The Beast (8 page)

By the time Nicolas came in from being out in the stable with Delano, they had a small army of finished bullets lined up. He sighed, looking around the room. Belle dipped her thin brush into the inky paint. “How is Delano?”

Nicolas shrugged. “Haggard.”

“I’m sure.” She paused before painting the first stroke. “And Honor?”

“Holding up well.” Sitting next to Jean, Nicolas rubbed his hands over his face, scrunching up the skin. “No sign of infection.”

“Well good. That is truly a relief—”

“Belle,” Andre cut in, turning rapidly in his chair.

He flipped a switch on the vox. The transmissions left Andre’s head speakers and was broadcast to the room.

“LeClair House. LeClair House,” Henri was hurriedly saying. Belle leapt from her seat at the sound of gunfire and growls. “A pack…Too many.” His breathing was labored. Franck shouted in the background. Henri fired his guns between words. “LeClair House, are you there?”

The transmission stopped and Belle dashed across the room, smacking a button on the vox. “Père? Père?!”

“Belle? This is…” The signal wavered, only transmitting fragments.

Belle pressed the button again. “Say again?”

She let the button go. Static.

Andre frantically twisted the knobs and dials. “They must be right at the edge of this thing’s reaching capabilities.”

Belle’s heart raced. She could hardly stand it as she listened intently to the white noise. When the signal came back, they managed to catch one word.

“Hurry—” A loud scream, the sound of a violent death, and the transmission went out again.

There was the slightest of pauses, a moment to let the horror of it sink in, then Belle was headed for the armory with her men just steps behind. They grabbed their shooting irons and swords, strapping them on quickly and snatching communication chips from the cabinet. She unpinned the nice, cobalt top hat she’d picked to see Henri off with and tossed it on one of the wall hooks. Tying her cloak at the base of her neck, Belle was the first to reach the front door. Thankfully, the house was above ground now and she didn’t have to waste time with the elevator.

Lifting her skirts, Belle raced across the snow-covered lawn and into the barn. With the Hunters close behind, she converged on her stall and began saddling her horse. Delano came out of Honor’s stall at the sound of their commotion. “What’s going on?”

“Another pack,” Belle said, hefting the saddle onto Charming’s back. “Père’s in trouble.”

Delano stumbled over his shock and looked back at his horse, as though to confirm he was in no shape to be ridden. “What can I do?”

“You’re staying behind to guard the border.” Belle led the saddled Charming out of his stall, just as Friar Clemens reached the barn. “Friar, ride into town and fetch the doc. We’ll need him.”

Delano closed up Honor’s stall and ran from the barn, likely to grab weapons. Friar Clemens started saddling one of the cart horses. The other Hunters emerged from their stalls as Belle was heading out the door. It was the fastest they’d ever readied. In the sunlight, they each mounted.

Belle cued Charming into a jog, gradually speeding him up as they neared the border. There was no time to stand on formality—no time to stop and pray. So Belle did it on the fly. “Oh Holy Angel, attendant of our wretched souls and afflicted life…”

“…forsake us not.” The Hunters joined in, riding at a close gallop. They passed into the woods, finishing the creed as they followed the path of Henri’s hunting party.

Belle shouted over her shoulder, “Watch for hounds coming from the sides. Let your horses follow me.”

There were plenty of tracks to guide her from both hoof and cart. But it wasn’t necessary. Henri’s party was to stick to the main gas-lit path until they reached its farthermost point and headed into the unknown.

After awhile, Belle slowed Charming to a trot. The group seamlessly matched her pace. They’d been riding for awhile; they had to be getting close.

Belle tapped her ear chip. “Henri? Franck? Adam? Anyone there?”

She pressed it again and waited, but there was no response. Belle looked back at Gastone. He met her gaze and she could see he expected the worst.

His eyes pulled from hers, drawn up the trail. “There’s something up there.”

Belle turned around. He was right, there was something ahead. It was big and obscuring the path. As they came closer, she started to see the bloody snow—the figures of corpses. She grabbed her revolver and held it up, signaling her men to ready themselves.

The large object revealed itself to be Henri’s invention. They rode past a dozen or more bodies. Many Belle didn’t recognize, but more than a few she did. Jean dismounted to check them but shook his head when she inquired if they were alive.

“My God.” Belle gawked at the surroundings. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, feeling like it was about to fall out. Never before had she seen so many dead hellhounds in one place. “How many are there?”

Andre rode up. “Counted three dozen so far.”

Belle heard growling and followed the sound around the cart. Her gun was ready, waiting for the creature to leap. Just beyond the trees the hellhound stood over the remains of a Hunter named Adam.

It snarled and lashed out as Gastone and Jack came over. It reached down and grabbed Adam’s body, dragging him a few feet away. Was it guarding its food? Revulsion rolled through her stomach. Gastone raised his gun to end it.

“Belle!” Andre leaned over someone just down the path.

There was blood all around the area, along with more corpses. A shot rang out as Gastone put down Adam’s killer. Belle dismounted and ran, fearing what she would see. Holding her breath, Belle pulled Andre back. But it wasn’t Henri.

Franck lay there. His shirt was shredded, as was his body. His eyes saw through them. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Friar Clemens, we need the doc now,” Andre said into his chip and his voice echoed into her own.

It was too late though. Franck was already on his way toward the light. She’d seen it before. When her mother died, she’d looked right through her—right into the light.

Belle walked away, leaving Andre to him. Her chest ached. She pressed her palm into it, trying to ease the strain. The other Hunters were checking every body, attempting to account for the rest of Henri’s hunting party. There were so many bodies. He could be anywhere. Belle palmed her chest again and rested against the cart.

She looked over at it, wondering what had happened to Magnificent. An idea struck her. Belle swiveled around, counting the dead horses. Six. There was one missing. One had gotten away.

Belle walked to the end of the cart, lifting up the harness straps. Hope flared in her chest. They’d been cut—not torn. There was a chance, even a small one, that Henri had cut them and attempted to escape with his life. Surely he would have tried to save his men, but failing that—when there was no doubt they’d been lost—he would have tried to save himself.

Walking away from the group, she searched the disturbed snow, looking for a set of tracks to separate from the others. Escaping toward LeClair House would have been the smartest plan, but Henri may not have had a choice. He may have been forced farther into Vakre Fjell.

Something glinted in the snow, causing her to stop. Belle crouched down and carefully brushed the white fluff away. A timepiece stared back at her. At its center were the words,
Liberty Watch Co
. Hand trembling, she grasped the watch and turned it over. The back was glass. The clockwork inside no longer ticked.

Unlike the humans I watched now. They walked among the carnage of their dead and that of my wolves. I sent the creatures that slaughtered the older Hunters and forced Henri to retreat farther into Vakre Fjell. With my power’s reach bound by another, I need Henri’s talent for killing. He’ll remove the threat to my task.

The young woman, Belle, held the watch she found. She stared down at it thoughtfully, then looked out into the forest—in the direction Henri had taken. So she intended to go after him. The girl, normally such a stickler for Hunter rules, surprises me.

She could help my cause, I suddenly realized. Where her father might fail, Belle will succeed. Either way, the threat will be gone, my bindings will be lifted, and I’ll be free to do what I came here for.

I could not drive Belle to the castle as I had done Henri. Too many of my wolves had died today and only a handful were near. But I had other ways.

I reached with my mind, calling the wolves. They will be there soon. But before they can drive Belle, I must cut her off from her own group. Lifting my hand, I held it palm up. Softly, I blew as if I were sending a kiss. White fog descended from my lips, pouring over my fingers. Frost crystallized upon the surrounding snow and crept up the trees. I held it back, waiting for just the right moment…

“I found my père’s watch and a set of tracks,” she said, walking back to Charming and remounting. “I’m going to see where they lead.”

Gastone finished closing Adam’s vacant eyes. “Wait till we’re finished here and we’ll ride out with you.”

“I’m not going far.” She cued Charming forward, shouting over her shoulder, “I won’t sit by when my père might be just beyond those trees. Keep watch with the others and I’ll come back if I don’t find him.”

Without looking, Belle knew Gastone frowned at her back as she passed the final lamppost. There was no reason for him to worry; she really had no intention of putting herself in danger. Belle trained her eyes onto the ground, focusing on keeping the trail.

Eventually, she came upon two human corpses, and this was where the hellhound tracks ended. But Magnificent’s prints continued onward. Why hadn’t her father turned back?

Then Belle noticed a trickle of blood spattered on the snow. It was too far from the hellhounds…it couldn’t be theirs. She pressed on. The trail of blood started to grow larger, coloring the snow every few meters. If Henri had been wounded enough, he may have lost consciousness and allowed Magnificent to carry him unguided.

Looking up, Belle saw that Magnificent’s tracks led to an area clear of trees; a path that was a straight shot to the north. It must have been an old road, likely the main road right into Vakre Fjell. It would eventually lead to a house or a town. There was a chance that Henri might have taken shelter there. Timid hope fluttered in Belle’s chest.

Static simmered in her ear and Gastone’s voice broke though. “Belle, did you…Clemens…here…”

Belle tugged Charming to a stop, thinking that she wasn’t yet far enough away to be out of signal range. Peering around, Belle realized she was wrong. She couldn’t see or hear her Hunters.

The singing started then. The Electro-Phonic Chip began to pitch and whine as though it were serenading her. Belle quickly tapped the earpiece. “Incoming ice fog—”

The ethereal song increased, drowning out her own voice. They no longer heard her, if they even did in the first place. Ice fog was rare but potentially dangerous. It only happened in special weather conditions and generally brought with it a cold so strong it touched her bones. It also somehow made their earpieces sing and cut off all communications.

Tiny ice crystals began to form over the nearby trees. There was a soft crackling as frost flowers spread over her reins, reaching toward her fingers. As the ear chip sang to her, Belle held up her hand and watched as the rime blossomed on her leather glove. The intricate design was beautiful.

White fog rolled around her like a cloud of ice dust. Within seconds, she was engulfed and her visibility was reduced to mere feet. Turning Charming, she had to retrace her steps and join her men.