The Beast

by Lindsay Mead

  Lifting her skirts, Belle raced across the snow-covered lawn and into the barn. With the Hunters close behind, she converged on her stall and began saddling her horse. Delano came out of Honor’s stall at the sound of their commotion. “What’s going on?”

  “Another pack,” Belle said, hefting the saddle onto Charming’s back. “Père’s in trouble.”

  Delano stumbled over his shock and looked back at his horse, as though to confirm he was in no shape to be ridden. “What can I do?”

  “You’re staying behind to guard the border.” Belle led the saddled Charming out of his stall, just as Friar Clemens reached the barn. “Friar, ride into town and fetch the doc. We’ll need him.”

  Delano closed up Honor’s stall and ran from the barn, likely to grab weapons. Friar Clemens started saddling one of the cart horses. The other Hunters emerged from their stalls as Belle was heading out the door. It was the fastest they’d ever readied. In the sunlight, they each mounted.

  Belle cued Charming into a jog, gradually speeding him up as they neared the border. There was no time to stand on formality—no time to stop and pray. So Belle did it on the fly. “Oh Holy Angel, attendant of our wretched souls and afflicted life…”

  “…forsake us not.” The Hunters joined in, riding at a close gallop. They passed into the woods, finishing the creed as they followed the path of Henri’s hunting party.

  Belle shouted over her shoulder, “Watch for hounds coming from the sides. Let your horses follow me.”

  There were plenty of tracks to guide her from both hoof and cart. But it wasn’t necessary. Henri’s party was to stick to the main gas-lit path until they reached its farthermost point and headed into the unknown.

  After awhile, Belle slowed Charming to a trot. The group seamlessly matched her pace. They’d been riding for awhile; they had to be getting close.

  Belle tapped her ear chip. “Henri? Franck? Adam? Anyone there?”

  She pressed it again and waited, but there was no response. Belle looked back at Gastone. He met her gaze and she could see he expected the worst.

  His eyes pulled from hers, drawn up the trail. “There’s something up there.”

  Belle turned around. He was right, there was something ahead. It was big and obscuring the path. As they came closer, she started to see the bloody snow—the figures of corpses. She grabbed her revolver and held it up, signaling her men to ready themselves.

  The large object revealed itself to be Henri’s invention. They rode past a dozen or more bodies. Many Belle didn’t recognize, but more than a few she did. Jean dismounted to check them but shook his head when she inquired if they were alive.

  “My God.” Belle gawked at the surroundings. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, feeling like it was about to fall out. Never before had she seen so many dead hellhounds in one place. “How many are there?”

  Andre rode up. “Counted three dozen so far.”

  Belle heard growling and followed the sound around the cart. Her gun was ready, waiting for the creature to leap. Just beyond the trees the hellhound stood over the remains of a Hunter named Adam.

  It snarled and lashed out as Gastone and Jack came over. It reached down and grabbed Adam’s body, dragging him a few feet away. Was it guarding its food? Revulsion rolled through her stomach. Gastone raised his gun to end it.

  “Belle!” Andre leaned over someone just down the path.

  There was blood all around the area, along with more corpses. A shot rang out as Gastone put down Adam’s killer. Belle dismounted and ran, fearing what she would see. Holding her breath, Belle pulled Andre back. But it wasn’t Henri.

  Franck lay there. His shirt was shredded, as was his body. His eyes saw through them. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  “Friar Clemens, we need the doc now,” Andre said into his chip and his voice echoed into her own.

  It was too late though. Franck was already on his way toward the light. She’d seen it before. When her mother died, she’d looked right through her—right into the light.

  Belle walked away, leaving Andre to him. Her chest ached. She pressed her palm into it, trying to ease the strain. The other Hunters were checking every body, attempting to account for the rest of Henri’s hunting party. There were so many bodies. He could be anywhere. Belle palmed her chest again and rested against the cart.

  She looked over at it, wondering what had happened to Magnificent. An idea struck her. Belle swiveled around, counting the dead horses. Six. There was one missing. One had gotten away.

  Belle walked to the end of the cart, lifting up the harness straps. Hope flared in her chest. They’d been cut—not torn. There was a chance, even a small one, that Henri had cut them and attempted to escape with his life. Surely he would have tried to save his men, but failing that—when there was no doubt they’d been lost—he would have tried to save himself.

  Walking away from the group, she searched the disturbed snow, looking for a set of tracks to separate from the others. Escaping toward LeClair House would have been the smartest plan, but Henri may not have had a choice. He may have been forced farther into Vakre Fjell.

  Something glinted in the snow, causing her to stop. Belle crouched down and carefully brushed the white fluff away. A timepiece stared back at her. At its center were the words, Liberty Watch Co. Hand trembling, she grasped the watch and turned it over. The back was glass. The clockwork inside no longer ticked.

  My legs are buried deep in the snow, but I’m not bothered. I can feel the crisp air on my cheeks and cold snow against my skin, but it can’t hurt me. Nothing can. Within this earthly plain, I am untouchable. I am as old as time.

  Unlike the humans I watched now. They walked among the carnage of their dead and that of my wolves. I sent the creatures that slaughtered the older Hunters and forced Henri to retreat farther into Vakre Fjell. With my power’s reach bound by another, I need Henri’s talent for killing. He’ll remove the threat to my task.

  The young woman, Belle, held the watch she found. She stared down at it thoughtfully, then looked out into the forest—in the direction Henri had taken. So she intended to go after him. The girl, normally such a stickler for Hunter rules, surprises me.

  She could help my cause, I suddenly realized. Where her father might fail, Belle will succeed. Either way, the threat will be gone, my bindings will be lifted, and I’ll be free to do what I came here for.

  I could not drive Belle to the castle as I had done Henri. Too many of my wolves had died today and only a handful were near. But I had other ways.

  I reached with my mind, calling the wolves. They will be there soon. But before they can drive Belle, I must cut her off from her own group. Lifting my hand, I held it palm up. Softly, I blew as if I were sending a kiss. White fog descended from my lips, pouring over my fingers. Frost crystallized upon the surrounding snow and crept up the trees. I held it back, waiting for just the right moment…

  Gripping her present to Henri, Belle examined the scattering of prints. A set of horse tracks veered off on their own, and wolves appeared to have followed. If her father had been forced to flee, as she suspected, the hellhounds had been intent on running him down. The idea sent waves of nausea into her stomach.

  “I found my père’s watch and a set of tracks,” she said, walking back to Charming and remounting. “I’m going to see where they lead.”

  Gastone finished closing Adam’s vacant eyes. “Wait till we’re finished here and we’ll ride out with you.”

  “I’m not going far.” She cued Charming forward, shouting over her shoulder, “I won’t sit by when my père might be just beyond those trees. Keep watch with the others and I’ll come back if I don’t find him.”

  Without looking, Belle knew Gastone frowned at her back as she passed the final lamppost. There was no reason for him to worry; she really had no intention of putting herself in danger. Belle trained her eyes onto the ground, focusing on keeping the trail.

  Eventually, she came upo
n two human corpses, and this was where the hellhound tracks ended. But Magnificent’s prints continued onward. Why hadn’t her father turned back?

  Then Belle noticed a trickle of blood spattered on the snow. It was too far from the hellhounds…it couldn’t be theirs. She pressed on. The trail of blood started to grow larger, coloring the snow every few meters. If Henri had been wounded enough, he may have lost consciousness and allowed Magnificent to carry him unguided.

  Looking up, Belle saw that Magnificent’s tracks led to an area clear of trees; a path that was a straight shot to the north. It must have been an old road, likely the main road right into Vakre Fjell. It would eventually lead to a house or a town. There was a chance that Henri might have taken shelter there. Timid hope fluttered in Belle’s chest.

  Static simmered in her ear and Gastone’s voice broke though. “Belle, did you…Clemens…here…”

  Belle tugged Charming to a stop, thinking that she wasn’t yet far enough away to be out of signal range. Peering around, Belle realized she was wrong. She couldn’t see or hear her Hunters.

  The singing started then. The Electro-Phonic Chip began to pitch and whine as though it were serenading her. Belle quickly tapped the earpiece. “Incoming ice fog—”

  The ethereal song increased, drowning out her own voice. They no longer heard her, if they even did in the first place. Ice fog was rare but potentially dangerous. It only happened in special weather conditions and generally brought with it a cold so strong it touched her bones. It also somehow made their earpieces sing and cut off all communications.

  Tiny ice crystals began to form over the nearby trees. There was a soft crackling as frost flowers spread over her reins, reaching toward her fingers. As the ear chip sang to her, Belle held up her hand and watched as the rime blossomed on her leather glove. The intricate design was beautiful.

  White fog rolled around her like a cloud of ice dust. Within seconds, she was engulfed and her visibility was reduced to mere feet. Turning Charming, she had to retrace her steps and join her men.

  Panting sounds alerted Belle. Among the trees, a blur of brown appeared and disappeared as a hellhound raced past. It was circling her. Making things worse, it had the advantage with its predatory sense of smell and hearing.

  A growl came from in front of her. Belle’s breath caught as her eyes just made out the faint silhouette of a stalking hellhound. More growls followed. It wasn’t alone and they stood between her and her men. Belle held up her revolver, prepared to shoot if one pounced.

  A frosted vine curled around her barrel, covering the engraved shooting star. Charming’s steamy breath vanished into the thick fog. Belle shook her head. It was folly to try and fight with this kind of visibility. She patted her pocket, as she turned Charming northward, making sure Henri’s watch was secure. They were going to make a blind dash and she didn’t want to lose it.

  “Yah!” Charming leapt into a gallop.

  Belle leaned into the Friesian, giving him the rein he needed to run. The hellhounds were gaining ground fast, their snarls and snaps growing louder as they closed in. Trusting in her Friesian to stay the course, Belle let go of her reins and aimed behind her. Unfortunately, the hounds weren’t keeping a steady pace. They zig-zagged around each other, dropping back and then drawing closer. It was like they were using the fog, letting it hide them just long enough that she couldn’t fire.

  A howl called Belle’s attention back to the road ahead. A new hellhound was on the approach. Charming couldn’t slow though. If he did, they’d be overtaken by the pack. Belle swore and aimed, ready to stop the charging hound.

  A branch blocked her gun’s sight—en route to knock her out of the saddle. Belle gasped, flinging her left leg over the saddle’s front swell and dropped to the side of the horse. With one foot in the stirrup and one hand grasping the saddle horn, she aimed for the lead hellhound. The low branch swept over Charming, touching his ears, and Belle fired.

  The hound yipped once, then plunged into the snow. Charming drifted too close to the road’s edge, avoiding the dead hound. Belle thrust herself back against his body, her right arm extending out behind her. A passing tree grazed her cheek with its rough bark. Belle breathed out and fired at one of the hounds behind her. He dropped, making the one behind him stumble. Four bullets left.

  With a bit of muscle and some fancy footwork, Belle swung herself back up into the saddle. The fog was less dense now. Even her ear chip’s singing was quieter. They were almost out of the ice fog. Belle breathed a bit easier, confidence filling her.

  Up ahead, A fallen tree cut off the path. It was big and old, taken down by the heaps of snow piled on from some past storm. Quickly Belle fired behind her, but the hellhounds swerved. The bullet tunneled into the snow instead. Three left.

  Gritting her teeth, Belle faced forward and leaned into Charming. She grabbed hold of his mane, kneading her knuckles into his neck, and asked for more speed. He responded and charged the tree. She positioned her body correctly, feeling the stallion’s muscles beginning to gather. At just the right second, Charming leapt. For a moment, horse and rider sailed through the air together. Then Charming’s hooves connected with the ground, bringing them smoothly back into the gallop.

  Staying low to Charming’s neck, Belle watched behind them. The hellhounds bounded over the fallen tree with considerably less grace. One tripped, tumbling into the ground, but it recovered fast.

  Belle was thrown into Charming’s neck as he unexpectedly came to a sliding halt. Hurriedly, she pushed herself up and raised her gun to defend them, expecting the hounds to be nearly on top of them. Except, they’d stopped at the edge of the road; snarling and growling—but not attacking!

  Cold wind whipped Belle’s body, sending a chill up her spine. The hellhounds backed away as it slammed into their faces, rustling their heavy fur. Not taking her eyes or revolver off the enemy, Belle swung her leg over the saddle horn and hopped to the ground. She trained her gun onto one hound and drew her second revolver. Closer she stepped, half taunting them.

  Shockingly, they continued to disengage. Their teeth snapped angrily at the air. Then they turned and she watched them fading, then disappearing into the waning ice fog. Belle stood there, mouth agape, unable to believe that they had gone—that the moment she turned her back, they wouldn’t come charging out at her.

  Charming pawed impatiently, his hoof striking smooth cobblestone. Belle looked in surprise at the masonry they stood on, then followed it to the gate which had stopped Charming’s mad run. Tall, iron bars stood three times as high as Belle. At its center was the shield for the Vakrein royal family. Wild, thorny rose vines wrapped the bars and traversed the entire length of the connecting stone wall.

  Belle stepped closer to the gate, reaching out to touch one of the blooming roses. As she did, the heavy fog cloaking what lay beyond seemed to move away. Gasping at the massive castle, Belle stopped in her tracks.

  She whispered in awe, “Castle Vakre Fjell.”

  It was colossal in size, rivaling the surrounding mountains. The many pointed rooftops reached to high peaks, with a single tower surpassing them all in height. Flags attached to these high piers fluttered in the wind. A hundred windows, taller in length than her own house, decorated the castle’s stone walls. Every corner of the building was sharp and severe, radiating its strength to those outside. But the roofs were curved just enough to lend a bit of dainty elegance to the overall appeal.

  Had Henri sought shelter here? Her eyes skimmed the bridge, but the wind kept it clear of snow. Belle grabbed the gate, intending to test its lock, but it clicked open at the slightest pressure. Pushing the gate the rest of the way, she stepped through and Charming followed.

  “Halt!” A man emerged, aiming a rifle in her direction.

  Swiftly, Belle trained her revolvers on the stranger. She eyed his military clothing suspiciously. “How did you get here?”

  A weapon cocked over her shoulder. “Drop your weapons.”

  Whoe
ver they were, they had her. With slow, exaggerated movements, Belle turned her revolvers upward in surrender. The man she couldn’t see yanked the guns from her hands, then took her sabre.

  “Now walk.” The first soldier jerked his gun, pointing to the castle.

  They spoke Vakrein, which Belle fortunately knew. That at least told her they were from here, but it also raised many more questions.

  Belle didn’t move, speaking in his native tongue. “Please, I mean no—”

  “Walk, witch, or we’ll shoot you where you stand,” he threatened.

  The pure hatred on his face told Belle not to disregard it. She turned onto the bridge, forcing her sigh inward. Her feet stilled. The walkway was wide, flat, and without railings. Below was a long drop into a rocky canyon.

  Belle had the sensation that she was standing on the thinnest of ice. One wrong move and it would shatter, sending her a thousand feet to her death. Fear tensed up her muscles, making her breathing shallow.

  A gun barrel shoved into Belle’s back, forcing her forward. The bridge didn’t immediately crumble. Squaring her shoulders, Belle hid away her insecurities and walked on.

  Men. The thought hit Belle like a blast of cold air. There were humans in Vakre Fjell! All this time the world thought Vakre Fjell had been lost. Here was proof that not all Vakreins had fallen into sin. How many more were there? Why didn’t they come for help? Was her father here, and if so what did they do with him?

  I hid behind the tree line, my remaining wolves growling at my side. They’re hungry and frustrated that I held them back. Watching the soldiers march Belle toward the home of her new prey, I smiled.

  As they approached the castle steps, the immensity of the building was daunting. It made Belle feel so small—so squash-able. There were more soldiers guarding the entrance and a stable hand came to lead Charming away. Belle wanted to protest but instead kept silent as they escorted her inside.