Page 2 of Beast of Blood and Roses
Then came the pain—excruciating, all-consuming agony that ripped a primal scream from my throat. My bones cracked like gunshots, splintering and reforming as they stretched and warped beneath my skin. I collapsed to my knees, clawing at the ground while muscles tore and reknit themselves, doubling in size, transforming me from within.
Coarse fur burst through my pores like thousands of needles piercing outward, spreading across my body in a midnight pelt that bristled with each wave of torment. My fingers contorted as nails yellowed and lengthened into razor-sharp claws that dug trenches into the earth beneath me.
My jaw dislocated with a sickening pop, pushing forward as fangs erupted from bleeding gums, too large for my transforming mouth. Something violently wrenched from my lower spine, shooting out behind me—a tail that lashed wildly as if it had a mind of its own.
I tried to beg for mercy, but my vocal cords had changed, turning my pleas into thunderous roars that echoed through thenight. The witch’s spell poured into every cell, every fiber of my being, until nothing human remained but the horrified consciousness trapped inside this monstrous form.
Through eyes now glowing amber in the darkness, Marcel stared down at me in horror, his body rigid and immobilized by the witch’s spell, face frozen in an expression of pure terror.
The magical whirlwind gradually faded away, leaving behind the scent of ozone and scorched grass. I dragged myself to my feet with a guttural growl, muscles screaming in protest as I rose to my full height and loomed over Marcel. My new claws dug into the soft earth beneath me, leaving deep gouges in the soil.
The witch pointed a trembling finger at Marcel, her blue aura pulsing with each word she spoke. “All who live here will turn to statues after sunset and remain so until after sunrise.” She stretched out her arms wide and made the night air vibrate.
Marcel’s eyes widened further, the only part of him still able to move as her curse settled upon him.
She turned her piercing gaze on me, eyes bright with righteous fury. “You will not leave the confines of your property,” she continued, each word piercing my cold heart like a sword. “All that know you will think you dead. No one will come looking for you.”
I swayed on my misshapen legs, my mind racing frantically as cold night air filled my new monstrous lungs. I thought of Enzo, Angelo, and the rest of the family. If they thought I was dead, they wouldn’t come here. Cold panic shot through me, freezing my breath into visible clouds in the moonlight. Angelo would be the only one who might possess a magical object that could break this curse—but he would never know to bring it.
She lifted her chin, moonlight casting harsh shadows acrossher tear-streaked face. “You have no love in your heart, Fierro Bastia,” she spat, disgust dripping from every syllable. “You’re greedy and selfish. You and your servants will lose your vampire powers, left to burn with an endless thirst you cannot quench, until you love a woman and she loves you in return.” Her blue eyes darkened. “She must be willing to offer her blood freely, out of love.
My stomach twisted with hunger at the mere mention of blood, a savage thirst already building in my transformed body, causing me to bare my elongated fangs involuntarily.
With a flick of her wrist, she pointed to my portrait that had mysteriously appeared on the ground at my feet, torn from its place in the house by her magic. “Each passing day, the portrait will change,” she warned, “turning into the beast.” Her voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried across the night air deadlier than her shouts. “Once it has completely shifted into the beast and you have not found love, you will remain a beast forever, cursed to live out your days alone—and your servants will remain statues for eternity.”
The witch’s words hung in the cold night air between us, as immovable as Marcel’s frozen form beside me, as our shared fate settled upon us like the first heavy stones of a tomb.
Chapter Two
Fierro
Damn the witch!
I’d been living in this monstrous form for seven months, and not a single soul had come to call. I paced across the worn floorboards of my study, each heavy step causing the ancient wood to groan in protest beneath my massive paws. The portrait propped against the wall had changed dramatically—more than half of it now showed the beast rather than the man I once was. Time was slipping away like blood from a wound.
Even when Marcel and Colette ventured into New Orleans to purchase food, shrouded in heavy cloaks despite the Louisiana heat, no one recognized their connection to me. The few who glanced their way quickly averted their eyes, as if sensing something unnatural about my servants. I slammed my fist against the wall, sending a spider web of cracks through the plaster, dust motes dancing in the afternoon light.
Marcel had approached Enzo last month, desperate for helpfrom my maker, only to return with a haunted look in his eyes. Enzo—the vampire who had given me eternal life three centuries ago—had threatened to kill him if he didn’t stay away. “He drew his blade,Monsieur,” Marcel had whispered that night, his hands trembling as he arranged my meal. “Said the Fierro Bastia he knew died months ago, and that you must be an impostor using his name.”
My fingers found The Witch’s Heart that hung against my chest, the familiar dual surfaces of ruby and black diamond cool against my skin. I traced the seam where the two gemstones met, feeling the power pulse beneath my touch; a rhythmic thrumming that had become as familiar as my own heartbeat.
The amulet had been Enzo’s gift nearly a century ago, a rare token of affection from my otherwise ruthless maker. “For protection,” he’d said then with a knowing smile. Now it was my last remaining connection to him, a bitter reminder of what I’d lost.
The disappointment cut deeper than any knife could reach. If even Enzo, who had watched me rise from mortality into darkness, could not recognize the bond between us, what hope remained? The vampire who had taught me everything, who had guided me through my first century of immortality, now believed me dead.
I clutched the heart-shaped pendant tighter, its edges digging into my palm. The irony wasn’t lost on me. The one careless mistake had cost me everything, and now I clung to this talisman like a lifeline while the man who gave it to me no longer acknowledged my existence.
I howled in frustration, the sound echoing through the empty halls of my home, causing the crystal chandelier above to tinkle ominously. The witch’s curse had been thorough;everyone I had ever known believed me dead, their memories altered by her magic.
Outside, thunder rumbled as dark clouds gathered on the horizon. Another storm approached, mirroring the tempest of rage and despair building within me.
The portrait changed a little more each day. And with it, my hope of ever returning to my former self, of ever feeling the power and connection that flowed between maker and progeny—a bond that had defined my existence for centuries, now severed by a witch’s vengeance.
I had broken every mirror in the house, unable to gaze upon my hideous form. Shards of glass still littered the corners of rooms where Marcel hadn’t managed to sweep them away. No girl could grow to love this beast, this grotesque amalgamation of man and monster. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window as lightning flashed outside, illuminating my twisted features—including the enormous curved horns that jutted from my forehead like a demonic bull—and I quickly turned away, stomach churning with self-loathing.
I clenched my fist, claws digging painful crescents into my palms, and pressed it against my forehead, cursing the witch once again. Her name had become a poison on my tongue, spoken only in moments of deepest despair or unbridled rage. The taste of that hatred was metallic and rancid, like blood I could no longer drink, and it filled my senses until I could barely breathe.
“Damn you, Tinker Bell,” I whispered, voice rough with thirst and anguish. “Damn you to hell.”
