To Love A Monster

by Marina Simcoe

  A sudden growl behind me made me raise both the knife and the branch as I twisted around towards the source of the noise.

  Two large shapes collided in the air.

  With a yelp I lurched backwards, fiery spears of pain from my twisted ankle shooting up my leg.

  Massive bodies rolled on the ground, growling and clawing at each other. The moonlight bounced off the pale fur of a huge cougar that had its teeth sunk into the shoulder of the wild animal I recognized as the beast that had attacked me earlier.

  The cougar’s powerful hind paws, with their razor-sharp claws were tearing the monster’s side to shreds, ripping out chunks of dark fur and slicing into the flesh underneath.

  With a deafening roar, the monster rose to his feet—his own claws deep in the cougar’s front paws at his neck—he threw himself to the ground, crushing the cougar under the mass of his enormous body.

  The two wrestled on the frozen earth. The cougar growled and hissed every time monster’s massive frame ended up on top. Finally, the feline used the moment when the beast rolled to the side to let go of his shoulder. It sprang up and melted into the darkness of the surrounding trees.

  I glanced around nervously, half expecting the cougar to come back.

  Then turned my full attention to the monster, who heaved himself up with a low grunt. He met my gaze a moment later. His eyes glistened menacingly in the moonlight.

  “Don’t . . .” even think about it was what I was going to say, but my teeth chattered and my voice got caught in my dry throat.

  I tightened my hold on the makeshift weapons, willing my hands not to shake.

  “Go away!” I yelled as fiercely as I could muster, waving the stick in front of me in what I hoped was an intimidating manner.

  The monster sat on his haunches and tilted his head to the side. I swore I could see amusement glinting in his gaze now.

  “You’ll die if I go.”

  I dropped the branch, my head spinning in shock and disbelief.

  It spoke?

  Or did I start to hallucinate from hypothermia just like people did from high fever?

  The way he spoke—mocking me calmly—also stunned me.

  “I would prefer to avoid dealing with the mess of your decomposing body in my woods.” His voice was low and raspy. The words sounded a little distorted, requiring an effort to understand him at first, although the sarcasm dripping from his mouth was unmistakable.

  “You talk.” I blinked, still trying to come to terms with the existence of a talking animal in this world. Afraid I’d drop my pocketknife again if I continued to brandish it at him, I wrapped my arms around me in a futile attempt to control my shivering.

  He sucked in an exasperated breath. “So very observant of you.”

  “T-that’s c-crazy!”

  “Isn’t it?” he scoffed then added slowly, “Listen. If I leave you here now, you’ll be dead before morning—”

  “We’ll s-see ab-bout that,” I interrupted.

  Sitting on the ground, hugging my ripped clothes to my shivering body, I must have looked pathetic, but I lifted my chin in defiance. Something in his sneering tone pricked at my temper.

  “It isn’t f-finished until it’s finished. I’m not d-dead yet.”

  “Even if the cat doesn’t come back,” he continued evenly, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “Exposure will finish you. It wouldn’t take long, since you’re not even dressed for the weather. Jeans are hardly suitable attire for this time of the year around here.”

  Ripped jeans.

  I didn’t say it out loud, not wanting to remind him about the lustful frenzy in which he ruined my clothes. As insane as it felt to have a conversation with a talking monster, at least he was calm and seemed reasonable at the moment.

  “I’ll find my f-friends—”

  “You’re friends are gone!” he bit out with undisguised disdain and added under his breath, “fucking cowards.”

  “Gone?” I gasped. “As in ‘left’? Or did you . . . do something to them?”

  “Like what? Swallowed them whole, camera and all?” he smirked. “They ran out of here so fast, I never got a chance to do anything.”

  “They’ll be back,” I whispered, even as my resolve wavered, along with the faith in my own words. “They just went to get help . . .”

  “When they come back—if they come back—it will be too late for you. And as for help, the closest police office—RCMP—is almost a two-hour drive south from Rocky River, which would be almost three hundred kilometres from here. I do believe the RCMP officer comes to town once a week. Not sure what day of the week that would be, though. Chances are six to one that it’s not tomorrow.” The thick sarcasm in his voice ground on my nerves, even as the chilling realization of having to spend the night in the dark freezing woods settled in my brain. “In any case, no one will come for you at least until tomorrow morning.” His gaze weighed heavy on me. “So I’m stuck with you.”

  “What d-do you want?” I tightened the grip on my knife.

  He heaved out a sigh.

  “I’ll take you back to the house.” He rose to his hind paws, and I thrust my pocketknife in his direction again.

  “No!”

  He tilted his head at me, definitely more amused than intimidated by the knife in my hand.

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “There is always a choice,” I retorted. “Even if it’s just between freezing in the woods or being raped and eaten.”

  He flinched as if I punched him in the face, and it took him a moment to reply.

  “I’m offering you the chance to survive the night.” His voice was grave and absolutely serious this time, with not a hint of mocking.

  “In exchange for what?” I held his stare.

  “Your silence. You’re not going to tell anyone about me. And if your friends come back for you in the morning, you’ll lead them off the property and back to wherever the hell you all came from.”

  Anger and undisguised dislike coloured his words.

  I could argue with him all I wanted. Deep inside I knew he was right. If Ashley and Jason were indeed gone, my chances for survival here were slim to none.

  But how could I trust him not to attack me again?

  I craned my neck, carefully regarding his impressive figure in front of me.

  The moonlight brought out pale highlights in his thick mane and in the fur on his wide shoulders. Streaks of light glistened along the polished horns spiraling out of his head. Cold hostility glimmered in his deep-set eyes as he gazed at me. With his hands relaxed at his side, the set of sharp-looking claws I had seen earlier was hidden from sight. Retracted.

  I shot a tentative glance at his crotch. His fur was darker and thicker on his lower stomach and inner thighs, completely hiding his genitals from view. Not finding an erection there this time, I exhaled in relief.

  The monster must have noticed the direction of my gaze and seemed to sense the tone of my thoughts for he shook his head.

  “I’m not going to pounce on you again. All I want is for you to walk out of here in one piece.” He gave me another heavy look and added with force. “And never come back again.”

  “There’s nothing I want more,” I assured him quietly. “It’s a deal then.”

  “There’ll be no police report, no investigation. Understood?” he added in a steely tone.

  I nodded, perfectly aware that I was not in a position to argue. All I wanted was to get out of these damn woods and then put this whole thing behind me, bury it as if it had never happen.

  “I p-promise. No police.”

  He rolled his injured shoulder in a surprisingly human gesture then walked on two legs towards me. I shrank back involuntarily, wishing to keep as much distance as possible between us.

  He paused for a second, towering over me. “I’d rather you walked on your own, too, but you can’t. So—” He grabbed me and heaved me up in his arms with a grunt.

  I wrapped my arms tighter aro
und myself, trying not to touch him.

  His fur was spiked with frost where it brushed against my skin. The faint smell of a wet dog hit my senses again, and I turned my face away from him straining my muscles to minimize any contact with his body.

  My injured ankle dangled in the air, sending sharp pain up my leg with his every step, and I bit my lip to stop any cry of pain.

  Being this close to him was not just unpleasant, it was also foreign and alarmingly unsettling. His arms around me felt confining, like a set of restraints, and I had to force myself to remain calm and not freak out and demand that he release me.

  He expended no visible effort in carrying me as he moved swiftly between the trees, seemingly finding his way with no trouble.

  Despite the fast pace he maintained, it still took us quite a while to reach the house. By the time the dark mass of the building appeared behind the dense rose bush hedge, I was frozen from head to toe. The only part of me that still retained any kind of warmth was the side pressed to him.

  Inside the house was dark and cold when he carried me over the threshold. The wind had dropped, but without any heating, being inside offered little comfort.

  The monster unceremoniously deposited me on one of the couches in the main room then shoved it closer to the fireplace.

  “I’ll fetch some wood,” he informed me before moving to the kitchen area. A moment later I heard him exit through a door.

  I shifted in my seat, carefully adjusting the position of my injured leg, then prodded it with my fingers in an attempt to assess the damage.

  “And?” His voice came from right behind my shoulder.

  “What?” I jerked in surprise.

  “How bad is your leg?” He stomped to the fireplace, carrying an armload of firewood topped with a handful of kindling, and a pack of matches.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s just sprained.”

  “Pretty sure?”

  “As far as anyone can tell without an x-ray. I went to medical school for a year . . .” I stopped myself, wondering why I had volunteered this information. It wasn’t like he’d asked.

  He didn’t comment as he skillfully arranged the wood and the kindling, and soon bright flames cheerfully danced inside the fireplace.

  I was yet to feel any real warmth from the fire, but the mere sight of it lifted my mood and I reached towards it.

  The monster disappeared again for a moment then returned with two heavy blankets. He tossed one of them over my legs.

  “Thank you,” I gratefully pulled the blanket over me, noticing that my shivering had already subsided as a result of his efforts.

  “I’m simply making sure you survive the night,” he threw curtly over his shoulder. “That was the deal.”

  Fine. Be that way. I huffed in frustration. I’m not thanking you again.

  His behaviour was far from friendly, but he wasn’t nearly as aggressive and threatening as he’d been at our first encounter. Rude and outright hostile, he still caused icy needles of unease prickle inside my chest, but he no longer made me feel like I was in any immediate danger.

  Good enough. At this point, I’d settle for rudeness if that meant my survival.

  Huddling under the blanket, I contemplated my situation.

  I must have wandered in the woods for hours. Jason and Ashley had likely left before the night came. They would have a hard time finding their way back to the lodge in the dark, otherwise.

  I hoped they would come back for me once the sun is up in the morning, either with the RCMP or with people from the hunting lodge where we all stayed. Then I would get out of here and wouldn’t have to see the monster ever again.

  As I warmed up, I observed him in the flickering light of the fire.

  The sentient being who talked like a man but had the appearance of some mythical beast.

  What was he?

  It was obvious that he must be closer to a man than an animal—he walked on two legs, had opposable thumbs, and could speak. His intelligence appeared normal, if the sarcasm and general knowledge he exhibited was anything to go by.

  Though I couldn’t catch any regional accent in his speech, he talked using modern terms and intonations. His voice didn’t sound completely human. Rough and deep, it was close to an animal growling.

  In the glowing light of the fireplace, I was able to discern more details of his appearance.

  There was nothing human about his face at all. The long snout reminded me of a wolf, as did the pointy white teeth that were visible every time he spoke. His eyes were all but hidden under a heavy brow, glaring at me every now and then as he attached the second blanket over the broken backdoor using a hammer and nails.

  The thick fur that covered his head and shoulders brought to mind a lion’s mane. I also noted the long bushy tail that flickered at his ankles.

  And then there were his horns.

  The horns were actually spectacular. They must have been close to two feet long. Thicker at the base, they wound up in ribbed spirals that tapered to sharp, glossy points high above his head.

  He finished arranging the blanket over the back door, meanwhile, and came to tower over me. Unable to stand the heavy silence rolling off him I blurted out the thought, which occupied me at that moment. “What are you?”

  His fingers twitched before his hands balled into fists, and his chest expanded.

  “What do you think I am, princess?” His voice was clipped, mocking again, but I sensed a shadow of hurt deep underneath and kept quiet. “Isn’t it obvious?” His voice rose, a derisive note cutting sharp through it.

  “Watch and tell me.” He rolled his shoulders back, raised his head, and a blood-curling howl escaped his lungs, turning the frozen needles in my chest into a solid block of ice.

  The howl thickened in his throat, joined by a low rumble that grew into a full-on deafening roar within seconds. He leaned over me, his burning gaze fixed on me.

  “What am I?” He bellowed in my face. “What does this look like to you?”

  What about my question would have offended him this much? Was it my choice of word what instead of who?

  I closed my eyes in fear and pressed my back into the couch, wishing I could just fall right through it to hide. Terrified, I couldn’t move a muscle, and certainly not form any reply.

  “What do you think I am?” he demanded and grabbed the couch on each side of me, his claws piercing through the upholstery with a sharp sound, then gave it a rough shake. My leg jolted painfully, and I cried out in pain.

  “Monster!” I squeezed past my tight throat and whispered with my eyes shut, “You are a monster.”

  He shoved away from the couch immediately, releasing me from his confining presence and letting me breathe once again.

  Only then I ventured to open my eyes a little.

  “That’s exactly right, princess. I am a monster. Inside and out.” His tone was surprisingly calm, as if he found my insult oddly satisfying.

  I blinked, still shocked by his outburst, and more than a little confused by his sudden composure.

  He turned away from me, revealing his injuries. The blood from the wounds inflicted by the cougar had crusted in rusty streaks, blending with the russet brown of his fur. I noted the furrow of his snout—the movement must have pulled on the cuts, causing him discomfort.

  Compassion warred with resentment in me, and the empathy won out.

  “You’re hurt.” I cleared my throat. Hoping not to cause another fit of rage in him, I continued carefully. “You’ll need stitches. I could do it if—”

  “I’ll be fine,” he barked.

  And I thought it wise not to insist. Despite some theoretical knowledge on how to stitch a wound, I never went far enough in my medical studies to treat injuries with confidence, even if he let me touch him. Besides, I strongly doubted the house boasted much in the ways of medical supplies for me to do the job anyway.

  “Why did you fight the cougar?” I asked instead.

  He leaned against the fi
replace, giving me a measuring stare.

  “I told you. I want you to leave here in one piece. There’d be a lot of bloody pieces littering my woods, had the cougar got to you.”

  “He was after me?” I sat up, my back rod-straight from shock. The image of the cougar’s claws imbedded in monster’s flesh churned my stomach—those were meant for me. “You saved my life.”

  He shrugged and looked away, acting uncomfortable for the first time since I met him.

  “You should at least get them clean,” I suggested, tipping my chin at his mangled side. He saved my life—I didn’t want him to die from infection because of it.

  “Don’t you have your own wounds to worry about?” he snarled, reminding me of the cuts on my legs and back. The ones that he had inflicted.

  I pressed my hand to the blanket over my injured thigh and kept my mouth shut.

  “That’s right, Sophie, think of yourself,” he muttered, turning to leave. “Don’t you worry about me.” The mocking derisiveness in his tone was once again off-putting.

  Fine. Rot in hell for all I care.

  Wait a minute. Did he just say Sophie?

  “How do you know my name?” I called at his back.

  He stopped on his way to the kitchen and turned around slowly.

  “The redhead yelled it as you were all running for your lives.”

  “Ashley?” I remembered her screaming a warning to me.

  “What kind of friends would leave you alone with the likes of me, anyway?” he scoffed.

  I felt the need to defend Ashley. She wasn’t obligated to put her own safety at risk for me.

  “Ashley and I are hardly friends. We just met three days ago. She’s the girlfriend of a distant friend of my boyfriend.”

  “And your boyfriend is that moron with the camera?”

  “Jason,” I corrected. “He’s a photographer. Among other things.”

  “What’s his excuse for leaving you behind?” There was unmistakable contempt in his voice. “He ran so fast, he never even got to scream a warning your way. Just hurled the camera at me and took off.”

  “No,” I sighed, suddenly acutely aware of my boyfriend’s shortcomings. “No excuses. Except for the fact that you’d make anyone run for the hills.”