Beauties of the Beast (The Yellow Hoods, #4): Steampunk meets Fairy Tale Page 2

  “Is there anything of note on his back?”

  Egelina’s eyes darted around. “Ah…” She looked at Bakon trying to remember.

  “Don’t look at him, look at me,” commanded Caterina.

  Eg’s memory was a locked vault until she saw the hope hidden deep in the woman’s eyes. Relaxing, she remembered. “You mean the birthmark on his shoulder, right? It’s… ah… it’s about the size of a small coin. It’s shaped like a… crescent.”

  Caterina stepped forward and, with her thumb and forefinger, rubbed one of Bakon’s earlobes. Both she and Bakon immediately knew. Her cheeks went red and her eyes darted away.

  “He’s gone!” yelled one of the soldiers. “Abeland Pieman’s gone.”

  “Hunt him down, now!” commanded Caterina. She was furious at herself for having taken her attention off one of the few people remaining who could upset her plans. She gestured to Richy. “Hand him over to the local authorities, I have no need of him.”

  “No!” said Bakon, a pistol immediately making him stop in his tracks as he moved to protect his young friend.

  “I’ll be okay,” said Richy to Bakon. He didn’t mean it, and Bakon knew it.

  Egelina-Marie gave Richy’s arm a squeeze. “We’ll see you soon. I promise.”

  “When pigs fly,” said the soldier hauling Richy away.

  Caterina leaned into Bakon. “Understand this: Nothing will derail me from my plans. If you die here, it will be a curious drop in the river of history, nothing more.” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, and there was no doubt in her mind. Somehow, her little Bel was standing right there, before her. She hadn’t felt so rattled in a long, long time.

  Twenty years ago, in the snow-covered Republic of Ahemia, six-year-old Beldon accompanied his mother to the signal spire of the castle. He was worried about her. Her feet were dragging, her shoulders slumped, her words had a heaviness to them lately. He hoped holding her hand somehow made things better.

  “Duchess Catherine,” said the weather Conventioneer she’d summoned.

  Caterina winced as she always did at that name. “Thank you for coming. What news do you have of the snow? Will we see a break in the next few days?”

  The old conventioneer lowered his eyes, his large white mustache and bushy eyebrows hiding most of his features. “Regretfully, I must to say no. The stories from the farms align with our best instruments, which all point to more snow of this magnitude falling for several weeks yet. My apologies, duchess.”

  Caterina forced a smile and thanked the old man. She wandered the corridors aimlessly until she came upon Beldon, his beaming little face lifting her shoulders.

  “Mama, where are you going?” he asked, tilting his head preciously.

  With a sigh, she replied, “I have to go to see the signal master.”

  “Can I come?” he asked. She could see in his eyes that it was past his bedtime. He took her hand. “Please?”

  “Okay. You know it’s a lot of stairs, though?”

  “I know, Mama,” he replied, setting off in the direction of the signal master’s tower.

  She’d spent weeks planning and preparing for her husband’s surprise birthday party. It had been Beldon’s idea, his hope to bring his parents closer together. Now, she’d have to cancel it. With each step, everything seemed colder, lonelier.

  Lennart and Caterina had been arguing, loudly, for months. They’d lost their ability to stop when the boys were around. When Beldon asked, as he sometimes did, what it was about, neither of them felt like explaining it. Part of it was rooted in the ambitions of their respective fathers, Marcus Pieman and Gaston Maurice, and part of it was because neither of them knew how to bridge the ever growing gulf between them.

  As Caterina knocked on the signal master’s bedroom door, she gazed down at little Beldon, who was still holding her hand dearly. “I love you Bel. You know that, right?”

  He smiled up at her. “Yes, Mama. I know. I love you, too. Oink!” he said, scrunching his face up.

  She smiled back, tapping his nose. “Oink.”

  “Can we play little piggies when I get to bed?” he asked. “I know it’s late already. And it’s okay if you say no.”

  “Well, Bel,” she said, drawing out her words. “I don’t know…”

  “I already got Skells and Bore ready for bed,” he offered, his face filled with hope.

  She wondered when he’d be old enough to notice when he mispronounced Selvin’s name. Half the time he seemed to get it right. She didn’t want it to go too soon.

  Just as the door started to creak open, she gave Bel a confirming nod. A blurry eyed signal master squinted at the duchess and the little master. “Is there something you need at this hour, my lady?” he asked, rubbing his wrinkly, tired face.

  “Sorry to disturb you at this still most reasonable hour, but I need you to announce that the party for Duke Lennart is canceled on account of snow.”

  He scratched his stubbly face. “You know I cannot—”

  “Give the reason why, yes, I know. Just get it done,” she snapped.

  With his instructions understood, the door closed. Caterina and Beldon started their descent down the spiral staircase.

  “Mama?” asked Beldon sweetly.

  She was in her own little world. The signal master had reminded her that everything seemed to be a struggle lately. It only made matters worse that she’d been getting letters about her father’s heavy-handed attempts at rallying some of the smaller Fare factions under him against the Piemans. The letters were either filled with pleas for her to do something about him, or telling her how they would prefer to follow her, both of which were a joke. She had no influence over Gaston Maurice, and had no proven ability to lead.

  Her marriage to Lennart Pieman had been her father’s brilliant idea, a means to unify the Piemans with the rogue Fare factions he’d gathered at the time. It hadn’t worked. She’d been a pawn then, and felt like one now. A few months ago, two of the Fare faction leaders had shown up out of the blue. Lennart had been home, and their presence had taken an open secret and cast it into the light. In the ensuing epic argument, she’d revealed her distain for the Piemans and their vision of the world, and in the heat of the moment, she’d told her husband she couldn’t respect him because of it. Everything had gone down hill rapidly from there.

  “Mama? Can Skells, Bore and me use the big ballroom to play since there’s no party anymore?”

  “Sels or Selvin!” she snapped. “His name is Selvin, and it’s Selvin, Bore and I.” She was immediately wracked with guilt for snapping at him. It was a horrible habit she had, a defense mechanism she’d developed against her older sisters, designed to throw them off balance. It worked on Lennart particularly well. She glanced down at Beldon’s tear filled eyes, the look of having disappointed her on his face. She let go of his hand and sat down on a stair. With her head in her hands, she stared at the cold stone steps. She couldn’t look at him, not until she knew he’d forgiven her. “I’m sorry, Belly. I shouldn’t have done that. Mama’s very sorry.”

  Beldon looked at her tears as they splashed down, confused and worried. “Someone might see you, Mama,” he said of her sitting on a step. She’d never done anything so common before. She had rules about such things, rules she’d told him a hundred times. “Mama, get up.”

  “I can’t right now, Belly. I just can’t.” Her voice was fragile. “I’m sorry, Bel. I’m so sorry about everything,” she said, breaking down.

  Bel wrapped his little six-year-old arms around her. “Mama, it’s okay. I know you love me. But, Mama, you shouldn’t be sitting. Someone might see you,” he said, trying to lift her up.

  She chuckled at the sweet efforts of her little hero and patted the empty spot beside her. After some hesitation and a glance around, he sat down. “I don’t care if someone sees me, Bel. This is the true me. For so long I have been pushed and shoved into a life and destiny I never wanted.” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a
kiss on his messy top of dark-blond hair. “I love you. You and Selvin and Boris, all of you. You know that, right?”

  “I know, Mama.” He hugged her. “Are you worried about something?” he asked astutely.

  She rubbed his ear-lobe with her thumb and forefinger as she often did. It reminded her of how soft he’d been as a baby. “I am, a little. There are a lot of things going on.” She brushed the hair from his forehead and looked at his gentle eyes. “You’re so strong, Bel. You’ll always be there for your brothers, right? Always take care of them?”

  “Always, Mama,” he said proudly, his chin raised.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lost Wolf

  LeLoup blinked hard and glanced about, rubbing the side of his head where Tee had pistol-whipped him. She was nowhere to be found, though he could feel her presence.

  The forest leaves rustled as he scurried over to his two henchmen and shook them awake.

  He pointed at the fifteen-year-old boy. “Take the Watt boy. We’re heading back to the horses.”

  LeLoup felt a buzzing in his head as he surveyed the clearing. The plan had been brilliant. He’d had a traitor within Tee’s inner-circle, and yet she’d gotten the better of him. Not only had she made him look like a fool once again, she’d taken a piece of his soul this time. He shook as he remembered the look in her eyes after he’d accidentally shot Elly.

  He stared at Elly, a bleeding mess of red and yellow. He glanced around nervously. Tee was no where to be seen. “Where did you go?” he wondered. Scratching his face furiously. “Are you going to leap out at me? Or have you broken, Tee?” As he went through the possibilities, his heart pounded harder and harder. “What have I done?” The buzzing in his head felt like voices arguing now. He slapped his own face to silence them.

  Just as he was about to leave, he caught a glimpse of the Liar. His custom made triple-barreled, repeating pistol was a work of art, and it had betrayed him. In the moment where he was ready to use the secret extra bullet, that which gave the pistol its name, it had jammed. With a shaking hand, he picked it up and hurried off, certain he could hear Tee’s voice approaching.

  Arriving at their horses, LeLoup paced back and forth angrily. His nonsensical mumblings and rantings had become more intense as he’d trekked through the forest. “She’s taken my wolf. I need it back. I need it back,” he said to the air. Tee’s enraged eyes haunting him. The arguments inside his head grew more intense.

  “Hey!” yelled Stefano, snapping his fingers to get LeLoup’s attention. “Look, I know you’re the boss and everything, but you’re not making any sense, and you’re not listening to us. Frankly, we’re getting sick of it. Are we going somewhere with the knocked out twitchy kid, or not? Because if your plan is to do the crazy walk-and-talk all day, then we’re out of here.”

  “Shut up!” yelled LeLoup, whipping out the Liar and pointing it squarely at his henchman.

  “Woo there,” said Ruffo, the other henchman. “Just calm down, LeLoup.”

  “LeLoup? Who’s that? Is that you? No, it’s me,” LeLoup muttered to himself, glancing about before settling back on Ruffo.

  Stefano rubbed his face in frustration and glanced at Ruffo with a look of disbelief. “What do you want us to do?”

  LeLoup smoothed his hair and straightened his dirtied grey suit jacket. “I’m going back after Tee. You two continue on to the inn with the Watt boy. I’ll be there soon. I need to get my wolf back.”

  It hadn’t taken LeLoup long to find the trail left by Tee’s makeshift stretcher. After following them for a few minutes, and knowing the area well, he took a direct route for the road. Exiting the forest and stepping on to the dirt road, he scanned about. A hundred yards away, he saw a horse and cart stopped. Hugging the forest’s edge, he quickly and quietly approached.

  The greasy looking driver pushed up his three-point hat with a finger as thick as a sausage. He leaned forward, resting an arm partially on his big belly. His face had several days of grey and black stubble.

  He smiled down on the exhausted, dirty, but still pretty girl before him. “That’s a nice piece of metal you have there,” he said of the shock-stick Tee had pulled out. “Now, why don’t you put it down and come keep me company up here? You want me to help your friend, don’t you?”

  LeLoup listened as he crept ever closer. It was odd seeing Tee without her yellow cloak. She was in a blood and dirt stained sleeveless blouse, her hair a tangled black mess. Her shock-stick hand was shaking; not in fear, but in fury.

  Tee growled. “I need your horse and cart!” she yelled, leaping forward.

  Time seemed to slow for LeLoup as he caught the look in Tee’s eyes. His blood ran cold. All the voices inside him screamed as one.

  Two shots rang out, startling Tee and making her slip off the edge of the cart. She fell to the ground, landing on her back and elbows. She stared in complete shock at LeLoup, who was standing only a few yards away, his triple-barreled pistol held high in the air.

  “You can’t do this!” LeLoup yelled at her, his arm and head shaking. “You can’t, that would make you forever the wolf. I need it back. This is not you.”

  The driver glanced back and forth between Tee and LeLoup. “Who the yig is this guy, and what’s he talking about?” he asked her, slowly reaching underneath his seat.

  LeLoup flashed a twisted smile at the driver. “Monsieur, I might not sound my best, but please, do not test me. Leave the weapon where it is.”

  “I don’t—don’t know what you’re talking about,” stammered the driver, leaving his hands low.

  LeLoup took careful aim at the man’s chest. “Well, I can educate you, if you’d like.”

  None of this made sense to Tee. Seeing LeLoup drained the last of her strength. Her body sagged as exhaustion took hold. In a voice laced with defeat, Tee said, “Just kill me already.”

  “What? No,” said LeLoup, staring at her. Inside, he was surprised at his answer. Wasn’t this what he’d set out to do—what he’d told his henchmen he was going to do? He glared at the driver, sending a shiver down the man’s spine. “Now, Monsieur, out of the cart. Please.”

  The driver put his hands up. “Look, let’s start over. I don’t know who you are, but I’m just trying to help the little lady. She was coming up and—”

  LeLoup laughed. “Do you really think you were about to have your way? You’re an idiot to risk your doom by underestimating her. She’d have beaten you to within a kiss of your last breath.”

  “I hardly think a little girl—”

  “Ah, Monsieur, you are indeed an idiot. But, where are my manners? I’m—” and nothing else came out of LeLoup’s mouth. His eyes darted around before landing on Tee.

  She frowned and stood up slowly. “He’s… Andre LeLoup,” she said, her expression of one of complete bewilderment. “He… He’s the one that shot my friend… the friend who is dying right now.” Tee growled, the fury returning to her eyes.

  “Wait,” pleaded LeLoup, speaking to her rage. “No, back. Go back in!”

  The driver looked at Tee and then LeLoup again. “You can talk with the crazy man, I’m going.”

  Tee glanced at Elly. “If I don’t get her to Costello soon, she’ll die! Please.”

  “Costello…” repeated LeLoup, dropping his pistol arm as he suddenly remembered his conversation with Franklin. He’d completely forgotten about the boy and his henchmen. He gazed about, and was wondering which direction they were in when the cart driver whipped out a flintlock rifle from under his seat.

  LeLoup spun and shot over the man’s shoulder, the wind slapping him in the face. “Now, please, if you would be so kind,” he said, showing his teeth, “clean your little mess that I see piddling off the bench seat, and take yourself for a walk. I hear exercise is good, particularly for those of such blessed girth.”

  After wiping the bench seat and cart floor with a rag, the man hurried off in the direction he’d come from.

  Putting the Liar away, LeLoup approached Tee
slowly. She stared at him, confused.

  “Tell me how best to help you get… Elly… into the cart,” LeLoup asked nervously.

  Elly stared lazily at the painting on the ceiling as she enjoyed the sounds of an angelic choir. Morning light poured in through two large, open windows. The red and gold curtains had been drawn aside, probably by the monk that had been keeping an eye on her.

  Before she could really wonder about where the monk had ventured off to, she heard it—Tee’s distinctive footfalls, blazing a trail down the marble corridors. Excitement built in Elly until finally she saw Tee burst through the doorway. For a moment, Tee was a blur of red, until Elly could see she was in the red and gold colors of the abbey.

  For all of their thirteen years, they’d been best friends. Before they’d been able to talk or walk, they’d had each other. They had overcome everything together, including the secrets that had most recently threatened to tear them apart, along with Franklin’s betrayal. When LeLoup had shot her, Elly’s greatest fear had been what would happen to Tee if she died.

  Elly winced in pain as she tried to sit up and failed. Tee leapt to Elly’s low bedside and buried her head beside Elly, her long black hair everywhere. Tee wrapped her arms around Elly, and with a choked up voice asked, “How… ah… how are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay,” replied Elly weakly. “Good thing we have the no dying rule, right?”

  “Yeah,” replied Tee, crying.

  Elly carefully wrapped her arms around Tee, pushing through the pain. “You saved me. We’re okay now.” Tee hugged Elly harder, her body shaking. Elly couldn’t understand her incoherent mumbles, but there was a weight and pain in her voice that she didn’t recognize. “I’m okay, you saved me,” Elly kept repeating. As the seconds passed, her anxiety crept up. “Tee? Are we okay?”

  Elly felt her gaze pulled to the doorway. Slowly, a mysterious form stepped into the room. Her blood ran cold as she recognized LeLoup. When she’d last seen him, at the other end of his triple-barreled pistol just before he’d shot her, he’d looked different. His hair was now a mess, his face unshaven, and his grey suit was dirty and stained. His pistol was strapped to his leg, but hung there as if he had no idea it existed.