The Beast

by A R Davis

  Dante stared at him with a mixture of pity and resentment. “You and I both know that whatever you had with that girl was never going to work. Killer or not. You are quick to place the blame on me, but I was not the one who guided your hand when you struck her. Or is that her fault?”

  Damien immediately got to his feet with his fist raised, ready to strike. Dante, however, did not flinch. He stared up at Damien with an expression that said, “Prove me right.” Damien’s fist shook, straddled between wanting to fight and wanting to surrender.

  “If she was here now,” Dante continued, “would you be blaming her for the decisions you made?”

  I already did, Damien thought. He slowly lowered his fist back down to his side. He slumped back down in his seat, sick and ashamed. How could he have done that to her, to someone he loved so much? I wanted to protect her and I wanted her to love me. And I could do neither.

  How could such good intentions go so irreparably wrong?

  His hand was still trembling as he raised his cup to his lips. The brandy tasted like blood.

  “We have both done terrible things,” Dante said, “to others and each other. The best thing we can do is move on. Which brings me to the reason I came here in the first place: I think the two of us should leave.”

  Damien took a moment to think on that proposal before shaking his head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Where would we go?”

  “Someplace very far.”

  That had always been the answer. Damien did not know why he expected anything different. What sort of decisions will I make elsewhere? he thought. And who will I make them for?

  “I know why you don’t want to leave,” Dante said. “But that should be your motivation. She…is, without a doubt, very angry with you. There is a chance that she may want to enact some revenge and tell someone about us.”

  “She would never do that. She is not that type of person.”

  “I’m not willing to risk it. We should make plans to leave, and we should do it soon.”

  “I know we should, but…what if –”

  “She’s not coming back.” Dante let the words sink in. “Wherever she is now, she is better off.” He paused again. “I’m sorry.”

  Damien took a deep breath, still reluctant to let go even though he knew Dante was right. Even if she did return, there was no chance she would ever accept his apology. Maybe, in the end, it was better this way.

  “I thought you weren’t going to apologize,” Damien said with a small chuckle.

  “I’m not sorry about what I said. But I am sorry that it did not work between you and her. We both deserved a better life once. Maybe when we put this all behind us, we can try and earn that again. I want us to start over, Damien. I want us to really be brothers. We can’t be like that here.”

  At one point in his life, Damien would have given anything to hear his maybe-brother say that. At one point, he thought that was all he ever wanted. Now, he wasn’t sure.

  “You’re right,” Damien said finally. “We can’t stay here.”

  They made arrangements to leave in the next few days. Dante was going to gather some supplies, and once he returned, they would leave for good. “That should also give you enough time to say goodbye,” Dante said before he left.

  “Thank you,” Damien said.

  When Dante departed, Damien went upstairs. He thought he was going to his bedroom to lie down and get some rest, but he ended up stopping at the door of Valerie’s room. Barely hesitating, he opened it and stepped inside.

  Her scent was everywhere, as if she was a ghost haunting this place. Damien crossed over to the bed, grabbed the sheets, and carefully tore them in half. The snarling rip of the fabric felt satisfying, like a permanent end…a goodbye. He grabbed the pillow and ripped it open. Snow white feathers tumbled lazily around his feet. He then noticed something lying underneath the pillow.

  It was a figurine of a monster.

  Damien gently plucked it from the mattress and held it in the palm of his hand. He remembered the story she had told while he was lying there. He had been too weak to answer her, and he didn’t want her to stop talking. He remembered the question, too.

  Is that the kind of monster you are?

  After staring at it for a few moments, he decided to pocket it.

  He could not leave it behind.

  *

  The guards had to step into the room whenever the servants entered. Several times, Valerie tried to fight past the servant girls to leave the room, but the guards always stopped her, roughly shoving her back into her prison. She’d scream at them at the top of her lungs. “You can’t keep me here!” But they did for several long, agonizing days.

  Valerie felt like an animal as she sat curled up by the window, watching the world go on without her. Sometimes the servants brought her books, and sometimes she would read them, wanting to live vicariously through other people, even fictional people. It was her only means of escape.

  When the servants brought in a tub for bathing, the guards insisted on standing watch to make sure she did not attempt to escape again. Valerie no longer cared about being naked in front of others. What use did dignity have here? They already thought her strange—thought her not a lady at all—and in truth, she did not feel very much like a lady. She’d stare down the guardsmen with the iciest glare possible as the servants poured scalding water over her skin. Anger burned through the remainder of her grief. Every time she saw her scar in the mirror, she felt shame, and guilt, and loneliness. She wished with all her might that she had the power to tear the manor down.

  It was hard to keep telling herself to get out of bed. Even if I get up, where would I go? One day she lay in bed for hours, sick of watching the world, sick of reading about other people living, and sick of seeing the guardsmen’s disgust as they watched her undress. Have I become a monster? she wondered as she stared up at the canopy. Am I unfit to go out into the world? And if I did, would they accept me? Valerie did not know how to feel if that was true. It felt as though her anger had destroyed everything. What was left but ashes?

  She did not know how many days had passed, but one morning someone knocked on the door. It was strange because the servants usually did not knock. Perhaps Lord Aubrey was calling for her again. Maybe he thinks he has broken me to the point of confession, Valerie thought. She thought about telling whoever it was to enter, but then she thought that it would be nice to have control over that for a change.

  After forcing herself out of bed, she crossed the room and opened the door. Captain Jonasson was standing at the threshold with the guardsmen behind him.

  “Good morning, miss,” he said quietly. Valerie did not feel like returning his greeting. Her mind was too busy pondering what on earth Lord Aubrey was going to do to punish her now.

  “Do you mind if we speak inside?” Captain Jonasson asked, gesturing into the room. “I would rather have a conversation privately, if that’s all right with you.”

  Valerie made room for him to enter and then closed the door.

  “What does Lord Aubrey want?” Valerie asked before Captain Jonasson could explain himself.

  “I’m not here on behalf of Lord Aubrey,” Captain Jonasson said. “I’m here on your behalf.”

  Valerie raised her eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Because you haven’t been treated fairly. It’s not right for him to lock you in here with guards posted at your door. I know you expressed interest in going out to see Leola, and I would like to grant you that opportunity.”

  Valerie could almost see the strings holding his proposal aloft. “How?”

  “I would escort you out of the manor. Once we’re in Leola, we can go wherever you like. The town hasn’t changed much, but I’m sure you’d rather see it for yourself than hear me describe it.”

  “What about Lord Aubrey?”

  “I haven’t seen him all morning. He was called away for an errand.”

  “Would the guards be joining us?�
��

  “No. It would only be you and I.”

  “You’re trusting me not to run?” she asked.

  “You’re not a criminal; there is no need for distrust between us.”

  “To be honest, sir, I don’t see much of a reason to trust you. You work for Lord Aubrey. How do I know this isn’t a trick to punish me in some way?”

  Captain Jonasson folded his hands as though he was trying to hold on to his patience. “Would it help if I apologized?”

  “For what?”

  “For taking so long to come to my senses. You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve to go your own way, to move on from what you’ve been through. Yet I stood aside and watched because I was a coward. Because, yes, I do work for Lord Aubrey. In fact, I consider him my friend. However, I cannot go against what I believe is right. Not for anyone.”

  The sincerity in his tone was enough to give Valerie pause, yet there was still something about all of this that she simply did not like. She could not place her finger on what that was. The thought of going outside was much too tempting to allow herself to question anything further. After all, Valerie did not have to accept his apology if she did not want to. She could let him stew in his guilt for as long as she liked. Having that power was almost frightening.

  Valerie decided, for now, to ignore the apology. She assessed him coolly for a few moments before saying, “I accept your offer. However, I refuse to answer further questions about what happened to me or about my life. If you want to know more about me, you can simply ask Lord Aubrey.”

  “I can assure you I have no intention of doing such a thing,” Captain Jonasson said.

  “In fact, I think it would be best if you did not speak at all during our trip.” I’m doing this for myself, she thought. Not for you.

  “If that is your wish, miss.”

  “If you’re going to address me, you can call me Valerie. I’m not partial to the term, ‘miss.’”

  They walked down the crooked path towards the gate in silence. As they neared the town, Valerie could feel her stomach dip with each step. It was late into the night when she was brought to the manor; by then most people were already tucked into their beds. Now, however, everyone was bound to see her. Would anybody recognize her? And if they did, what would she tell them? They would surely want to know where she had been. They would surely want to know how she got that mark on her cheek.

  She had half a mind to turn back.

  But what is there to turn back to? An empty room? She could not keep living in fear and shame. Yes, I lived with a beast. Yes, I wanted to. This scar was my reward.

  Besides, it was already too late. The gate was directly ahead of them. With just a few more steps, she would be among her people again.

  The guardsmen opened the gate without question. They bid Captain Jonasson good day and ignored Valerie completely. Captain Jonasson went ahead of her. When he realized she wasn’t following, he turned back.

  “Are you coming?” he asked.

  Valerie took a deep breath and let it out through her nose.

  I’ve made it this far.

  She entered Leola with her heart beating wildly on her tongue.

  “Where would you like to go first?” Captain Jonasson asked when she returned to his side.

  She took a moment to think about it. “The marketplace.” There, she thought, I will encounter my first test.

  As usual, the marketplace was buzzing with activity. Much to Valerie’s surprise, it had hardly changed. As they walked around to take in the wares of the shops, she felt like she was back in the time when her father was still alive. To her, that was more overwhelming than if the buildings had been completely renovated. The pub her father frequented sat right across the street from the gunsmith where he worked. Valerie nearly ran into both buildings to see if she could still find him. Everything else was exactly how she had left it; why couldn’t that be, too?

  Someone bumped into her, snapping her out of her reverie.

  “Excuse me, miss,” the woman said. Valerie was startled to recognize Mrs. Lind. Her hair was in the signature tight bun. Her sharp eyes lingered on Valerie’s for just a second. Valerie nearly asked Mrs. Lind if she remembered her.

  The woman smiled forcibly and moved on to the book shop. She had another assistant sweeping the front.

  Have I really changed so much? she wondered as she watched Mrs. Lind’s retreating back. She honestly didn’t know how she felt about that encounter—part relief, part longing.

  “Are you hungry?” Captain Jonasson asked. He pointed to the bakery. “Every time I pass by, the smell drives me mad. He makes blueberry cakes that I absolutely cannot resist.”

  I remember them, Valerie thought. Every so often, she had allowed herself that simple indulgence. They always tasted wonderful.

  “I think I could use one right now,” she said softly.

  A few minutes later, she and Captain Jonasson were sitting on the bench by the bakery with two slices of fresh blueberry cake. They were just as delicious as Valerie remembered. Each bite was like being transported back in time. If only that could happen. She would change so much. Then again, maybe nothing would change. Maybe no matter what she did, she would still end up on this bench, watching people and wishing she could go back.

  Several passersby that she thought would recognize her waved and greeted Captain Jonasson instead. A few even stopped by to have a short chat. Captain Jonasson was always quick to ask how they were doing. Most people would ask out of politeness, but Captain Jonasson sounded as though he genuinely wanted to know. No wonder people were so eager to speak to him; his smile alone could make anyone feel as though he was in the presence of an old friend. When he conversed with these people, it was as though he had grown up in their home and he was reuniting with them again. He introduced Valerie as Lord Aubrey’s guest, saying that he was escorting her around Leola. Valerie was grateful that he didn’t mention her by name.

  “Would you permit me to ask a question?” Captain Jonasson asked after he had finished eating.

  Valerie picked at the remains of her cake. “You may ask a question, but you should not expect an answer.”

  “I would understand if you chose not to. It is something I’ve been wondering ever since Lord Aubrey received his injury. This man that he is hunting. The man that held you hostage…is he really a demon?”

  She felt the hairs along the back of her neck bristle.

  “I understand if you don’t wish to answer –” Captain Jonasson began.

  “He is a monster,” Valerie said quickly. “The worst thing he did was fool me into thinking he wasn’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

  “It’s all right.” Valerie stood. “There is somewhere else I’d like to go.”

  They walked down the lane with the familiar row of crooked houses. They looked like teeth ready to eat—ready to crush. As Valerie walked beside Captain Jonasson toward the end of the lane, she felt as though she was about to be devoured.

  Valerie assumed that her old house would be the same, but she received an unpleasant shock when she found that it wasn’t at all. At first, she thought she was mistaken, but no…this was the front gate she opened to get to the steps. She almost mimicked the movement to do so, just so something about it could feel familiar. Her eyes wandered over the house and she noted the changes. The door had been painted anew, and she could no longer see her father’s guardsman’s mark. There was a bed of flowers in the small patch of earth that was dry when Valerie lived there. The roof had been fixed—not recently, but at some point when she was gone. And through the window of her old room, she could see a stranger staring down at her—a mother with a babe in her arms.

  It was too much. She had to look away.

  “Are you all right, Miss Valerie?” Captain Jonasson asked.

  “I…” She didn’t know if she was all right. “When did they move in? The family?”

  “I do not know, Miss Valerie. I do not
have access to those records.”

  “They’ve taken good care of this house.”

  “It appears so.” The captain looked at her from the corner of his eye. Then he looked back to the front door. He gestured to it with his metal hand. “Would you like to go inside? I’m sure the family would not mind.”

  Valerie took a moment to carefully consider the question. A part of her wanted to. She wanted her memories back. She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she breathed out, she said, “No. There is nothing in there that is mine.”

  The mother moved away from the window, probably to fetch someone to see why there were two strangers standing outside her house.

  “Perhaps we should go,” Captain Jonasson suggested. “If you’re ready.”

  Valerie did not hesitate to reply. “I am. But there is one more place I’d like to see before returning to the manor.”

  “Of course, Miss Valerie. Anywhere you’d like to go.”

  The cemetery had a few visitors clustered around the gravestones. Fresh grass had grown where the bodies lay buried. There was a nice, quiet smell of flowers and rain. The only sounds were scattered sobs.

  Valerie had only been here twice in her life, but she remembered where her parents were buried as though she had frequented this place. She stood silently with Captain Jonasson, looking at her parents’ names and the dates that signified their lives. These came to her as merely facts. Valerie had the hardest time picturing their faces. When she tried, she could only see blurry outlines of them sitting together at the table. There were other memories she had carried with her, but it was like looking into a muddy pond. Only sparse details came to light. She did not feel as though she was among the presence of ghosts. She did not feel as though her parents were standing behind her or hovering above her at this very moment. She did not hear any strange whispers. Where was the overwhelming grief? Where was the anger?