INHERITANCE
chapter seventy-eight ; maid of gevaudan
[ season five- episode eighteen ]
𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐓 was nineteen when she died in the winter of 1767.
Raised in the South of France alongside her older siblings, Marie-Jeanne and Sebastien, she had lived a humble life filled with love. She would be remembered by the townspeople as the young rebellious girl, but to history, as the Maid of Geuvadan's sister, the one who had died at the hand of The Beast. The reason the maid was driven to claim vengeance. In history, the story would be told that way, in reality, it couldn't have been further from the truth. The truth of what happened that fateful night would lie and die with the Valet sisters, unknown by history, and to those lucky enough to hear the tale, nothing more than a crazed man's twisted tale.
Standing before her grandfather, Kinsey wrapped her arms around herself, discomforted by the amount of time she had spent around the man, how close she had been to him in all this time. It sent a chill down her spine every time he looked at her, like he saw nothing more than a pawn to his game. He had began recalling a piece of history, a legend revolving around The Beast. Kinsey had only ever heard what Allison had told her, but those details were fuzzy, it felt like it had been an entire lifetime since sophomore year when she had researched their family for some project. But now, Gerard had the full story.
There was a French soldier in the Seven Years war. His name Sebastian Valet. In 1760, he'd found himself in Canada, serving his country. One night, as Gerard foretold, he and a fellow soldier had been running from British Soldiers on a cold, rainy night. The conditions were terrible. Wet. Hard to run in. For the few moments he had found dry land, a moment to collect his thoughts, he had written them down, in a letter, addressed to the two sisters he had left in France.
𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦-𝘑𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢,
𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘐𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘩.
𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩, 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴.
"That letter would eventually find its way into the hands of a young woman," Gerard told them. "A skilled hunter who would later face The Beast with nothing more than a steel-tipped pike. In history, she would be known as The Maid of Geuvadan. But her real name was Marie-Jeanne."
Gerard slid the book over to Parrish and the two teenage girls, the bloody hellhound suggesting that someone should resurrect her to kill the Beast again. He walked off, uninterested in the old man's tale, he had told them that he knew what he had to do, and he planned to resume that. A single foot toward the door, and Lydia had told him not to go. He stopped in the doorway as he looked at the two girls, telling them that his dreams were not like theirs, because he wasn't just a harbinger of death, but the cause of it.
Kinsey rushed to chase after the man, but her grandfather warned her to let him go. With her lip curled into a scowl, she turned around to the haggard thing, asking him why. Why she should let him go, or listen to him. She would accept an answer to either of the unspoken questions. Lydia looked at the two Argent men, her eyes narrowing on them. You know something, she stated in a blank tone, looking back at the Were-Angel. Something that involved her. Chris stepped forward, his arm wrapped around his niece as he guided her back to the table, explaining that Parrish was only one person who could stop The Beast, but they believed there was someone else.
You. Her grandfather spoke, making every hair on her body stand tall as she swallowed thickly. It was almost inevitable. She should have known that somehow, this would lead to her. Every road seemed to lead to her when it came to the supernatural. She was practically a walking Nemeton.
Kinsey shook her head. No, she deadpanned. Walking away from them in disbelief, as Lydia went to follow her, Chris warned the redhead to let her breathe for a moment. He believed that with a few minutes to breathe, to think, she would begin to see why it was necessary to hear them out, it would occur to her that their hopes were running thin, and that if she was the last hope, or one of them, she had a duty, to herself and the people she loved to try.
The brunette found herself leaning over the book, staring at the old historic image of the beast. It was like a normal wolf, only in the image, it was black, its eyes glowing. She wasn't so far off of the image herself. Only her coat was white like the snow. Her eyes blue like an ocean in summer. She too was a Beast of sorts. She was a piece of history too. One day, perhaps she would be in a book like this as people told the tale of the Were-Angel, she would be a legend nobody believed because of how absurd it sounded. And it was absurd.
Unable to look at it, she closed the book, sighing heavily as her grandfather reappeared with the menacing tone of his natural voice.
"Marie-Jeanne was a lot like Allison, you know. Skeptical of her own ability. Both once skeptical of the supernatural." he told her, the girl sickened by Allison's name in his mouth, as though he, her own grandfather should be banned from uttering the name. As though he ever cared about her. All he ever cared about was turning her into a werewolf-hunting machine. "But it was Adelia Valet who you were most like. The youngest Valet. Both strong-minded, deterred from the norms and the rules." he said, a slight smirk, as if he almost liked that part of her. "Like you, she always believed that there was something else amongst us, and while the thought terrified her, she had sought it out anyway."
In a quaint Inn in Gevaudan, as people drank their beers and socialised, a man tacked up a sign, dealing the search of La Bete. Amongst them, sat the Valet sisters. In front of them, their empty glasses, letters from their brother who had been missing for months, and a crossbow. As Marie-Jeanne began filing through the letters, Adelia's eyes watched the man hanging up the sign, the dark image of a dog-like creature above the details of the search that would be led. As one hand held the piece of paper, the man's other hand searched for a nail to hammer it in. Though before he managed to reach it, an arrow shot past his head, tacking it to the wall.
The man suspected he knew who was responsible as he turned with a smile across his face, the young teenager smiling back at him as she returned her sister's crossbow to the table. She was a dab-hand at it, but daggers were her preferred weapon, she liked to be close to her victim, there was something less personal about a crossbow, she found. While it offered the advantage of the distance, Adelia quite liked seeing the light fade from her kills eyes. The barman thanked her as she pushed forward her and Marie-Jeanne's empty glasses, a favor for a favour. He poured them a drink, looking at the older Valet sister as she stared at her brother's handwriting in the letter. A hand was rested on her shoulder as the barman told her not to give up hope.
Marie-Jeanned nodded with a timid smile, Adelia thanked him for the drink, taking a sip from it as she continued to eavesdrop on the conversation behind her. A table of men were discussing a recent attack on an eleven-year-old girl, claiming she had been torn limb from limb. There were varying descriptions of the beast. Some say it was party hyena, part wolf, that is has black fur, or red fur, cloven hooves or a stripe down its back. Nobody truly knew what the beast looked like, it had only been the unfortunate victims that had been seen up close.
The barman joined in, telling the men that its kills at night, targeting its victims heads and necks. Where the beast finds a lamb, there it seeks another. One of the men commented, raising the teenage girls' brows as she placed down her drink, wondering how long it would take her to find the creature herself, if she went out tonight in the dark, armed with her daggers, could she stop it, killing the beast once and for all. It never eats its victims, the men claimed, suggesting that it seemed to be killing for sport, which no animal did. There was word that the king was planning to send professional hunters to Gevaudan to kill The Beast. Until they arrive, the suggestion was to use volunteers for a hunting party. They especially needed someone to lead it.
"Why ask for a volunteer?" A voice spoke, freezing Marie-Jeanne as she peeled an apple, Adelia's head shooting up, no longer carefully listening to the conversation of the men on the table next to theirs. "We all know who the best hunters are in Geuvadan." Marie-Jeanne and Adelia turned to the voice, their eyes widening at the sight of their brother in the doorway with Marcel. "Adelia and Marie-Jeanne Valet. My sisters." he said with a smile as the two girls dropped everything, the pair rushed over to him, jumping into his arms as he embraced them.
As soon as they released their brother, they embraced his friend, Marcel, relieved the two were home at last. Adelia dragged her brother to the other side of the bar, eager to hear all about his adventures at war, Marie-Jeanne following them, each wanting as much time with him as they could. It had been years since they last saw him. When he left, Adelia was nothing more than an eleven-year-old girl. Seven years ago, when the war had begun.
"I am not going to argue with your brother, Marie-Jeanne and Adelia." the old man looking for his volunteers spoke, turning their attention from their brother as they looked at him with wide eyes, surprised that he seemed to be asking them, women, to join the hunt. Let alone, lead the hunt. The other bar patrons began to chant their names, the two Valet girls were flattered by the opportunity, but Marie-Jeanne brushed it off as a joke. She hunted animals. Not rumors.
The Inn broke out in laughter, everyone humored by it, all but Adelia who wanted nothing more than to lead the hunt for The Beast, she wanted it dead on the end of her steel-pike, claiming the vengeance this town deserved to receive. But all laughter died down when the doors swung to a sharp open, turning the head of every patron as a man walked in, carrying the small, still body of a young boy. Immediately, gasps were spread throughout the Inn as people looked in horror, the sympathetic mothers in the bar found themselves sick, reaching their hands to their mouths. All of them knew him. It was a small, close-knit town. Emile, the barman's son was in Henri Argent's arms. As Henri laid him on the table, the patrons gathered around him, watching the barman as he grieved over his son's dead body, they were brought to tears and sickness.
Marie-Jeanne found herself holding her little sister closer to her, imagining the pain losing the girl would cause her. She could only imagine how their friend felt in this moment. She had raised Adelia, treating her like her own, even with their small age gap. Adelia felt like her child. She was imagining the loss of her child as she looked at the still boy on the table, inclined to change what she thought about The Beast. The rumor. She could see it now, it was no rumor.
Henri told them that he found him in the woods, that Emile spoke his last words to him. La Bete. The Beast. Adelia looked at her sister beside her, the older Valet swallowingly thickly. She turned back to Monsieur Tolbert, calling his name as everyone turned to the young girl, one of the best hunters in town, hoping she would answer their pleas. "I do not know what creature did this. But the hunting party leaves at dawn." she said, her voice stern, eager to kill The Beast. Her sister did not put up a fight again, she nodded in agreement, agreeing to lead the hunt.
Lydia appeared from around the corner, she and Chris had been listening the entire time, while it was a tale Chris had heard before, it was all new to the teenage girls, and both were left with a few burning questions. Why didn't he warn them? The redhead asked the old man. Gerard told them that Sebastian had recalled everything he had seen during the war, but once again, Marie-Jeanne was a skeptic. And Adelia, she was blinded by anger.
At dawn, the patrons gathered again at the Inn, sharpening their collection of weapons. Daggers, guns, steel-tip pikes. Every weapon known to man had been gathered in preparation to kill it. All of the rumors floated around in the air, none of them knowing which, if any, had a hint of truth in them. Amongst the crowd, Marie-Jeanne and Sebastien stood watching as their sister sat down at the table, a long steel-tip pike in her hand, sharpening it with her lip curled up in anger. There was something about her, she had always been quite the short-tempered girl, known for a sharp tongue, but since last night there was a change in her, none of them sure what to call it. But she had an animlaistic rage. The Beast had gotten to her, seeing Emile dead on the table must have hurt her, enough for her to become this new person.
Sebastian warned his sister not to worry, that Delia was strong, she would be fine. She was quite the hunter, that the two of them both knew. If anyone stood a chance against The Beast, Adelia's chances were best. Marie-Jeanne grinned, chiding her brother for being superstitious. Lately, it felt as though she was the only sane one for not giving into the stories. Sebastien reassured her her had seen it with his own eyes, but even so, she remained adamant. She had been through all of the woods, every inch, hunted every creature under the sun.
Marcel pointed out that she hadn't hunted under the moon. Marie-Jeanne laughed, asking if the two of them were trying to frighten her, but the two of them were quiet, neither answering her. It seemed better not to. Instead, Sebastien looked at her weapons laid out on the Inn tables, lifting one, warning her that she would need more than ordinary steel to stop The Beast.
As the group of hunters set out, Marie-Jeanne watched Marcel lock the cellar door. Her eyes was set on him, watching him closely as he waved at her, causing her to deflect her thoughts. Adelia stepped out of the Inn, raising her hood over her head. Her dress was as white as the snow that had fallen heavily last night. Her honey blonde her peeking through the hood, her eyes still had that devilish stare about them, no matter how sweet her face looked. How her button nose and wide hazel eyes made her look like an Angel. It was what was inside that worried Marie-Jeanne.
Without a word, her sister set off with her weapon in hand and determination on her face.
"They searched from dawn till dusk hoping to find the beast while it slept. But they knew they'd likely only encounter it at nightfall. It was just after midnight when the first torch went out."
As the woods turned into darkness, the torches flickering out one by one, Adelia looked around, hearing her and Marie-Jeanne's names being called out by the other hunters, seeking the advice and help of the leaders of the hunt. Adelia's weapon was held up as she spun around, searching the darkness for The Beast. The whistling of arrows sounded through the air aimlessly, she knew they belonged to Marie-Jeanne, she could hear her sister's heavy breathing as she hoped one of them would hit the creature.
Screams sounded through the woods, the sound of bodies thudding against the snow. As roars began to sound from the creature, Adelia began running, hopping over the dead bodies as she followed the noises, desperate to be the first and only to catch it. To kill it. Her chest heaved with excitement and anticipation, maybe even a little fear. Through the darkness, far into the woods, she saw a pair of glowing eyes, a dark, large shadow that loomed over the trees. She pulled out a crossbow, watching the arrow whistle through the air, hitting the beast as it roared in pain. With a smile across her face, she chased after it again, the beast's growls growing further.
Adelia worked her way through the trees and branches, brushing against them until the brushed against the wrong one, cutting her leg as she exhaled in pain herself, dropping her weapons. Her cry of pain alerted her sister who quickly found her, picking up the crossbow Adelia dropped into the snow. She expected her sister to be too hurt to continue the hunt, but she wouldn't let just a little cut stop her from what she wanted to do. She pulled out her sharpened dagger, her breaths heavy as she pushed through the pain, continuing to limp through the woods despite her sister's arguments. As she turned, she and Marie-Jeanne spied the glowing eyes of the beast looming, a series of low growls growing closer to them as the beast zoned in on them, preparing to attack. It wasn't until then that Marie-Jeanne truly believed the rumors.
Out of the darkness, Henri Argent appeared, warning the girls to get down as he stood between them and the beast. He sprinkled a dust-like substance around them, tackling the two Valets to the ground as he did so. The Beast charged toward them, but ricocheted, as though there was a barrier between it and them. Breathless, Adelia stood up, searching for the wolf, but once again it had disappeared, nowhere in sight. She had lost it. And perhaps her chance to kill it.
Marie-Jeanne looked up at her sister and Henri, finally uttering the words. That was no wolf. Of course not, you fool. Henri said blankly, looking down at the woman, wondering how she'd ever thought that it was one. It was a werewolf.
Gerard's story came to an abrupt pause as he looked at the two teenage girls listening, both had begun swaying, dissociating as something washed over them, a feeling, an urge. The two Argent men weren't sure what it was, but they had promptly grabbed ahold of the girls before either of them had a chance to collapse. "Something's happening," Lydia told them, only she was able to speak, Kinsey was too disgusted by the touch of her grandfather as she shrugged him off of her once again. She would have rathered that he let her fall and get a concussion. Now? Chris asked her, she shook her head she didn't know, but something was wrong.
"We can't stay here." Kinsey insisted, standing up much too quickly as she almost passed out for the second time, once again, Gerard had steadied her, sitting her back down.
"You should hear the rest of the story."
"Why should I listen to you?" she asked him in a snap. He knows it better than us, Chris told her, hoping that he would be able to talk some sense into her. But he failed as she stood up from the chair again. "Everything I've read says The Beast was killed by Jean Chastel." she argued. Gerard was probably lying, coming up with some story of how it was connected to their family to make it some lesson, some kind of reason for them to hunt and continue on the family name, all so he could make machines out of them.
"Who told you that?" Gerard asked her in a scoff, humored by his granddaughter's comment. He thought she of all people would know better. That her paranoia would have told her not to trust everything she read. "The internet?" he scoffed again, she lowered her head, telling him that she did in fact read it online somewhere. "If that's your most reliable source of information then you might as well go."
Kinsey looked to her best friend who shook her head, even she was surprised to find herself on Gerard's side, but she knew the man was wise, too wise for his own good even. If they wanted to stop The Beast they would have to hear out his story to the full extent. No matter how sick of the man they were. Hoping for a different answer, Kinsey turned to her uncle, but he too had shaken his head, also on Gerard's side, she had to stay and listen.
With a sigh, she turned back to her grandfather, asking what happened next.
Henri guided the two Valets to his home surrounded by a circle of mountain ash trees, promising the two that they would be safe under his roof and his care. Marie-Jeanne asked him to help aid her sister's wound, pointing down to the blood on her white dress. Adelia quickly swept it aside, putting on a brave face as she reassured them both that she was fine, that it was a scratch. Henri insisted, sitting her down as he bandaged up the wound that caused her to hobble. She hated it, knowing that she needed help, that someone had had to tend to her. She wanted to be alone. To be independent. Even something so simple as having Henri bandaging her wound filled her with embarrassment and shame.
As soon as he had wrapped up her leg, the blood seeping through the white cotton immediately, Adelia was eager to change the subject from her weakness. She picked up a jar from the table, a dark, powder-like substance inside of it, similar, if not identical to what he had used against The Beast. She turned to the Argent, asking him what it was. He was skeptical, unsure he should tell them, but he did. Mountain ash, he stated plainly as he put it back with the array of bottles in his collection. Marie-Jeanne picked up a small contained laid out on the table, asking if that too was this Mountain ash he spoke of. Mistletoe, he corrected her, asking that she please put it down as he took it from her hand. He was protective of his belongings. Especially these.
Why do you have all of this? Marie-Jeanne asked. Once again, the man hesitated before choosing to answer. To protect himself. He had spent half of his lifetime gathering and implementing skills that would allow him to survive a werewolf. Marie-Jeanne looked at him in surprise, slowly, all of her skepticism began fading away as she began seeing the reality of their cold, cruel world.
Henri looked between the two Valets, offering to teach them. If they wanted to know, that was. A somewhat still skeptical Marie-Jeanne nodded politely, unsure if that was what she wanted. But Adelia, as confident as ever, told him that she didn't care about surviving one. Certain in each of her words as she continued- I want to know how to kill one.
"Adelia knew she couldn't just take out another hunting party armed with Mistletoe and Rowan berries. She needed an advantage. She needed to know her enemy."
That night, Marie-Jeanne stood in the Inn, pouring wine for everyone, including her brother, she told them that she expected them all to drink in honor of the dead. As Sebastien raised his glass to his lips, he questioned where their youngest sister was. Usually, he often found one not too far from the other, his sisters practically joined together, but tonight, Adelia was nowhere in sight. Marie-Jeanne told him that she wanted to stay at home, that she felt unwell. He furrowed a brow at the thought, unsure he believed it but didn't comment anyway as he stood up, helping Marie-Jeanne and Marcel supply the Inn with wine.
She watched as they all took a sip, their faces contorting from the bitter taste. With the sound of breaking glass, her attention was drawn to Marcel who held a broken glass in his hand, his hand cut. Marie-Jeanne quickly took him outside to the well to wash the blood away, asking him for a cloth to wrap his wound, but instead, he handed her a key. To the cellar, he told her, Marie raised a brow, unsure what he wanted her to go to the cellar for. He insisted that what she was looking for would be in there.
Hesitantly, Marie-Jeanne took the key from his hand, wearily opening the door, descending into the cellar to find a pile of dead bodies. She gasped horrified at the sight as her stomach turned in disgust, almost dropping the torch in her hand. Her face quickly straightened, heading back to the well, this time, with a crossbow in hand. Her crossbow was drawn, raising the man's head as the arrow rested on his chin.
Marcel pulled himself from his resting position on the well. He looked down at the arrow and to Marie-Jeanne again. Go ahead, he told her. Release the arrow. Do it Marie-Jeanne, he begged of her. The Valet woman was hesitant as she slowly stepped back every time he moved closer, the arrow still pointed at his throat, but she was unsure she could do it. To him, or to anyone. Marcel had been like a brother to her for many years. He was a friend. But now, she saw him as La Bete, even so, there was still that familiarity to her, a part of her that couldn't seem to kill him.
The image of the bodies reappeared in her mind, the blood, the gore. Marcel reached for Marie's arrow and it flew into the air, the Valet woman jerking back. The blood from his hand continued to drip in the snow as the two of them watched it, and something in that moment clicked for the woman as she looked back at him. You're not the killer. You're covering for him.
Marie-Jeanne walked straight back into the tavern, she looked at him, sitting there innocently at the table. As though he had done nothing. As though his hands were clean. It disgusted her. She walked up to Sebastien, sitting down opposite him. He looked up, choosing not to speak, it was across his face that he knew that she knew. The mistletoe in the wine she poured had told him it. His sister had discovered him. What he was.
"You have killed children." Marie-Jeanne spat out.
"I kill whatever there is that crosses my path." he reroted, lacking remorse for his killings. Even if children had been amongst them. "It's what I am. What I've become. You've heard the old story of what happens when your drink water from the paw print of a wolf." he told her, recalling when he had done it, back when he was in the war, running from the British. "You become the demon wolf." Marie-Jeanne looked over to Monsieur Tolbert, it was on the tip of her tongue, he was just a few feet away, within moments, the beast would be dead. Her brother, gone with it. "Go ahead. Tell them it's me." he dared her. "And watch me tear them apart in the matter of a moment." He would rip up every last soul in the tavern.
"You're a monster." Marie-Jeanne choked out with tears in her eyes.
"Beast, Marie-Jeanne." he corrected. "The Beast." he was filled with pride to have earned such a title, to have wreaked such havoc on his own town and people he had known for his entire life. It thrilled him, titillated him to have such popularity. Marie-Jeanne was astounded, Sebastien was no longer the man she knew, her brother whom she loved, adored, saw as a role mode.
"Delia will never forgive you." she told him, hoping he would feel remorse for their little sister if not for her. The man scoffed, he didn't mutter a word, but the simple puff of air from his nostrils told her more than enough. He did not care. About her, their sister, or what he was doing to the innocent people of Geuvadan. "When she finds out... she... she will." Marie-Jeanne stammered, filled with such hurt and rage she could hardly form a sentence.
Sebastien stood up from his seat, leaning over to his sister, planting a kiss on her forehead as she winced, moving away slightly, irked by his touch. "She will never catch me." he promised her, he wiped the tears from her cheek, stroking a hand across her face as she continued to look at him with betrayal. "And neither of you will never kill me. We are family, Marie-Jeanne." he whispered. "We're family." he said once again, walking out of the tavern with his head held high, leaving her to watch him in awe, still wanting to tell Monsiuer Tolbert before it was too late and her brother, The Beast, was gone.
Marie-Jeanne knew she had to tell Adelia, she deserved to know, and as well, she would need for her sister to help her or if she would ever kill the beast. Perhaps even the help of someone who'd appeared well-versed in werewolves and monsters like her brother. Henri Argent. That night, she rushed home, hoping to find her sister there, but Adelia was nowhere to be seen, her bed was as it was when she left, everything was untouched. The only thing that was missing was the arsenal of weapons her sister owned.
She knew then that Adelia had gone out alone, in the dark, to hunt the beast. Unaware that their brother was the one she hunted. Adelia immediately rushed to Henri Argent, enlisting his help to kill the beast and a brother, to forge a worthy weapon. Only, she wasn't the first with the idea. It appeared Adelia was one step ahead. She had came merely a few hours ago, asking Henri how to kill a werewolf, together, they had built a steel-tip pike, a weapon that would use the weight of a large beast against itself. Marie-Jeanne couldn't help but wonder, if Adelia had learned all of this, did she know Sebastien was the beast? Just how much did Adelia know about werewolves?
"Adelia and Marie-Jeanne hunted Sebastien for three years. Finally cornering him in 1767."
Breathless, the two Valet sisters ran through the snow. After three years of hunting their La Bete, they finally had him. So close, and yet still so far. Adelia had managed to wound him, an arrow to his chest,t the closest they had come in the three years. He chased them as they fled. Adelia was both terrified for her life, and envigorated. She lived for the kill. She always had. But something about this made it all the more satisfying. Perhaps she shouldn't have felt that way about killing her own brother, but he wasn't Sebastien now anymore than he was The Beast of Geuvadan. He was a monster who deserved to be killed.
As Sebastien follow them, charging after his sisters, black, smoke-like shadows rose from bright white snow, coalesceing around him to form The Beast. Marie-Jeanne, who had been injured in the fight, was bleeding down her blue and ivory gown, Adelia, who was still in good health, fine, as she nodded at her older sister, a message for them to split as the two headed in the opposite direction to each other. Sebastien's eyes remained on the younger, assumably weaker Valet. He continued to charge after Adelia, now the large beast that towered over her, his growls shook her very chest as she ran through the snow, holding onto her ivory gown as her chest heaved. Adelia glided along the snow, picking up the spear that had been hidden in the snow.
Quickly, she turned to Sebastien. The Beast was running so fast, his reaction time not quite fast enough as momentum carried him onto the spear. Adelia watched with wide eyes at the steel-tip pike protuded through her brother's back, his white eyes staring into hers. The black smoke had returned once again as The Beast faced back into Sebastien Valet, the pike now remaining inside of his human chest as both he and Adelia coughed up a mouthful of blood.
She looked down to her stomach as he removed his hand from her bloody stomach. Perhaps his claws were gone, but the wound they'd created in the split second before they faded remained. He he slid down the pike, looking at his little sister, even now, in what could be his final minute of life, he showed no remorse as the two of them dropped into the snow. Together, they created a puddle full of blood.
"You think this minor injury will stop me?" Sebastien scoffed as he looked at the pike. "I am the famous, feared Beast of Geuvadan." he spat out at her "And when I'm doing killing, everyone will know. I will have done such horrors, all of history will remember my name." Sebastien snarled as he looked at his nineteen-year-old sister. The girl who was merely sixteen the night that she had discovered him to be The Beast. When their hunt had begun. Her lip was curled in anger, tightly holding on to the pike. The man attached to it was not the man she called her brother. He was a Beast. A Beast of a human. An abomination. Not because of what he was. But who he was.
"No one will remember." she reassured him confidently.
"Damnatio Memoriae?" he realized. "You will have them take my name? Our name?" he yelled at her. He looked down at the pike again, the blood that he oozed, only now, it was black, dark, pitch, black. Only then did he realize that it wasn't a minor injury at all. The spear that she had drawn had wounded him substantially. "What is this?" he breathed out through chunks of gory black goo. No ordinary steel, she told him. Wolfsbane Mountain Ash, forged with her own blood under the light of a full moon.
"I am made of more than you think, brother." she spat out at him. He looked at her with surprise that filled her with pride. Glad that he had underestimated her. That she had the satisfaction of it before he died. "History might remember you, Sebastien." she told him, leaning in as she kissed him on the forehead. "But only as a beast."
As Sebastien collapsed into the snow, breathing his final breath, Marie-Jeanne reappeared from the woods. Her mouth agape as she stopped for a moment, seeing the bloody display. Sebastien dead, and Adelia bleeding as she sat on her knees, staring at the corpse in front of her. She killed him. She had killed The Beast of Geuvadan. She was The Maid of Geuvadan.
"So Marie-Jeanne never killed her brother? Adelia did?" Lydia questioned, trying to ensure that she had understood the story properly. Gerard nodded, though his agreement only confused the werewolf more as she tried to comprehend why someone wouldn't take that glory, why the girl would give up the title of The Maid of Geuvadan and watch her sister's name go down in history instead. "Then why does everyone think that Marie-Jeanne did it?" she asked.
"Because that was what Adelia wanted," Gerard told them. "She had secrets. Dark secrets of her own. It wasn't known until that night, but Adelia had come to meet the same cruel fate that her brother did. She was a beast of her own making. If anyone knew, she would be killed. The fame of killing The Beast of Geuvadan, the glory of what she was, would kill her."
"But she died anyway?" Kinsey questioned, uncertainty in her voice, she didn't believe that the true Maid of Geuvadan had died. There was a feeling in her stomach, something that made her believe that the story that went down in history, wasn't the true one. But as Gerard always did, he knew the true tale. He looked at her, waiting for her to say the words, he knew as well as she did that Adelia Valet wasn't killed by Sebastian. "She ran..." she muttered.
Delia! Marie-Jeanne screamed as she kneeled down in the soft, blood-stained snow, pulling her younger sister into her lap, holding her tightly as she watched the natural shade of pink turn into the rogue of her blood. Her hands were covered in the crimson pool that oozed from her sister's stomach wound, all of her attention shifting from the dead body of their brother a few feet away, to what would be the dead body of her little sister.
She focused on the wound, applying pressure, knowing that it was hopeless. Her sister would be dead in minutes. She didn't have the amenities to heal her wound. No supplies that would allow her to live. Even if the two of them managed to get back into the town before she bled out, Delia would be killed by the infection by morning. Adelia sat up, her hand on her stomach, Marie told her not to, warning her to rest, knowing that soon, the pain would be over. Adelia knew it too, for a different reason. One she had never planned on telling her sister, or anyone for that matter. It was a secret she was prepared to die with, and perhaps, she would. But not in the way that she'd ever imagined.
"Sister, do not worry about me," Adelia begged of her. She met her sister's tearful eyes, wiping a stray tear from the huntress's cheek. "I will be fine. I will heal," she told her, Marie-Jeanne's face contorted with confusion. Perhaps her sister did not know the extent of her wounds. Adelia had shown her sister the wound again, the blood was dry, the skin unharmed, nothing more than a red tint to her skin from the dried blood on her pale skin. Marie-Jeanne shook her head, unable to speak as she tried to understand. "I'm afraid I kept a secret from you, Marie. A terrible secret. Sebastian was not the only beast. This curse, I have it too. The curse of a shapeshifter."
Speechless, Marie-Jeanne stammered for something to say, unsure how to react so such news. Unsure that it wasn't just some joke that her rebellious sister had come up with in unfortunate timing to try and ease the pain of knowing that she was dying. But it couldn't be. That wouldn't explain the blood, the wound, how every sign of her death was gone. "Listen to me," Adelia said as she cupped her sister's face, ensuring that she listened to her well, understanding her every instruction clearly. "You will tell them that you killed The Beast," she instructed, watching Marie-Jeanne's eyes widen in disbelief. "That it was an act of revenge. That he killed me. So you killed him. Saving the town. You will become a legend. You will live a glorious life, Marie."
"A life that will not be worth living without my sister." The woman argued, disagreeing with the absurd idea. "I will not do it. You can come home, and together, we will keep your secret." Marie told her, gripping onto the girl's hand, it was clear she truly believed it was possible, there was a hope in her voice, she had convinced herself in such little time that she was a capable liar. That it would be easy to hide it, her sister had done it thus far, with her help, the lie could last a lifetime.
"I cannot." Adelia shook her head. "I will leave France. I will change my name. And we will go on as though I am dead. You will return home and tell them what happened here. That you watched The Beast kill me, and so you killed it. When they think of me, they will think of a loss. A fatality." she explained, surprising her sister who struggled to believe she was coming up with this on the spot, as though she had intended on faking her death at some point. "I'm sorry that it has to be this way, Marie. But I cannot let you live my lie," she said as she stood up, pulling her sister from the snow, knowing it would be their last moment. "I will write. From an alias. We will always be in touch. We will always be sisters, Marie-Jeanne."
Adelia Valet left France that night, and as she had told her sister to do, Marie-Jeanne returned to their home, telling them the tale that Adelia wanted her to tell. She went on to become the Maid of Geuvadan, her name went down in history. She later married Henri Argent, the man who had taught them to hunt, the man who Adelia owed her life to, as if the Argent hadn't taught her how to become a hunter, she would never have been able to protect herself and her sister.
Both sisters stayed in touch, and went on to live long, separate lives. Creating legacies within the children they bore. The truth about that night, was a secret shared amongst a strong bond.
"Damnatio Memoriae." Kinsey recalled.
"They erased every memory of them. Of Sebastien. Of Adelia. Everything they signed. Everything they owned." Chris explained. "They burned it all." Gerard continued on . "The names Adelia and Sebastien Valet have been forgotten for over 150 years. But when its remembered..." Gerard had paused, his son resuming it again. "When the beast remembers, the teenager inside is forgotten. Gone. Forever."
"Adelia didn't do it alone. She was never alone. She had Marie. Henri. The magistrate, the entire town. Even Marcel. We need Parrish." Lydia told the men. "I'm going to go find him." she said as she began to walk out.
"Lydia, he's dangerous." Chris warned her. "He's still a shapeshifter. And one who's just starting to understand his power."
"And we're not?" Kinsey questioned him, gesutring between herself and the Banshee.
"Your not the same." He deadpanned. "You access the supernatural. It works through you."
"But it doesn't control you." Gerard added.
"How would you know?" Kinsey spat out at her grandfather. "Why do you care?" she asked again as she stepped toward him. "Why are you suddenly on our side? You hate the supernatural. Your own wife was one of us, like me, and you killed her in cold blood. So, why? Why now?"
Gerard rolled a silver bullet across the table, his granddaughter stopping it with her hand as she looked up at him. "Because it's my name as well." he said. "Marie-Jeanne never left Henri after the death of her brother and sister. It became more than a partnership. They married and Marie took his name." Kinsey's finger brushed over the Argent symbol as he spoke. Argent. "Adelia was the first hunter. Our name will be remembered as well, Kinsey. For killing The Beast."
Kinsey handed the man his family crescent back. "If I kill the beast, it will be on my own terms." she spat out. "Not because you suddenly decided that what I am is a good thing. That because it benefits you, you will embrace me and my abilities. I may be an Argent, but I am not your family, Gerard. You are dead to me. And if I ever have the chance, your name will be forgotten too."