The Infamous Beast

by T Shadow

  “Years ago, as a middle-of-the-road dragon, I stumbled upon the sign-up sheet for the Lord’s Guard, figuring that there were already some women recruits, I saw no reason not to sign up. There I was, in a line mainly full of barely legal men, ready to do my good for the world. Yes, it was difficult during training, because women are still viewed as being weaker than men, but I got through it.”

  “How long were you in the Guard?”

  Jesus H. Christ, one day I’ll be able to tell my story the way I want to. Today, however, is not that day, and tomorrow doesn’t look any fucking better either. Ugh, men.

  “I was in the guard for a couple hundred years. I don’t remember how old I was when I left, but I left after the death of your Grandma and Grandpa, Leland,” Looking over at him, I bow my head slightly, “My condolences on their passing, but yes, the guard helped me refine my weaponry skills and therefore I was better than many men, considering I had to work for it, or lose my life as a consequence.”

  “No one is m-murdered in the Guard for lack of s-skills.”

  “No, they aren’t, but accidents happen all the time, on and off the training field. A precise slip of a sword will behead any person, but especially its intended target. I didn’t lose my life, obviously, but I did go up through the ranks quite quickly. I was there at the battles that were won, but we refrained from slaughtering whole cities and towns at the order of our First Knight. Compassion was a big, necessary skill back then.”

  “The vision you showed me, it was of a woman who looked exactly like you. A mirror image, if anything.”

  I forgot about the true likeness, something unfortunately even I couldn’t escape from. No matter how hard I tried over the years, the past always caught up with me, confronted me, and then tortured me for years in the wake of its arrival.

  Sighing, I carry on, “yes, Landon, that vision I showed you looks similar to me, but it isn’t. Not really. You see, I have a sister. I doubt you would’ve seen her, considering she lives out of the way.”

  “Where?”

  “I can’t tell you that, considering you still live within the walls of that butchered system, I wouldn’t willingly give up my sister to the ghosts that still haunt the place.” Waving a taloned foot back and forth, I resume my ‘beginning of the end speech’, “My sister and I are identical, and she sometimes used to practice in the First Knight’s garb, with the sword of serenity and her bow and arrow. Well, that was the only way to tell us apart— she was shit with a sword, and I couldn’t let an arrow fly to save my life.

  The woman you saw in the vision was my sister, but I was the First Knight of the Lord’s Guard before and on the day that Lord and Lady Draconis lost their lives. I was blamed for their deaths— a treasured hero turned mad, they said. But I’m not a hero, and I do no good.”

  I take one sacred breath before I continue my information dump on the poor, tied up lads. Thank god I thought to tie them up, if I hadn’t there would be all manner of shit flying around, you know— books, chairs, kitchenware, fists.

  “Our battles were only fought when necessary and your grandparents were adamant that peace came before any war. All of the continuous battles I led were only with opposing cities that wanted to take the Dragon Realm, they weren’t all dragons themselves, but nonetheless, we stopped them. Your father wanted to be the First Knight, I couldn’t fathom why, but he trained alongside the guard every day and became heavily engrossed in our training, whether it’d be battlefield, strategy or war tactics. I think it was because he was an only child, and at the time it seemed as if the duties that went along with running and overseeing the Realm bored him to the brink of exhaustion. War was an easier focus point, or at least he thought. He had thoughts and ideas about commanding and conquering, something that inevitably one day he would accomplish, but it was his obsession with the idea of accumulating and hoarding many places that worried Lord Draconis to no end. If he couldn’t talk sense into the boy during his brief stint in his own mental chaos, then no one could. They removed him from the guard, which at the time was probably the only thing they could’ve done, but it was the wrong choice in the end. Your father was infuriated and proceeded to stalk the halls like some malevolent spirit on the brink of destruction.”

  I imagine the now Lord Draconis stalking the halls of his home with a bed sheet draped over his head with two holes cut out. Not my most flattering use of my imagination, but it does paint him in a new light. A funny, jovial, slightly less murder-y light.

  “You see, your father and I got along quite well until I was appointed First Knight. It was something I wasn’t expecting considering he wanted the position so much. I guess it’s bad practice to put your only son at the head of your Guard and unintentionally offer him up for slaughter.”

  A nervous chuckle escapes me. If I could avoid this whole conversation, I would. If it wasn’t awkward as fuck already, I’d say the expressions on the men’s faces would amplify my nervousness, considering that they look at me like I kicked the cat. And I haven’t kicked Mika for a while.

  “I don’t know what the turning point was, for your father, but it was something that snapped in him that caused his anger to boil over, like a pot of water left on the stove for too long. I was by Lord Draconis’ side a lot, overseeing plans and the like, so his descent into anger was probably propelled along by my presence alone, and for that I am sorry.”

  Leland’s face has drained of all its colour. Is it because he knows the origins of his father’s anger? Possibly, or was it because he knows that I was there? Maybe. It’s still a shock to my own system that this kind and timid boy came from that monster. I would fully expect all of his children to take on the cruel and bastard nature that he has, though I guess, many of his children have.

  “I never knew what happened behind closed doors— I wasn’t privy, but there were always many complaints or comments circulating the kitchen and training yards about his behaviour towards the servants or the girls that frequented his bed at night. I remember having to dispose of a few bodies who died in mysterious circumstances.”

  I didn’t expect any of the others to lose any colouration after that remark, but it’s only Leland who pales further. I guess hearing his father’s actions from the mouth of someone else is the tipping point for him.

  “I don’t particularly want to go on about your father, because you already know what sick, vindictive bastard he really is, but does anyone have any questions that they need me to answer?”

  I give myself a second before slipping back into my human skin. I feel much more constrained and restricted in this pea-sized meat suit, especially when my other form is the size of a fucking watermelon in comparison. My hair, although slightly wild, frames my face as I get my bearings again, my clothes shifted with me, so I don’t greet the lads with a flash of my ta-tas and vagina. Nobody likes a flasher.

  The silence in the room is heavy with tension, but there are so many reasons why that I can't even begin to think about which one it is. I run my hands over my face to check if anything has changed, there’s no mirror nearby, but my face feels the same as it did at the start of the day. I also check my clothes, just to make sure there isn’t a dreaded nip-slip or a whole titty on show, but I’m good on all those fronts too.

  My last resort is to raise my eyebrow like a mother on their last nerve. Clearly something is wrong, yet I can’t for the life of me, figure it out. And no one else is supplying any fucking answers to this particular conundrum!

  “So.. what you’re saying, really, is that you are the redheaded First Knight that’s been removed from all of history and not spoken about in the entire Realm?”

  There’s that awkward silence again. If we listened hard enough, we could probably hear a unicorn fart.

  “Uh… yes?”

  I look at all of them individually. There’s Remington, the asshole, who sits there with his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. “Hey, that rhymed!” Finnegan sits there with a half-smile, the corner of his li
ps turned up, and a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and poor Leland looks as if Death has come to claim him.

  He probably thinks that I was the one who murdered his beloved grandparents. I have no doubt that that’s what the vindictive son-of-a-gun told everyone after I’d fled. My fleeing probably didn’t help matters, but no one would’ve taken my word for the truth. I’d be accused of perjury and treason, and then I’d be cut down by the cunt himself.

  Was I an idiot? Nope. Did I want to get myself killed? Nope again.

  It’s probably a good time to cut them free too. I mean I could, but wouldn’t it be fun to only uncut one, and leave the rest to figure it out themselves?

  “Uncut the Heir.”

  Why the Heir, of all of them?

  “He did look at you like you kicked the cat, now he’s looking at you like you killed it.”

  One day I’ll show him the memories of where I was that night, and I’ll prove I didn’t do it.

  “Of course, but untie the little fucker now, so that you look like you're capable of some compassion.”

  My beast and I normally exist as one, but there’s always times when she’s like my inner conscience. Like that film Mika described once, but I think the kid gets eaten by a whale, so it was a hard pass for me.

  “You wouldn’t eat a child, would you?”

  I snort. Children are non-combatants.

  “Good.”

  I wait a second before she speaks again.

  “Untie the Heir.”

  Yes ma’am.

  Moving slowly towards Leland, I feel like a snake waiting to strike. But that’s not what I’m trying to do though, I’m walking towards someone with caution. He probably thinks I killed his family, and that sucks. He doesn’t look like it, but even the least suspecting person could be pushed to kill.

  His eyes are trained on me as I move closer towards him, and he’s breathing heavily at the moment, but as I move behind him, he’s borderline hyperventilating. Poor kid probably thinks I’m gonna slit his throat and let his blood spill onto the floor in a fabulous waterfall of garnet. Alas, I am not that heartless.

  Just as I begin to hold my hand out, Mika runs over with a pair of wire cutters and I get to work slowly cutting through every. Single. Fucking. Cable tie. I didn’t think this through, maybe I should’ve referred to the ‘prior preparation prevents piss poor performance’ handbook. Now I’m the one who looks like an idiot whilst I painstakingly cut through all these little bastards whilst still getting questioned about my actions.

  “Are you freeing us?” Finnegan.

  “Why were we tied up anyway?” Landon. Dickhead.

  “You have no right to tie us up!” The asshole. He needs a new nickname… Asswipe.

  “Y-You’re freeing us?” Leland, the little baby. He’s so innocent sometimes I just wanna squeeze his cheeks and cuddle him. Like that cuddle where you almost suffocate them because they’re so adorable.

  Ew, did I just catch feelings?

  “Not everyone. Just you.”

  “W-Why me?”

  “Because you look like death is an old friend of yours right now, and I’d rather you not die on my watch.”

  “W-What?”

  Ignoring his incessant babble— how did I think he was cute a second ago? Now I want to strangle him because he can’t fucking listen— I cut the last few ties. Thankfully the rope is tied normally, because I couldn’t be arsed with recreating a knot I learned about donkeys years ago. Pulling the rope away from his wrists, I check that no rope burns are left behind, because even I don’t like hurting someone without reason. Leland’s demeanor is so gentle that I doubt the poor bastard could hurt a fly if he tried.

  The rope falls from my hands in a heap on the floor, forgotten and unused. The Heir is free to skin me if he wishes, but some part of me hopes and prays that he won’t. Some part of me thinks that he can’t.

  Moving back so I’m in his sight, I look into those gold-flecked eyes and tilt my head slightly, like I’m trying to figure out his next move, but really, it’s just a power play. “Leland, your beast cried today, as if you’d been through some turmoil at home. And when I told you about your father, your face went as white as a sheet. Something happened to you there, didn’t it? Not at the hand of your father, necessarily, but at the hands of someone else?”

  Poor kid can’t even move his head to acknowledge me. The only movement he does succeed in doing is moving his arms so that his hands are in his lap. He’s looking at them in bewilderment as if he can’t believe that of all people, I untied him.

  “W-Why me? Of all people, w-why did you untie m-me?”

  I snort and Mika elbows me. Which is annoying, because she appears only to inflict minor pain. “I untied you, because we are kindred spirits.” Smiling this time without three inch teeth, I add, “Finn is a close second, but you are first,” leaning down, I whisper in his ear, “Plus, Finn looks like he would torch me first, then ask me questions. I quite like my face you know, and I want to keep it.”

  “That d-didn’t answer m-my question…”

  I pull back to speak to him with conviction, “You hurt like I hurt, and I empathise with you.” I move my hand to stroke the side of his face, tilting his head towards mine so that our eyes lock, and our lips are centimeters apart. His breath catches, almost as if he can’t believe his luck, but I know it’s because my beast has come forward. My voice changes, becoming more gruff, “you and I could burn that house down like no other, little Heir. You have a stronger fire in you than you realise, and it’s not because of your parents. It’s because of all the trials you faced in that madhouse, all the pain that you struggled through.” Stroking that floppy unruly caramel brown hair away from his eyes, I smile, “You are wanted here, not for your skills, but because someone other than myself cares,” looking at the remaining tied up men, I sigh a little, my shoulders drooping, “The one who cares is the one you loathe. Give him time, considering you’ll all be hounding me for answers, capeesh?”

  Leland gives a gentle nod so I move away. My hand slides gently away from his baby soft face, leaving my palm cold without his heat there to soothe it. The slow growing pain in my chest is foreign, but it’s beginning to feel like I… care.

  It’s a strange thought and an odd feeling. Those who I care about are few and far between, but I think even I could care for someone who has been mistreated for years. Even if I was a cold hearted bastard.

  I mean, I kinda am… really.

  I rub my fist over my chest absent-mindedly. As if rubbing at that ache would make it go away. My internal struggle seems greater than my external struggle— especially considering I’m about to ‘ditch this joint’ in search of greener pastures.

  In short, I wanna go home, have my din dins, grab my blankie and have a nap nap. Today has been a bigger pain in my arse than Lucius on a rampage. Or when my finances don’t add up in the shop, or when my deliveries don’t turn up on time. Taking one last look at those three tied up, I head towards the door of the suite with every intention to leave. It’s a slight grunt that causes me to look over my shoulder, eyeing a struggling Remington whose wild and infuriated eyes burn into me.

  “Not going to let the rest of us free then?”

  I tap my index finger to my lip, “umm, nope. I don’t have time to waste untying you all. That’s why I only untied one of you… duh.”

  Turning my back on that pompous fuck, I pull the handle to open the door to leave. Freedom is only a few steps away. As I’m about to step through it I forget, only for a second, that Mika is in the room with me, but I’m reminded by her presence when she crashes into my back in her haste to leave. I feel her small hands grip into the back of my jacket as she buries her face in my shoulder. It’s enough of a motion to propel me in the right direction, out of this weird as fuck room and out of this tension filled Hotel.

  My parting gift to the men is subtle, I flip them the bird over my shoulder and before the door closes I bid them farewell.<
br />
  “See ya later, fuck heads!”

  It’s been a day or so since Remi dropped a bomb and then flipped us the finger without a care in the world.

  It’s been a day or so that I’ve laid here, stewing about the female who turned my life upside down and then told me to go fuck myself.

  It's just past dawn here and ever since I've woken up, the only thought on my mind has been her. It's enough to make my cock twitch with need.

  But I’m confused now more than ever. Not only by the revelations that she brought to light, but by her. First she was a great puzzle to try to solve, a story to unravel. A delicious scent cloaked by superficial fragrances. A woman shrouded in much mystery and surprise that she caught my interest as soon as Finn came back from her bookstore carrying her lingering scent.

  That was before the incident at the bar when I acted like a fucking creep in the night. Yes— my experience with talking to women is limited, whenever I talk to them they only want one thing, so I fuck em and chuck em quicker than they can catch feelings. But acting like a stalker by hiding in the woods was a new low that I should never have experienced. I just wanted to get her alone, away from all of the others so that I could catch her and shroud myself in her feminine fragrance.

  Kinar-ai demanded to surface when she was close enough to touch. That bastard is hungrier than I am for that copper haired beauty. He caught the last remnants of her scent on Finn’s clothing and started throwing his claim around like confetti. It’s a niggling sound that’s only grown in my brain over the last few days. It was an annoying background buzz that’s now turned into a full-on heavy metal concert.

  That doesn’t stop me from wanting to think about her though. I want to think about her in all the best ways, scenes that make my toes curl and my mouth dry at the anticipation.

  I fantasise about the way that water rolls down her milky skin whilst she showers. How fast or slow she rubs her hands over her skin when she lathers the shower gel against it. When she washes, does she concentrate more on the body parts she loves, rather than she accepts? Does she bend over to wash her legs like a teacher who dropped a pencil, or does she crouch down like a female student looking for extra credit.