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MORBID BITE
Chapter Nine :: Reality
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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Belle stood in the dark as the moon was covered by a tiny grey cloud. Raoul's eyes reflected the small amount of moonlight that shone down through the trees. He looked like a hunter searching for his prey, yet Belle still felt he showed such vulnerability.
"Why does it matter?" her voice strained as she tried her best to cover up her fear.
The moon reappeared, lighting up the woods around them in an eerily grey coat. The night was worryingly silent, not even the owls were above scouting for their food. The only sound was the occasional whistle as the cold wind ran through the trees. Belle had seen what Raoul had become, he was the monsters that had killed her father, the animal that had killed innocent children, the beast that had altered her life forever...yet he had saved her. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and backed away from the man that stood in front of her, his dark eyes concentrated on her next move.
"I embody the power of their god." He tilted his head to look up at the moon. "To them I am a gift from him..." He stopped mid-sentence and drawing in a ragged breath, he continued. "Some sacrifice their children and others leave animals for...the beast inside me." He placed his fingers on his chest and pushed them hard into his muscle, he stopped but not before he had made white indentations in his skin. Belle's skin cried in sympathy at the pain she saw him cause himself.
"So why does it matter if they know about me?" she asked, her eyes still concentrated on his stomach.
"That doesn't matter." A rustle in the bushes made Raoul's head jerk in the direction on the sound, his ears and eyes alert with animal like senses. "We should go," he said, not giving Belle a chance to ask him again. He started off into the darkness, not looking back to see if she followed.
"Wait."
Belle looked back the way they had come. The thought of going back was terrifying. The wolves had wanted to eat her, and she was helpless against them, she feared if she was attacked again, by an animal or human, she would not survive.
"Your horse. Shouldn't we go back and get him?" Belle raised her voice, but she was not confident enough to shout.
"It wasn't my horse, I was delivering it for a friend." He did not turn around as he limped onwards, not offering Belle an invitation to follow. She did anyway, hitching up her dress and dependently stumbling on in the dark.
It felt like they had walked for days as Belle's bare feet ached and stung in the cold night. She had trodden on countless nettle beds, fallen over many tree stumps and found herself face first in a puddle of mud. Raoul had waited for her, just staying close enough to still be in her view but too far to start a conversation. Part of her could not contain the anger that stormed within her, but the other half was calmer than it had ever been. For some reason knowing the truth had helped her accept what had happened to her father. Raoul was not a daemon sent by the devil to punish her family, he was part of a world she could never understand. Her mother would be turning in her grave if she had witnessed what had happened that night: she had run off with a man of low birth; gone off to a peasant dance; and was following the man who had killed her father. Belle knew if her sisters knew about this they would be smiling smugly as they relished in the karma of her actions.
What had she expected from this night? Belle wondered. For sure she had not thought it would be finding out Raoul was a skin-walking beast, but perhaps the adventure had drawn her to that evening and maybe that had been her misfortune.
Belle rubbed her arms again trying to get the blood flowing back into her white limbs. It had been an evening of mixed feelings, both body filling happiness and absolute terror. The adrenaline was slowly wearing off. She could not quite believe that the funeral had only been a few hours ago. Thinking back to the service, it felt like she had been a whole different person. And then the dance; it had been so magical Belle could not quite comprehend that it had not been a dream.
As they walked on in the dark Belle noticed Raoul stop and lean down to inspect his shadowed leg. His face morphed into pain as he touched his upper thigh. Belle said nothing, but she could just see a dark liquid covering his hand as he brought his fingers up to his face. Guessing one of the wolves had nipped his leg, she felt an odd guilt settle in her gut. He carried on staring at his leg as if waiting for something to happen and he glared at his hand like he had never seen his own blood. Before Belle had time to avert her eyes he turned his head, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. She immediately felt embarrassed, but though his eyes were directed at her there was a distant glaze to them.
Belle reached his side, but she was simply a shadow that had followed him from a nightmare. The lights of the town were dull and uninviting. It was a dirty little thing, unlike Léves, Chartres felt unappealing, callous and dangerous. Belle guessed it was her change in mood, but she could not shove of the feeling that it was something far more sinister.
"We'll go back to my house, so I can put on some clothes."
Belle had almost forgotten that he was only wearing her shawl and she immediately turned red, glad the darkness hid her pink cheeks. He seemed so calm about his nakedness that Belle felt childlike for being so ashamed.
"Once I have changed, I'll walk you to the town," Raoul said with such a flat and forgetting voice - like she was no longer a concern of his – and although she did not want it to, she was hurt by him.
It did not take long to reach his house. The wooden structure and thatched roof were too small to fit the immense man. He pushed open the door and held it just a second to allow Belle in after him. It was pitch black and she felt herself unable to move in fear of tripping and breaking something. She heard a disturbance of feet and a movement of heavy objects and then a sudden blazing orange as he lit the fire. When the wood took, and the fire was blazing he straightened up and reached out his hand to lead her over to the chair he had placed next to the fire. Belle flinched at his outstretched arm and he immediately retracted it. Belle carefully made her way towards the chair and she relished in the warmth.
Raoul limped towards his small straw bed that was pushed up against the wall. He searched around for some clothes and pulled them on, flinching as the trousers scraped against the bite. She stared at the flames, her face lit by their ochre glow. He coughed and she turned her face to look at him.
"Let's go," he said, trying to hide his hurt at her pain.
She got up from the chair. She was unsmiling, but her hands no longer clung to her arms as if she would shiver out of her own skin. The blue dress was ruined, and it was covered in dry mud that was also all over her body. He turned towards the door and shoved it open, holding it for her as she stepped outside. He stood just in front as they made their way towards the town in stone silence.
As each second passed Belle felt an icy chill draft around her heart and she began to feel anger towards Raoul. She had not hated him for killing her father and she felt he should be more grateful for her amnesty. Belle could easily give him up to the town that would be sword ready to know their beast was a heathen who flinched at the smell of his own blood.
Why couldn't she hate him like she wanted to? She screamed in her head, the question unanswered by her blank brain.
A multitude of raised voices grew louder as Belle and Raoul paced into the town. Raoul's face was concerned as he changed his direction and headed towards the crowd of townsmen who stood congregated around the church. The priest stood just outside the church doors his arms crossed over his chest, a taut painful expression painted across his wrinkled face. A large, very drunken man waved his hands around and barked unconceivable words out at the hot-headed crowd.
"What's going on?" Belle whispered to Raoul, but he waved a hand in her face demanding her to be quiet. Belle narrowed her eyes and pushed the hand out of her face, not amused at his actions.
The drunken man suddenly straightened up and smashed his bottle against the church wall. The crowd fell silent as they waited for him to speak.
"Today, I buried my son. He...he had just seen his seventh winter but...but his eighth was taken from him." He staggered back his red alcohol filled face squashed like a deformed strawberry. "By the beast!" he shouted only just able to hold up his body. The crowd agreed by shouting, some even drawing their swords to brand them in the faces of their friends.
Raoul bowed his head, but Belle did not see the same guilt she had witnessed after he had changed...this was different.
"What you saying!?" A woman shouted, her red dyed hair and heaving bosom a sign that Belle did not belong in this gathering of people.
"Kill it!" The man yelled again, his eyes wide with a lust for blood. This was greeted by an uproar of both understanding and disagreement, but the negative comments were shortly washed out by the cheering of drunken men. Belle watched as the sceptical people began to smile cruelly at this idea. Raoul ran his eyes over the people of Charters, a sorrow settling on his soul.
"You can't just kill it," he roared, his deep voice so strong over the prong of gossiping people that they all stopped to stare. "This is no mediocre wolf that you can just kill with a sword."
"And you would know heathen!" the priest shouted, his stare concentrated on Raoul's face.
"Yeah." The drunk yelled. He had also fallen silent under the influence of Raoul's words but after hearing the priest speak, he dismissed them. "Why should we listen to you...what...what comes out of your mouth is blasphemy!" The crowd agreed again, and Raoul sunk back into the angry crowd. Belle tried to follow but a hand suddenly touched her shoulder.
"Belle." Sébastien's concerned face stared in shock at her.
"Monsieur Lafleur," Belle squawked in panic. She tried to think of a good excuse for both her appearance and why she was there.
"This is no place for a lady to be." His responsible voice didn't suit him, and Belle was taken aback at his missing questions full of humour and curiosity. "I shall take you back, I have the carriage."
"Um." She turned back to look for Raoul, but he had vanished without a goodbye. "Yes. Thank you, Monsieur." She tensed and inhaled bringing herself up out of the ache she was feeling and followed Sébastien, away from the town and towards the carriage that was waiting alone in the dim light of night and separate from the village.
The house was bitter as they drew closer. It too had lost the fascination and beauty she had once seen in it. Sébastien hadn't asked her any questions and she was grateful for it. Belle did not know how she was going to explain why she was in Chartres seemingly alone and covered in dirt. The curtains were wide open and the lights from the living room lit up two silhouettes, and for a sinking moment she thought it was her sisters back to taunt her. But as they stopped outside the house, Belle slowly realised the two figures were arguing and one of voices was male.
Sébastien gave her an amused smile and he raised his head.
"Siblings. They do enjoy a good dispute," his tone was playful again and relaxed Belle enough for her arms to drop; she had been holding tense the whole journey back.
He stood and jumped out of the carriage and offered Belle an arm, which she graciously took because she did not trust her own strength. As they got nearer to the front door, the muffled shouts were becoming clearer.
"What are you thinking Nicholas!" Sylvia yelled her high-pitched voice like pins into Belle's skin.
"You have no right to tell me what to do!" Nicholas replied, his usual placed voice raised in anger.
"I have the only right! Where do you think she is now! Off gallivanting with some other man! Face it brother she is using you!" The words struck Belle full on in the chest as she realised they were talking about her.
A silence followed, and Belle felt she could not eavesdrop anymore, the dispute was about her and hearing anything else would have been wrong. People did not always say the truth when arguing. Sébastien pushed open the front door as quietly as possible and then whispered into her ear.
"Don't worry, Nick never listens to Sylvia." He smiled and let go of her arm. He turned and made his way to the library, with no invite to her.
Belle made sure no one was watching as she sprinted up the main stairs, the floor boards shouting with each step. As soon as she made it to her quarters she shut the door and backed into the dark room, her eyes trying to adjust to the dim light as she almost tripped over the bed. She sat down on the hard mattress, her heart threatening to leap from her bosom.
Using him, she thought. The guilt felt like continuous arrows hitting her gut. Nicholas had been to kind to her and how did she repay him? By running off with Raoul. She tightly closed her eyes and took in a huge breath. How could she pay back the kindness he had showed her? She owned nothing. She was a useless woman with nothing.
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Hi readers!! I hope I can call you that!! ^-^ Thank you so much for over 10,000 reads!! And....I can barely write this...500 votes!!! OMG I am so happy right now it is unbelievable honestly thank you, thank you so much for enjoying my story, voting for it and commenting on chapters it means the world.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I wanted Belle to have conflicting feelings so she has quite an emotionally bumpy time because I didn't want her to just accept the fact that Raul killed her father... anyways, vote, comment and keep up the great work guys!
Btw, new full trailer on the side, check it out. Dedicated to chemistric for that amazing blend >>>>