Depravity, A Beauty and the Beast Novel(25)

My gaze flew to Tennen, and his eyes narrowed on me.

“How many times have you gone to the estate and walked away uninjured?”

“Never uninjured,” I said with a snort. I didn’t clarify that the injuries were due to him and his brother or self-inflicted.

The vines pulled, and I slid several inches along the ground. Another vine crept along the ground beside me, extending toward Tennen. He saw the vine and eyed me dispassionately.

“I hope you’re hurt even worse this time.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving me behind.

I tried standing, but the vines didn’t loosen. The one that had crept toward Tennen curved and wrapped around me instead. The single vines twisted together to create a thick rope that hefted me into the air and once again moved me toward the estate in a slow shuffle.





Six


The vines deposited me just inside the firmly closed gate. Muddy rivulets ran from my clothes, and I tilted my face toward the falling rain to wash away the mud still clinging to my skin.

A voice from the gloom startled me.

“What would you have of me this time?” the beast asked.

I spotted a large, dark shape to my right and tried to focus on it through the rain as I began to shiver. The warmth I’d worked up from the run had left during the slow passage here.

“Refuge,” I said, stammering with cold. “I can’t return home until my father does.”

The beast grunted, and the shape to my right moved, growing larger as it rose from its crouched position.

“Follow me,” he said, moving into the falling darkness.

Hesitantly, I followed, wrapping my arms around myself as my wet skirts clung to my legs. His shape always remained far enough in front of me that I could never quite see him clearly. Eventually, a large structure loomed before us, its details hidden in the enchanted mist that filled the estate at its whim.

Ahead, something made a soft creak of protest. I followed the noise and found an open door leading to a vast, dark, cold room. I stepped inside, glad to be free of the rain.

“Light the fire and warm yourself,” his disembodied voice said from the darkness. “Walk straight ahead. You will find what you need.”

Arms extended, I shuffled forward in the dark until I touched stone. Running my fingers lightly along the porous surface, I discovered I stood before an enormous hearth. Head level, a stone mantel held what I needed to light the fire. I blew on my fingers to dry them before attempting a spark. It took several tries to start the waiting tinder; but when I did, I felt an overwhelming surge of relief. The tiny bit of light the small flame threw into the room helped dispel some of the gloom. I looked out into the wall of black surrounding me and wondered where he waited. The faint outline of the still open door was the only other object I could see outside the circle of light.

For the next several minutes, I fed the hungry flame. Soon, it cast enough heat that I could sit back on my heels and warm my hands.

“I will check for word on your father’s return. Stay here in your refuge,” he growled in a curiously angry tone. The door slammed closed.

Why had he gotten angry? Looking around, I saw nothing that might suggest an answer. Standing, I moved to the woodbin set back from the fire and took some larger pieces to place on the established flames. In a few minutes, only a few black shadows remained in the furthest corners of the room, and I clearly saw my surroundings.

I stood in a large kitchen, and it appeared as if it had been ransacked. Pots lay on their sides on the floor, a table near one wall had been splintered in two, and claw marks savaged just about every surface. My stomach dipped a little at the evidence not to trust the beast’s precarious kindnesses.

With the new light, I saw how caked with mud I remained. My dress was heavy with it, and it clung to my legs. The muck would itch when it dried. Walking around the kitchen, I found a hand pump for water and a large kettle with a handle. Doggedly, I worked to fill the kettle then struggled with its weight as I crossed the room and set it on the metal arm above the fire. Using a rod to nudge the arm, I swung the pot toward the back of the hearth so it dangled just above the dancing flames.

Searching again, I found a few cloths that appeared relatively clean and a very large wooden tub. I stared at the tub for a long while, debating. He’d promised refuge, but could I trust it enough to wash? No. I left the tub where it lay upside down in a corner of the room and fetched another pot of water.

I tried washing with the first tepid pot, but my dress was too coated with mud. Every time it touched a newly cleaned spot of skin, it left a mud streak. Sighing, I dragged the tub over to the fire. I filled it a quarter of the way with cold water and then dumped in a pot of boiling water. With patience, I slowly filled the tub halfway with water, then I stood staring at it. The mud on my scalp had dried, pulling my skin tight. I wanted to be clean but didn’t know when the beast would return. Eyeing the door, I went to the broken table and dragged half of it over to the tub. Standing on its short edge, it made a modest privacy screen. I could use it to dry my dress, too.