A Monster's Coming of Age Story

by G. D. Falksen

  “What would you prefer, Father?”

  “Let us rouse Gérard,” Louis said. “The Baron von Fuchsburg stikes me as the sort of man who rides wherever he goes. If he were to be set upon by a wild animal while on the road… Well, it would be unfortunate but of no great concern to anyone. And there would be no reason for a relative to come and seek revenge against us.”

  Alfonse smiled and took a deep breath.

  “That sounds very wise, Father,” he said. “I will make the arrangements.”

  * * * *

  Friedrich waited for the crowd to disperse before he approached Lady Shashavani. He spent the time pondering what he should say to her. Was she really the daughter of James Varanus? She had to be, of course. Why else was she there, the grieving sole survivor of the family? But how could she be Babette Varanus?

  How could she be alive?

  As the mourners drifted away, Friedrich approached and bowed. The Lady Shashavani turned to look at him, her face concealed behind a heavy veil. They stood there, watching each other in silence for a time. The woman next to Lady Shashavani looked from one to the other but said nothing. She silently withdrew a step.

  “Well,” Varanus finally said.

  “Well,” Friedrich agreed. “Is it true? Are you truly Babette Varanus?”

  “I have not been Babette Varanus for some time,” Varanus said. “I am the Lady Shashavani now.”

  “Of course,” Friedrich said. He hesitated. This confrontation was not one that he had expected. He did not know what to say. “Do you know who I am?”

  He thought he heard Varanus catch her breath.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Alistair.”

  Something about the name made Friedrich pause. No one had ever called him that before, he was certain; but for some reason it resonated with him. It was so familiar.

  “No,” he said. “No, I am Friedrich Korbinian Leopold von Fuchsburg.”

  “Alistair,” Varanus insisted.

  “Why do I know that name?” Friedrich asked.

  “Because that is what I named you when you were born,” Varanus replied. “Because you are my son.”

  Mother, Friedrich thought. It was she. He knew that it was she.

  “I was told that you died,” Friedrich said.

  “Who said such a thing?” Varanus asked. There was a hint of anger in her voice.

  “My aunt, Ilse,” Friedrich said.

  Why would Auntie have lied about such a thing? But then, she had always regarded him as her own. Perhaps Aunt Ilse’s maternal care had been more calculating than charitable.

  “It seems your aunt and my grandfather have much to answer for,” Varanus said. “Alas, neither of them is here.”

  “Why did you never come to find me?” Friedrich asked.

  “I was told you had died,” Varanus replied. “I suspect that we were both deceived.”

  “So it would seem,” Friedrich said.

  “How have you come to be here?” Varanus asked. “How did you arrive in time for the funeral? And why did you not send word to the house?”

  “When I left Fuchsburg, your father was still alive,” Friedrich said. “Word arrived of my great-grandfather’s death and of my grandfather’s illness. I departed immediately, but I arrived the day after my grandfather’s death.” He cast a glance toward the grave. “Until the funeral, I had no reason to believe that you were alive. I assumed myself to be the only surviving member of our family.”

  “Why did you come?” Varanus asked. “Merely to pay your respects?”

  “In part,” Friedrich answered. “I assumed that I would be the sole inheritor of the estate. I thought it best to secure it before it fell into the hands of your English relatives. I am relieved to see that I need not concern myself with it.”

  “I saw you speaking to the des Louveteaux,” Varanus said. “Are they a part of your business?”

  She knew, no doubt. Friedrich’s bloody revenge was written across his face. Well, no point in lying, least of all to his mother.

  “I have come to kill Alfonse des Louveteaux,” Friedrich said.

  “You…what?” Varanus asked. She seemed surprised by the answer.

  “I have come to kill Alfonse des Louveteaux,” Friedrich repeated. “I have come to kill the man who murdered my father.”

  Varanus began to speak but stopped herself. After a short while, she said:

  “I suppose I cannot dissuade you. You are like your father. You will do something whether it is wise or not.”

  “Now that I know you live,” Friedrich said, “I would prefer to do it with your blessing.”

  “Where are you staying?” Varanus asked.

  “The Hôtel Rollo,” Friedrich answered. “I have rooms there. It is very…rustic.”

  Varanus laughed and said, “Yes, it is. No, this will not do. You will come and stay with me at the house. The company will be most welcome. And you and I must talk. We have much to discuss.”

  “We do,” Friedrich said.

  Varanus touched his arm gently.

  “Walk back with me,” she said. “I will send the coachman to retrieve your things.”

  Friedrich held up a hand.

  “If you will allow me,” he said, “I think I would like to walk for a little while, to clear my head. I will meet your man at the hotel and oversee the moving of my things.”

  “Very well,” Varanus said, nodding slowly. “But do not dally. I have waited almost twenty-five years to find you, my son. I cannot bear to wait much longer.”

  * * * *

  “My son lives,” Varanus said softly, watching Friedrich walk away.

  “So it seems,” Ekaterine said. “You are certain of his identity?”

  Varanus looked at Korbinian, who stood at her other side.

  “Absolutely certain,” she said. “He looks exactly like his father. And he has my hair.”

  “This is true,” Ekaterine said.

  “My son lives,” Varanus repeated, “and now I watch him walk away from me.” She looked at Ekaterine. “Is it wrong of me to worry so?”

  Ekaterine placed a hand on her arm and said, “No, it is not, but what is it that you fear?”

  “He’s come here to kill Alfonse des Louveteaux,” Varanus said. “And I saw him speaking to the fiend before he came to talk to me. I fear that on his ‘walk’ he will actually attack the des Louveteaux and try to murder Alfonse.”

  “You suspect?” Korbinian murmured. “It is what I would do, and he is my son as well.”

  “Do you fear that they will kill him?” Ekaterine asked.

  “I do,” Varanus said. Why else would she be concerned? Alfonse deserved to die.

  Ekaterine nodded and said, “I will follow him and see to it that he is safe.”

  “No,” Varanus said, catching her by the arm. “He is my son. I will follow him.”

  “Is that wise?” Ekaterine asked, glancing toward the sky.

  “It is overcast and I am veiled, Ekaterine,” Varanus replied. “I scarcely feel the sun. I will be perfectly safe.”

  “Doctor—” Ekaterine began.

  “Do not try to dissuade me,” Varanus said. “I am his mother. This is something I must do.”

  Ekaterine stopped herself from saying something and took a deep breath.

  “As you wish,” she said. “But I will accompany you.”

  “Ekaterine—”

  “No,” Ekaterine said. “I go with you, or you do not go at all. It is too dangerous for you to go alone.”

  Ekaterine paused, waiting for a response that did not come. Varanus was speechless. What could she say?

  “Well?” Ekaterine asked. She motioned toward the receding Friedrich. “He is getting away.”

  * * * *

  Friedrich walked out along the road to town, mulling things over in his head. What had just happened? When he had left Germany, things had been so clear. He would introduce himself to his grandfather James, find Alfonse des Louveteaux, kill him in a duel, and
finally return home in triumph. Since arriving in France, he had lost his grandfather without ever meeting him, he had completely failed to guarantee his duel, and he had discovered that his mother still lived.

  Madness!

  He strolled through the village, ignoring the locals as they stared at him with curiosity.

  Was she really his mother? But how could she be an imposter? She had taken the place of primacy at the funeral, and no one—not the priest, the servants, or the townsfolk—had doubted her identity. She had passed words with people who had known Babette Varanus from birth.

  And she was very short, he reflected, as he wandered out along an empty country road beyond the bounds of the village. By all accounts, Babette Varanus was very short. Lady Shashavani was very short. Then again, he found everyone to be very short, but still…

  Why had she allowed Aunt Ilse to take him away? Surely she had known. She had to have known! Lady Shashavani said that they had told her he died, but could he believe that? Then again, her voice had sounded so familiar. He had recognized it. How was that possible if they had never met?

  And there was that name. Alistair. No one had ever called him that before, but he recognized it as if it were his own.

  He walked with these thoughts for the better part of half an hour, meandering through the countryside. Then he turned from the road and cut out across an open field. The fresh air was good for clearing his head, though he would have preferred a forest to open ground. The forests back in Fuchsburg were rich and deep, and he felt a sudden longing for them.

  Something in the air made him feel uneasy, as if he were being watched from afar. He paused in the middle of an open field and looked over his shoulder. He saw nothing but the line of the hedgerow. But something was amiss. He was being watched.

  Friedrich placed his hand on his sword and looked in every direction. He knew the scent of danger. But where was it coming from?

  He turned and looked toward the adjoining field, separated by a low stone wall. Eyes were on him. But where were they?

  Suddenly Friedrich heard a roar from behind him, a twisted, guttural sound. He spun about, drawing his sword, and saw a hulking mass of dark fur charging in his direction.

  Friedrich froze at the sight, not from fear but from utter confusion.

  What is that? he thought. It took him a moment more for the realization to hit him: I should move.

  But by then it was too late to run. The beast was approaching too quickly. Was it a bear? But why would a bear attack him? And in the middle of a field? Impossible—

  Sword, he thought, catching himself. It would not do to be killed by this strange beast without some effort of self-defense. If he were to die, at least it would be fighting.

  He raised his sword and held it out toward the beast, face set defiantly.

  Come at me, then!

  The beast leapt for him, jaws wide revealing rows and rows of teeth. This was surely the end. But what an end it would be!

  “Get down you fool!” someone shouted.

  Someone barreled into him and knocked him off his feet. Friedrich fell into the damp grass and struck his head on the ground. It did not hurt, not exactly, but his head swam from the impact.

  He blinked a few times and saw the strange woman who had been with Lady Shashavani at the funeral now lying on top of him. He looked at her, she looked at him, and he saw the beast pass over them in its leap.

  The beast landed a few feet away and turned. It glared at Friedrich with its pale blue eyes. It pawed the ground and tensed for another charge.

  The small, black-shrouded figure of Lady Shashavani stepped in between them and faced the beast.

  Good God, Friedrich thought. I’ve just discovered that my mother is alive, and now we’re both going to die.

  He looked back at the woman who lay on top of him.

  “Hello,” he said, smiling.

  The woman looked at him in astonishment and blinked. She was rather pretty. A pity she was going to die as well.

  * * * *

  Varanus stood at her full height and regarded the beast from behind her veil. It looked back at her, sniffing the air. It growled and tensed for another lunge.

  Varanus felt her stomach clench. She recognized the beast. It was the same one that had attacked her and Korbinian in the forest two and a half decades ago. That was impossible, of course, but Varanus was sure of it. The particular shade and pattern of the gray fur, the look in the eyes, even the smell of the creature told her that she remembered it.

  The beast leapt at her. Varanus took a breath and spun in place. She caught the beast on the side of the head with the back of her hand. The blow knocked it sideways, and it hit the ground in a heap. It rose quickly, snarling and snorting, but now the look in its eyes was one of confusion.

  Varanus flexed her fingers and stepped around to keep herself between the beast and her son. She looked down at Ekaterine and asked, “How is he?”

  Ekaterine looked at Friedrich and back at Varanus.

  “Alive,” she said.

  “Keep him that way,” Varanus told her.

  Ekaterine climbed off Friedrich and knelt beside him. Friedrich tried to get up, sword in hand, but Ekaterine pushed him back down with the strength of a Shashavani.

  “Stay there,” she said.

  Varanus watched the beast paw at the ground as it studied her. No, not “paw”. It scratched with its claw-tipped fingers. Varanus looked again. Yes, they were fingers. Just like the creatures in Georgia. They had hands—

  The beast lunged again, this time not past her but at her. Varanus ducked low and jumped to the side, tucking her arms before her face to keep her veil from flapping up. She hit the ground and rolled.

  She was on her feet again in an instant. The beast took longer to recover, slipping on the grass before it righted itself. It seemed somewhat disoriented by the open ground and by the light of day. It kept sniffing the air, like a thing that could smell better than it could see. But the creatures in Georgia had shown very keen sight.

  The beast advanced again, this time slowly and with measured steps. It snorted and grumbled, turning its nose from Friedrich to Varanus, unsure of whom to focus on.

  I shall make that choice for you, Varanus thought.

  She moved forward to meet it as rapidly as her skirts would allow. The beast opened its mouth and made to bite her arm. Varanus twisted sideways and brought first one fist and then the other into the beast’s throat. It gagged loudly and whimpered, withdrawing again. Now Varanus had its full attention.

  “Ekaterine!” Varanus shouted. “Get him away from here!”

  Ekaterine pulled Friedrich to his feet and began dragging him away in the direction of the road. Friedrich struggled against her.

  “No!” he shouted. “Unhand me! I must protect my mother! Where is my sword, God damn it?”

  His sword!

  Varanus struck the beast on both sides of the head with her hands in a tremendous clap that sent shudders through her. The beast let out a cry and scampered backward. It gnashed its teeth with rage and took a swipe at her. Varanus fell back, narrowly avoiding the blow. She would not be so fortunate next time. Though disoriented, the beast was fast and well coordinated.

  Friedrich’s sword lay on the ground. Varanus knelt and snatched it up. She held it out defensively as the beast advanced on her again. At least the sword gave her some range, though it was matched by the beast’s long arms.

  And so the dance began. The beast moved toward her, she withdrew. It circled to one flank as she circled to counter. All the while, Ekaterine managed to pull Friedrich further away, though he fought her at each step.

  Varanus lunged with the sword and cut the beast beneath its chin. The tip of the sword drew blood, but the wound was shallow. The flesh of the beast was tough and unyielding. In reply, it lashed out at her, and she only just jumped backward in time. As it was, the beast’s claws tore through her skirts.

  But that was not to be the end of it. The
beast pressed the attack further, bounding forward with its jaws wide and its claws slashing at the air. Varanus felt those claws tear into her arm and side, cutting cloth and flesh alike. The pain was tremendous, but worse, Varanus felt the creeping sting of sunlight growing from beneath the exposed skin.

  Gripping Friedrich’s sword in both hands, she brought it down on the beast’s brow. She had expected, perhaps foolishly, to shatter the offending head from the force of the blow. Instead, the blade struck and slid away, leaving a shallow depression in the beast’s skin that did not even draw blood.

  No!

  In reply, the beast swept her feet out from under her, shattering the bones in her left leg as it did so. Varanus hit the ground and struggled to maintain her senses.

  “No!” she heard Friedrich shout.

  Get him away! Get him away! she thought, though when she tried to speak, all she could manage was a low, guttural snarl.

  The beast loomed over her, its mouth split open, its tongue hanging out like some overfed hunting dog. Varanus looked into its eyes. Like the beasts in Georgia, it thought it had won. Like the beasts in Georgia, it was mistaken.

  As the beast bit at her, Varanus shoved the sword into its mouth, holding it lengthwise to restrain the creature in the manner of a horse’s bit. The beast snorted and chuffed angrily, and it lashed out with one set of claws, striking the side of her head. Varanus gasped in pain. Her veil came away, and suddenly the burning sensation filled very last inch of her body.

  But she was not finished. Shouting in anger, she smashed the side of her fist into the beast’s nose. The beast howled in pain and ducked its head away, whimpering and growling in equal measure.

  Varanus grabbed the beast by the snout with her free hand and drew back the sword. The air in her lungs escaped her in a single long scream of fury, pulling the beast’s head down even as she thrust the sword into its throat.

  The attack robbed Varanus of her last reserves of strength. Her head swam, confused by the impact it had suffered and by the endless shivers of pain that filled it. The sun, clouded though it was, burned Varanus’s flesh and eyes until she could think of little else but agony. Blindly, she pulled the sword free and cast it aside. She was so very hungry, and she smelled the same rich blood that had nourished her on that moonlit night in Georgia.…