The Beast

by A R Davis

  Damien’s ears twitched upon hearing the word “crowd.” He didn’t know if he wanted to be around people again, or if he even could. Then again, would this not be the perfect opportunity to prove himself? He couldn’t prove himself to Dante, not anymore. That was a lost cause. But maybe, if he walked around the crowd like a normal person, if he spent a normal day with Valerie, then perhaps it meant he was not really a monster. He looked into Valerie’s hopeful eyes, and he could feel it welling up inside him, too.

  “All right,” Damien said finally. “Merrion is a three day trip on foot, but if we plan ahead, we can do it.”

  Valerie’s smile was beautiful; there was no other word for it. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! We can get more books, and I can finally see the ocean, and there will be so much food there I won’t know what to do with myself.” She was talking so fast he could barely keep up with her. It seemed she was already planning their entire trip.

  Damien was planning, too. He told himself that if all went well, then maybe this could be permanent.

  If she decided to stay, maybe he could, too.

  Chapter 21

  When Dante arrived at the old house, there was no light emanating from the windows. He peered inside and saw only shadows thrown against the wall. Out of politeness he knocked three times. He wondered if the girl would answer the door, if she was still here, or if she had taken his advice. Sometimes he wished he could do the same.

  When I saw you lying in that cage, I knew that no matter what, I would have done anything for you. Even now I am still paying that price. And he knew he still would.

  There was still no answer, so he knocked again. “It’s me. I brought your wine,” Dante called. He waited another minute. “If you don’t answer, I may start drinking it myself.”

  Silence and an unsettling stillness responded. Dante threw caution to the wind and tried the door.

  It opened without a fuss.

  Damien rarely ever left the door unlocked. The last time he had, Dante had found him lying on the couch with a bullet in his side. He called for his brother again and was met with an echo.

  Dirt was smeared across the floor. If the girl was still here, she was a poor housekeeper. Dante could see the footprints he left behind him. After a minute more of waiting, he climbed the stairs to Damien’s room. On the way, he caught a faint scent of the girl and stiffened.

  Damien’s room was empty. The sheets on his bed were lying in a haphazard pile as though someone had recently gotten out of it. Dante considered the possibilities of where his brother could have gone. He didn’t feel good about any of the possibilities. It meant more dirty business, and he was so tired of it. Is this my punishment for starting the fire? Or is it because I was so desperate to not be alone?

  In the end it did not matter. Dante would do what he had to in order to protect them both. If it meant more dirty business, then so be it.

  Dante returned downstairs and entered the kitchen and sat at the dining table. Did the girl occupy this space now? He considered starting on the wine and found his heart was simply not in it. He placed the bottle in the middle of the table. If the girl was still here, maybe he would even consider offering her a cup. He would make a toast to love—brotherly or otherwise.

  *

  “Is that it?” Valerie asked breathlessly, pushing through the thin limbs of the bushes around her to get a better look. In the distance she could make out the brown and red stone of the buildings and the multicolored flags flapping in the fresh spring breeze. She could see the people, large, antlike clusters of them moving into the town.

  Damien stopped beside her. The end of his black cloak rippled around his feet. “Yes, that’s it,” he said quietly.

  Valerie let out a breath of relief. The weight of her bag sank heavily into her back and her calves were still throbbing from the day before. She did not believe they would ever emerge from the forest. For three straight days she saw nothing but trees and bushes and scattered pink blossoms. The only sounds around them were the crisp crunch of the foliage under their feet. At night, the stars were obscured by the branches and their tent. The soft chill of the damp earth seeped into their blankets, and they curled up together for warmth.

  In the end, she felt it had been worth it. Her belly bubbled with wonder and nervous excitement. She stood on her tiptoes to see if she could spot the ships or the ocean. There was a salty tang in the air. Was that the sea? I am here, she thought and she felt very much alive.

  There was one last thing she had to do before they made a proper arrival.

  “I need to change,” Valerie announced.

  “Why?” Damien asked.

  “I can’t wear these trousers into town. It’s not something a lady would wear.” I haven’t felt much like a lady during these past three days, Valerie thought as she rummaged through her bag for her proper attire. She pulled out a lavender colored dress and walked back into the trees.

  She undid her braid and stripped off her clothes. It was something she would have previously been embarrassed about. The forest, however, shielded her body from unwanted stares. It was an oddly liberating and contained feeling all at once, as though she was alone in her room or locked in a birdcage. I should feel ashamed, she thought, but then why was she smiling? Why did she enjoy the feeling of the dirt between her toes or the beams of sunlight on her bare back? She didn’t try to answer; she enjoyed the moment for as long as she could.

  “Ta da!” Valerie sang as she stepped out from between the trees. She spun around. “What do you think? Do I look like a lady?”

  The hood over Damien’s face made it hard to read his expression. He had worn it for the entirety of their journey; even at night he kept it on. It was so warm out now; she didn’t know how he could bear it.

  Valerie missed seeing his face. Watching his reaction to the stories she’d tell, even the boring ones about her life in Leola. She missed the way his ears would twitch and the luminous glow of his unnatural eyes. They were unnatural, yes, but as familiar to Valerie as the world she was about to return to. It was going to be like this as long as they were in Merrion. That was one of the rules they discussed before embarking on this journey. One of many.

  “Yes,” he replied in a slightly somber tone.

  Valerie’s smile faded. She timidly moved beside him. “Are you ready to go?”

  He gave no answer. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times.

  Valerie knew at once what was on his mind. It was something that had crossed hers a few times.

  What if someone discovers him?

  What if it all went horribly wrong?

  Instinctively, she reached for his hand. “Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “As a lady, it is my duty to escort a gentleman such as yourself.”

  Valerie could feel Damien smiling back at her. “Then I suppose I should consider myself a lucky gentleman.”

  Hand in hand, they exited his world and walked into hers.

  The festival appeared to be in full swing by the time they stepped through the archway of Merrion. The cobbled streets were coated with pink spring blossoms and flooded with people. They shouted and called for each other; they sang over the violins and drums; they acted for a small crowd that gasped and applauded. It felt like they were in the middle of a storm; the sounds crashed in Valerie’s ears, and she found herself gripping Damien’s hand tighter as they walked through the throng.

  She could not stop her eyes from wandering. Merrion was nothing like Leola. The tint of the red brick of the houses was as bright as the colors of the ladies’ gowns. The windows of the shops winked mischievously at her, inviting her to stop and look. And a few times she did. She took a few steps off the road to inspect the new fashions being displayed at the tailor’s. She couldn’t believe how much she had missed in such a short time. At the baker’s, she nearly pressed her nose against the glass as she took in the fresh scent of blueberry scones, and she watched as the baker pulled out a rack of bread from the oven. The
re were other smells dancing in the air: horse, spice, and sweat. It was hard not to linger by the stalls to examine the wares from the places beyond the sea. She was standing by a display of seashell necklaces when she felt Damien gently tug on her hand.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, remembering herself.

  When Damien replied, he seemed to be speaking through his teeth. “It’s all right. We’ll have plenty of time to look around after we’ve found an inn.”

  He must be nervous, Valerie thought, with all these bodies pressing around us. She noticed that every time someone made to pass Damien, he’d stiffen and move closer to her.

  “Come on,” Damien said. “I think we should go this way.”

  Several minutes later, they arrived at one of the tallest buildings Valerie had ever seen—perhaps even taller than the Aubrey manor in Leola. Valerie had to crane her neck in order to take in the full view. The Centaur was clearly built with the festival in mind. The sign in front of the inn portrayed the mythical creature aiming a bow and arrow at an unseen foe. Inside, the walls were painted navy blue and had portraits of what must have been the sea hanging in bronze frames. The old woman at the desk was writing in a large book, her hooked nose nearly touching the pages. She sniffed sharply as though she was trying to locate the source of a putrid stench. Her eyes narrowed towards Valerie and Damien as they approached.

  “Do I know you?” she asked Damien, squinting at him, trying to see beneath his hood.

  Valerie stopped in her tracks, but Damien approached the desk as though he had not heard her. “No,” he said as he fished into his pocket for some coin. “I need a room for Cara -”

  The old woman nodded and pointed at him. “Caraway, yes. You’ve been here before.” She then tapped the pages of her ledger. “You’ve been here a few times. Why, just last month was the last time I saw you.”

  Valerie felt as though there were worms burrowing through her stomach. She grabbed Damien by the arm. “Maybe we should –”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Damien said. “I’ve never been here. You must be speaking of my brother.”

  “Dan –?” Valerie began. Damien held up his finger to silence her. She fought the impulse to clap a hand over her mouth.

  “Never said his name was Don. Never said he had a brother either. Last time he was here he caused a good deal of trouble at Mr. Weston’s shop. Apparently he stole from him. I promised that I would fetch the guards should he ever show up here again.”

  Valerie’s fingers dug into Damien’s arm. He placed his hand on hers in reassurance.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Valerie piped up. “Mr. Caraway here has never stolen anything in his life. It’s his brother that’s rotten.”

  “A likely tale. I get all kinds of rotten sort here, each spouting some fairy tale nonsense thinking they can pull wool over my eyes.”

  Damien placed a handful of coin on the desk. “I didn’t steal from anyone,” he said in a low, even tone. The old woman shrunk considerably, and even Valerie recoiled somewhat. She had never heard him speak that way before. Damien reached back into his pocket. “I’ve never been here before.” He placed more coin on the desk. “My companion and I are tired and we would like a room.” He held up a coin in his fingers and examined it. “You don’t want to fetch the guardsmen.” Gently, he placed the coin on top of the pile.

  There was an unspoken threat in his last words. The old woman could sense it, too, though she seemed to be fighting between her greed and her fear. Without a rebuttal, the old crone quickly fetched a key from a drawer behind her and slapped it on the desk.

  “You better not cause me any more trouble, Mr. Caraway,” the old woman said in a shaky voice as she quickly gathered her coin. “I run a good business here!”

  “I won’t cause you any trouble,” Damien said casually. “I just came here to enjoy the festival.”

  Once they were safely upstairs in their room, away from prying eyes and listening ears, Valerie asked quietly, “Was that really necessary?”

  Damien pushed the curtains aside to look out the large window. Light flooded the room and caused his shadow to fall on Valerie. He rubbed the top of his head. “I told you I wasn’t good with people.”

  “You threatened her.”

  “I coerced her,” Damien said, turning back to face Valerie. “I gave her what she wanted so she would leave us be.”

  “You could have handled that better.”

  “That was the only way I could have handled it.” He turned back to the window.

  “Why?”

  “Because we would have found ourselves in an unnecessary incident. Sometimes things like this have to happen. Sometimes I have to be unpleasant.”

  Valerie felt a slow shudder creep up her back. “I suppose I…understand to a certain degree.”

  She looked at the portrait that hung between the two beds. It depicted what must have been a ship in the middle of a purplish-gray storm. Forked lightning struck the water. The captain held his sword in the air as if he meant to catch it.

  “Have you really not been here before?” Valerie asked sheepishly.

  “I told you I haven’t. She was talking about Dante.”

  “OK. I’m sorry. I just want you to know that if you had been here before, you could tell me.”

  Valerie lowered her gaze. She was embarrassed that she would even think of accusing him. But in that one moment, he had frightened her again.

  Chapter 22

  There was so much to see and do that Valerie felt like she and Damien were surrounded. It was hard to know what to do first and harder knowing that they weren’t going to have enough time to do it all. When Damien asked her what she wanted to do, she felt excited and small at the same time. She timidly wandered in vague directions toward stall owners that coaxed her nearer. Each display was as fantastical as the last: pearl necklaces, silk scarves, fruits she’d never heard of, brass telescopes, and, according to one stall owner, a compass that was used by a legendary dreaded pirate. And the food! Chocolates and pastries and fried fish, pies and puddings, caramels and turkey legs. Valerie didn’t have the coin to purchase anything. She knew Damien did but was ill at the thought of asking him for any. She merely enjoyed sight-seeing with Damien at her side, though she wasn’t sure if he was enjoying himself quite as much. He did not comment much on anything, though he was quick to tell her that the compass was fake. He and Valerie shared some fried fish, and while Valerie found it a little too salty, Damien said that it was merely all right. When people came too close to him, he stiffened and did his best to move out of their way.

  After an hour or so of looking around at the shops and the street performers, Valerie saw the most incredible thing. She stopped Damien and pointed ahead of them.

  “You have to be kidding me,” he said.

  The sign in front of the large purple tent was a crude painting depicting what appeared to be a tan, muscular man with a waif looking woman in his arms. The words Saxon Matthews and the Dragon’s Keep was painted across them in slanted black letters. Valerie could not stop smiling at how beautifully awful it was.

  “We have to see it,” she said.

  “I was afraid you were going to suggest that.”

  Valerie laughed.

  When they entered the tent, they saw that it was practically empty. Three women sat as close to the little stage as possible, fanning themselves and whispering. Valerie and Damien chose to sit at the back. As soon as they took their seats, the play began. An actor rushed out onto the stage brandishing a wooden sword. He looked nothing like Valerie’s imagination, but she didn’t care, once he shouted the words, “Hold on, my dear Caroline, I will slay the beast!” she was convinced that Saxon Matthews really had stepped out of the pages. The acting was horrible, the story was silly, and the romance made Valerie laugh more than swoon, but she loved every minute of it. There was something about the way the actors were saying their lines that made it seem as though they were all too aware that
this wasn’t to be taken seriously. Even Damien chuckled a few times and shook his head. Valerie was glad to see that he was finally at ease.

  As they sat there together, Valerie almost felt like they were back at the house, sitting in front of the hearth with the book between them. Sometimes, she found herself looking over at him, and she was glad that he was there with her. She wouldn’t have wanted to share this with anyone else.

  When the play ended, Valerie got on her feet and applauded the loudest. The actor that played Saxon Matthews blew her a kiss and tossed her a rose. Blushing, she tucked it in her bun and blew a kiss right back.

  “That was amazing,” Valerie said as they exited the tent.

  “That was…better than I thought it would be,” Damien replied.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Saxon Matthews…he’s not a bad man.”

  “Even if he slayed the beast?” Valerie teased.

  “Sometimes the beast needs to be slayed.”

  The play ignited a fire in Valerie. She no longer wanted to see; she wanted to do. She decided to test her skill at the games, getting into a few “friendly” competitions with Damien. They tossed balls at lines of bottles, which Damien handily won before Valerie could even knock over her third. They tied when they had to guess which hat the marble lay under. The one game Valerie was quite good at was tossing horse shoes. She managed a dead ringer at her second attempt and won a handsome leather coin bag, which she gave to Damien.

  “It’s driving me mad that you keep digging into your pocket,” she said as she handed it over. She wished that she could see his face to gauge his reaction. His thanks was almost too soft to hear.

  From the games, they moved on to the attractions. Valerie volunteered herself to be an assistant in a magic show, where she had to pull an endless array of scarves out of the magician’s pocket. In the strongman show, she sat in a chair while one of the men lifted her high into the air. She let out a little yelp and gripped the seat as tightly as she could, fearing for a few moments that she would fall. It was amazing and frightening to look down at all those cheering people. Finally, she participated in a line of dancing girls, twirling and fanning herself like a temptress. As she danced, she felt like she did not have to be Valerie Mason if she did not want to be. She could be anyone in this crowd. This is what it’s like, she thought as she curtsied with the line of girls. This is what it’s like to lose yourself.