Then he saw it lurking in the shadows. Fierro aimed his pistol when it slunk into the black.
~ 73
Gabrielle ran down the stairwell as fire spun in the air, placing a coronet of ash on her head. As she passed the window she caught a glimpse of the yard. Gunfire rang out as beasts poured through the gate and deafened under the rampart of cannons carving lanes through the clouds with copper balls. Thunderheads chewed the cannonade and spit back ice, spearing the ground with hail. In that moment she saw hell unveiled, a sea of limbs stitched to the ground, bones lain in bloody rags of skin like staffs of the dead, while wolves stalked about the impaired, howling and killing and eating. Fires blared as a wall came down, taking the dead and the creatures under its fiery wing. It pushed Gabrielle back from the window in a storm of dust and ember, discharging guns of the dead in its heat with bullets pelting the wall. Then all became moot.
The beast stood at the base of the stairwell, turning this way and that, waiting to lock onto her scream and follow its echo. Gabrielle placed her back against the wall, sewing her skin into the grout, when it saw her. It soared up the steps as Gabrielle ran back toward her chamber, biting the air as the heat swelled, and stumbled.
The beast slammed against her, binding Gabrielle’s arms in his hands, and hoisted her across his shoulder. It began toward the base when she kicked off the wall and tumbled them down the stairs. Her head slammed the bottom step, turning her gaze bleary.
When she opened her eyes Gabrielle saw the beast beside her. Its eyes rolled in its skull as a pool of blood formed around its head and shoulders twitched. She stood to her feet, bracing her head in her hands, and stumbled down the passage with her fingers dragging the walls. Sounds came and went, near and far, as the winds came through in bursts, alternating hot and cold.
Then she heard it. Gabrielle turned and saw the beat rise from the floor, staggering onto its limbs, searching for some semblance of reality, as its head spun, puking, spiking the ground with growls. It found the beautiful girl and raised to its haunches with its jaws drawn wide, and began running at her. Gabrielle’s legs became leaden, holding her steadfast to the stone, when the walls quaked. A long yawn rolled through the castle as the roofing collapsed with debris penetrating the ceiling in stacalites of charred wood and mortar. Gabrielle flew back in the blast, and moments later awoke beneath a hole that opened to the skies. She saw the steeple torn from the head of the tower, and the roofing tiles embedded in walls, showing the lane of its fall.
The rubble creaked and pebbles fell off the collapsed beams. The beast crept from the debris. Gabrielle ran through the corridors, hearing the men shout as gunfire loomed in the air and echoed back the cry of wolves. Fire leapt in the rafters, unfastening the strings of web, and sunk down over the statues in garbs of flame, turning the stone faces charred till they split and cried ember.
Then she heard her name on the winds and stopped. The howl of the beast roared through the castle, while the clatter of weapons died out. The voice returned. Gabrielle crept down the hall, following the echo, till she heard it again.
Fierro!
Gabrielle circled the halls as the fire rose, tethering the openings in curtains of flame, safeguarding her life from rescue, when she came to a dark corridor and stopped. The beast stood at the end, raising its snout in the air, sucking down the smoke, perking its head as the captain’s voice strained through the haze. Fierro was near. Time slowed, freezing the flames like pulled glass. Two channels opened before Gabrielle. One showed her final repose where the dead stood triumphant, winning her in their eternal lot of fire and beasts, bloodshed and chaos. The other stood in fog, presenting to her the unknown, when the captain’s voice echoed down the corridor.
“Fierro!” she yelled. The beast turned toward her, seeing his prize, and charged Gabrielle. “Fierro!” she screamed and turned back, running down the hall as the beast followed. Fierro’s voice echoed back.
~ 74
“Gabrielle!” Fierro yelled when a shadow responded from the flames. He drew his pistol and the trigger bucked, exploding the hammer. A cry returned from the flames. The captain reloaded his weapon when the shadow split into two. He watched the silhouettes move in and out of the flames, converging and splitting, trailing his pistol on one, then the other. Fierro switched between targets then squeezed the trigger.
A fiery plank swept through the flames and crushed the pistol in his hand, discharging the pellet against the wall. Fierro went for his knife when it took him by the throat, hoisting him off the ground, and slammed him. The captain crawled toward his knife when the body crushed him to the stone, clamping his wrist, holding his hand sprawled on the ground.
“Steady!” the voice yelled and Fierro stopped. The weight lifted off his shoulders, releasing the air back into his lungs, then lifted the captain to his feet. Luzenac stood with the burning torch in his hand, looking sullen for hitting the captain, and the father stood at Fierro’s side steadying him till the strength returned in his legs. Fierro looked at the duo, these two bastardizations of fortune, and seated his knife.
“I want that demon killed and sent back to hell” the father said. Fierro nodded to Luzenac, then squeezed between the two men into the passage as the howl of the beast kicked down the corridor. He ducked beneath the support moaning and bowing, warping red. Flames grew wings from the cinder, flapping in squalls of heat, and snaps released burning coal over his shoulders. The end of the passage opened in torchlight, and Fierro saw Gabrielle running from the beast.
He took his knife, when the support structure crumbled, baring the corridor with a flaming beam. Fierro tried ducking beneath it and fell back as flames bit his face. He stood book with his arm cocked to his forehead, judging a portal at the top, when the fire rose, whipping him, tasting his flesh with barbs of heat, daring him to trespass.
“No! No!” the captain shouted. He ran side to side, fighting the heat, searching for a pocket of air to slip through, chancing fate to forgive stupidity. Hagar’s father placed his hand on Fierro’s shoulder and threw him back, then stepped up to the log. He watched the flames grow, like the bride of death dressed in a gown of fire, the beam an altar of char, and looked back to Luzenac.
“Both you were my sons” his father said. “I’ve always loved you too.” He shoved his arms under the beam as sizzles spit into the air, feeding into his skin, and hoisted the pyre off the floor. Flames leapt over his shoulder, strangling his beard back into frizzle, and bit his ears till they crumbled like burnt cauliflower. Luzenac pulled Fierro to his feet and threw him under the opening, then crept in behind the captain as the father cried out.
Fierro turned back from the other side, seeing the father falter to his knee as the flames wrapped him in a trellis, tormenting him for his defiance, till his arms sagged and body hung over the beam. Luzenac reached out and Fierro brought his hand back, pulling him into the passage.
They rushed toward the cave as Gabrielle’s cry muffled with the beast’s. Fierro found the girl at the edge of the stairs, drawing her robe over her face, abating the smoke, while the demon stalked nearer. She saw Fierro over its shoulder, her Fi, when the beast lunged forward. Gabrielle tumbled down the stairs and splashed into the water, bobbing in and out of the wake, fighting for breath.
Fierro charged as the beast turned toward him, sunk down to a squat, and lunged at the captain. Luzenac caught the creature by the arm, spun it around, and threw it down the hall. The beast slapped the stone and skid on its side, then crept back to his feet, sizing the portion of its kill, and sprung at the giant. It bore its teeth into Luzenac’s shoulder, tasting the fats, and leapt off as the mammoth fell to his knee. It attacked again, knocking him to the floor, and mounted the giant, tearing chunks from his chest. Luzenac kicked and screamed, bogged down by the demon, when Fierro plunged his knife through its hand as it cocked back to tear out his throat. The beast reeled, dazed in anger and pain, and bucked Fierro to the edge of the stairs.
Then a cold wind br
oke in the cavern as the second beam yawned, releasing tongues of fire, and belched back heat. Flames crept through the ceiling, spreading like roots among the walls, and brought down the beams in a blaze that knocked the beast back. The crossbar landed on Luzenac’s leg. He kicked the log, rolling it over his shin till the lumber slipped off. The beast rose on the other side when Luzenac rushed forward, slamming his body against the inferno, reaching through the blazing dam, and caught it by the scruff. The creature howled something fierce, a cry lost somewhere between man and beast, as he dragged it back, pulling it into the flames.
Fierro heard the struggle and looked back, seeing the flames whisk away its fur, finding the body of a man hidden in the beast king. The creature kicked and fought till the scruff ripped off in Luzenac’s hands. Fierro looked at Luzenac, the soul trapped between two portals of fire, with eyes that said this sacrifice would never be forgotten.
The captain turned and saw Gabrielle in the waves, racking against the rocks, and dove into the water. The surge slammed her body into his, then pulled her away, leaving them tumbling in the swirl. The tide folded with a great splash above his head, swallowing the torchlight in a film of seaweed, when the beast tore through the water and took hold of Gabrielle. She reached out to Fierro and they locked fingers, when the swell shifted and the riptide sucked the beast with his prize out into the sea, leaving Fierro at the base of the cavern.
The captain dove back into the water, wedging his fingers into the crevice of the walls, and pulled himself against the tide, until the waves reversed and spit him out beneath the ocean’s surface. He swam among the school of dead, pulling clouts of hair, bringing their heads down to search the faces, rolling corpses in the undercurrent, searching for Gabrielle. The reserves in his lungs ignited, begging him to open his mouth and swallow his death. Fierro kicked off the entanglement of bodies and came to the surface, sucking life back into his chest.
The dead arose around him, sullying the surface in tattered cloth and straps of flesh, hiding the mystery of his love in their rot. Fierro searched their faces then dunked them back down, reaching out, taking hold of the ears to turn the heads when they pulled off like punched chads, making foolish the love of the captain. He swat at the corpses, pushing and tugging, rummaging them, fighting to see that one face, blue and cold. Lifeless.
He stopped as rocks pelted the water, and strained his head to the heavens. Flames grew from the castle as the steeple leaned against the wall guarding the back, cracking it, pushing it into a bulge, when it released the stone in a vomit of fire and mortar. The back end came down, shearing the cliff face, and plunged into the ocean. Fierro sucked down with the whirlpool, as statues, smoldering beams and treasures ripped past him, sending steam up in a byway of bubbles. The tower moaned as it sank, and in a terrible moment Fierro saw through the window bodies of his men bused down to the sea flats. Seaweed tangled his feet, roping the sore and tired limbs as he kicked against the undertow, fighting Poseidon for her, their trident, and rose to the surface.
A gash rested in the clouds where the tower tore the sky in its fall. Fierro looked about the ocean, finding the dead bodies gone, dragged under with the eddy. Creation swallowed the works of the devil, hiding its damnation, and restored the sea to a tranquil plain.
~ 75
Waves pushed Fierro ashore. The captain clawed his fingers into the gritty soil and dragged his lame leg up the sandy berm. Fire crackled in the distance, igniting the clouds in orange billows, while splashes rolled out from the horizon as chunks of the castle gave way from the mountaintop and fell into the sea. The captain rolled to his back and coughed, forcing the water from his lungs, as addles of seaweed sat wrapped around his arms, tethering him in ribbons of merit for surviving.
The captain looked to his feet and found his boot missing, seeing a foot covered in blood, and laid back while pain burned through his leg. He reached down and felt a shard of wood fixed in his thigh. Fierro wrapped his hand around the stake, dragging his fingers in blood, and released the stave from its hold. The captain tore his shirt and knotted the rag over his wound. Then he heard a cry. Fierro turned to his stomach and searched the coast until his eyes rested on the shadows. He rose to his feet, and using his hand as crutch, and hobbled down the shore.
There lay beauty, her heels dancing on the lip of the tide, with the beast lying at her side, holding her, weeping. Fierro snapped the sheath to his knife and drew the blade. He looked it, the hairless demon, the beast king, and saw a charred man. His skin sat cracked like pine, webbed in blood, the flesh volcanic. The beast brought Gabrielle into its arms as Fierro raised the knife, steadying it.
“Belle” the beast said. It nestled its face into her shoulder and shed tears into her dress. Gabrielle was gone. Fierro turned away as the knife slid from his fingers, dropping into the sand above the bodies, staking a mound at the head of beauty and the beast.
~ Epilogue
Decades later.
Walter Elias walked down the beach, casting pebbles into the waves, and scraped the sands with a stick, releasing sea crabs to scurry back into the tide. Seagulls flocked from the coast, dropping tendrils of seaweed as the boy passed the break and climbed the rock levy set in the water. He pulled mussels from the seawall then dropped his stick, losing the seashells in his hands to between the stones, and scurried down to the shore. He ran along the break as the water dipped in and out, pushing back the breeze with eager breath.
He came upon bones dressed in algae, where one skeleton held another. Walter Elias knelt down beside the pair, examining the split skull of one then the missing canine tooth of the other holding the first. He reached out to touch the hole in its smile, wanting to see if it might eat his finger, testing the remains forever bound in death, when the skull crumbled into ash.
Fierro woke from his dream. He took his crutch off his lap and set it beside the mantle of the fireplace, rubbing the nub where the leg was amputated mid-thigh. A pot of tea sat warming on the stove as he took the book off the side table, licked his finger, and flicked the pages. A door in the hallway creaked open and his grandson came out holding a leather bound journal under his arm. He climbed his grandfather’s lap. Fierro laughed as the boy spun back the pages to his journal, seeing animations swing across the pages, tales of princesses and princes, of kings and dragons, of witches and fairies, all the beautiful things of youthful imagination.
“Papa” Walter Elias said. Fierro leaned over, looking at a cartoon of a mouse steering a boat, and laughed as the child turned the page to duck in a bubble bath, scrubbing his back with a brush.
“These are all very, very good, Walt” Fierro said. Walter looked across the room to a chestnut box placed atop the cabinet. Fierro’s heart darkened, feeling the old calluses on his trigger finger harden. I’ll tell him the truth when he is a man, then he’ll be ready.
“Papa?” Walter Elias asked.
“Yes?” Fierro responded. The boy picked up the book off his grandfather’s lap and pushed the cover open.
“Tell me a story.” Fierro took the book from his hands, and placed it on the table. The edges were worn, jaded by time, and stains from pastries sat splotched over the cover. He looked at the diary and patted it.
“How about another story” Fierro said, looking at the page dog-eared in chapter three. “I will tell you a story that you can draw the cartoons for in your journal. It is about a magical kingdom, where once lived a young prince with a beautiful woman. But he was not an ordinary prince. You see, there was this enchanted red rose, and he knew that before its petals fell away, he must win the love of Beauty. That was her name, because she was the most beautiful girl in all the lands. But winning her love, this was made difficult, because a curse made him ugly, as ugly as a beast. And so they called him that.”
“They called him what, Papa?” Walter Elias asked.
“Beast.”
The end.
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