by Lindsay Mead
Aleksander sat quietly on the bed. From time to time, his eyes turned to her and they connected with just a look. Like they did now. Belle marveled at the way his eyes had changed. The soft, light blues were gone and these wolf eyes were intense, focused. Like iridescent half-moons resting within each eye. They pulled her in, the ferocity of his gaze was like a magnet holding her in place. She couldn’t move; could barely breathe when he had her. They terrified and fascinated her all at once.
With a snarl, Prince Aleksander broke their connection and glared at the doc. Blinking, Belle took deep breaths.
“Sorry. So sorry.” Doc squirmed but continued fixing one of the stitches at Aleksander’s side.
Belle understood Doc’s flustered reaction to the Prince. She was feeling the same. He went against everything she was taught and she at times struggled to reconcile that it was Aleksander behind those wolf eyes.
“How much longer will you be, Doc?” Belle opened her watch necklace to check the time.
“I’m done,” he said, carefully taping a bandage in place. “Now we just have to administer the Chloroform.”
“I should ready myself then. You’ll be all right without me?”
The doc nodded and waved her away as he removed some apparatus from his medical bag. But, to Belle’s surprise, she hadn’t been talking to the doctor. The query had come out abruptly, with no thought behind it, and had been meant for Aleksander. The Prince understood this and nodded in a way that was too human for a wolf.
With no more words necessary and fully aware that Aleksander watched her closely, Belle opened the door and left. Outside of the room, she suddenly felt like she could breathe again. Like somehow Beast-Aleksander sucked all of the air straight out of the room. Her heart and instincts were completely at war with one another. Her heart recognized Aleksander. It saw past the terrifying exterior and even the brilliant eyes, and found the man within. The man who had her questioning all she knew. Her instincts, however, couldn’t seem to tell the difference between Aleksander and the hellhounds she hunted.
Heading into her room, Belle changed back into her nightclothes and robe. She then slid into bed and waited for the doctor. Pixie fluttered about her, singing a strange melody that Belle suspected was being made up on the spot. Weariness was just starting to weigh heavily on her when there came a knock at the door.
“My apologies for making you wait.” Doc slipped into her room and shut the door behind him. “It took a bit more Chloroform to put him down than I expected.”
Belle raised an eyebrow and frowned.
Pausing in his step, the doc had the good grace to look sheepish. “Apologies again, poor choice of words.”
“So he’s asleep then?” Belle tucked the blankets nervously around her waist.
Now that she was moments away from talking to Aleksander properly, butterflies were moving into her stomach. It was silly for her to be nervous at the idea of talking to him. She’d spent more than enough time with him over the weeks and was quite comfortable in his presence. Or, at least, she had been before. Now, dare say, things were different. The course of events that were to come depended entirely on their impending conversation. Moreover, Belle’s heart sat in the balance.
“Just nearly.” Doc was saying, but Belle hadn’t really been listening. “I have Andre watching over his treatment. Now please, lie down.”
Belle scooched herself into position and Pixie watched from her perch upon the headrest. The doc held up the device he’d been readying. The bulk of it was a glass cylinder attached to a foot long hose. It was a duplicate to the one she’d seen in Aleksander’s room.
“Here’s how this works. This part here goes over your nose and mouth.” Doc held up a hand-sized, concaved object that was connected to the other end of the hose. “You’ll breathe deeply. Air will be pulled into the inhaler, through the Chloroform, up the hose, and into the mask. This will give you a blend of both oxygen and Chloroform, which should regulate your dosage safely.”
“How long before it begins to take effect?” Belle asked, starting to feel nervously sick.
“Not long,” was the doc’s deadpan answer.
“How long will I be asleep?” Perhaps she was stalling now.
“Depends. Most likely about forty-five minutes to an hour.” Not waiting for her to ask another question, Doc reached forward and placed the mask over her nose and mouth. “Take hold. Now long and slow breaths, if you will.”
Grabbing onto the mask, so that the doctor could let go, she held it against her face. It was cold, and she hated the harsh feeling of it against her skin. Stealing herself, she inhaled. A sickeningly sweet smell filled her nostrils. Belle scrunched up her eyebrows, immediately not wanting to breathe anymore in.
Doc’s stern gaze held her firm. “Slow and deep. Just relax.”
Belle chose to focus on his stare, ignoring the wretched scent and her nervous energy. In and out, she let her chest inflate with his. In and out. Slow and…deep…
Fire filled Belle’s vision. She looked around, feeling strangely disoriented. It took her a moment to realize it, but she was in Aleksander’s private office at Vakre Fjell. The windows were frosted over, the fire was in full burn, but somehow it all looked dull to her. Belle reached out to caress the cold windowpane. Yet, more oddness struck her. There was no doubt that none of this was real.
“It’s that…Chloroform. It has put a fog in my mind,” came Prince Aleksander’s voice. He stood behind his desk, his hands typically clasped behind his back. He shook his head in irritation. “Nothing feels right to me. I find it disorienting.”
“I feel it too.” Despite herself, Belle’s heart leapt at the sight of Aleksander. She realized suddenly that she’d missed him. Turning toward the Prince, she put her hands together at her front. Only then did Belle notice she wore one of the dresses from her stay at Castle Vakre Fjell. The regal outfit and the elegant design that Belle knew her hair was swept into, gave her confidence. With that came the needed fortitude to get down to the brass tacks. “You’re a hellhound.”
“No,” Aleksander said forcefully, with barely a breath between their words. He stared at her defiantly. “I am cursed, but I am not like them.”
“Then what are you?”
“Mánagarmr, that’s what the norn had called me the day she came to my castle. I don’t think she even meant to say it.” He brought his arms in front of him, crossing them over his chest.
“And what is that?”
“It means Moon-Hound; also One Who Hates and The Enemy.” Aleksander chose a book from on top of his desk, opened it to just the right page, and held it out to her. “Do you recall the poem Völuspá?”
“Yes, I remember.” Belle looked over the book he gave her, seeing the same pages he’d shown her the day he first told her about the curse.
Aleksander’s eyes drifted as he recited from memory the words that were written before her. “‘In the east sat an old woman in Iron-wood and nurtured there offspring of Fenrir’ but the line went on further. It read, ‘a certain one of them in monstrous form will be the snatcher of the moon.’”
As the Prince spoke, the words began to change before her eyes. Where once had been blank space, the old paper became stained with aged ink. Belle looked up at Aleksander in surprise.
“You hid this from me.” Suddenly she realized the extent Aleksander had gone to in order to keep his secret. Belle had read many books during her time in Vakre Fjell, but most of those had been in one of Aleksander’s moon dreams. “How many books did you alter just so I could read them without discovering what you are?”
“Only this one. The other books I gave you never mentioned me.” He glanced away, looking uncharacteristically guilty. “All the books that did…those were kept with me.”
“What did the other books say?” Belle set down the book she’d been holding, ready to hear it all.
From within his desk, the Prince pulled out two more immense volumes. He opened the first and slid it to he
r. “The poem, Gylfaginning. ‘from this race shall come one that shall be mightiest of all, he that is named Mánagarmr; he shall be filled with the flesh of all those men that die, and he shall swallow the moon.’” Over top of it, Aleksander placed the next book. “‘Unfettered will fare the Fenris Wolf and ravaged the realm of men, ere that cometh a kingly prince as good, to stand in his stead.’ The poem Hákonarmál.”
Aleksander remained silent as Belle attempted pathetically to process it all. She stared at the words, hardly believing any of it. That he had kept it from her, yet by these words she could not see why. This was all a moon dream still, could she even trust what she was seeing?
“I don’t understand, Aleksander.” Belle looked up at the Prince, unable to help the tears in her eyes. “Why would you keep this from me? Why would you lie to me?”
“At first it was simply a matter of trust. When that past…” He swallowed, his face looking pained at the sight of her distress. Aleksander placed his hands on his desk, dropping his head like the weight was too much. “I was afraid you would hate me. You were a Hunter and I was a beast. For you…I wanted to be just a man.”
Belle couldn’t speak. She felt entirely overwrought with raw emotions and circling thoughts.
Aleksander sighed, continuing in her silence, “In time several things were becoming clear to me. First, that I loved you. Second that you appeared inclined toward me as well. And third, that there was no breaking the curse upon me. I was never going to be the man you deserved.” The Prince pushed off his desk and walked to the window. He said quietly, “So I sent you home.”
“And that made me angry,” blurted Belle, overtaken by her own memory. Aleksander turned to her in surprise, his lips upturning at the sight of her own smirk. He’d said he loved her! Despite all of Belle’s still valid fears, the Prince’s admission made her feel incredibly light. “I wasn’t going to let the beast keep us apart. I intended to confront it. To save you.”
“You shot at me,” Aleksander teased, making Belle blush at her actions. Then his smile faded as he remembered. “The look on your face, when you saw me…it was everything that I had feared.”
Belle’s heart ached at seeing the event through his eyes. Her actions had been unknowingly cruel. “Why then did you chase after me?”
“What must’ve you thought upon seeing such a monstrous beast? What of me? My people? I couldn’t bear to think of it. Then I realized that I would never see you again. Our time together would end with fear and gun smoke.” Aleksander came away from the window, grasping Belle’s small hands within his. His blues eyes gazed intently into her own. “I had to make you see. Not just so you wouldn’t bring an army back to my doorstep, but because I needed you to know that I was there. That the man you were growing to care for was still reaching for you. That he wasn’t lost.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks from the waves of relief that flooded her. Belle freed her hands, expecting her hopes to still yet be dashed. “I wish you had called to me sooner. It was torment,” she whispered breathlessly. “Not understanding what you were and fearing that you were avoiding me.”
“I’m sorry. I tried,” he answered. “Fighting the curse weakened me. I can’t remember anything after becoming human again in the woods.”
“That’s why you destroyed our guest room?” The emotional pain was fading fast from Belle. His words were like an herbal salve on an open wound. “You were confused?”
“I was angry that you weren’t there.” Aleksander raised his hands and grasped her cheeks. Belle looked up into his fierce blue eyes. He pushed back her hair, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. “I’d feared the worst. I was so relieved when I saw you were safe.”
“I understand completely. I thought I was going to lose you when you wouldn’t wake before.” Belle thought back to his fevered sleep. Then she grabbed onto his hands, holding them firmly against her cheeks. “But you’re still not safe. We need to get you back to Vakre Fjell.”
“What do you mean?” The Prince pulled away slightly, but didn’t let go, and looked at her with creased eyebrows.
“I think the church means to have you executed.”
“What?” He dropped his hands incredulously. “The murder of a foreign monarch…They wouldn’t dare.”
“It’s the Catholic Church, Aleksander. They would dare. They would act now and convince the world governments of their righteousness after.” Belle grabbed up one of his hands, holding it tightly between two of hers and looked at him beseechingly. “Your kingdom would either be abandoned then or it would be taken up as a cause of evil that needs to be rid from the world. Your people need you to protect them. Without someone on the throne, they’ll be tossed to the wolves—excuse the turn of phrase.” He frowned at that, but she peddled on. “It’s time for us to wake up, your Royal Highness. We need to get you back to your castle.”
Prince Aleksander looked at her, considering something. “You’re with me?”
“Irrevocably so.”
“Get the horses ready, we’re taking the Prince back now,” Belle ordered the gathered Hunters.
She’d called them together as soon as she’d woken. Doc had informed her that she and Aleksander had been asleep for forty-eight minutes. Which was too much time, as far as Belle was concerned.
“But the church hasn’t approved his return yet,” Delano stated, standing with the others outside her bedroom door.
“We can’t allow the church to execute him. He may look like a beast, but there’s still a man under there.” Belle had to convince them. Asking them to go against the church was asking a lot, but she had to make them see it her way. “He’s clearly not the Devil and he’s not a hellhound. If he were Satan, why would he bother with any of us? Have you ever seen a hellhound save a Hunter, as he did me?”
“I certainly haven’t,” answered Nicolas.
Jack leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and propping up a cowboy boot. “Wouldn’t be much fun hunting them if they did.”
“The church isn’t out there hunting like we are.” They seemed to be listening and hope unfurled inside her chest. “Think of all you’ve seen—not just recently, but in these long years. We cling to what the church tells us, but we all know that this curse isn’t as simple as Heaven and Hell. You know they’ll refuse to see him in any other light.”
Silence followed. The Hunters looked to one another and wrestled with their own uncertainties. Gastone, who was normally the first to speak up, remained stoically quiet. It was Andre this time who scratched his arm, like the metal beneath had an itch, and said, “I have no qualms about killing a Vakrein prince, but if I’m going to, I want to be honorable about it.” He gestured to Aleksander’s door. “Killing him here, like he’s a wounded dog, it isn’t honorable.”
Jean banged on the wall twice with a grunt. He finished with a nod of agreement, then crossed his arms. Jean couldn’t speak, but his body language spoke volumes. This caused a ripple through the group as they each started to concede this point.
“So you’re with me?” Belle asked, echoing Aleksander, and looked to each man. “The Prince goes back to Vakre Fjell and then we see how the church wishes to proceed?”
“I’ll agree to that,” Andre said first and the others followed suit.
Except for Gastone. He watched them all with his stony expression and said nothing when they all looked to him for his answer.
“Gastone?” Belle prompted.
He took a deep breath. “I’m in.”
Belle clapped her hands together once but reined in her relief. She had no intention of listening to the church on this matter. The beast was Aleksander—and he…she’d give her life for. For now though, Belle just had to get him back to Castle Vakre Fjell. There he would be protected by his soldiers. If the church chose to strike against him, she’d just have to deal with that when the time came. God willing, it wouldn’t.
“Okay, Hunters. Ready yourselves and the horses. We leave in an hour. Tell no one.�
� They all nodded and dispersed to do as she ordered. Belle returned to her room to ready herself properly for the journey ahead.
With hair styled and fully dressed, Belle took a right into the armory. Jack was there loading a rifle. The boy was magnificent with a pair of revolvers, but nothing packed a punch like a rifle. Andre was there as well, making adjustments on his mechanical leg.
Jack snapped the gun’s lever into place. It was now loaded and ready to fire. He rested the barrel against his shoulder and tipped his hat at Belle.
“I see you look lovely no matter what you wear, ma’am.” His American accent fell off his tongue like a built-in charm device.
“Why thank you, Mr. Jack Lloyd.” She couldn’t help being playful. Her mood had improved dramatically after her moon dream with Aleksander. Having the air clear, despite their impending danger, made everything seem better. Imitating an American accent better than she’d expected, Belle teased further, “You’re not too bad yourself.”
He stumbled back, clutching his heart. “Oh lord, it’s like I’m back home again.”
Andre snorted and glanced up at Belle. “How’s the Prince?”
Starting with her throwing knives, Belle began strapping herself with weapons. “I checked on him before I came down. He’s weak, but he can travel.”
“Do you really think you can trust him?” Jack asked. Fully plated with weapons, he stayed for the conversation.
Andre pulled down his pant leg, waiting for her answer.
“With all my heart.” Belle grabbed one of her revolvers and began loading it.
Andre stood, taking his own rifle from the wall. He gave Belle a knowing look. “I suppose there’s no hope for it then?”
“None at all.” Belle smiled, which Andre returned before leaving with Jack.
Belle quickly readied. She ran through the checklist, knowing that time was of the essence. Revolvers, knives, spare bullets, sabre, and she cocked a bullet into her shotgun. With all she could carry, she left the armory.