The Beast

by A R Davis

  “Someone take her!”

  Valerie started calling for him. “Papa! Papa! I’m here!”

  Two guards grabbed hold of her and pulled her away from the house. Tears stung her eyes and she screamed for him.

  “Please, please,” she begged and sobbed. There was a strange crackling in her head. The crowd slowly shifted and blocked her view of the front door. “Papa, I’m here!”

  He didn’t answer her calls.

  Chapter 9

  The summer season would come to an end, and with it, Lord Aubrey’s reign. If Young Aubrey had been paying attention to the slow changes outside, perhaps he would have remembered, but it wasn’t until his father strolled into his room carrying a polished wooden box that the thought even occurred to him.

  “It’s for your party,” his father said, placing the box delicately on the bed. Young Aubrey stared at it, his stomach in knots. How long had he been waiting for this day? And now it was arriving sooner than expected. Young Aubrey ran his finger down the edge of the box. He wondered if it were a pistol of some sort; it looked big enough to hold one. He could kill the demon with it.

  He lifted the lid slowly.

  The box held half of a golden mask. The mouth of the mask was curved into a smile. Young Aubrey stared at it for a long time.

  Lord Aubrey was smiling, too, though it did a poor job of hiding his fear at how Young Aubrey would react. “Try it on,” he insisted.

  The mask was cold in Young Aubrey’s hands. He tied the leather strap tightly around the back of his head, and then he looked at his father. Lord Aubrey stared sadly back at him. For once, he did not look away.

  “Do you like it?” Lord Aubrey asked.

  “It matches the Aubrey colors,” Young Aubrey replied.

  “I thought you would like it.”

  I never said I did, Young Aubrey thought.

  “I…It’s nice to see a smile on your face, son. That’s what I miss the most about you.”

  Young Aubrey did not bother to try and smile now; the mask did all the work for him. “Thank you, Father. This will go well with my attire.”

  While preparations were being made for the party, Young Aubrey found himself at the foot of the cellar stairs. Behind him, he could hear the servants rushing about. Several of them congratulated him. He gave no response. The door to the cellar was closed, and he feared what lay behind it. Was Captain Yendel down there again? Did he have that much nerve to return? Perhaps he and the captain were alike in that regard, always returning to the woman who barely showed any affection. He didn’t know why that was. All he knew was that he was going to be lord and he was going to have to face the demon again. Fear rippled through him at the thought. But did he fear seeing his mother, or did he fear encountering the demon?

  Shaking, he went down the stairs. His heart was beating furiously. He thought he heard a groan but it was only the stair beneath his foot. The door opened when he turned the knob.

  She was there, in her usual place in the room, as if the thing with Captain Yendel had not happened.

  “Mother,” he said.

  She did not look up from her knitting. She was using red yarn.

  He wanted to collapse and sob into her lap like a child. He wanted her to stroke his head and tell him that she loved him, that she knew he would do everything he said he would do, and that he was her boy and no one else mattered.

  His legs felt like pillars of water as he stepped into the room. He closed the door behind him. Then he stood in front of her.

  “I’m sorry I took so long to come see you,” he said. Her needles click-clicked in response. “I couldn’t face you after what I discovered. And every time I thought about coming here, all I could see was Captain Yendel on you…and I couldn’t.” He swallowed the cold lump in his throat. “But that doesn’t matter. You are my mother, and I cannot think less of you.” Her needles were clicking in his head again. “After tomorrow evening, I’m going to be Lord Aubrey. And I don’t know how I’m to do that with my face,” he pointed angrily to the golden mask, “looking as it does. Everyone fears me as though I’ve become a monster. I see it in their faces, their whole, unscarred faces.” Young Aubrey shook his head vehemently. “The thing that did this to me…it was a demon. Nobody believes me.” He reached up to the back of his head and undid the leather strap. “But you will. I know you will once you see.”

  He removed the mask and turned his head so that his scars could be seen in the sparse lamplight.

  His mother did not look up. She acted as though he said not a word. Before, it would not have mattered. Now, however, it was different. He was going to reach the most important moment in his life, and all she cared about was her damned knitting.

  “Look at me,” he said. “We are practically the same.”

  She didn’t change her gaze. The clicking continued, louder and louder, until it filled the room like a noxious gas.

  He reached for her.

  She pulled away.

  Roughly, he grabbed her chin. “Look at me.”

  She squirmed and started to feebly hit his arms. With his other hand, Young Aubrey grabbed her wrists and held them at bay. His mother shut her eyes tight.

  “You won’t let your boy touch you, but you’ll let the good captain fuck you, is that right? Look at me! I’m your son! I’m your boy! Look at me! Look at me!”

  His mother struggled against him, doing her best to yank her wrists free, but he only tightened his grip on them. Young Aubrey screamed at her to look at him over and over. He yelled so loud that he did not hear a man call his name. A pair of metal arms enfolded around him and pulled him away from his mother.

  “Master Aubrey, stop! Stop!” Captain Yendel called out.

  Young Aubrey broke free of the captain’s grip. He turned around and punched him square in the jaw. Captain Yendel staggered to the left. Young Aubrey punched him again and again. He heard the sound of the captain’s nose breaking. He felt hot blood cover his fist. One of them was roaring or screaming – he couldn’t tell which. He raised his fist one more time.

  He froze.

  Captain Yendel’s face was stained with blood; it dribbled out of his mouth and nose. He was staring up wide-eyed at him. Young Aubrey could see himself reflected in the captain’s eyes with his fist raised.

  Captain Yendel slowly held up his hand. “It’s all right, Master Aubrey,” he said softly. “It’s all right.” He gently grabbed Young Aubrey’s fist and brought it back down to his side. He got back on his feet. “I’ll fetch something to clean you up. There’s no harm done.”

  Young Aubrey stared at the blood he had drawn. He felt dirty and savage-like.

  He felt powerful.

  *

  The wooden casket did not seem like it was large enough to store a man, yet Valerie knew her father was lying in there. Some of the nails stuck out crookedly at the edges, and there were several nicks and scratches in the wood. The grave keep placed it beside the gaping hole. Her father would rest in a grave beside her mother’s. All these details Valerie committed to memory because this was the last time she would ever get to see her father. This would be the last time she would get to say goodbye.

  Did it matter if she said anything? It wasn’t as though he would be able to hear her. Why was it that everyone was so determined that she speak at all? For now, she was staying with Mrs. Lind. Her house was fine enough, but it felt strange for Valerie to be there. Mrs. Lind asked her if she wanted to talk about it. “Not that I have anything to say,” she added in her famous clipped manner. “But perhaps you just want someone to listen.” What could Valerie say? My father is dead. There was nothing else for it. Perhaps Mrs. Lind simply wanted to know why he did it, but Valerie did not have an answer; her father hadn’t bothered to leave one. All Valerie wanted was to be left alone. Every now and then, she thought that she was going to be late for something if she did not move. When it grew dark outside, she told herself she had to go home, and then she remembered that she had no home to
return to. They were going to auction it off to pay her father’s debt. Even if that wasn’t the case, nobody would be there waiting for her.

  She wondered if anyone cleaned the blood off the walls.

  Her body grew so cold that it turned numb. She heard the murmurs and whispers of the people that had gathered in the cemetery. I can only imagine the things they are saying, she thought. They are saying more than I could manage right now. If only I could rob them of their words. A woman began to sing about death and souls.

  Valerie wished she could look past the casket to see her father’s body. It was strange; it seemed as though she could not remember what her father looked like. In her mind, she saw a face, somber and reddened from too many drinks, but it did not look like her father. It was a face that could have belonged to anyone. If she was strong enough, she would have begged someone to open it so she could see him one more time. Then she remembered there was a bullet in his brain.

  She flexed her fingers a few times to get the feeling back in them. She didn’t know how she was still standing straight and acting as though she needed to. There was no one here that relied on her strength. Only me, she thought.

  Only me.

  The grave keep lifted her father once more, and Valerie knew this was it, they were going to lower him into that hole and she was never going to see him again. She took a few steps forward. A wild thought came to her: she could throw herself into the hole and her father could stay here. She would have done that for him. She would have done anything for him.

  How did he not know that?

  Slowly the casket disappeared into the ground. Wait, she wanted to say, not yet. I’m not ready. She heard a muffled thunk. The grave keeps grabbed their shovels and started tossing dirt into the hole.

  It was over quickly.

  There was only one thing she wanted from her old house. When Mrs. Lind was asleep, Valerie snuck out. It was scary returning to her house in the dark. But what she wanted wasn’t worth any coin, and she couldn’t bear the thought of them throwing it away.

  Her house remained just as she left it. Everything looked as though it was merely waiting for Valerie and her father to return. She crossed the hall to her father’s office and peered inside before opening the door.

  Her father either had not done it in here or someone had already cleaned up the blood. Either way, Valerie did not want to stay here much longer. A lingering scent of spirits haunted the place. It was as though her father was standing right behind her. She checked, just in case. She would give anything to see him one more time, just once more. But, of course, there was no one there. Only shadows. Valerie walked up to her father’s desk – was it really just yesterday that he was sitting behind it? – and grabbed the Beast.

  You will be my burden now, she thought.

  She could have gone back to Mrs. Lind’s house. She could have stayed there and played surrogate daughter or whatever role Mrs. Lind wanted her to play. What would happen to her if she did? What if, after a while, Mrs. Lind did not want her anymore?

  What will happen to me? The question made her feel so small. She held on to the Beast until the pointy ends of the figure hurt her fingers.

  She turned around and ran into the forest.

  Chapter 10

  The ballroom was swarming with all sorts of people. Some were dancing, some were chatting; all wore masks. They varied in sizes and shapes. One woman had the mask of a dainty little mouse with a bow on its ear. A man wore the mask of his conception of death. It was rather unnerving for Young Aubrey as he walked down the stairs to false faces staring back at him. There were so many smiles that he couldn’t count them all. They were all smiling at and applauding him. The clapping buzzed around in his head like a swarm of bees. He gave a nervous bow and leaned in close to his father’s side.

  “Why are they all wearing masks?” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

  “I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed,” Lord Aubrey replied with a tight smile.

  Upon that knowledge, Young Aubrey could feel a flush creeping up his neck. He could feel the heat of his father’s words staining his cheek. Lord Aubrey guided him down the remaining steps to join the guests.

  The ballroom was bathed in golden orbs of light. Red cloth covered the long tables that were stacked with endless platters of food. Young Aubrey could smell hints of roast duck, pheasant, and the sweet deer meat. On one table, there was a sweaty brown pig with an apple shoved into its mouth. He saw a few of the guests wander over to it and rip the meat from its side with their forks. Young Aubrey stood and made small talk with the guests. He sweated under their unspoken questions concerning his face.

  This had never happened to him before. Suddenly, he was standing there amongst a group of people that he would soon be reigning over, and he was at a loss for words. What will be your first law? How are you going to deal with the bandit problem? How are you going to do this? Do you think you can do that?

  Do you think you are fooling anyone?

  You are no Lord, said a voice in the back of his head. How can you be when you know that a demon is out there? They should not ask you what you will do about the bandit problem. They should ask what you will do about the demon.

  He wondered what would happen if he suddenly said that aloud, if he suddenly told these people that a demon had done this to his face and that when he was Lord, he was going to find it and kill it. He would shatter their pretty preconceptions about the world. They had no idea what dark creatures lurked in the shadows when all the lights were blown out.

  Under his breath, he muttered, “A demon did this to me.”

  “What did you say, Master Aubrey?” a gentleman asked, tilting his head to the side.

  “I said that perhaps you could be Lord, sir.”

  “I could, couldn’t I?” The gentleman laughed and nearly spilled his wine on his wife’s gown.

  A small band of musicians in the corner started to play. The sound of the violins made Young Aubrey’s spine feel rigid. He couldn’t understand. He used to enjoy music and the company of others. More than anything, he had wanted to be Lord. There was a time he had eagerly counted the days to this event.

  So why did it all feel so hollow?

  Why did it all feel so false?

  A few ladies inquired if he would like to dance. He did not remember if he liked dancing, though he had danced a few times. At any rate, he said, “No.” He chose to watch. The guests swayed and spun under the golden light; their lifting motions made them appear as though they were going to a place he could not follow.

  “I’m happy to see that you’re enjoying yourself, son,” Lord Aubrey said from behind him.

  Young Aubrey turned around. “I am, very much, Father,” he replied almost mechanically.

  “I’m about to make the announcement. I hope…Well, I hope you are ready for it.” Lord Aubrey smiled at the golden part of his son’s face.

  Am I? Young Aubrey wondered.

  He didn’t have enough time to contemplate the answer. His father led him to the center of the room. Immediately, the musicians ceased their playing and the dancers parted. Everyone gathered around Young Aubrey and his father. Now that he was level with the guests, their masks were even more unnerving. So many blank eyes were trained on him.

  Is this really what I had always wanted?

  “Lords, ladies, guests,” Lord Aubrey began. “Thank you all for coming. As you know, tonight marks a very special occasion for my boy. He’s had a very trying time and without your support, I don’t know how we ever would have pulled through.” There was a smattering of polite applause. Lord Aubrey nodded and held his hand up for silence once more. “My son is a most brave and admirable boy. You could not ask for a better leader, and I could not ask for a better son.” He took a breath and swallowed. Young Aubrey followed the Adam’s apple of his father’s throat as he waited to hear the words.

  “However, there are more trying times ahead. You’ve made a swift recovery, son, but I�
�m not sure if you’re fully healed.”

  Young Aubrey stared blankly at his father. The golden lights seemed to dim and the false faces seemed to fade.

  “Which is why I will retain the seat until you are fully prepared to claim it next year.”

  The guests clustered around his father like chickens waiting for their feed. Young Aubrey was able to easily slip away from the party. He thought about visiting the cellar, but he wondered if the good captain was already making his visit. The only other place he could think to go was the training grounds.

  The grounds were deserted. All of the guardsmen were at the party protecting Lord Aubrey and the guests. Young Aubrey grabbed a training rifle and set up a station for practice. He took his time loading the gun. He felt strangely calm while he did so. It was surprising that there was no anger in him, no sense of disappointment, at least not with himself. All he felt was a strange blankness, as though some part of him knew this was how it would be.

  He took aim at the wooden dummy across from him. His finger was on the trigger, but he did not take the shot. Somebody was coming up behind him.

  “Did Captain Yendel tell you what happened?” Young Aubrey asked his father.

  Lord Aubrey stopped a few feet behind him. “Tell me what, son?”

  “I suppose he wouldn’t. He probably feared I’d spill his secret in return.” Young Aubrey kept his aim steady but made no move to shoot. “For a moment, I believed he told you what I did. And I thought that was perhaps why you denied me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “It hardly matters.”

  “I noticed he had a broken nose. Did you do that to him?”

  Young Aubrey lowered his rifle. He recalled the image of blood pouring down Captain Yendel’s face, and it felt like the only real thing he had ever done.