Legend of Me

by Rebekah L. Purdy

  For a moment, I considered telling Rhyne about my gruesome nightmares. Of the headaches and nausea that followed these visions. About the ghostly lady who seemed to always watch from afar … a woman who looked just like my dead cousin, Lucia.

  With a sigh, I bit my lip. I didn’t want to put a damper on the rest of my day. What I needed to do was try to forget about my dreams and visions and ghosts. So instead, I smiled and said, “See, this is why I adore you so much—you don’t fall for Lady Weaver’s antics.”

  Something or someone crashed in the trees next to us. We leapt apart and stared into the thicket. My heart catapulted into my throat as he reached for his bow. A buck and doe scampered out of the woods and stopped to get a drink at the creek.

  Rhyne glanced at me, and I burst out laughing.

  “What’d you think it was? The Beast?” I teased.

  His lips twitched at the corners, and he tossed his bow aside while pulling me into the creek. “I’ll show you beast.”

  With a giggle, I splashed him, getting his breeches and tunic wet. I grabbed the bottom of my drenched skirt and bounded through the woods, glancing over my shoulder as I rushed onto the main road and screeching as I saw Rhyne closing in.

  I turned around and took a deep breath, ready to run faster, faster—and saw that I was about to collide with a black stallion coming toward me. I screamed and raised my arms to brace myself for the impact, but the rider pulled the reins, stopping the horse mere inches from me.

  “Are you all right?” asked the rider with a deep, masculine voice.

  The knight pulled his helmet from his head. My breath caught in my throat as he slid from his mount. Shaggy black hair fell across his forehead. His blue eyes the color of summer skies. He stood tall, his smile blinding.

  “I-I’m sorry.” I curtsied. “I’m afraid I didn’t see you coming.”

  Any second now my heart would stop pounding. Right? Any second.

  “No need to fret,” he said. “I’m only glad I was able to pull up in time.”

  His soft tone sent a quivering across my skin that had nothing to do with me being dripping wet.

  Rhyne came up behind me and rested his palm on my shoulder.

  The knight glanced at his hand, then back at me. “My men and I are looking for the village of Dark Pines. I haven’t been here since I was a boy, so my memory is not as clear I would like. Could you tell me if we’re close?”

  Rhyne cleared his throat. “It’s just around the next bend.”

  The knight’s gaze lingered on me as he stepped forward. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself.” His grin widened. “My name is Lord Kenrick of Crowhurst.”

  In one smooth motion, he set his helmet on his saddle, then took my hand and raised it to his lips.

  My skin blazed beneath his mouth, and my heart thudded like the beating of a thousand hooves in unison.

  What’s wrong with me?

  I stood frozen in place, staring at him.

  “Brielle, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” Lord Kenrick rushed across the stone bridge, moonlight at his back.

  I laughed. “It’s only been three nights.”

  “Three nights too many.” He scooped me in his arms, his fingers tangling in my hair as he drew me closer.

  My legs trembled and I shook my head to clear the mental picture. Of all the times for one of my stupid visions to hit me.

  My eyes searched his, and I noticed the dazed look on his face as well. Hold on. Had he shared my vision? No. Of course not. Half the time I wasn’t even sure what I was seeing was a vision. It was another magnitude of crazy to think that not only had it been a real vision, but that this knight had somehow shared that vision with me.

  Rhyne stiffened behind me, his grip tightening on my shoulder. I swallowed hard.

  “I’m Brielle Healer,” I said at last.

  Rhyne nudged me.

  “And this is Rhyne Butcher,” I added.

  My face flushed when Kenrick released my hand. I took a step back and bumped into Rhyne.

  “Pleased to meet you both.” Kenrick gave a slight nod, his gaze still intent on my face. He raised an eyebrow. “You look so familiar to me. Is it possible we’ve met before? Perhaps in another town? Or at a ball?”

  Tingles raced across my skin and my fingers itched to reach out to him. “No. I haven’t been out of Dark Pines since I was a small child—”

  “Speaking of Dark Pines,” Rhyne interrupted, “what brings you here?”

  Kenrick gave him a forced smile. “I’m hunting the Beast.”

  I frowned.

  Visions of the Beast the last two nights.

  A possible victim of the Beast this morning.

  And now Kenrick, here to hunt the Beast.

  I wanted to believe the Beast was a bunch of hogwash, but there could only be so many coincidences.

  Rhyne shook his head. “Please forgive my bluntness, Lord Kenrick, but I’m afraid the legend of the Beast is nothing but a falsehood. A story meant to scare the young.”

  “I beg to differ. The Beast is real. I’ve been looking for it for a couple of years now.” He stared at me, and his jaw clenched. “For decades my father and uncles have searched for its origin. And now my brothers, cousins, and I have taken up where they left off.”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him, but if it were real, wouldn’t someone have seen it or captured it by now? Yet he had dedicated his life to hunting it down. Which meant he must have real proof.

  I opened my mouth to say as much, but then the sound of the bells echoed in the distance. These weren’t the cheerful rings of celebration, but instead low drawn out drones. Death tolls.

  I spun to face Rhyne.

  His brow wrinkled in worry. “Come, we need to get to the village.” He grabbed my hand.

  “We can give you a ride.” Kenrick gestured to his small retinue of soldiers sitting atop their steeds nearby.

  “No, we’ll meet you there,” Rhyne said, his jaw firm, eyes wide.

  I glanced at Kenrick and met his gaze. “Apologies, Lord Kenrick, we really must be going.”

  I took off on my own, with just a glance behind me to see Rhyne somewhat confused by my sudden departure. I guess he expected me to put up a fight. But then he came after me.

  We raced into the woods, cutting across the small animal trail and through the rowan trees.

  Rocks cut into the bottom of my feet and I cringed, wishing I’d remembered to put my shoes back on. But Rhyne jerked me down the short cut, straight to the main gate of Dark Pines.

  I slowed as I caught sight of John Undertaker’s cart and the white sheet draped over a lump in the back. It was obvious that it was a body. But whose? The wind picked up and the cloth came loose, billowing in the air. I went still as I gaped at the remains of Margaret Shepherdess.

  Nausea clenched my stomach like a giant fist. Her arms and legs were missing, as was half of her torso, but the mask of terror she wore upon her face remained. Frozen. Vacant eyes. Forever staring at death.

  She looked just as she had in my nightmare.

  So much blood. I could almost smell the remnants of fear.

  I buried my face against Rhyne. My breath came in gasps, tears trickled down my cheeks.

  I wanted to believe it was a coincidence.

  I wanted to believe my nightmare had been nothing more.

  But here was the proof staring right at me. Could I tell Rhyne about it? No. Absolutely not. He’d insisted to Kenrick that the Beast wasn’t real. If I started talking about visions that might confirm not only that the Beast was real, but that I sometimes saw the Beast making its kill … he’d think I was crazy.

  At the sound of hoof beats, I peered around him to see Kenrick.

  “It looks like I’ve come to the right place,” he said, watching me intently. “Don’t worry, milady, I’ll protect you. And the good people of Dark Pines. You have my word
.”

  But even as he said the words, I had a bad feeling that even a knight wouldn’t be able to keep us safe from what was to come.

  Lord Kenrick’s family crest glinted in the sun as he and his men guided their horses toward the mayor’s house. The crest depicted a griffin with a serpent hanging from its mouth, surrounded by four stars.

  Where had I seen that before?

  Had I seen it before?

  “He’s going to rouse up trouble,” Rhyne said from beside me. “Soon everyone will take to the woods. Don’t think I’ll get much hunting done.”

  The undertaker’s cart moved from the gate, and I stared after the mangled corpse, unable to take my gaze from it. At last, I pulled away from Rhyne.

  “Do you think it was wolves?”

  He glanced down at me. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen an animal tear someone up so badly.”

  Perry Dyer pointed to the departing cart. “Did you see her body? All ripped apart. Looked like the Beast got her.”

  I shivered, and my skin puckered in gooseflesh. It was one thing to dream about someone being killed, quite another to actually see their dead body …

  “I heard she was having an affair. Suppose she deserved it,” someone else said.

  Another villager said, “This makes the third person found dead this month. I tell you, the creature is marking the sinners.”

  What was wrong with these people? No one deserved to be torn to pieces. They acted as if they knew all along Margaret would meet an untimely death.

  My hand fisted at my side. “You’d think finding her dead body like that would garner some sort of sympathy.”

  Rhyne took my arm, pulling me away from everyone. “Yes, well, we live amongst vultures.”

  We dodged out of the way as men on horseback rode past. Chickens scattered, sending up a flurry of feathers. Once the commotion died down, they went back to pecking the ground for food.

  A familiar hunched figure caught my attention, and I saw Gram push through the crowd. Her eyes met mine as she drew closer, and she reached out a gnarled hand to grab my arm.

  “The Beast,” she murmured.

  “That’s what they’re saying,” I said.

  She swallowed. “I have to get back to the cabin. There is much I must look into. Promise me you’ll not talk with strangers. And that you’ll not wander the woods alone.”

  “Gram—”

  “Promise me, Brielle.” Her grip tightened.

  “I-I promise.”

  Rhyne quirked an eyebrow and I shrugged. “Don’t worry, Loreen, I’ll not let her venture off alone.”

  Gram gave him a forced smile, then let go of me. “I know you’ll keep an eye on her. You’re a good friend.”

  “Loreen Healer!” Anne Cook hurried toward us, her skirts hefted up. “My daughter was burned by the hearth. Do you have a salve?”

  Gram nodded, clutching her cloak tighter about her shoulders. “Yes. Go on home. I’ll be by with it soon.”

  Tears welled in Anne’s eyes. “Thank you.” She pressed some coin into Gram’s hand, then left.

  “I’d best head to the cottage so I can grab what I need to heal the child.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said, hopeful for a chance to talk to her.

  “Rhyne,” a familiar voice called after us.

  My eyes narrowed. Great. Pretty. Perfect. Sarah Weaver. Daughter of Lady Weaver and the town mayor. And the biggest pain in my arse.

  I turned my head as she hurried over to Rhyne and leaned forward, her bosom nearly falling out of her dress, before glancing my way. “Oh, Brielle, I didn’t notice you there.”

  Didn’t notice me? I was standing right next to Rhyne.

  My fist clenched as she batted her eyes. She shifted so even more of her cleavage was visible. “I don’t want to keep you, but I wondered if you were going to the festival?”

  “I planned on it,” he said. “And you?”

  She giggled, as if a dead body hadn’t just passed through here. “Of course, although no one special has asked me yet.”

  Rhyne’s face turned crimson. Did he like her after all? Maybe he wanted to ask her but didn’t want to do it in front of me.

  I glanced at Gram and she nodded.

  “Listen, I’ll see you later Rhy, I think Gram and I are going to head home.”

  Sarah smirked.

  “Actually, it’s getting dark. I should see Loreen and Brielle home safely.” Rhyne tugged on my arm as if to get me moving.

  Before we got too far, I heard Sarah say, “Nice shoes, Brielle.” She pointed at me, then covered her mouth to snicker.

  I glanced down at my bare feet and wet dress. Heat crept up the back of my neck, spreading across my face.

  Gram’s eyes widened, as if seeing me for the first time. “Why are you out like this in public? Hair down. Muddied gown. No slippers. I didn’t raise no heathen.”

  “It’s my fault. I chased her around in the creek.” Rhyne gave me an apologetic look.

  Gram glanced between the two of us. “You’re getting older. You can’t be running around like this. And you, Rhyne Butcher, know better.

  “I swear we were just playing around in the woods. We never intended on coming into town. But we heard the bells.”

  “Just be more careful, both of you,” she scolded.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Rhyne said. He smiled at me. “We take care of each other.”

  “I know,” she said. “But with Margaret’s death … I need you two to do something for me.”

  “Anything,” I said.

  “Just give me a few minutes alone at the house to get that salve around and take care of some things. But don’t stay gone too long. You know what tonight is.”

  Now it all made sense, and a rush of guilt came over me for not realizing sooner.

  It was the anniversary of my Aunt Narcissa and Cousin Lucia’s deaths. It’d been on my mind this morning, then in all the excitement of hearing about Raul and meeting Kenrick, I’d let the thoughts slip. Every year, Gram and I honored their memories with a small ceremony. I had scant recollections of them, I’d been so young when they’d passed away that most of the things I knew of them were because Gram told me. No wonder Margaret’s death had pained Gram so much. And no wonder she wanted a moment alone. All this did was dredge up memories of our family.

  When Gram disappeared into the woods, Rhyne turned to look at me. “We better go back for your vegetables, anyway.”

  We made our way toward the creek. At last, we stepped onto the shore of the stream. I slid my feet into my slippers, then gathered the vegetables while Rhyne grabbed his bow and kills.

  Once I finished, I glanced up to find him still waiting for me.

  “You could’ve left, you know.”

  “Your Gram doesn’t want you out here by yourself.”

  “Fine, I guess you can walk me home. But so you know, Rhyne Butcher, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been walking these woods alone since I was child.”

  He fell in beside me as we pushed through the brambles. We chatted about going fishing later in the week. Then our conversation turned to Margaret, something I didn’t want to talk about, because when I closed my eyes, all I saw was her face. Pale. Scratched. Mouth opened as if to scream.

  “You all right?” Rhyne tugged on my sleeve.

  “Yes. Just a little spooked after seeing Margaret.” I gave him a forced smile.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Bri,” Rhyne said.

  We hurried through the familiar shadow-drenched woods. The trees bowed beneath gusts of wind, their branches like deformed needles, the scent of pine heavy in the air. Lightning bugs lit our path as the gloom crept in. Some days the mile between the village and our home seemed long, but other times, like now, when Rhyne was with me, it seemed as if we lived right outside the gate.

  As we rounded the curve in the rut-filled road, we took the s
mall foot trail that veered to the right. Twigs snapped beneath my feet, while branches snagged at my dress. Deeper into the foliage we went, until at last we came to the clearing where Gram’s cottage sat. Most of the villagers found it odd that we lived outside the town walls, but Gram worried people would take more notice of her and her healing abilities if we were inside. It was one thing to heal people when we could claim it was all the work of herbs and tender care, but the smallest rumor of something paranormal sent them into a fury. Just look at how they acted with the possibility of a beast being out there.

  We stopped in front of our cottage, the thatched roof in desperate need of repair, the tiny porch sagging with age. Lantern light glowed from beneath the cracks in the shutters as smoke curled from the chimney like a coiled snake. The aroma of Gram’s ham soup wafted out to us.

  I turned to Rhyne. “Be careful going home.”

  He grinned, an arrogant gleam in his eye. “Trust me. Nothing’s going to hurt me.”

  He sauntered into the woods and disappeared into the shadows. I turned to go in—but something stopped me.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled and I swallowed hard. Shivers raked through me as I scanned the woodland. Silhouettes uncurled from beneath the trees, stretching toward the cabin as if snaking toward me. Someone or something watched me.

  Near the trail, a fog began to roll in. And from within it, a figure of a woman appeared, staring right at me. It seemed to float closer, then stopped. I took several deep breaths.

  I’d never forget that face.

  Lucia.

  The fog passed over her. Through her. Like she was there and yet not there at the same time. A ghost.

  My breath caught in my chest as she turned to me. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

  Then, as if carried on the wind, the words she’d spoken reached my ears.

  “Beware, the Beast will come.”

  Fear raced through my veins. I rushed into our home and bolted the door behind me, leaning against the wooden barrier, eyes closed, taking deep breaths.

  “Get a hold of yourself, Brielle,” I said.

  My heart hammered against my ribs. As much as I’d hoped for all of these coincidences to end up being just that, I had to face facts.