by Marie Medina
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2016 Marie Medina
ISBN: 978-1-77339-119-9
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To every reader out there who loves the story of “Beauty and the Beast” as much as I do.
OWEN AND THE BEAST
Valladora Tales, 2
Marie Medina
Copyright © 2016
Chapter One
Valladora
3155, The Year of Suns
Owen hoisted himself up onto the boulder and pulled his boot off, crying out at the unexpectedly sharp pain. He stared down at his rapidly swelling ankle. Cursing, he fumbled for his bag, which had gone flying when he’d caught his foot in a rut in the road and been thrown forward. He’d actually done more damage pulling his foot out of the rut, and that pissed him off. He looked down the road and tried to guess how far away he was from his aunt’s village. He thought it had to be at least five or six more miles, but he didn’t really know. There was supposed to be an inn coming up soon, but he didn’t know its exact location either. What he did know, however, was that he didn’t see anyone coming from either direction on the road.
He barely managed to drag his bag over without falling off the boulder. He dug around in the deep, overstuffed bag, hoping to find something to wrap his ankle with, perhaps even brace it. Even though he’d known he didn’t have anything, he still felt dejected when he cinched up the drawstring and dropped his bag back to the ground. Dirt flew up, making him cough, and he looked up to the sky. It had been so dry lately he’d been praying for rain, but now he hoped it held off since he might get stuck in it. Fluffy clouds floated to his left, but the clouds to his right were darker. He looked around to find some shelter, but he couldn’t see any. Only open fields lined this part of the highway.
Owen sighed and wiggled his ankle, cringing at the pain. He could always rip the hem off one of his shirts to bind it, but walking any distance would only make things worse. His aunt would know just what to do, but she was miles away. Should he keep it still or move it? Should he elevate it? Questions raced through his mind as he heard hooves beating in the distance. He jerked his head up and began waving frantically as soon as the horse became visible over the ridge.
A man about his age rode up on an enormous black stallion. He made the horse stop and jumped down right away. The enormous animal seemed formidable, but it stood calmly and looked on as its master rushed over to Owen. The man actually appeared much younger up close, a huge grin on his face as he pushed his messy brown hair out of his eyes.
“Hi! You look like you need some help!” the man said, still grinning.
Owen had never seen anyone express concern so happily. He shifted on the boulder and said, “Yeah. I sprained my ankle, and I’m still miles from my destination.”
“Where are you heading?” he asked.
“The next village. The small one by the mountains in Lady Christobel’s dominion. My aunt lives there.”
“Oh. That’s many miles away still. You’d never have made it by dark even if you hadn’t hurt yourself. There is a little inn about four miles up, but my home is much closer. I live in the lodge just over this next hill, off in the woods.”
“I’d appreciate it, but I don’t want to impose.” He straightened. “I’m Owen.”
The man laughed. “Sorry. My master would roll his eyes at me and my thoughtlessness. I’m Lane. Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances.”
“Your master? You’re a servant?”
“Yes, sort of.”
“You mentioned a lodge. A hunting lodge?”
“Well, it used to be.” Lane bent down and looked at Owen’s ankle. “Hmmm. I need to see to this, but I don’t have anything for a splint. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know on the way.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. I was worried about getting stuck out here in the rain,” Owen said as Lane picked up Owen’s bag and hefted it over this shoulder. Glancing to the stallion, Owen sighed. “I know I can’t walk, but I’m not sure I can get up on him. He’s enormous.” Lane was also half Owen’s size, so he wasn’t sure how much help the man would be in getting him up onto the horse. “Maybe if I can stand on one foot and put all my weight on you, I can make it.”
“Oh, don’t worry. We can get you up there.” Lane made a clicking sound with his tongue, and the stallion came right over to them. Speaking to the horse as if it understood every word, Lane said, “This is Owen. We’re going to take him home with us. He needs our help.” Then he pointed at the ground.
To Owen’s shock, the horse actually lay down and then turned to look at the two men. Lane held his hand out.
“Here. Just swing your injured leg over. I’ll steady you.” He frowned. “No, wait, I’ll move to the other side.”
Lane moved to the other side of the stallion and reached his hand over. Owen grasped his hand and threw his injured leg over, pulling himself into position to sit properly in the saddle. Once Owen was situated, Lane smiled at him and clicked at the horse again. Lane held to the horse’s reins and urged him up slowly. The powerful animal got to its feet easily, and Lane walked around to fetch Owen’s other boot.
As they began their journey, Owen asked, “Your master won’t mind an unexpected visitor? I can pay, of course.”
“Nonsense. You’ll be our guest. It’s just me and Lord Edmund day in and day out.” Lane grinned once more. “I’m so excited! I already know exactly what to make for dinner. And I just aired some of the ground floor rooms, so we can move you right in to one of those.”
The title gave Owen pause, as did Lane’s excitement. “Your master’s a vampire?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t like to be addressed by his title. I slip up now and then, and he forgives me. He’s very gracious. Kind and gentle. Would not harm a fly. The best of masters. Good and generous and understanding.” Lane smiled as he kicked at a few pebbles on the road. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”
Owen wondered why Lane was trying so hard to convince him this Edmund was a good man. “You think a lot of your master.”
“Yes, I do.” Lane beamed up at Owen. “I think you’ll like him. I’m sure he’ll like you.”
“Well, once my ankle is bound, I won’t trouble you too much. If I can just rest and then maybe borrow a horse. I promise to bring it back as soon as I can. Or you can accompany me if you like.”
Lane waved his hand. “Nonsense. You should stay until you’re healed. We’d love to have you.”
“I couldn’t impose like that. It will take days. And even if your master is gracious, you haven’t exactly asked his permission.” Worried he might sound condescending, Owen quickly said, “I mean, you know him best, of course, but I hate to put him out in his own home.”
“It’s nothing! Please, I insist. It’s time we had a bit of life and activity about the place.”
Owen watched Lane for a long time, wondering how things could be lacking in life and activity with Lane and his enthusiasm to contend with. “You and your master live alone, you said?”
“Yes.”
“How big is the lodge? Are there no other servants?”
“It
’s rather large. We could easily accommodate twenty guests. I do all the cooking and cleaning. We have a lot of the rooms closed off. The lodge was a gift from the king many years ago, long before I came to serve Edmund.” Lane looked back, almost shyly now, which was odd given his earlier enthusiasm. “It’s no bother at all. Don’t worry about it. It will make my master happy to have you. Truly.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I don’t think you’re telling me everything. It sounds to me like you serve a recluse, and such men usually have their reasons. I’m not just worried for myself. I don’t want to get you in trouble if this angers him.”
They turned off the main highway and onto a road that twisted toward the woods. Lane slowed a little to walk beside Owen on the narrower road, releasing the horse’s reins and putting a hand on the animal’s neck instead. “I’ll have to tell you before we go inside anyway.” He sighed, gazing into the distance. “You said your aunt lives in the village?”
“Yes.”
“Hasn’t she told you about my master? About someone who is very different living in the land?”
“She hasn’t told me about anyone but Lady Christobel. I’ve heard nothing else about other vampires.”
“Well, it’s easy to forget that my lord is a vampire. He’s … different, as I said.”
“How is he different?”
“His appearance can be alarming. He’s a vampire, yes, but he’s also a leopard shifter. You see, though, many years ago, something happened to him. He’s sort of, umm, stuck between the two forms. It’s hard to explain, but it’s best I prepare you for his appearance. He hates to frighten people.”
A stone wall stretching in both directions came into view, and Owen looked to the dark, forbidding gate. The dark clouds closing in on them didn’t make the structure looming in the distance look any cheerier. Something clicked for Owen as he tried to make out the words wrought in iron over the gate and noted a large, ornate “E” in the name. He held up his hand. “Wait. What’s the name of the lodge again? I can’t quite make it out over the gate.”
Lane hesitated, his expression looking almost defeated as his lips turned down. “I didn’t say, actually, but it’s,” he sighed, “Erimoor.” Lane looked up and met his gaze. “Erimoor Lodge.”
Owen laughed. “You’re joking with me.” He squinted, certain Lane was just teasing him. The change in the younger man’s demeanor had been far too dramatic, and Owen hoped it was all part of the joke.
Lane cast his gaze down again, looking hurt. “No, I’m not.” He shook his head and cursed. “I did this all wrong.”
“Did what all wrong?”
“I wanted to tell you about my master without having to tell you we were going to Erimoor. I’d hoped your aunt had told you about him. Everyone in the village is more understanding, for the most part. Some are afraid to come near here, but everyone’s nice when I go for supplies.”
“I don’t know my aunt very well. She and my mother didn’t speak to each other. My mother stole her beau, apparently. I wrote after my parents died because she’s the only family I have left. We’ve never even met in person. She wanted nothing to do with my mother and father, though she said she was happy I contacted her. I put off coming here a long time.”
Lane chewed his lower lip. “Oh. So you’ve never been here before?”
“No, but that’s not the point. Are you really telling me that the Beast of Erimoor Lodge is a real person? I thought it was just a story.” Owen had heard many different versions of the legend over the years, each more terrifying than the last. His memories made the dark structure ahead look much creepier despite the fine details he was beginning to make out as they drew near.
“Yes, he’s real. And he’s not a beast. He’s a kind man who’s been done wrong.”
“But what does he look like?”
Lane rubbed the horse’s neck. “His carriage is like a man’s, but he’s huge. A foot taller than you, I’d say, and much broader. He has fur like a golden spotted leopard’s, though it’s fine and leaves his skin mostly exposed in some places, and his face is like a leopard as well. His eyes are very human, bright blue and … so sad.” Lane made the horse stop. “I wasn’t trying to trick you, but he’s alone all the time. I think of us as friends, but it’s not the same because I’m his ward, kind of. He’s strange to look at, but you get used to him. He has a beautiful, deep voice. And as I said, he’s kind and generous.”
Owen had never heard anyone speak with such devotion. “You sound like you love him.”
“I do. But not that way. I like women. It’s more like a child’s love for a parent.”
“I don’t see how me spending a few days at the lodge will do him any good.”
Lane clutched at Owen’s arm. “But it will. It will do him a world of good. If he sees that others can see him the way I do, he might try more. Lady Christobel reaches out to him, and the king even comes to see him every couple of years. But it’s not the same as meeting someone new and being accepted by that person.”
“He sounds like he’d prefer to be alone. I don’t want to intrude.”
Lane looked completely dejected now. “I won’t make you stay.” He got the stallion moving again. “I’ll tend to your ankle and get you something to eat. If you still want to leave, I can escort you to the village. Or the inn, depending on the rain.” In a lower voice, he said, “And don’t be scared. He won’t emerge while you’re in the lodge. He’s afraid of being seen. He hates it when his appearance frightens people.”
Owen felt terrible, but he didn’t know what to say. “You look so young. How long have you been with him?”
“I’m twenty-two. Edmund found me when I was twelve. My mother was dead, and I’d run away from my stepfather because he was a very bad man,” he said, pushing the last few words out hurriedly. He swallowed, glancing back. “If you get my drift.”
“Yes, I think I do.” He paused. “I’m so sorry.”
“Edmund saved me and took my stepfather to Lady Christobel for punishment. I begged to stay with Edmund, and it was allowed. I think everyone was so shocked to see Edmund at the castle that either one of us could’ve asked for anything. He’s always telling me to leave, but I can’t. I won’t let him be completely alone again. Not ever. He’d been secluded here for decades when I came.”
They approached the gate finally, and Lane opened it for them. The metal gate opened without a sound, as if it was used regularly. Though the sprawling building still looked dark and intimidating, Lane’s words had touched Owen. Clearing his throat, he said, “Maybe I could stay. For a bit.”
Lane’s enthusiasm returned right away. “Do you mean it? Do you really mean it?”
Owen sighed. “If you are absolutely sure he won’t mind. If he seems put out, I’d like to leave tomorrow morning first thing. But I’ll give it a try.”
“Oh, thank you! You won’t regret it. You’ll have a friend for life in both of us.”
As they moved around the back of the enormous lodge, Owen admired the structure. The gingerbread trim was the most intricate and elegant Owen had ever seen in his travels. The lodge looked fit for a king, yet everything around it as so still and quiet. He saw no movement at any of the windows.
Lane seemed to notice him looking around. “You look nervous. Is there anything else you want to know?”
“I only know the variations I’ve heard. They’re all the stuff of children’s nightmares, though. You seem to really care about him, which makes me think most of them can’t be the truth. What exactly happened to him?”
“A demon’s curse. Edmund’s father, Brock, was a leopard shifter, and he killed a demon while in that form. The creature had been tormenting a child. Had broken the poor boy’s arm and both legs. The demon’s brother came and found Edmund’s father, saying the debt must be paid. But he didn’t want a life. He wanted to cause pain. He turned Edmund into what he is now, stuck halfway between his two forms. Edmund’s mother, Laila—she was the vampire—died
of grief, or so I was told. She stopped drinking blood, and of course that killed her in the end. And his father killed himself.” Lane wiped at his eyes, which glistened with unshed tears. “Sounds like any other legend, I know. All the right elements. But no happy ending. No way to end his torment. The demon is dead, struck down by a priest. Yet Edmund remains as he is.”
“No one has ever told me that part.”
“Only the locals really know it. Everyone else just likes to gossip, spread fantastical tales about beasts to scare children.” Lane frowned. “It’s not right.”
As they came to a back door, Lane held out his hand. Owen let himself be helped down, and he leaned on Lane, though he tried not to put too much weight on him. Once they were in the large, warm kitchen, Owen sat down and watched Lane bustle about. As the other man began to tend to his ankle, Owen cleared his throat. “I often say things happen for a reason, but I never really believed it until now.”
“What do you mean?” Lane asked as he rolled Owen’s pant leg up and began feeling the swollen flesh and trying to position the splint.
Owen winced, but then he tried to smile. “I might be able to help with far more than friendship. You see, I’m a storyteller. A very popular one. If I know the true story of your master, I can tell others. Do you think he’d let me do that?”
Lane’s eyes lit up. “He’ll say it doesn’t matter, but it does. I think it would be wonderful.”
Footsteps could be heard overhead, and Lane put a finger to his lips. When they moved away, Lane said, “We’ll let that be a surprise. Stay a few days and get to know him. You’ll see he’s more than worthy of having his true story told.”
Owen nodded his agreement, listening for more sounds in the lodge. Lane seemed so devoted to his master, yet Owen couldn’t help wondering what this cursed man would really be like.
