by A R Davis
But she just couldn’t let him die.
“Hey!” she shouted and tapped his face with her fingers.
The monster stirred but did not wake.
“Wake up!” she said, tapping harder this time.
The monster opened his eyes.
“Hey,” Valerie said more gently this time. The monster’s eyes found hers. “You’re badly hurt, and I need to move you so I can see properly, all right? You’re going to have to get up.”
He made no reply, but he seemed to understand her.
“We’ll take it slow, OK?” Valerie continued and helped him into a sitting position. The monster grunted and winced when he moved, his hand immediately moved to cover his wounded side.
“Keep that in place,” Valerie said. “Are you ready to move?”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She took that as an agreement.
“OK, on three. One – two – three.”
She attempted to pull him up, but he barely budged.
“Come on, don’t make me do all the work,” she said through her teeth.
Very slowly, with Valerie’s help, the monster pushed himself back up on his feet. He wavered drunkenly from side to side, and it almost looked as though he would fall again, but Valerie held him upright.
“You can lean on me if you have to, all right? We’re going to the parlor. I’ll be able to see you once I light the hearth. We’ll take it slow. Nice and easy. You’re – you’re going to be fine.” She felt like she speaking to herself more than to him.
It took a long time just to reach the parlor door. The monster took small, uneven steps. There were a few times that he threatened to fall and take her down with him. Each time that happened, Valerie braced herself and shouted at him to stay awake. His cold, damp clothes were pressing against her, and she did her best to ignore the smell of moss and wet dog.
“Come on, you can do this,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
When they were finally inside, Valerie helped him lay on the couch with his head propped up on one of the arms. She took a moment to catch her breath, her hands on her knees.
That was the easy part.
Valerie knelt beside the monster. His eyes met hers once again. Was that fear she saw, or was it only her reflection?
“I’m going to get a few things,” she said softly. “I’ll be right back. Hold that in place; it’ll stop the bleeding.” She repeated her assurance that he was going to be all right.
Valerie collected matches, a bowl, and a knife from the kitchen. She supposed there were water barrels outside, but she couldn’t risk going out there now. She settled for a mostly empty bottle of brandy that she found in one of the cabinets. Once she had everything she needed, she returned to the parlor. The monster was trembling, and she hoped it was only because he was cold.
She started the fire and ignored the uneven pacing of the monster’s breathing. He’s going to be fine, she told herself over and over as she watched a healthy flame spread across the logs. She placed the knife near the edge of the hearth and uncorked the bottle of brandy.
Valerie steeled herself before removing the monster’s hand from his side. After taking another deep breath, she carefully pulled the corner of his shirt up to expose the wound. There was a deep hole in his side the diameter of a pebble. It pulsed like a heartbeat and she had to cover her mouth for a moment to stop herself from screaming. She gulped again, and then poured a small amount of brandy onto the wound. The monster groaned and shuddered and his breathing becoming more rapid.
Valerie placed the cloth back over it and forced him to hold it in place before returning to the knife.
“I’m going – I’m going to d—” the monster began.
“Shut up,” Valerie snapped.
“If that happens –”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
The monster fell silent again, or as silent as he could be in his condition.
The knife was glowing an angry red when Valerie removed it from the fire. She turned back to the monster, doing her best to steady her trembling hands. If I appear afraid, he won’t let me try, she thought.
She looked him in the eye when she said, “This is going to hurt.” She tore off more cloth from her skirt and handed it to him. “This is for you to bite on if it becomes too much, all right?” How she was keeping her composure, she didn’t know. It felt as though there was a war going on inside her between her courage and fear.
She could feel the monster’s eyes on her as she hunched over the wound, the edge of the hot knife poised over it. “On three. One –”
She didn’t finish her count.
The act of plunging the knife into the monster’s flesh was shockingly easy. A loud hissing noise erupted when the knife made contact with the wound, and it was akin to cooking meat over an open fire. The smell pressed against Valerie’s throat, causing her to gag. The monster’s shout nearly made her stop, but she kept on, pushing the knife in deeper. The monster’s claws dug into the couch, tearing at the fabric. Her eyes filled with tears when she found the edge of the bullet. She pushed the blade under and extracted it in one swift motion. The bullet was so coated in blood that at first Valerie did not see it, but when she did, she grabbed it with her fingers and placed it in the bowl. Slowly, she pulled the knife out and quickly covered the wound again. The monster took in gulps of air and shook violently.
“Hold this,” Valerie instructed. The monster did as she asked. After tearing a long strip of cloth from her dress, she helped the monster sit up once more and tied it tightly around him. When she was done, she helped him lay back down.
The monster’s eyes were shut tight and his hand gripped his wounded side. He took sharp breaths through his teeth, letting out a groan every now and then. It took a long time for him to settle down. All the while, Valerie’s eyes were on the bloody bullet in the bowl.
The monster’s voice made her snap out of it. “What…What is your name?” he asked hoarsely.
It took her a long time to find her voice again. “Valerie,” she said. And because it somehow felt important, she added, “Valerie Mason.”
“Valerie M-Mason,” the monster repeated. “Thank you.”
Something was threatening to burst violently from Valerie’s chest. She clenched her jaw. “It was nothing.” Her gaze momentarily returned to the bullet. “Do you have a name?”
The monster took a few pained breaths before answering. “Damien.”
She got to her feet. “Well, Damien, I’m going to get some blankets.” Without another word, she left to find them.
When she returned, the monster named Damien was asleep. Valerie cautiously moved his head to slide a pillow underneath it. Then she draped a blanket over his shivering form. She laid out a few blankets for herself on the floor and sat in front of the fire. She felt completely numb.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but she didn’t know how it was supposed to be, either. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.
“You see, Papa? I could have done it. I could have saved you.”
She burst into tears.
Chapter 16
Valerie wondered what the monster dreamt of. In his sleep, he shivered and clutched the blankets. Sometimes, he’d call out in wordless, helpless sounds. Valerie stayed by his side and placed a cold cloth on his brow. She hoped that he wasn’t dying after all she’d done to save him, but it had been a few days, and all he did was sleep. She gave him water and soup when she could. Most of the time, however, she just let him be and tried to get some sleep on the floor beside him. The floor wasn’t so bad to sleep on after a while.
Not wanting to stray away from him and not wanting to sit idly by, Valerie grabbed a book from the shelf and sat down to read. A few times, she caught herself talking out loud about the book, though she doubted the monster could hear her. Sometimes, she looked behind her at Damien’s sleeping face, just to reassure herself that he was indeed still breathing. If you
die on me now, so help me, she thought.
One day she brought the Beast down from her room and decided to tell the story to the unconscious Damien. As she did so, she kept running her fingers over the figurine, and it somehow made her feel better. She could almost feel her father sitting beside her, nodding along as she recalled the words perfectly, until it no longer felt like her voice but her father’s ringing throughout the room. When she finished, tears were sliding down her cheeks. She held the Beast to her beating heart. “Did I do the right thing?” she asked herself. She looked over her shoulder again to see the monster still sleeping soundly. Glancing from the Beast in her hand to the monster on the love seat, she then asked, “Is that the type of monster you are?” Of course, she received no answer.
To ease her weary heart, she perused the library for something more lighthearted to read. The book she ended up with wasn’t very interesting, and nowhere near as exciting as anything Saxon Matthews did. It was about a rich family trying to organize a party for their daughter’s birthday. She was supposedly arranged to marry a lord. Unfortunately for her, the father gambled away all of their money: farewell party and farewell suitor Lord. It then turned into a saga about how the family was going to try to get their money back. What was irritating to Valerie was how the family laughed off what the father did as though he was a bumbling idiot. Nobody seemed even remotely angry with him. Instead, their dialogue was along the lines of, “Oh, no, dear! Now what will we do?” When Valerie read the part about the daughter embracing her father and telling him that she forgave him, she nearly threw the book across the room.
“Ridiculous.”
Valerie gasped and whipped around. Damien was awake, staring at her with those strange, luminous eyes.
“Goodness, you frightened me,” Valerie said once she caught her breath.
“I’m, uh, sorry. I have a bad habit of doing that.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough to read over your shoulder. You really should pick different books.”
Valerie ignored the comment. “Do you need anything?”
“No. I’m all right. I’m just a bit sore.” He winced when he tried to move.
“What happened?”
“I ran into some hunters. They thought I was trespassing onto their territory.”
“So they shot you?” They never did that to her the few times she stole from them. “Are you sure they didn’t…see you?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t going to stick around to ask.” He groaned. “Damn, this hurts.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. You saved my life.”
Valerie shrugged his words off before they could linger.
“How did you learn to do this?” He gestured carefully to the makeshift bandage around his waist.
Valerie looked around the room in attempt to find a way to avoid answering. When she couldn’t think of anything else, she said, “My father.”
“Oh,” he said. Valerie knew what he was thinking before he even asked her. “Is he…waiting for you?”
“No.” And then, because she didn’t want him to bring it up ever again, she added, “He’s dead.”
“I…I didn’t mean to –”
“It’s all right. You didn’t know.” She turned her back to him and moved to place the book back on the shelf. She didn’t want to waste her time on it anymore.
“Thank you, Valerie.”
She looked over her shoulder. “You’re welcome,” she said softly and then returned to her task. After she put the book away, another title caught her eye. She inspected it further and gasped upon realizing what it was. “I can’t believe you have this!” she said as she practically tore it from the shelf.
“What?” Damien asked, craning his neck to attempt to get a better look.
Valerie showed him. “This!” It was the Saxon Matthews book she read to her father while he was bedridden. “I never got to finish this.”
“I don’t think I’ve read that one.”
Valerie suddenly felt self-conscious. “You might not like it.” She sat back down in front of the loveseat and opened the book to the last place she remembered reading. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
She was quietly enjoying herself when Damien spoke again. “You should start from the beginning.”
Valerie turned back to stare quizzically at him. “Why?”
“It’s been a while since you’ve read it. You might not remember everything.”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“I was merely suggesting that you may want to refresh your memory. Just in case you…forget something important.”
Valerie eyed him warily for a moment. “Do you want me to read it to you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I know. I was only offering.”
“You said I might not like it.”
Valerie sighed and crossed her arms. “Do you want me to or not?”
“Only if you’re offering.”
Valerie turned back to the first page and began.
*
There was no sense of glory in Young Aubrey’s march when he stepped out of the forest. He was greeted by his men, who instantly rushed to his side and asked if he was all right. Young Aubrey gave the obligatory answers. His body felt fine; his soul, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. The demon had slipped through his fingers and it was his fault. While his men peppered him with questions, Young Aubrey thought only about how to rectify the situation
The only way he could fix this was to find the demon, dead or alive.
“My Lord,” Captain Jonasson said in an almost pleading tone, “I would advise against that course of action.”
“You would rather the demon get away?” Young Aubrey asked and drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk.
He noted the captain’s eyes gravitating toward the friendly, agreeable smile of the mask. “This demon destroyed my best trained men.”
Young Aubrey forced the good half of his face to smile. “True, but I injured it. As we speak, it may be lying dead out there.”
“If that is true, then why return, my Lord?”
“To recover the body. To make an example.”
Captain Jonasson’s jaw clenched. His gaze lingered on the mask, as though he could not bear to look at the real face of his lord. “And what of my men?” he asked quietly.
Young Aubrey folded his hands on his desk. He took a moment to gather his answer before he spoke, and as he did, images of the demon tearing into his guardsman’s throat flashed through his mind. “They died nobly.” The screaming filled his ears. “I could not have asked for a better service.” One of his men reached for him with a pleading look in his eyes before they went blank with death. “They will be…terribly missed.”
Captain Jonasson’s mouth twitched, and his face took on a hardened expression.
“Is there something you wish to say, Captain?” Young Aubrey asked.
Captain Jonasson’s tone was even, yet there was no mistaking the accusation laced in every word. “Is that what I am to tell the families, my Lord?”
Young Aubrey’s smiled faded, and truth be told, he knew not why he was smiling in the first place. It wasn’t as though anyone was really looking at him anymore. He turned his head away from the captain. “Tell them…” What they want to hear. “Tell them how brave they were, how noble they were, and how their names will be honored.” Tell them how they looked when they died, tell them about the demon and the evil that it spreads, and tell them that I told the truth and I did all I could.
His men never found the demon. They searched high and low for a week and saw no sign of it. Young Aubrey even accompanied them on the search one day. For hours, he scoured the river, the trees, and the bushes. All he found were animals that scurried away before he could get any closer. He returned home with his weary men at the midnight hour with an awful sense of dread. What will I do now? he asked himself as he cli
mbed the stairs to his room. Instead of going straight to bed, he looked out of his window at the Aubrey grave, and saw shadows painting the stone.
In the morning, when Captain Jonasson arrived for his orders, Young Aubrey decided to call off the search. “If it’s dead, it’s dead,” he said, unable to look Captain Jonasson in the eye. “That is all that matters.”
“That is a wise decision, my Lord.”
Young Aubrey scoffed. “What would have been wiser was following it into the river.”
“You don’t mean that, my Lord.”
Young Aubrey shook his head. “I thought it would be different,” he admitted. Funny that he was never able to tell his father such things. “I used to picture it. I would kill the demon, bring back its head. Captain Yendel and his men would lift me on their shoulders. Captain Yendel would say they were going to have a party in the barracks that evening. I’d run down to the cellar and show my mother, and even if she didn’t say anything to me, she would smile and touch my face. I would know she thought of me as her boy. And finally, because I could no longer bear the suspense, I would race upstairs and show my father. And he would smile and tell me, ‘I’m so proud of what you’ve become.’”
Young Aubrey couldn’t believe he said all of that out loud. He cleared his throat and pretended to get to business. “You may go about your duties, Captain.”
“I am proud of you, my Lord,” Captain Jonasson said. “Your father would be, too.”
“Thank you, Captain. That is kind of you to say.” But your words mean nothing to me. They are as empty as my heart.
*
Damien occasionally interrupted Valerie’s reading with questions about why Saxon Matthews did certain things when he could do something else, or why Caroline was so clingy. Why does Saxon Matthews take her with him if he wants to keep her safe? If he was a rogue that was in constant danger, then wouldn’t it be better if he left her behind? Valerie quipped that he took her along so that Caroline wouldn’t be stolen by another man.
