The Beast (32 page)

Jack snapped the gun’s lever into place. It was now loaded and ready to fire. He rested the barrel against his shoulder and tipped his hat at Belle.

“I see you look lovely no matter what you wear, ma’am.” His American accent fell off his tongue like a built-in charm device.

“Why thank you, Mr. Jack Lloyd.” She couldn’t help being playful. Her mood had improved dramatically after her moon dream with Aleksander. Having the air clear, despite their impending danger, made everything seem better. Imitating an American accent better than she’d expected, Belle teased further, “You’re not too bad yourself.”

He stumbled back, clutching his heart. “Oh lord, it’s like I’m back home again.”

Andre snorted and glanced up at Belle. “How’s the Prince?”

Starting with her throwing knives, Belle began strapping herself with weapons. “I checked on him before I came down. He’s weak, but he can travel.”

“Do you really think you can trust him?” Jack asked. Fully plated with weapons, he stayed for the conversation.

Andre pulled down his pant leg, waiting for her answer.

“With all my heart.” Belle grabbed one of her revolvers and began loading it.

Andre stood, taking his own rifle from the wall. He gave Belle a knowing look. “I suppose there’s no hope for it then?”

“None at all.” Belle smiled, which Andre returned before leaving with Jack.

Belle quickly readied. She ran through the checklist, knowing that time was of the essence. Revolvers, knives, spare bullets, sabre, and she cocked a bullet into her shotgun. With all she could carry, she left the armory.

As she stepping into the hall, Gastone and Jean were walking toward her. They were both wearing their dark cloaks and their weapons glinted from the indoor lights. Gastone carried his rifle strapped to his back, a personal preference that Belle didn’t share. Rifles were heavy and Belle already had enough material weighing her down.

“The horses are ready,” Gastone said, stopping several feet away at the sight of her. His manner was stern and closed off. He may have agreed to this, but it didn’t make him happy.

“The Prince is still very weak. I’m not sure he can make the journey on foot.” Belle looked between the two men, focusing on the task ahead rather than addressing Gastone’s emotional state. “Harness two horses to the flatbed for him to ride on. Friar Clemens will have to drive it. I’ll head up to get the Prince.”

Jean nodded authoritatively and turned to leave. He walked several paces before realizing that Gastone hadn’t followed. The large Hunter stilled, watching them both warily. His inability to communicate efficiently perhaps giving him an aptitude for observing the subtleties that others lacked.

Gastone said nothing, instead stared at her as though he wished to. He clutched his jaw, thinking something over. Ultimately, he thought better of whatever he’d wanted to say and simply nodded. Then he turned and pounded past the watchful Jean, who seemed relieved and followed after.

Rifle in one hand, Belle went up the stairs to Aleksander’s room. Taking a collective breath, she opened the door. Aleksander lay curled up on the bed. It looked incredibly uncomfortable, being as the bed was clearly too small for him. He raised his head and looked at her with his wolfish eyes.

“It’s time to go,” she said simply.

With a casual exhale, the Prince pushed himself up and stepped off the bed. Belle had only ever seen the beast standing on two legs but was not surprised that even on all four he was impossibly large. Hellhounds were two, even three, times larger than a normal wolf. Aleksander made them look like pups.

Belle walked alongside him as they made their way down the hall. His claws clicked against the wood floor and his paws padded heavily with each step. Knowing that small talk was impossible, Belle decided to feign comfort in their involuntary silence.

As it was still daytime, LeClair House was above sea level. Which was fortunate, because Belle had no idea how Aleksander would have fit in the lift. As it were, his wide shoulders barely squeezed through the front door. Grabbing her fur cloak before leaving, Belle draped it over her shoulders. The white fur grazed softly against her skin as she pulled out her gloves and tugged them on.

With a little extra luck, the sun was shining when Belle stepped outside where Aleksander was waiting. His dark fur rippled from the breeze and his nose was tipped up, scenting the air off the Norwegian Sea. Distant gray clouds warned them of coming snow. Gauging its distance, Belle was certain they could reach Castle Vakre Fjell before the clouds made landfall.

“Your transport is ready, your Royal Highness,” said Friar Clemens from beside the aforementioned flatbed.

It was harnessed to two strong horses, but even Belle worried that it wouldn’t be enough to pull Aleksander. Nicolas, Delano, and Andre were already mounted up and waiting. Jack was just approaching their assembly upon his new steed, with her Charming in tow. Leaving Aleksander’s side, Belle placed her hands on her Friesian’s muzzle and greeted him. He puffed delightedly into her palms.

“Your Highness, if you please,” Friar Clemens prompted, pulling the Prince’s eyes from Belle.

With a subtle groan, Aleksander approached the flatbed’s rear. The horses shied at the sight and smell of Beast-Aleksander. Comforting pats and words from their riders settled them, but their flicking ears and wide eyes showed their unease. Only Charming seemed unbothered by his presence. Belle supposed that carrying Aleksander on his back would have such an effect.

The Prince ignored the animals’ hubbub. With an easy leap, he alighted onto the flatbed. It pitched side to side with his weight. The wheel axles moaned and the boards creaked in distress. Aleksander quickly laid down to steady the wagon.

As they waited for Jean and Gastone, Belle gave Charming a quick look over. She checked his hooves for problems, made sure he was groomed properly, and then went over his tack. Everything was as it should be, girth tight and all. Belle stuffed her rifle down into the saddle’s scabbard.

“Jack,” Belle said, reaching down to tie up her skirts. He looked at her, showing no ungentlemanly interested in her flash of skin. “I never got to ask you, what name did your horse get?”

Monsieur Bane, the Hostler, named the stallions he gave to the Hunters. All the names were regal in theme, chosen with the intention of honoring the impressive breed. Their names were also indications of their heritage. Magnificent and Magnanimous, for example, were given similar names due to their sharing of the same bloodline.

“Knightly,” Jack answered with a proud grin.

Giving them both a quick appraising eye, Belle then mounted. “It suits him, and you.”

Jack welcomed this complement by tipping his cowboy hat. As he did, Gastone and Jean approached a trot. The unofficial royal guard was now complete. Friar Clemens climbed into the driver’s seat of the flatbed and took up the reins. Everyone looked to Belle.

Pressing back her shoulders, Belle gave out her travel instructions. On a hunt, everyone entered the forest in a certain order with Belle going first. This wasn’t a hunt however and Belle wasn’t leaving Aleksander’s side; though she didn’t plan on admitting that last part outright. This time Gastone would take the lead, Andre and Jack behind him, Jean would guard Aleksander along with Belle, and Nicolas and Delano would take up the rear.

“Any questions?” No one spoke up. “Then let’s get this prince back to his castle.”

“Here, here!” Several Hunters heartily agreed.

Belle signaled and, moving as a single unit, they made their way to the forest edge. The Hunters took up their positions seamlessly. She guided Charming over to walk alongside the wagon, glancing at Aleksander the same moment he glanced at her. They couldn’t speak to one another, but each look held a thousand words.

The group stopped a second later. The forest didn’t appear as ominous during the day as it did at night and without falling snow the visibility went much farther than normal. Belle wasn’t fooled though. Death could be awaiting them just beyond those trees.

Belle pulled her hood up and bowed her head. The other Hunters did the same. She was quiet for a moment and then she began, “O Holy Angel.”

The others took up the creed. Their voices fell into a rhythm, chanting together. Aleksander shifted next to her and Belle knew without opening her eyes that he was watching her, listening intently to the oath so few had heard before. The words memorized long ago, fell from her lips and soon the prayer drew to its end. Each Hunter raised their heads, opened their eyes, and formed the cross over their chests. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”

Without a word, Gastone signaled his horse forward. Andre and Jack followed. Belle glanced down at Aleksander. Their eyes locked for a long moment. Then Belle broke the contact, turning her attention to the forest, and cued Charming. Into its depths they went.

Her guns emptied and Belle was forced to hastily draw her sabre, hacking down at the surrounding hellhounds. With Charming about to be overrun, she dismounted to push them back. The stallion covered her side, defending with his hooves.

Shouts and grunts came as comforting sounds to Belle, telling her that her Hunters were still alive. Only at Aleksander did she spare a glance. He maintained the high ground of his flatbed, guarding a terrified Friar against the hellhounds. Fortunately for them both, the hounds seemed wary of Aleksander’s large fangs and claws.

A hellhound leapt at Belle. She sidestepped, swiping as she moved. Her blade ran down his body, cutting him open. Sweeping the saber upward, she ran another hound through. Before she could even pull her sword free, Belle grabbed two knives from her chest and launched them at descending attackers. They dropped as Belle removed her weapon from the corpse.

Flipping her sabre backwards in hand, Belle thrust it behind her and speared the mouth of a hound. Bodies piled at her feet as she killed, making it difficult to move. She made to step out of the mess, while slicing at several hellhounds, when a corpse burst into light. Blind, she flinched away. Something solid struck her back, sending her forward. Belle tried to keep her balance, but tripped over the array of bodies and stumbled several feet until she fell face first into the snow.

Dazed and blinking, Belle scrambled for her sabre. Before she could regain it, claws hooked into the flesh of her lower torso. The sudden pain caused her to cry out.

Then she was being dragged. By flesh and muscle, the claws pulled her through deep snow. Alerted by her scream, Aleksander turned from his attackers to see her about to disappear into the tree line.

Puffing out his chest, he issued a roar that shook the very forest. Nearly every hellhound ducked in fear. Aleksander leapt off the flatbed, leaving the cowering Friar behind.

His heavy paws were nimble over the snow, but the hellhound army was quick to recover. Several at once jumped upon him. The Prince twisted under their weight, grabbing one with his paw and flinging it away. Then he engaged the others in a fight of fury. The snarls and whimpers were jarring in Belle’s ears.

She had to give Aleksander time to get to her, to get at the hound that dragged, as well as disabled, her so successfully. Belle dug her hands through the snow trying to grab at anything. Her mind raced for alternatives. Her sabre was now well out of reach, her guns were empty, and her last throwing knife was trapped firmly beneath her. The heavy paws on her back prevented her from turning to grab it.

Panic seized her as she was pulled passed a lamppost. The hellhound was dragging her into the woods. There was only one reason for a predator to drag its prey away from the group. Belle lashed out, grasping the metal post. Holding on desperately, she was not willing to be the main course of this wolf’s private dinner.

“Aleksander!” Belle cried in agony. The claws pulled on her flesh, threatening to tear her completely to shreds.