by Lindsay Mead
“We proceed,” Belle said, pushing the love nonsense aside and focusing on the issue at hand. “My father needs the forest clear for his trip in the morning. If we don’t, his men could be overwhelmed. So we hunt.”
They rode the rest of the way to the border, stopping just at the tree line. Loud engines came to life with the sound of massive mechanical workings cranking together. Belle looked behind her, toward the noise and the Norwegian Sea. Arm-like beams, which secured their metal-domed house to the cliff side, now moved it away from the land. Systematically, it lowered out of sight and into the crashing seas below. There it was safe from all manner of storm and hellish creature. Only the lighthouse and fortified stable remained above.
Belle turned back to the dark forest. She lowered her head and the men followed suit.
“Oh Holy Angel,” she began the prayer, her voice a solo sound in the night. “Attendant of our wretched souls and afflicted life.”
“Forsake us not.” The men joined her, the rumble of their words mingling smoothly with hers. “Give no place to the evil demon to subdue us with the oppression of these mortal bodies.” The gas lamps began to ignite—one pair at time—throughout the woods and winding paths. “But take us by our outstretched hands, and guide our weapons to smite the minions of hell who now walk the earth.” The light flickered through her closed eyelids, reminding Belle of church candles. “As warring angels of God, we give blood for the blood of the demon possessed, should He so choose it. Pardon us for the evil we must do in thy name, For we deliver to thee the souls of all the lost departed from the pains of hell and from the bottomless pit.” As the Hunter’s Creed came to a close, they formed the cross over their heads and torsos. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”
They raised their heads and opened their eyes. Belle looked at each one of them, then set out first into the woods. The Hunters followed, each taking side paths that spread them out along the border. Soon Belle was alone, with only Charming and the beating of her heart for company.
The first snowflakes to fall came down in a rush of speed. Steadily over the next few hours it increased. The snow now fell at a slant, pelting her face. The wind howled through the trees, like the wail of a sea monster. Belle and Charming huddled into themselves, their backs to the wind.
Her Electro-Phonic Chip crackled.
“I need help. Christ. I need it now.” Delano’s voice was weak, broken up by interference from the storm, but she heard his panic clear enough.
Belle’s head shot up, her body straightening. She tapped her communication device. “Flare, Delano. Give us a flare.”
A second later, the faintest of reds appeared through the snowy sky. Belle hadn’t even heard the pops over the crying wind. She encouraged Charming into a gallop. They sped down the path and slowed only for turns.
Belle was just getting concerned that she’d overshot him when Delano appeared on the path. Charming skidded to a halt, barely stopping in time to avoid a collision. Pushing back her fur hood, Belle gaped at the sight before her.
Delano’s horse, Honor, lay on the ground. He wasn’t dead, but his shoulder was ripped open. Delano leaned over him, stroking Honor’s neck and talking into his ear.
Belle followed the splatters of blood to the dead hellhound. Lights sprang from his body, causing her to quickly close her eyes. When they dissipated, the body of a well-dressed man remained.
Belle tapped her earpiece. “Sending out another flare. Expect the wind to carry it northward.”
As she reached into her saddlebag to retrieve her red flare, Nicolas arrived. His face fell at the sight of his older brother. Belle fired the flare gun, then immediately called for Friar Clemens to bring his cart.
Soon the remaining Hunters approached. Leaving Delano to his horse and Nicolas to his brother, Belle drew the others aside to discuss the situation. No one else had killed or seen a hellhound; clearly the demon spawn had chosen shelter from the storm over food.
“All right then,” Belle said with a nod. “Let’s get Delano and Honor home swiftly.”
Coaxing the stallion to his feet was horrible and took time, but Honor struggled through the pain. By then, Friar Clemens and Jack had arrived. They loaded the human corpse as the Hunters took up positions around Honor and the cart. Delano stayed at Honor’s side, refusing to ride double with another. He encouraged the Friesian through every limp.
When they finally made it to the barn, the Hunters were desperate for its heat and a break from the wind. But still they waited, letting Delano lead his horse in first. Nicolas and Jean assisted in getting Honor back on the ground. Belle and the others picked up the slack, tending to the rest of the horses.
Depositing the last saddle and bridle in the tack room, Belle then went to where the others had gathered. Most of them were on the ground, prepared to hold down the stallion should he try to rise. Jack stood in front of the iron fireplace and withdrew from the fiery belly a long, red blade. Carefully, he handed it to Delano, who was crouched next to Honor’s head.
Delano looked at the sword with red-rimmed eyes. He gulped and squeezed the hilt as he nodded to himself. Honor’s eyes were wide from either fear, pain, or both. Delano whispered reassurances to him.
Finally, Delano sat back and let the hot steel hover over the wound. He took a few steadying breaths. “Be strong, Honor.”
He nodded to the men. They carefully leaned on the stallion, putting pressure on his body and legs. Then Delano pressed the sword onto the wound.
Flesh and blood sizzled from the intense heat, blackening instantly. Honor tensed and thrashed. Delano cooed to him as he continued to cauterize the injury. Honor listened, squealing from the pain, but not fighting their restraint.
Belle had pushed herself against the wall, tears brimming in her eyes. She turned away from it, heading down the line of stalls. She opened Charming’s door and stepped in. Putting a hand to her chest, she blinked back the tears.
Charming left his water bucket, water dripping from his chin, and came over to her. He nickered softly and shoved his muzzle in her hand. She stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and breathing in his comforting scent. “I hope I never have to do that to you.”
“Hey now, don’t bite, Magnas.”
Belle dropped her arms slightly and turned toward the voice. Gastone was in the adjacent stall, petting Magnanimous. She watched him seeking comfort in his horse, just as she was. His shoulders were slouched just a little and his movements soft. Melted snow dampened his hair and skin.
Gastone met her gaze and she saw his sadness. Keeping one hand on Charming, she reached over and grasped the railing separating their stalls. Gastone cupped her hand, running his thumb over hers. It was as good as being hugged.
There was no reason for her to be afraid of a future with Gastone, she realized. He was her friend, and already family. He understood her in ways that no one else would. He understood the challenges they faced—and he faced them by her side. A comforting warmth spread through her hand, reaching straight to her heart.
This will be good, she thought.
When there was nothing more to be done for Honor, they headed for bed. Except for Delano, who insisted on sleeping next to Honor. LeClair House was now fully out of sight and hidden beneath the sea. Only when the sun rises will the gears carry the metal structure back up the cliff side, where it will reside above ground until the following night. The Hunters walked single file to the lighthouse, each using the one in front to shield from the wind.
Belle followed Gastone into the large stone building and stomped her boots to rid them of snow. Jean took the rosary from his hip and slid it into the lock. With a twist, the metal doors unclasped to reveal the lift within. It was small, but the only way to get down to the house at night.
Nicolas volunteered to take the lighthouse watch from Andre, claiming his own distress for his brother would prevent sleep. No one argued, seeing it written in the red of his eyes and the pale of his skin
. He left them to follow the long winding stairs up into the Watch Room.
With the Hunters cramped somewhat tightly into the elevator, the doors cranked shut. There was a moment’s pause as gears and mechanical bits shifted noisily around, then gradually the chains holding them aloft began to descend. Small portholes in the walls showed the passing of rock and the water that filled the elevator shaft—water that helped control and protect the lift’s movements.
The speed of descent slowed; the rock disappeared as they passed into the underwater house. The elevator came to a rest and the frames around the door sealed with a sucking sound. The lift opened to a domed, metal room.
Belle stepped out onto a grated walkway. She followed the path down a few stairs and out into the hallway. Here the floor was suspended, giving a flatness to a circular hall. She turned right into the armory where she removed her cloak, weapons, and Electro-Phonic Chip.
Henri met her on the way to her bedroom. She assured him that she was well and informed him of the situation with Delano and Honor. After a kiss on the cheek, she bid him goodnight and entered her room.
Belle stripped off her clothes with the aid of the Governess; a wall-mounted device that worked both corsets and hair. Then she pulled out her pins and turned the dials on the machine’s display. Deft, metal hands reached out and gently tied her locks into a nighttime braid.
But it wasn’t straight to bed, Belle desperately needed a bath. The large porcelain tub filled quickly with clean steaming water, pulled and filtered from the ocean. She settled in for a long soak.
Three extra spouts hung over the tub. Belle pulled the first, letting rose oil drop into the water. The second was holy water, ordered by the church to cleanse their souls. The final spout was the wonderful invention of liquid soap. Belle went through all three of these, then rested her head on the bathtub’s rim.
A large half-moon shaped window took up most of her wall. Outside there was no sky or stars; only the black abyss of the Norwegian Sea surrounding the house. Belle stared into it till her water grew cold, thinking of what tomorrow would bring.
Her father was going to travel into Vakre Fjell, hoping to evade all hellhounds to reach a far off port. For much of that journey, his Electro-Phonic Chip would be out of signal range. She’ll have no way of knowing if he made it safely until his hunting party returns.
This was a trip Belle had been worrying about for weeks. But he just had to reach Skjebne Port, and his hunting party was far more experienced than hers. Not one of them was worried about this journey. So why couldn’t Belle shake this strong feeling of dread?
Henri pulled Belle in for a hug, squeezing like she didn’t have a shoulder wound. She clenched her teeth and squeezed back. They stood, along with a small crowd, outside the border of Vakre Fjell. Henri’s hunting party was assembled and ready for the dangerous trip. The Responsibly Fiscal Currency Counter had been moved to a cart, which was harnessed to Magnificent and draped in a protective cloth.
“Please be safe, Père.” Belle pleaded into his ear.
Henri patted her shoulder and pulled back to rest his forehead against hers. “Do not worry. My Hunters are the best—even better than yours.”
“I’ve never known you to be a liar, monsieur,” Gastone said, coming over to shake Henri’s hand.
“Watch it, boy!” Henri pointed a menacing finger at him, then gave Belle’s forehead one last kiss. “Love you, my fille.”
“Love you too, Père.”
Before Henri could mount, he accepted the well wishes of local officials and a blessing from the Father. To Belle’s relief, Bishop Sauvage hadn’t come. The crowd of excited townsfolk would have kept Henri there all day, but he eventually shooed them off. Henri waved to Belle from atop Magnificent and signaled to his men.
The crowd moved out of the way as the Hunters positioned themselves around Henri and his invention. Vakre Fjell looked like a winter wonderland straight out of a fairytale. Several feet of fresh snow coated the trees and weighed down the branches. It was beautiful and almost made her feel better about the dangers Henri was facing.
After Henri’s hunting party was well out of sight, Belle said au revoir to those who’d come out. She thanked them for their support and many assured her that Henri would reach Skjebne Port unharmed. Belle smiled at each one but rushed for the house the moment she was free.
“Belle.” Gastone blocked her path, stopping her just outside Henri’s workroom. “Have you thought on my proposal? Do you have an answer?”
Belle scrunched her eyebrows at him, affronted that he would bother her with this now when she was so worried about her father. “No, Gastone, I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”
She made to move around him, but he stepped once more in her way. “Wait, you actually have to think on it? You can’t be serious?”
“I most certainly am,” she said, bristling at his arrogance. “I will give you my answer when I am ready, but right now I want to make sure my père is safe.”
She gathered up her skirts and stepped around the stunned Hunter, but only made it a few paces.
“Belle, wait,” he said, holding the bridge of his nose. She paused to hear him out. “I apologize for my behavior just now. Thinking of the dangerous journey ahead of Henri prompted me to pay my own père a visit this morning.”
Belle’s arms relaxed as her anger quickly faded. Gastone’s father hated him. It was common knowledge, as the man did little to hide it. No matter what Gastone did, he would always be a failure in his father’s eyes.
“I told him that I’d made my regard for you known.” Gastone sighed. “He said I was a fool. A woman of your good character could never love the likes of me. That’s why I pushed you now. I didn’t want him to be right. But when you didn’t have an answer for me, I was afraid that he was.”
“Gastone. Your père is the fool, not you.” Belle came over and grabbed his arms, forcing him to look at her. “In your letter, you said that you wanted to be certain of your feelings for me before you made any declarations. I’ve only just learned that it was safe for me to see you in such a way. Like you, I need to take the time to know how I feel. Can you understand that?”
He looked down at her, a glimmer of hope twinkling in his brown eyes. “How long will I have to be patient?”
Belle turned toward the workroom. “It’ll be easier to think tonight when I know my père is closer to safety.”
“So tomorrow morning, then?”
She laughed. “Yes, tomorrow.”
But as Belle crossed the threshold into Henri’s workroom, she noticed the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Surely, that was not how the beginnings of love felt.
“There’s nothing to report, Belle,” Andre said as she appeared.
Henri’s workroom doubled as his workspace and the core of Hunter communications. Andre sat at a table, manning what they called the vox. Essentially, it was an over-sized Electro-Phonic Chip. While working his inventions, Henri could listen to their communications and speak to them if he needed to.
Andre had two large head-speakers attached to his ears that allowed him to listen privately. He twisted a dial on the vox, adjusting the signal. Andre had a knack for technology. One born out of necessity since he can’t always rely on Henri’s expertise to repair malfunctions in his prosthetics.
Jean wrapped his knuckles on one of the workbenches, grabbing Belle’s attention.
“Want to help us make bullets?” Jack asked for him.
She did need to pass the time somehow. “Okay.”
Belle took a spot along the table, choosing to paint the black crosses on the side of each bullet. Gastone and Jack filled the cylinders with gunpowder. Using his brute strength, Jean sealed them. She tried to let the men distract her with their political talk, but every now and then she still looked at Andre, watching for any sign of concern. Mostly, he just looked bored.
By the time Nicolas came in from being out in the stable with Delano, they had a small army of finish
ed bullets lined up. He sighed, looking around the room. Belle dipped her thin brush into the inky paint. “How is Delano?”
Nicolas shrugged. “Haggard.”
“I’m sure.” She paused before painting the first stroke. “And Honor?”
“Holding up well.” Sitting next to Jean, Nicolas rubbed his hands over his face, scrunching up the skin. “No sign of infection.”
“Well good. That is truly a relief—”
“Belle,” Andre cut in, turning rapidly in his chair.
He flipped a switch on the vox. The transmissions left Andre’s head speakers and was broadcast to the room.
“LeClair House. LeClair House,” Henri was hurriedly saying. Belle leapt from her seat at the sound of gunfire and growls. “A pack…Too many.” His breathing was labored. Franck shouted in the background. Henri fired his guns between words. “LeClair House, are you there?”
The transmission stopped and Belle dashed across the room, smacking a button on the vox. “Père? Père?!”
“Belle? This is…” The signal wavered, only transmitting fragments.
Belle pressed the button again. “Say again?”
She let the button go. Static.
Andre frantically twisted the knobs and dials. “They must be right at the edge of this thing’s reaching capabilities.”
Belle’s heart raced. She could hardly stand it as she listened intently to the white noise. When the signal came back, they managed to catch one word.
“Hurry—” A loud scream, the sound of a violent death, and the transmission went out again.
There was the slightest of pauses, a moment to let the horror of it sink in, then Belle was headed for the armory with her men just steps behind. They grabbed their shooting irons and swords, strapping them on quickly and snatching communication chips from the cabinet. She unpinned the nice, cobalt top hat she’d picked to see Henri off with and tossed it on one of the wall hooks. Tying her cloak at the base of her neck, Belle was the first to reach the front door. Thankfully, the house was above ground now and she didn’t have to waste time with the elevator.
