another howl accompanied the first. Catherine shuddered. Growing up close to London had not prepared her for the wilds of country living.

  "I am going to speak with the coachman." Edward reached for the door handle. He seemed unafraid of the baying creatures of the night.

  Catherine reached for him, thinking to stop him; who knew what kind of terrible things could be lurking out in that mist. Propriety, however, dictated that she obey her husband and not try to command him on their second day of marriage. She let her husband step out of the coach. Her hand fell limply in her lap. The mist from outside blew into the coach, and a chill crept up her spine. I should call out to him, she thought. There is no need to speak with the coachman. I am certain everything is fine.

  Yet another howl ripped through the night air, this time accompanied by a terrified scream. Catherine's heart beat in her chest, and she pressed her knuckles to her mouth to suppress her startled cry.

  Silence hung heavy on the air.

  "Edward?" she called.

  Something sniffed around the door. She caught only the barest glimpse of a large furry creature as it glided past the opening. It disappeared from view before Catherine could get a good sense of what it was. Maybe it's a trick of my eyes, she thought. Catherine scooted along the seat towards the door.

  "Edward, say something," she whispered, though she could not say what for.

  Someone moaned nearby. That has to be Edward; he is hurt. Catherine stood hunched over in the door to the coach, squinting into the darkness, one ear cocked for the howling creature.

  The coach rocked and Catherine fumbled, losing her balance. She grasped the doorway for support and found it wet. She pulled her hand away, and a thick dark liquid covered it. As if she had summoned it, the mist parted and a gibbous moon shone down on her, illuminating the red blood. Catherine screamed and fell backwards onto the floor of the coach. She stared at the blood on her hand. Why is there blood? Oh, God please tell me this is a nightmare. She hastily wiped the warm liquid onto the jacket Edward had left draped over the coach seat. Was that Edward's blood?

  An accompanying howl greeted her shouts, and she backed further into the carriage, fearing the howling creature and the owner of the blood alike. The creature, however, had other plans, and the carriage began to rattle and shake. The creature's heavy breathing was just on the other side of the carriage wall. And Catherine's back was against said wall. Her heart pounded in a panic. In a rash and foolish decision, she fled the carriage, hoping the mist would hide her from the creature's attentions.

  She managed only a few panicked feet before stumbling and falling. She rose to her knees, a giving substance met her grasping hands, and she prayed silently that it was not what she feared.

  Despite great hesitance, she looked down at the profile of the coachman, his throat opened and skin peeled back.

  Too terrified to scream, she scuttled away from the corpse. All sound seemed lodged in her throat.

  A shadow rushed past her, drawing her eye. She watched a lumbering figure move through the mist. The gait of it was humanoid. It walked upright on hind legs that were haunches like a dog's, but it stooped forward, and its hands, tipped with claws, almost dragged upon the ground. It had a doglike muzzle covered in hair and rowed with sharp teeth. She saw a flash of a pink tongue against the white teeth before the clouds moved in front of the moon, blocking her view. Just then the creature let out a guttural howl.

  I will be next! she thought.

  Without seeing it, she could sense the creature pacing her, circling, waiting for the kill. Too late, she realized she should never have left the relative safety of the carriage. Dear god, help me, she prayed.

  The crunch of footsteps on the gravel alerted her to its presence, and she twirled to face the creature. Like a rabbit before the fox, she stood entranced by the beast. The figure loomed closer, seemingly losing some of its grandeur before it stumbled forward out of the mist, and she raised her hands to protect herself.

  It collapsed beside her, the gravel crunched beneath it, and Catherine opened her eyes to see Edward lying face down. He seemed whole but for a bloody gash on his arm.

  "Edward." She shook him. "Wake up." It went against her every instinct to command her husband in such a way, but the will to survive superseded propriety in this case.

  He mumbled something she could not make out because the creature howled again. Its stumbling gait thundered around them, crunching the gravel on the road. She whipped her head around, catching brief snatches of the creature, the gleam of a yellow eye and a humanlike hand covered entirely in fur.

  Catherine tried to urge Edward to his feet. He moved as if he'd had too many spirits.

  "The Thorn Dwellers," he moaned as he leaned on Catherine's shoulder. "Father warned me, but I never listened."

  Catherine did not mind his ravings because the creature drew closer. She cast about for a place to escape. The carriage was not far, and if she could just get Edward inside, perhaps they could stave off the monster's attacks until someone came to their rescue. But who will save us? she thought desperately.

  She tugged at her fumbling husband. He fell to his knees and collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The creature brushed past them in the mist, and she felt the bristled fur along her hand. The rattle of the creature's breath crept over her skin. She looked down at Edward, debating whether to abandon him or prepare to die together. The pale light coming from the right behind the clouds silhouetted the creature as it loped away before turning back and stalking closer to them.

  It is playing with us, she realized. It tilted its head back, howling once more. If the monster had enough time to taunt them, then there was no way to escape. She closed her eyes and slumped to the ground in defeat. A sharp yelp of pain surprised her, however, and she opened her eyes.

  A new figure stood between Catherine, Edward and the monster. He brandished a sword made entirely of green flame. He swung at the creature, forcing it back. The creature disappeared into the mist. He looked over his shoulder at Catherine and Edward, presumably to make sure they were well.

  Mr. Thorn gave her a crooked smile and said, "Lady Thornton, I hope you will forgive me for not coming to your rescue in time."

  Catherine woke with a gasp. After a moment of disorientation, she was pleased to find she was back in her own bed. She patted the sheets to reassure herself she was home. Her dream had been a vivid one, and upon reflection she realized it was her memories of the night she and Edward had arrived at Thornwood Abbey. Their journey had not gone as smoothly as she had been led to believe. That is why I have been having these terrible visions. It was a reassuring thought. All these memories and creatures she had seen were not a figment of her imagination. How did I get back to my bed? The last thing I remember is... She gasped and then colored to remember the scandalous situation with Mr. Thorn. At the time she had been so overwhelmed by exhaustion once she knew Mr. Thorn was not going to make any more untoward advances, she had fallen asleep.

  To think she had kissed him and then slept in his bed. The shame was nearly too much to bear. She b
uried her face in her hands. It all felt like a bad dream, but she knew she could not continue to live in ignorance any longer. And the dream she had: Was the creature that attacked them a Thorn Dweller? Was that kin to those things that watched her and Mr. Thorn in the woods? And why had she forgotten about the attack until now? Mr. Thorn was there as well; he saved them. Why did she not remember it until now? He was tied up in this somehow, and she was not certain she wanted to know why.

  She had two options. She could dwell on the past or continue on as if nothing had happened. She decided on the latter. She rang the bell for Miss Larson to come and help her dress. While she waited, she went about the room, looking for any sign of her adventures the day before. She would expect Mr. Thorn to leave some token to incriminate her, if that was his intent. Edward would also be wondering where she had been. She had no good explanation for him. She decided to put that aside until she was face to face with her husband. She paced the room back and forth, wringing her hands. Before, it had been easy to forget and move on, but now that she was faced with so many truths, she felt as if she were drowning beneath them all.

  The door opened and Catherine stopped pacing. "Miss Larson--" She stopped when she saw Mrs. Morgan standing in the doorway. She scowled at Catherine.

  Catherine shrank back from the imposing woman. "Mrs. Morgan, I had not expected you. Where is Miss Larson?"

  "Miss Larson cannot be found at the moment." The housekeeper stepped into Catherine's room at last and shut the door behind her with a click.

  Catherine's hand rested on her chest, clutching at her nightgown. She did not want to even think about who had undressed her. Please not Mr. Thorn, I cannot stand any more shame.

  "Then are you here to help me dress in her stead?" Catherine said in a small voice.

  Mrs. Morgan's lips were pressed so close together they nearly disappeared. "No, my lady."