Page 180 of Beau and the Beast

Things came together quickly after that.

Lincoln was released from the hospital, a little worse for wear but fine other than the uncomfortable stitches and rabies shot he’d suffered through.

Then there was the matter of springing Noah from jail, Geoffrey calling the cops and feeding them a convoluted lie that ended with the fact that they didn’t want to press charges.

It had taken a day to explain everything to Noah and Lincoln, and another few hours to plan their escape from the safety of the penthouse.

At almost the same time, images of Wolfram began to emerge.

The EMTs had been the first people to report seeing him, the picture one of them took going viral in conjunction with Beau’s book about a large, unexplainable beast with the mind of a man.

Then, others who had been in 330 West that day came forward. They had seen something strange that night. Security footage was released, showing a slight young man with a tall, cloaked figure rushing out to the street in the middle of the night and into a van.

It hadn’t been a perfect escape, but Beau knew that he needed to get Wolfram somewhere safe—and fast. With Wolfram’s permission, they rented a suite at one of New Whitby’s nicest—and most discreet—hotels, famous for being the favored retreat of celebrities recovering from plastic surgery.

Violet, Beau, Wolfram, and Noah had set up a base of operations there in the first days that Wolfram found himself exposed to the public. They’d hired Wolfram a lawyer and found a physician to assess him, to draw blood and take swabs for a DNA test.

Spurred on by the media attention, the book climbed bestseller lists in a matter of days. Controversy swirled. Could it really be true that Isidore Wolfram, Jr. was a monster by way of some curse? If hewas, should he be afforded the same rights as any human being, or should he be studied—even if that was against his will?

Attorneys argued about it. Forensic experts tried to debunk it. Human rights advocates stepped forward, encouraging him to come out of hiding. Wolfram’s father couldn’t be reached for comment.

And then seven days after everything that happened, after Wolfram died and came back, Ferryn appeared.

Ferryn’s press conference was slick. She even hired a public relations firm.

She stood behind a podium during the webcast, her hair perfectly coiffed and her blazer starched. From behind the big podium, Ferryn spoke passionately about Wolfram and Beau and the controversy that surrounded the book. She talked about how she’d lived a life in fear of being discovered and had to exist as a prisoner. Her impassioned speech touched on the fact that surely there were others out there, others who should come out of hiding to show the world that they were there—they always had been there—and they deserved to be a part of life.

And then she stepped out from behind the podium.

And Ferryn was quite undeniably a centaur.

There was a deluge after that of others. Satyrs and centaurs and a few wendigos and plenty of other non-human people that no one even had a word for, like Wolfram.

Around the globe, fantastic people outside of the known realm of humanity emerged.

Without an exception, they citedWolf & Ias the one thing that had paved the way for them to be seen. The book was lauded as an outstanding exploration of the way that humans and non-humans would be able to coexist and understand one another.

There was blowback—there always was when something profound in the world shifted. It frightened people, and there were some who insisted that governments should round up the “monsters” for safety.

But more people—many more—were fascinated and captivated.Wolf & Ibecame the first of many biographies, telling the stories of people who had once been human but had found themselves in another physical form after a curse or a riddle or a spell gone wrong. There were those who had always been that way, too, who told their own stories of underground cultures.

By the end of the first two weeks, it felt as if the curse had fallen away, even though Wolfram’s appearance hadn’t changed.

Wolfram moved out of the hotel suite—and although he was still cautious about going out in the public, he was able to do so safely. He held his first press conference, thanking Beau for all he had done, thanking his staff for the time they had spent with him, and speaking with conviction about a future where humans and non-human people could work hand in hand to make the world a better place.

A month later, Beau and Wolfram had dinner in a real restaurant for the first time.

Two months later and they were moving into an apartment together.

After six months, they vacationed in Prague.

A year after he’d come out of hiding, Wolfram received a letter in the mail from someone who claimed to be a “big fan” and also a warlock.

“Hated to read about what a knob your dad was. Have cursed him to be misremembered and forgotten in the public consciousness. Cheers!”

Odd, Wolfram realized that he hadn’t thought about the man in several months. Apparently, no one else had either. Or would, in the future.

Isidore would only exist in his miserable apartment and in the pages of Beau’s book—never again looming large in Wolfram’s mind or anyone else’s.

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