Chapter 4

Russia, St. Petersburg

Old Dunya Afanasei was sitting in her tattered arm chair by her dressing table, watching the shadows go by in her mirror. She fretted, turning her handkerchief over and over, that someone would come and harm her.

Perhaps she had done the right thing, but thinking over it again, surely, it had been a hasty measure. She was back in town and that relieved her – hearing the town bustle outside, the chaises and the horses soothed her, but she missed her country home where her servants did not snide and snigger when she used her old country accent.

She was fortunate enough to have many visits during the day from affluent families and troubled men that sought advice, but at night there was no living soul in the spacious house. She feared the nights the most, mostly because of the dark, but now, seeing the lampposts outside she had fewer suspicions that someone was behind her, admonishing her silently.

Three months ago, when she had complained at her country home of terrible pains and headaches she had asked many physicians what to do to preserve her well-being. They discovered nothing that could trouble her in her vicinity and ordered some strong narcotics for her.

She used to wake up late and go about the house telling everyone what to do. Her husband would sigh and listen, chewing on tobacco and the servants would scurry and work for her and then she'd sit on an ottoman the entire day making plans in her head, sewing or trying to learn poetry by heart.

Her children had left her, her husband was half-dead, she was continuing her life, in a tranquil way, remembering how life was when she was young.

One of her sons had died of hay fever, the other one had gone off to be a lawyer somewhere in Europe, she didn't know the countries so well, but she knew he was successful. Only he loathed his father and did not think of returning home.

Her one daughter had been married to a rich count up East and he had forbidden her to come home, locking her up in one of his numerous houses.

Not having enough occupation to suit her anymore she started being very dull and obnoxious to everyone in the house. Everything was hers. She felt mistress of the world because she knew the world as only what she encompassed with her eyes.

Dunya had three big fears: losing her fair beauty, death and entering her husband's private chamber.

The first she had already experienced, the second was coming at a fast pace and the third was something she never thought of, it was a superstition.

After many years of marriage, they had retired in their country house where he settled his own rooms, not to be entered and she did not sleep by his side anymore.

A bolder female would have revolted, but she acquiesced quietly, feeling from the moment they set foot on these ancient lands that she would better live her own little life, away from the family she did not belong to: Afanasei.

Something like a scent pervaded every room of the house, a scent of beauty but bitterness at the same time, as if no one was content there. And it was true; no one could be happy there. She made their lives miserable, they made hers more so.

But her husband's rooms were something of a terror. One meek servant had described them as countless doors opening and ghosts of the family greeting all intruders. He had also told her how there was a giant dog there, sitting at the master's bed and she loathed dogs.

So there it was; a matter of concealment to her which she hoped never to discover.

One morning, however, the servants came in her room while she was grooming and informed her that late Master Afanasei was dead, hanging limply over his bed.

He had hanged himself, in the most terrible of ways, the rope attached to the chandelier on the ceiling.

This was of course, a great shame for herself and the family – a man having killed himself! What cowardice!

She decided to bury him quickly, without calling the priest, having the faithful maids read some prayers and light some candles.

She felt somewhat better after seeing him laid in the ground. She could finally ask herself why he had done it. He was indeed quite old, but he was expected to live the next 10 years.

Dunya hoped he had not done it on her account – if he needed a mistress, well he should say so, or if he needed something…but she was troubling herself too much.

He was almost a stranger for her. He had always been and would remain so, even dead.

She made sure he was guarded in the family chapel and taken care of – and she thought that was enough.

Now that he was dead, she could be the only ruler of her world.

After some weeks, however, one by one the servants all left saying they were too frightened to stay now. Dunya did not understand what they meant; but they said a man who had killed himself could not die an honest death and he was to dwell on earth forever and haunt them.

She protested that this was foolish, but they insisted that the hanging was a terrible sin and the house was now stained with it and forever foul. They wanted to save themselves so they left and she could do nothing to stop them.

In all earnest, at night the lurking figures and shadows did give her a fright, but the house was old and creaked terribly; it was natural.

But then she felt terrible; many headaches and dizzy spells. She walked like a mad woman around the house calling for her people but no one was there. She was in the habit of calling them for her demands and now she had even less to do.

One night, when she felt particularly ill she heard the howling of the dog that dwelled supposedly in the mater's chambers. She thought he had died by now, but she had never heard him howl before.

Dunya tried to go to sleep and ignore it, but the dog howled well into the night and she couldn't find sleep. In the morning, his low howling followed her around the house and when noon came she was exhausted. She had scarves around her head and garlic in her ears so she couldn't hear anymore, but the noise was incessant.

When dusk fell she could not take it anymore and went to put the dog to sleep.

She took an old rifle she had around her room and proceeded to her husband's rooms.

To her surprise, the doors constantly shut for her were wide open.

There was the parlour, wainscoted in red, almost barren of any furniture. Another pair of doors opened and there was a boudoir, or it looked like one, but it only housed a large wooden tub full of green water. Another pair of doors showed at last a cosy, small bedroom, where it was very cold and wretched. The carpets had been removed and now there was only the white bed and desk left.

And there, right next to the bed was a trap door on the floor, wide open as well.

She heard the howling coming expressively from its dark depths.

Dunya was old and if she feared death, curiosity got the better of her now.

She climbed down the stairs slowly, because they were slippery, but when she finally placed her foot on solid ground she saw that a torch which hung in a crevice lit the room.

The dog was lying on the cold stones, moaning with pain and when she came closer she saw that he had a large laceration on his back.

Further into the room she saw a large, green wooden box that was sealed with many locks. She approached it carefully, rifle in her hand and touched the box with the barrel.

It dawned on her that it might be her husband's spirit inside, come to punish her like the servants had foreseen. She noticed the Afanasei family crest on the box.

'So, Afanasei!' she exclaimed.

'What sort of room is this?' she questioned nobody in particular. 'What were you keeping here Afanasei? The family gold?'

The dog came closer to her and put his paw on her foot, with a pleading expression in his eyes.

'Is that why we never had enough to live on?' she asked again ignoring the animal.

Without waiting, she hit the padlocks hard, trying to break them. The dog scurried from her side and waited in the other corner of the room, terrified.

At length the locks broke and the lid jumped open.

She peeked at its contents and almost smiled with glee upon seeing it was filled to the brim with silver coins. They looked very ancient and valuable.

She quickly put down her rifle and started taking them out, but no sooner had she half emptied it than a large red, searing hand snatched her arm.

She yelled in horror and saw a burnt and scorched face coming out of the silver.

She fainted instantly.

When she woke up, she was lying in the entrance hall. She rose in darkness and saw the moon gliding through the windows. The beads of sweat were cold on her forehead.

Dunya shouted Afanasei's name many times but received no answer.

She was frightened to death and wanted her splitting headache to end.

She called for help but there was no one to come. Dunya climbed the stairs quickly but the second floor proved to be a horrendous image as the carpets and the walls were smeared with blood.

Dunya cowered and knelt on the floor crying.

'Oh, terrible daemons are upon me! Oh, merciful Lord, save me!' she cried. 'Oh, what is this? What is this? Is it my blood?!'

The moon lit the walls on which was written in blood "Life to the Dead".

Dunya did not wait to see what terrible horror would be inflicted upon her. She quickly burst in the drawing room and lit some candles at the fireside.

Before long, she had set the entire house on fire, until all was reduced to ashes.

Her departure to St. Petersburg was unforeseen and rapid, so much so that no one noticed her leave.

But she could not find her rest there and she knew well that some terrible fate had marked her. Yet, she hoped her last days would be more peaceful.

She would never forget the red face that haunted her every night.


Hertfordshire

Mary woke up in the morning to the cheerful chirping of birds. This made her smile wistfully as she looked at the brilliant blue sky. She could have sworn there had been a tempest the other night. Now she knew she had been wrong and the day would be splendid for walking.

When she came down for breakfast she found her mother talking to Bertha, the maid in the kitchen.

'I think we'll have some veal this time, if you can manage,' she was telling the maid. 'Remember, we've fallen out with Mr. Furling so now you shall fetch some from Mr. Dickinson. It's right next to the linen shop.'

'I know the place, missus, but…'

'But what Bertha?'

'Haven't your heard missus? They're talkin' bout a wolf scurrying these parts. I'd be rather afraid coming home alone from town.'

'Now where did you hear that nonsense?' Mrs. Bennet asked upset.

'The whole neighbourhood is talking o' it. I heard Patrick, Mr. Lucas' stable boy say his little brother almost got done by the thing! Father Flemmings, good old Sir, is tellin' people to stay in.'

'May I see Patrick's brother?'

The voice made them jump both. Mary was standing innocently in the doorway.

'Mary! You sure gave me a fright, you know! Please do not go so stealthily about the house.'

'I'm sorry, mama, I had just woken up.'

'Have you had a good rest?'

'I think so. But I would like to see Patrick's brother.'

'Why on Earth would you want that?' her mother inquired rather piqued.

'It seems like an interesting story. You know how I love a good story. I'm rather curious.'

'Well, next time you pass by the Lucases, missus, you can ask,' Bertha piped in helpfully, but Mrs. Bennet glared at her displeased.

'You may ask Mary, but you'll only hear ghost stories, all a bunch of nothings. I'd rather you didn't take it in your head that such things exist. And you, Bertha, you wouldn't be afraid right now if you went to church more often,' Mrs. Bennet chided.

'But missus, I can't go all alone…you see, I'm feeble and…'

'Then take Mr. Hill with you, for goodness' sake and let me have my peace.'

Bertha curtsied and went out of the kitchen.

'I think I shall call on the Lucases,' Mary said quietly. 'I'll take Kitty with me.'

Her mother nodded absently and called the cook.

After breakfast, when Mrs. Bennet went to open the windows in the rooms, she stopped at Mary's chamber and saw the windows were already ajar. And on the floor, to her great dismay, she found the crucifix.


Kitty and Mary were warmly welcomed by Maria Lucas and her little brothers and they were invited to stay for tea. They sat in the pretty, modest parlour and started talking about the following gathering at Merryton Hall for the summer time. This year, it was said that Mr. Sterling would be the one in charge of arrangements, but many of the young girls doubted the narrow-minded old retired barrister could arrange anything pleasant and suitable for their age.

Mary waited eagerly for the discussion to move to more interesting aspects, such as the strange creature that had disturbed Hertfordshire.

Though it was the most curious thing to have happened in the country side, Maria and Kitty weren't keen on it and seemed to be wrapped in other more important subjects.

It wasn't that they were ignorant of it. They either feared it or, like her mother, did not believe the rumours.

Mary was rather peaceful considering the threat at hand. She wondered why she wasn't more distraught. After all, she should be troubled, but she was not. And she could not understand why. It was as if she knew she could stand against that creature, which was obviously a falsehood. The mere thought of him should have frightened her to death.

Seeing as the discussion would not extend, she excused herself and went to find Patrick.

It wasn't very hard to find him. He was just leaving with the horses. Mary caught him in time to ask him about his brother. He was very reluctant to speak, as he had been asked so many times before. But Mary's gentle way and soothing words helped a little. She confessed she had seen the creature too, which was not a lie. Patrick was stunned to hear this, but he was eventually assuaged to let her come and visit his brother.

'Can I come now?'

'Well…I was goin' to take the horses out for exercise. Suppose we could pass by the cottage.'

Mary beamed happily and put the saddle on.

'I guess Mr. Lucas wouldn't fret…you know how to ride, missus?' Patrick asked concerned.

'Well, not really, but I might as well try,' she said indifferently.

He tried giving her a hand, mounting the horse, but she refused any help and jumped up on the saddle with little to no exertion.

He stared at her in admiration.

'Well, now, I knew not you was so good with the horse,' he said mischievously. 'Let us go.'


'I saw a pair of green eyes,' the child told her, as they sat in the small, tidy kitchen. He was a small thing, a boy of ten with large brown eyes and a trembling upper-lip.

'And the thing ran past me. I've seen wolves in books with pictures and he was no common wolf. He ran past me. He only scratched me a bit, but I was with fever afterwards.'

Mary listened to him very carefully, nodding once in a while.

'Do you feel ill now? Do you feel something's changed about you?'

'Nay, but I do feel very scared. I don't want to go out anymore missus.'

He was indeed very pale and weak, because he did not get enough fresh air.

'How did you see the beast, missus?'

'I…saw him run down the hills, quite close, but I wasn't harmed,' she said smiling sadly.

'No one believes me, but a couple of people. But I know what I saw.'

'I believe you,' Mary said placing her gentle hand on his. 'I know you're telling the truth.'

'I hope they'll kill it. Some are going to go search for it tomorrow night in the forests.'

'They are?' Mary asked interested. Perhaps I should go as well…

'A couple of good, strong men are going to hunt it down. They say it's all rubbish but they want to prove that it's all fine.'


The following evening, Mary waited for everyone to go to bed. The house usually retired at ten in summer. She made her prayers standing by her bed and spilt a couple of cold tears, more for the safety of the village than her own and she tried to give herself courage. She looked out the window at the black night and felt a shiver in her bones.

She hoped that it would all prove to be a fancy and that no real beast dwelt in those parts and that she had not really been bitten.

She put on a black dress so as to be able to hide better in the woods and she took her cloak and a small cleaver she used for candles.

Clad in this fashion, she crept in the kitchen and made her leave through the back door.

The night was starless and warm, but she could stand the heaviness of the cloak because a soft breeze touched her face.

She went up the hills towards the forests and discovered that a large group of men were standing just outside, talking in silence. They all had torches and some had pistols. There were a couple of dogs as well. It appeared that not all people had taken this rumour lightly.

She hid behind a tree and waited patiently for them to go in the woods. When they had all disappeared, she followed them stealthily. Her heart was beating out of her chest. A couple of days ago she would have never dared to go at night in the woods, but now she wasn't so afraid anymore.

She had never been a good runner, but now she seemed to be able to sprint silently with high agility and she barely tired.

She heard voices ahead and she followed the sounds.

Soon she was in the middle of the forest and she could barely see her way back. The warmth seeped through her bones and made her feel breathless. The shadows lurked in the branches, but she knew they were just birds or squirrels.

She arrived at the lake. It looked like a beautiful mirror of the sky. She drew in her breath as she rested by its side. But she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who was on the other bank. She saw a creature staring at her with a pair of stabbing green eyes.

She found her strength to move and she ran with all her might further into the woods. She heard a howl and when she looked back, the creature was following her.

She couldn't breathe, she took off her cloak and threw it behind her, hoping to momentarily blind the creature but he just tore it apart.

She ran for her life, desperately trying to find the men, but she suddenly fell and almost sprained her ankle. She tried getting up with all her might but the creature cornered her.

She raised her hands hopelessly to stop him.

He jumped over her body and instead of ripping her flesh apart like she had expected, he touched her hand, where he had bitten her. She dared open her eyes and she looked at him terrified and mesmerized.

He was not exactly a wolf, he was more of a man that had the imprints of a beast, but his eyes were human. He inspected her thoroughly, sinking his eyes into hers. She had to look away because his gaze pained her.

'Anya…' he whispered in a low grunt.

'I'm…not Anya,' she managed to stutter. 'I'm M-Mary.'

He suddenly looked up. The men were coming, the sounds were clear now.

She closed her eyes again and when she opened them he was gone.

'Miss? Miss, are you alright?'

'I know this girl, it's Miss Bennet!' one of the men uttered.

'Miss Bennet?! What on Earth are you doing alone in the forest at night?'

She was far too shocked to reply momentarily.

An older man knelt by her side. He waited for her to recover her spirits.

'Miss, you look like you've seen the Devil. Has anyone hurt you?'

'N-no...I was taking a walk and…I fell and I got very scared because I heard voices,' she rambled scared. 'I think I heard you gentlemen.'

'Why in the world would you take a walk now? It is very perilous to walk at night!' a man exclaimed.

'I like…walking at night,' she said weakly.

'Hmph! Do your parents know about this?' another man asked angrily.

'No…' she said looking down. 'They don't know I am gone.'

'Well! What a young lady you are, Miss!'

'To tell you the truth…I had heard you were going to hunt that beast they were talking about and I was curious.'

'The beast probably does not even exist. It was reckless of you to come here on that assumption, Miss.'

'I know…I was very foolish.'

The older man held her hand in his palm.

'Did you see anyone, Miss?' he asked concerned.

She looked into his clear, blue eyes and felt inclined for a moment to tell the truth, but, just like when she was first bitten, she decided without reason to keep silence. She couldn't understand her own motives, but something made her keep quiet and not say a word, as if her peace depended on it.

Her words caught up in her throat and she looked down at her hands.

'No, but I was very frightened…I thought I saw many things…'

'Clearly she is not alright. We must take her home, immediately!' another man said.

The pain and worry that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet felt when they heard where their daughter had been was nothing compared to Mary's horror. They reprimanded her with great severity and punished her to remain in her room for quite some time. Mrs. Bennet would hold the key to her room. They asked her time and time again why she had done such a foolish thing, but she only explained that she felt she needed some air. She was suffocating in the house so she took a walk and took the opportunity to see whether the men would catch the "rumoured" beast.

'I knew it! I knew I should have never let you listen to that farfetched story about that wolf! You shan't be visiting the Lucases too soon! I blame them chiefly! You should never listen to these frightening stories, they only give you terrible ideas! And I know you apt of letting your imagination run wild!' her mother said.

Mary promised her she would never go out like that again, but her alleviations fell on deaf ears. She was locked up in her room. She tried going to bed but she only moved restlessly in her bed.

She couldn't close her eyes. The name Anya came into her head.

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