by A R Davis
“Did you hurt him?” His father asked.
He saw no reason to deny it. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Young Aubrey turned to face his father. “Because he’s not a good man,” he said casually as though they were discussing the weather.
Lord Aubrey stared at him in disbelief. “What’s happening to you?” he asked. “Are you angry about something? Is it the…stress of your future responsibility? Tell me how I can make this right with you.”
There were tears in his eyes. Young Aubrey could not tell if they were genuine. He could never tell how genuine his father was.
“The only way to make this right,” he said slowly, “is for me to find and kill the demon.”
“Aubrey, Captain Yendel and his men have searched tirelessly for this…demon. They have found nothing. There is no such thing as demons. There are only evil men.”
“And evil must be punished,” Young Aubrey said. The rifle in his hands gleamed beautifully in the moonlight. “That’s what you always told me.”
“Yes,” Lord Aubrey agreed. “Evil men must be punished.”
“It matters not if you believe me. Either way, I’m to be the one to kill it.”
“I forbid you from ever stepping foot in the forest again.”
“You can’t stop me, Father.”
“I will do everything in my power to do just that.”
Young Aubrey pitied his father. He pitied everything the Aubrey name stood for. His father was a good man; all the Aubreys were. But there was one problem:
Lord Aubrey was standing in his way.
“Do you love me, Father?” Young Aubrey asked softly.
“You know I do. I want to protect you. I want you to get better. I want my boy back.”
“I want to hear you say it,” Young Aubrey said.
“I love you, son,” Lord Aubrey said stepping towards him with open arms. “I love you so much.”
Young Aubrey smiled, completing the image of his mask. It was the least he could do for his father. “I’m glad I got to hear you say it one last time.”
He aimed at his father and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 11
She felt unclean. There was sweat under her arms and on her chest and leaves fell and became tangled into her hair. All of that, however, could be washed away with a decent bath. Someone once told her time would clean the rest. How much time was never determined.
Valerie walked in a daze as the thorns pricked her skin and the birds cried above her. She did not know where she was going or where she intended to go. She had lived in Leola all her life. The thought of being anywhere else felt…impossible.
The only living things that surrounded her were birds, squirrels, and flies. The flies buzzed around her head as though they were waiting for her to die. She didn’t have the strength to swat them away; she had to focus all her energy on walking. It was difficult, considering her legs felt like lead. Her whole body ached for a nice bed to rest in. But she could not rest. She doubted she could ever sleep again.
She eventually had to stop. Her legs just hurt too much, and she had no idea how long she had been walking. She leaned against a nearby tree and took a breath. In her hand, she noticed, she was still holding on to the Beast. When she examined him closely, she saw that he had a splatter of dried blood on the top half of his body. Some of the blood dotted on her fingertips. The sight of it made her sick. She frantically started to rub the stains with her dress. She thought of the hole blown into her father’s head and the sheet they laid over him. It has to burn, that stain will never come out in the wash. It has to burn.
One of the horns broke off.
The piece lay in her palm.
“No,” she whispered as she tried desperately to put it back together. “No, no, no.” Tears flooded her eyes, making it difficult to see what she was doing. “No, no, no, please.”
The horn slipped from her fingers.
Valerie got on her knees and desperately searched the ground for the missing piece. She patted the dirt and shifted through the dead leaves. She kept repeating her denial. You can’t even take care of a stupid trinket, can you? She burst into tears and held on to the Beast. It was no use finding the small piece and it was no use staying on her knees as though she was ready to die. That would have been the easy thing, she supposed, and she wondered if it was easy for her father.
“Bastard,” she nearly shouted. She wasn’t one to swear, but it now felt like an appropriate refrain. “You bastard.” She didn’t know who she was referring to. For all she knew, she could have been referring to the Beast for breaking down when she needed him most. He needed you, too, she thought as she stared in contempt at the Beast. Where were you when Papa decided to point the gun to his head? Where were you when he pulled the trigger?
Valerie arched her arm to throw the Beast into the forest where he belonged.
The claws pinched her fingers.
This is it, she kept telling herself. This is the moment I’m going to let him go and be done with him.
She was still thinking that five minutes later. Her arm grew tired from holding it up for so long.
Valerie closed her eyes, sighed, and then brought the Beast back to her side. She kept walking.
The sparse sunlight was slowly being replaced by darkness. Valerie wished the stupid Beast in her hand would do something to help her—that it would become like the Beast in her father’s stories. You’re a useless thing. I don’t know why I’m hanging on to you. No matter what, though, she didn’t let go. She put him in her pocket to keep him safe.
Suddenly, the birds had ceased their song. It was so deathly quiet. If I were to scream, who would hear me? The thought was unsettling enough to get her running.
Soon, she reached what seemed like a wall of greenery. There was no way around it, at least no way she could see. Valerie chanced a glance behind her. All was deceptively still. She didn’t like being out in the open like this. There was nothing left for it: she would have to tear through the wall. When she had made a hole large enough for her to pass through, she beheld a rather peculiar sight.
There, several feet in front of her, was a house.
Even from this distance, she could tell how dilapidated it was. Moss grew in thick blankets on the side of the wall. Three out of the four windows had cracks in them. The house itself leaned awkwardly to the side as though it was preparing to keel over any minute. It also gave off a strange, sour smell, as though a decaying corpse was rotting inside.
Did somebody live in there?
She didn’t think she had much time to dwell on the matter. She rushed to the front door and, even though she was quite certain nobody had lived here for a long time, she knocked. “Hello?” Her voice was so loud. She could hear the “o” of her greeting echoing up to the roof.
She turned the knob. The door creaked horribly as she pushed it open. She timidly stepped inside. “Hello?” she called out. “Is anybody here?”
Silence. The shuffle of her feet. A clock ticked somewhere.
She was alone.
Valerie closed the door behind her. The house was horribly dusty. She sneezed when her feet kicked up a great puff of it. There were cobwebs in the corners vacant of spider occupants. The walls of the entrance hall looked as though they might have been painted a nice green color, but now it was the sickening color of mold. In front of her, the stairs had a few pegs missing from the railing. Curiosity won over her momentary exhaustion, so she decided to explore the rest of the house.
Valerie first went to the room on her right, which turned out to be a parlor. At the wall were shelves filled with books. They guarded a mantle with an ash-covered hearth. A black poker leaned against it. In the center of the room was a battered, moth-eaten loveseat with feathers sticking out of the cushions. Valerie slid her finger over an arm; it felt crusted and oily. She wiped her finger on her dress.
The books lining the shelf had visible signs of age on their spines. When she took one off
the shelf, she could see that some of the page corners were ripped. Perhaps after a good rest, she might smuggle a few books with her for the journey ahead. Maybe one of them would help her figure out where to go next.
To the right of the parlor, tucked in a corner, was the washroom. In the center was a rusty metal tub with some sickly brown liquid swirling at the bottom. A chamber pot was placed in the corner, and a basin on top of a night stand. There was a smell akin to rotten eggs permeating the air, causing Valerie to pinch her nose. Needless to say, she inspected neither the basin nor the chamber pot. She closed the door and hoped the smell wouldn’t get out.
Across from the parlor was a swinging door that led to the kitchen and dining area. Valerie’s stomach gurgled, a mixture of hunger and nausea. There were bags of grain and fruit lining the walls. A basket of rotting eggs was sitting next to a basin that was full of dirty dishes, which were crusted with month-old meals. In the corner was a cast-iron stove. In the middle of it all was a little circular dining table, much like her table at home. On top of the table was a feast gone cold and stale. The browned meat was still red in some places, and the cut potatoes were leaking oil, but Valerie didn’t care. Perhaps some lost soul had come in here and helped himself to some food.
Valerie sat at the table, her hands tempted to grab at the food and stuff it into her mouth. Timidly she picked at the piece of meat. It was chewy and a little greasy, but it tasted like the best thing in the world at the moment. She helped herself to some more, and more, until she was practically gobbling the whole thing down. Then she worked on the potatoes. Some of them were raw in places, but she ate them all without complaint. Next to the plate was a cup of wine, which she guzzled down to get rid of the salty taste on her tongue. It was sweet and tangy, and it made her muscles warm up as though she was wrapped in a layer of quilts.
She wiped her dirty hands on her equally dirty dress and smacked her lips. Her belly was now roiling with food, and she was so tired she thought she might fall asleep right there on the table. Maybe there was a decent bed upstairs. She walked out of the kitchen and went up to the second floor.
The first bedroom was cluttered with bones of junk: broken toys, dirty clothes, and torn pieces of parchment were scattered about. The little bed reminded Valerie of a boat trapped in still water. At least the room didn’t smell. Valerie, however, was not keen on wading through the mess to get to the bed. She closed the door and moved on.
The second bedroom had peeling wallpaper. Like everything else, the bed was caked with dust. The bed was pushed all the way to the window. There was a nightstand with a lamp on it, and a wardrobe in the corner. For the most part, the room was perfectly normal. She could rest here once she cleared the dust off the bed.
However, there was one more bedroom at the end of the hall that she had yet to explore. When she stepped inside, the room seemed to be colder than the rest, and the hairs at the back of Valerie’s neck prickled. In fact, all of her skin seemed to tingle once the sharp smell of pine and wet dog wafted up her nose. Like the other room, the bed was shoved all the way to the window where you could see out to the front of the house. Unlike the other room, the bed was mostly destroyed. The blankets were torn and the pillows looked like something had taken a bite out of them.
The wall to her left was covered in tortured patterns of scratch marks and what appeared to be blood. Valerie’s stomach tensed with fear. Horrible scenarios flickered through her mind—perhaps this was what happened to travelers who found this place. Maybe this was why a meal was left unfinished downstairs.
Valerie left the room as fast as she could and slammed the door behind her. Seconds after she had, she heard the front door open and close. She stopped mid-step and listened as the sounds of someone’s footsteps striding through the entrance room. There was a swish of something like a cloak being thrown off or on. Then all was quiet once again.
Valerie slowly edged her way toward the stairs and peeked out behind the wall. She saw a black cloak hanging on a peg in the wall. It swayed a little in the soft breeze, making it almost look alive. She tried to decide if she should make a run for it now or try to hide. After a moment, she tentatively took the first step, then the second. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could get out.
The swinging door began to open.
Valerie inhaled a cloud of dust in her mouth.
She swiftly moved off the stairs and flattened her back against the wall.
The sound of heavy, clunking footsteps told her that the person was coming up the stairs.
Valerie quietly made her way to the second bedroom, her heart in her throat. I shouldn’t have come here, she thought, trying not to cry. She softly opened the door and closed it behind her. Her hands were trembling the entire time.
What now?
The footsteps were getting louder; the person was in the hall. She had seconds at best. Maybe less.
Valerie got on her hands and knees and crawled under the bed. She barely had time to make sure her whole body was hidden when the bedroom door opened and the stranger stepped inside.
Dust wafted up her nose, threatening to make her sneeze. She pressed her hands against her nose and mouth and held her breath. Please, please, please, go away, she thought. Her whole body shook as she heard the stranger slowly walk around the room. It took several agonizing minutes. Valerie’s lungs felt like they were on fire. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.
The bedroom door closed.
Was the stranger gone? She could no longer hear him, but she wasn’t sure she heard him leave, either. She was too occupied with preventing her sneeze.
Valerie waited a few more moments before finally letting out a breath.
Something grabbed at her ankles and yanked her out from under the bed.
Valerie shrieked and dragged her nails across the floor.
The stranger turned her on her back and placed his hand on her mouth to silence her. It needn’t have bothered with keeping her quiet; by then, the scream had already died in her throat.
A pair of large yellow eyes stared down at her.
Part II: Damien& Demon
Chapter 12
She wanted to black out. Her mind could not accept that this thing existed. It was not possible; it was unfathomable. So why did the hand around her neck feel so real? Why could she smell old pine and moss off his fur-covered flesh? She could see herself reflected faintly in his horrid yellow eyes. The pointed, triangular ears on top of his head twitched madly.
The monster was staring at her, not murderously but with curiosity. His head cocked from side to side in a strange, jerking motion. Valerie was too stunned to move or do anything. Her mouth was still open, but nothing came out. He wasn’t holding on to her hard; it was more like he was holding her in place so he could examine her as if she was some type of toy. He turned her head left and right. Valerie’s limbs were like lead, and no matter how hard she willed them to move, they wouldn’t. Maybe he’s wondering how best to eat me, she thought. She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t stop looking into the yellow of his; it was as though they had entrapped her.
He slowly removed his hand from her mouth but kept her pinned to the floor. Though she was frightened, she wasn’t about to let herself become a monster’s meal. While keeping his gaze, she balled her hand into a fist and punched his cheek. It wasn’t enough to knock him over, but it was enough to catch him off guard. Valerie used her legs to push him off of her with the remainder of her strength. She only barely managed to knock him to the side.
She scrambled to her feet and reached for the doorknob. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the monster already getting back up. She did not have to see him properly to know that his curiosity was now quelled. When she threw open the door, she made sure it slammed into him. She heard him growl but did not stop to see if it had knocked him down again. She sprinted down the hallway and raced down the stairs. Behind her, she could hear his lumbering footsteps.
Valerie threw her
self at the front door and wrenched at the doorknob.
It clicked.
Valerie’s heart stopped. She tried again and again.
The door wouldn’t open.
The monster had locked her in.
She looked over her shoulder to see the monster coming down the stairs.
Valerie made a mad dash to the kitchen. She pulled out her knife and whipped around.
“Stay back!” she shouted and thrust the knife in his direction.
The monster ignored her, taking slow, deliberate steps towards her. There was no emotion in his eyes, which was more frightening than if he had looked at her with anger.
“Stay away from me!” Valerie shouted again, backing up into the wall. She made a wild jab towards the monster’s throat.
He grabbed the blade from her hand and pulled it away. He casually tossed it behind him, and it landed with a cringe-inducing clatter.
Valerie curled against the wall. “Please, don’t hurt me. I just – I want to leave, please.” She nearly sobbed, though she knew she wasn’t going to win his sympathies.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
Valerie’s eyes widened in shock; the monster could speak. His voice sounded gravelly, gritty, and strangely familiar.
“But I will if you leave,” he continued, ignoring her reaction.
A cold horror swept over her as she comprehended his words. “Y-you mean, you’re going to kill me?”
“Only if you choose to leave.”
“W-why? Because I ate your food? Because I entered your home? I-I didn’t know anyone lived here.”
“I can’t take the risk.”
“Risk? I-I’m not going to tell anybody. I—Who would believe me? Y-you could let me go and I swear I won’t speak of this place.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? If you were sorry, you’d let me leave in peace!”
“I can’t.”
“No, you could but you won’t. Please, I – I just want to go home.” But where was home? Gone, like her father.
