The Beast

by A R Davis

  “Why would anyone want to do that?” Damien asked. Valerie didn’t know.

  “If you don’t like it, I can stop reading,” she said.

  “No, no. You’ve gotten this far.”

  “I’m only on chapter four.”

  “It’s far enough, I think.”

  Valerie couldn’t help herself; she smiled and asked, “Are you enjoying it?”

  “I wouldn’t if I was reading it alone.”

  Valerie took that as a good enough answer.

  “I can read more later if you want.”

  “I am getting a little tired. Trying to keep up with that Saxon wore me down.”

  “Because it was so exciting?”

  Damien shifted slightly and closed his eyes. “Sure.”

  While Damien slept, Valerie spent the time cleaning. She scrubbed the floors of the entrance room, cleaned out the washtub in the washroom, threw out the rotten food in the kitchen, and beat the dust out of the blankets on her bed. She cleaned herself, too. She poured herself a bath and scrubbed her skin until it was bright pink and brushed the knots out of her hair. To be idle was to invite regrets, and she did not want to spend any more time with them.

  There weren’t any ladies clothes that fit her properly, so she wore breeches and a tunic that was two sizes too big for her. It was surprisingly comfortable. If I was in Leola, or any other town, I’d never be able to wear this, she thought. She imagined what Mrs. Lind would have said if she saw her like that and felt a small twinge of guilt.

  Valerie went out to the meat shed to inspect what they had left. There wasn’t much—just a few strips of deer. It wouldn’t be enough to last them the rest of the week. She decided against telling Damien. The only thing she could do was get it herself. She glanced back at the house and hoped that Damien would remain asleep at least until she returned. And she would return. He’d never forgive me if I wasn’t there to finish the book with him, she thought.

  Valerie returned three hours later with a small bag of game. It had started to rain, and already her hair and tunic were soaked. She ran back up to the house.

  The front door was ajar.

  Valerie froze for a moment. She knew she had closed it behind her when she went outside. Cold drops of rain slid down her neck.

  Very carefully, she stepped inside and searched around the entrance room.

  The parlor door was open.

  Without taking a moment to consider her actions, she dropped the bag and burst into the room.

  At first, she thought it was Damien who stood beside the couch. Valerie opened her mouth but forgot what she was going to say when she realized it was not Damien.

  It was another monster entirely.

  Chapter 17

  The monster’s green eyes flashed when they locked on her. The hair around his face stood on end, and his pointed ears were upright and alert. For a moment, they stared at each other: Valerie in disbelief, the monster in fury. Valerie did not know whether to run or stand her ground.

  “What have you done to him?” the monster growled as he slowly closed the distance between them.

  “Nothing,” Valerie said automatically and tried to back away out of the door. “I —”

  The monster was upon her at once. He grabbed hold of her chin and slammed her back against the wall. Valerie was too stunned to scream; she thrashed against his grip and locked her hands around his wrist, pushing him away with all her might. He forced her to look at his face, which was very similar to Damien’s except for the color of his eyes and the small, round bald patch on top of his head. Damien, however, never acted on his threats; he never once laid a hand on her. This monster didn’t care that he caused her pain.

  “I could break your jaw for lying to me,” the monster said coldly. His breath smelled of tobacco and felt hot against her skin.

  “I’m not – lying!” Valerie spat through her teeth. “Let me go!”

  “Valerie?”

  The monster turned his head around to see Damien rousing from the loveseat. “You’re awake,” he said.

  Valerie took this opportunity to punch the monster in the gut. He let out a startled shout and released her momentarily. Before she could get away, the monster grabbed her by her hair and dragged her over to Damien.

  Damien was slowly getting to his feet, cradling his wounded side and grimacing at the pain. When he saw her in the monster’s clutches, his eyes went wild. “What are you doing?”

  “It seems you have a little pest problem,” the monster replied. “You need me to take care of it for you?”

  “Let her go.”

  The monster blanched. “Excuse me? I –”

  “I said let her go.”

  The two creatures stared each other down for a long while. Damien’s furious expression matched his twin’s. Valerie feared that they would fight, and if they did, she knew Damien would lose. She twisted and writhed against the monster’s grip, causing a few of her hairs to uproot from her scalp. The monster roughly pushed her away. Valerie staggered to the side and caught herself on the windowsill.

  Damien took a gentle step toward her. Please don’t touch me, she thought as she righted herself, but he did no such thing.

  “What the hell is going on here?” the monster asked.

  Damien ignored him. “Are you all right?” he asked Valerie.

  For a long time, Valerie did not know how to respond. She was stunned and angry all at once, though she didn’t know how to properly convey these things. She shook her head and settled on a reply: “Yes.”

  “Who the hell is she and what is she doing here?” The monster demanded, pointing roughly in her direction.

  Damien sighed, and even though he had been resting awhile, he still looked so weary. “Valerie, I need to speak to Dante alone.”

  Valerie wasn’t too keen on that idea. “But –”

  Damien held up his hand and said, “Please.”

  Valerie frowned and glanced at the monster named Dante, whose mouth hung open in disbelief. He looked as though he wanted to shout at someone, and he didn’t know who to start with.

  “I’ll be fine,” Damien said and made a small gesture to the door.

  She had no choice but to agree. “OK,” she said and rose to her feet.

  Reluctantly, she closed the parlor door behind her. She lingered there for reasons she could not explain. This Dante had an uncanny resemblance to Damien, but there was something about him she did not like, and it wasn’t just because he had threatened her. Valerie pressed her hand against the door and waited. Just in case.

  *

  “What the fuck, Damien?” Dante nearly shouted as the parlor door closed.

  “It’s nice to see you, too,” Damien replied as he gingerly sat back down. He knew that Dante was bound to discover his new houseguest. He only wished that he could have prolonged this moment. It wasn’t as though he was in the proper mood or position to explain to Dante or Valerie. But, in the end, he supposed it was best to get it out of the way now. “Though I would appreciate it if you didn’t threaten my guest next time.”

  “Guest?” Dante said as though the word was new to him. He stuttered out a few words, trying to make sense of it all. “I don’t even think I want to know at this point,” he said at last. He sat on the windowsill and crossed his arms. “Why do you seem so determined to make things difficult?”

  Dante didn’t say it, but Damien thought the words “for me” nearly tumbled out of his mouth.

  “I don’t see what the problem is,” Damien said.

  “Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Are you really that far gone that you can’t understand why this is one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had? I –” He closed his eyes for a moment. “No. Let’s start at the beginning. What happened to you?” He pointed at Damien’s injury.

  “I was shot.”

  “By who?”

  “I don’t know who. A group of men. Hunters, more like.”

  “And why did they shoot you?”<
br />
  Damien made sure to look Dante in the eye as he answered. “Because I was on their territory. They thought I stole from them.”

  Dante broke into a strange smile. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Don’t bother. I don’t have the energy to care anymore.”

  The words hit their mark, and Damien instinctively gripped his side as though that would be enough to stop the pain. “It really isn’t what you think,” he said.

  “I really want to believe you,” Dante said evenly. “I really, really do. But I can hardly do that when you have this girl living with you.” His gaze went to the blankets littering the floor besides the loveseat. If he made any assumptions, he didn’t say them out loud.

  “She helped me,” Damien said.

  “So you don’t deny that she’s living here, now?”

  “I – yes, she is.”

  “And how long has this been going on?” Dante asked wearily.

  “A while.”

  Dante nodded. “What you’re telling me is that she was here before you were shot. Which means that there isn’t a good reason for her to really be here, is there?”

  “If she hadn’t been here, I might…not have made it.”

  “And if you hadn’t been pissing in someone else’s chamber pot, none of this would have happened.”

  Damien wished he could go back to sleep—that he could return to the moment before Dante arrived and that he could just sit back and listen to the ending of Saxon Matthews rather than try to explain himself. Like Dante, he too did not have the energy to expend.

  “What do you want me to do, Dante?” he asked.

  Dante thought for a moment. “Get rid of her.”

  “No.”

  “You and I both know this will only end badly. If you want to make this right with me, you will do it. You’ll let her go, and you will be doing us both a favor.”

  “What if she tells someone?” Damien asked softly, not looking at Dante.

  “I think we’re all past that point if she’s been living here for ‘a while.’ And honestly, you should have thought about that before deciding to take her in.”

  Damien stared across from him at the Saxon Matthews book placed neatly on the shelf. “I thought it would change your mind,” he blurted out. It felt like one last desperate attempt.

  For a split second, it looked as though Dante was going to ask for clarification. Damien tensed, not sure if he could say it out loud.

  “About what?” Dante asked.

  “Everything.”

  Dante stood. Damien thought he was going to move to sit beside him.

  “It’s in the past,” Dante said. “We can’t keep trying to claim that. That’s what leads to things like this.”

  Damien nodded as if he understood.

  “For what it’s worth, it never would have worked.”

  It felt as though a nail had been hammered into Damien’s heart.

  “It looks like you won’t be needing me for a while,” Dante continued. “Because we both know you’re not going to do as I asked, even if it is the right thing. I’ll return when I can, I suppose.”

  *

  Valerie quickly moved away from the door when she heard footsteps coming toward it. The door opened and Dante emerged wearing a somber expression. He closed the door behind him and smirked when he caught sight of her. Valerie stared back at him, trying her best to look as though she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

  Dante strode to the front door. Before taking his leave, he turned back toward her, folded his arms, and said, “I am grateful for what you did. But, in a way, I almost wished you hadn’t.”

  Valerie was flabbergasted that anybody was capable of saying such a thing.

  “If I were you, I would leave this place, and I would not look back.”

  Dante smirked again, showing a few of his fangs when he did so. He kicked the sack of rabbits towards the swinging door. Then he did what he had just advised her to do: he left without looking back.

  The rain picked up an hour after Dante left, leaving the house awash in a grey gloom. Valerie sat in the kitchen and watched the raindrops pelt the window. She thought about all the things she could say to Damien and how stupid most of them seemed. Maybe there was nothing she could say, but she was having a hard time accepting that. A few times over the course of the hour, she found herself walking up to the parlor door, only to stop before she could even put her hand on the knob. Do I really want to go in there? she asked herself. Would it really matter if I did? Valerie sighed and lightly slapped her hand on the table.

  She was startled by the sound of the kitchen door creaking open. Damien slowly limped into the room with his hand cradling his side.

  “You shouldn’t be up,” Valerie said.

  “I’m fine,” he replied and pulled out a chair for himself. He took his seat and said, “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  Valerie noticed his slight grimace every time he moved. She said nothing, knowing that he wouldn’t listen. “Did you want something to eat?” she asked.

  “No, no,” Damien said, waving two fingers back and forth. “I, er…I was just sick of being in that room.”

  Valerie nodded. She pressed her lips together to avoid asking about the obvious. After her father died, it seemed like the world only knew how to ask: Are you all right? Yes, definitely, I only just lost my father, thank you for asking.

  Damien was staring at the nicks in the table top as though trying to decipher a code. It was difficult for her not to press him with other questions she had, especially when the silence felt so awkward. Valerie found herself fidgeting with the end of her braid more than necessary. She only seemed to do such things when she was sitting with Damien.

  “You’ve been cleaning,” Damien said.

  “Yes,” Valerie said.

  “It…looks nice.”

  “Thank you.”

  Damien paused. His mouth twitched as though he had more to say, but he stopped himself. He did this several times and then he said, “You don’t have to sleep in there anymore.” He pointed behind him, and Valerie took it to mean the parlor. “You can sleep in your own bed. If you want.”

  “OK.”

  Damien let out a long sigh as though he had been holding his breath. He closed his eyes for just a moment; when he opened them, he asked the most unexpected question, “Have I told you about the best days of my life?”

  “No,” Valerie replied softly.

  She didn’t think he was going to tell her; the silence wrapped around them again, binding them. Then Damien raised his eyes to meet hers, and Valerie wondered why she was so calm under his gaze but not his visitor’s.

  “It was after we were shipwrecked.” Valerie didn’t need to ask about the use of “we.” She knew he was referring to him and Dante, even though he never mentioned Dante before. “We were floating for days on the ship’s remains, feeling weighted and weightless at the same time. I thought we were going to die. He…well, he was too stubborn for that. He didn’t want to accept that anything bad would happen to us, you know, after all we’d been through.

  “Anyway, as I said, we were floating along, dying together, and then…It was sunrise – sunset? – I forget which. Suddenly, I saw this glittering jewel in the distance. By this point, I thought I had gone mad, so I laughed and pointed and said, ‘We are the richest bastards in the world and now we can die happy.’” Damien paused to gather the rest of his words or thoughts. “It wasn’t a jewel. It was a city floating on the ocean. It was the strangest and most…hopeful thing I’d ever seen. I knew we were going to live.

  “It was strange to be surrounded by the buzzing of a crowd when for so long we had only heard the lapping of the water. I wondered if it wasn’t better to just keep drifting along. Dante didn’t seem to have any qualms about it; he pulled me out of the water and, after donning disguises, we toured the city. You have your cobble stone streets; this city had narrow s
tone walkways. One false step could drop you in the ocean, and you can imagine how keen I was not to have that happen again, so I made sure my lips touched no mead or wine. Well, at least for the first day or so. The buildings were as tall as the trees and just as magnificent to look upon. They were large, stone giants floating gracefully on the choppy waters, and the people seemed to pour out of them and run like a river over the walkways. It was hard to wade through them, and harder still to avoid them. The marketplace was especially busy. There were no lines, just clumps, clusters, and mounds of people pushing and shoving and yelling. Sometimes I found myself shrinking away, but Dante always dragged me out, saying that the smell of food was calling to him and he didn’t want to go alone. And I, of course, would never let him go alone.

  “The first thing I ate was fried fish, cooked golden brown with garlic and onions over an open flame. You would think I would detest the smell of it, but…Dante and I didn’t eat fish while we were adrift. Anyway, it was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. I think I ate that every day until I got sick. I retched right as that boat was passing through.” He shook his head and nearly cracked a smile.

  “The best part of being there was when night fell. The boats had these red lanterns that gave off an ethereal glow, almost like miniature dawns reflected in the water. I heard they did that to remember the dead, but I can’t be sure. Everyone would light candles on their balconies, and there would be singing and music. There used to be this line of musicians that would go down the walkways to sing people goodnight. We never joined in these festivities. Instead, we climbed up the tallest building, and from there, it was like you could see the whole world. The people looked almost like small toys from where we were, and in the distance, I could see the fishing boats and the large merchant ships with their billowing white sails drawing in and drifting away. From where we were, it felt like we could do anything and be anyone, even kings if we wanted. We could have grabbed a fistful of stars. We’d drink whatever we could afford and plan out our life up there. We planned on opening a shop at one point. Nothing fancy, just selling some of the trinkets we garnered in our travels. We never got to do it, and I’m not sure we would have succeeded if we had.