Disclaimer: The characters of Le Chevalier D'Eon do not belong to me. Appearances by original characters and tweaking of historical facts.
I am rounding up this little side arc for a while.
Chapter 38 – Death of the Beast
"You Frenchies are an odd bunch…" Sergei complained softly. He did not have to tag along, but D'Eon refrained from telling him so. He hated to admit it but an extra pair of hands was welcome, if they belonged to a friend. Going alone was risky and he did not want to rouse Robbie. "Do you really trust me to watch your back?" Sergei asked. "You could have dragged that lad of yours out of bed. I may just decide to blast a hole in your back, you know." Sergei shouldered his shotgun.
"You wouldn't. Or we wouldn't be having this conversation now," D'Eon gritted his teeth. He had taken a pistol but he needed help from Sergei in loading it and he wondered if he could manage a proper aim with his left hand. He couldn't expect Robbie to risk his young life tramping about in a dark castle after something which might just be nothing more than a will-o-the-wisp.
"If you do, sir, you will find yourself in a similar situation," Robbie's voice warned. D'Eon peered into the shadows of the alley. Robbie stood in an alleyway with a pistol in hand. Beside him was a hooded Natalia. "Go back to bed," D'Eon hissed.
"No," Natalia replied. Her tone brooked no opposition. She threw her cloak open to show a dagger tucked in her belt. D'Eon shrugged. Lia had passed her headstrong streak to her daughter. There was no use arguing once she got that look on her face.
"Milien?" It was the rustle of bedclothes that roused Robespierre from his sleep. He sat up and looked about the bedroom. His roommate and protégé was up. Milien stood trance-like by the table. He held the silver pocket-watch in his hand.
"It is cold," the redhead chided. The young man did not seem to notice. With his shoulder-length blond locks, Milien resembled his father from the back. Milien wore the powdered wig of a royal attendant whenever he accompanied the Duke to Versailles or on official duties. He often wore a cap when he went out with Camille and the other pamphleteers. It was rare for even Robespierre to see Milien with his own hair. The teen stared into the mirror hanging on the wall.
The redhead slipped out from under his blankets and walked over to Milien barefoot on the icy floorboards. He took down Milien's coat from the wall hook and draped it over the teen's shoulders. It was as if Milien were a million miles away. In all likelihood he was. Robespierre stifled a momentary pang of jealousy. Blood and kinship tied Milien to his sister and Sir D'Eon. Robin the page had no kin or family once Sir Durand, later Lady Anna and Queen Marie's deaths. Maximilien Robespierre was the one who left him his mantle and name. Yet Robespierre did not know him.
All, he could do now was watch and wait for Milien to return to him. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Robespierre waited. The new loyalty… must be shown to Auguste… Those were Her Majesty's last words to Robin the page. What had she meant really? Robespierre shook his head. Robin was gone, dead for a good many years.
The castle loomed before them now. The gates were ajar. Even the servants who lived within the castle had sought refuge with their kin and friends in the town. The place had an abandoned feel to it. Robbie trotted up the icy steps to the main door. He tested it. "Gotta pick it… or maybe not…" The door creaked open softly.
"Wait…" Sergei fetched a candlestick from a nearby table and lit it. He handed the shotgun to Robbie and stooped down to touch a dark patch on the carpet. "Blood…" he whispered hoarsely. Cautiously, they followed the splattering of blood, until they came to a bedchamber. Sergei gestured for them to stop. Gingerly, he pushed the door open.
It seemed empty. "Lady Johanna's room…" Natalia whispered. The bed had been slept in, the sheets awry. There was an overturned chair by the bed. Then what appeared to be a pile of bed linens at the foot of the bed moved with surprising speed. The linens fell back and a white wolf lunged at Sergei's throat with bared fangs. There was a stench of scorched fur as Sergei swung the candlestick at the wolf's muzzle. Robbie smashed the butt of the shotgun into the wolf's side, knocking him across the room.
"No! Stop!" D'Eon placed his bandaged hand on Robbie's shoulder before he could strike the beast again. The stunned wolf staggered to his paws and shook his head.
"He hurt Wallace. He hurt my dog…" Robbie hissed.
"Brother…" a voice called out softly. Draped in a nightgown and shawl, Lady Johanna ran to the wolf's side and placed her hand on his back. Her other hand was only a bloodied stump swathed crudely in bandages. The wolf spoke.
"Sister, you shouldn't be here…" In the blinking of an eye, Count Frederick was sitting on his haunches beside his sister. Still, he bared his teeth at D'Eon and the others.
"I understand you love your sister, but this all has to stop! Lady Johanna is wounded. She needs help…" D'Eon coaxed. At the same time, he motioned for Robbie and Natalia to stand back. The teens moved towards the fireplace in the room. Robbie handed his firearm to Natalia. He took out a flint to light a small fire in the grate for light. Sergei muttered a curse under his breath as he inspected his torn shirt. He had come close to being killed. D'Eon held out his hand to the siblings in a gesture of goodwill. "Come…"
"So she can be killed as a werewolf or locked up in some asylum?" Frederick hissed. "I think not…" He pulled his sister close against him. "Frau Ilse, Countess Lorenza… We have tried to hide the truth from her. My sister cannot face the truth about the beast, that she is the beast."
"I could not control myself… The blood… oh god, no…" Lady Johanna moaned and clutched at her shoulders. She trembled violently.
Before their eyes, she started to change. Her frame seemed to stretch and swell. Coarse dark fur burst forth from her skin. He face stretched and became a muzzle. "Johanna…" Her brother threw his arms around her as she writhed. Sergei shouted for the shotgun, but Robbie already had it trained on the siblings. D'Eon stumbled back in shock as the Beast howled and knocked Count Frederick across the room.
The Beast charged at D'Eon, who was the nearest to her. Sergei grabbed the discarded chair and used it to fend off the attack. "Shoot, you French dog!" he shouted at D'Eon. D'Eon fumbled with his pistol. He could not even hold the firearm steady in his left hand. In such close quarters, he could hit any one of his companions. Sergei leapt back in disgust as the Beast wrenched the chair from his hands in her jaws.
There was a crack as Robbie let loose with his pistol. He was off the mark. The Beast shook as if it were only a gnat bite. Robbie had to reload his pistol. D'Eon struggled to bring the pistol in his hand to bear. Sergei grabbed it from him.
The sensation was almost fleeting. Yet it was intense enough to cause D'Eon to shiver involuntary. Someone was using the poems, but who was it? D'Eon saw it in that instant Natalia raised the shotgun. Standing behind her, his hands over hers, was Maximilien, her twin. The boy's face was grim as he helped his sister aim the barrel of the gun squarely at the growling Beast. There was a tremendous boom, a flash of fire and acrid smoke filled the room.
Amidst the smoke, they heard the gasping last breaths and smelled the unmistakeable stench of blood. "NO! Frederick!" Lady Johanna's voice pierced the deathly silence. The smoke cleared and they saw her kneeling on the floor, cradling her brother's head in her lap. Frederick gave a raspy cough as more blood bubbled out of his mouth. He had thrown himself in front of his sister at the instant Natalia or Maximilien fired the shotgun. His chest was a gaping wound.
"Help him, please! Don't let my brother die…" Lady Johanna pleaded. D'Eon looked away. He knew as well as the others that Count Frederick was beyond hope. "J-Johanna…" the count weakly gasped his sister's name and lifted a pale hand to her cheek. His eyes glazed over and his hand fell to the ground. Lady Johanna let loose a heart-wrenching wail of despair.
"Natalia, get up!" Robbie was roughly pulling Natalia to her feet. The force of the recoil had knocked her clean off her feet.
"Max?" Natalia glanced over her shoulder as if expecting her brother to be there. He was not. Then D'Eon spotted a new and imminent danger. Sergei had discarded the lighted candlestick when snatching the pistol from D'Eon. The candle had rolled into the draperies and the curtains were now aflame. "Fire!" he shouted and tried to beat out the flames with his coat.
"No time for that!" Sergei exclaimed and seized D'Eon by the shoulder. The fire was spreading too fast. "We must leave!" Robbie was already dragging and shoving a bewildered Natalia out of the room to safety.
"Lady Johanna!" D'Eon shouted. "You must leave!"
"No, let me stay…" Johanna replied as she held her brother's limp body to her breast. "Let me go with him…"
"Your brother would not have wanted that!" D'Eon argued. The fire had engulfed most of the wooden panelling of the room by now. "Never mind that bitch, you dolt!" Sergei yelled. The room was starting to fill with choking smoke. D'Eon's eyes watered. Someone, Sergei, grabbed him roughly by the arm and dragged him to the exit. Peering through the flames, D'Eon saw the Beast standing over Frederick's corpse. A mournful howl sounded over the crackling flames just as the thick smoke caused D'Eon to black out.
Sergei had long gone by the time D'Eon arose from his bed. It was the tolling of the local church bell that roused him. In the noonday sun, the solemn congregation filed out of the church. The townspeople were in mourning for their count.
"The major told them some tall tale about the count single-handedly trapping the beast and burning to death with it in the castle. He took off for Russia afterwards," Robbie nodded at the charred ruins of the castle. "He asked me to hand this letter to you… what's on between you and him? You don't strike me as a military man and the major ain't a gentleman type…" D'Eon took the envelope from the teen and broke the wax seal.
Dear Chevalier D'Eon de Beaumont, if you ever regain the use of your hand and your legendary skills as a swordsman, be ever so kind as to come over to St Petersburg and settle the scores between the Voronstovs and de Beaumonts.- Major Sergei Voronostov. P.S. Should you ever turn down my request, you are a craven coward unworthy of being of the same blood as your sister.
D'Eon tried to clench his right hand but his hand felt stiff. It would be a long time if ever he acceded to the major's request for a duel. "Robbie, prepare a coach. We will leave for Vienna…" D'Eon ordered. There was no reason for them to remain there.
"Natalia?" D'Eon peered into his niece's room. She was staring at the mirror. "You saw him, didn't you? You saw Max… Uncle, why did he not stay a little longer?" Natalia asked. D'Eon had no answer for that.
"I did not mean to shoot him, the count… or Lady Johanna…" Natalia murmured as she touched the silver surface of the mirror.
"I know," D'Eon hugged her as if she were a little girl. Maybe that was how he would always see her, as Lia's little girl.
In Paris, Milien yawned and powdered his wig. He would be accompanying the duke to Versailles for an audience with the king. "Is your leg still bothering you, Master?" he asked as Robespierre limped into the room. The injury he had suffered never quite healed. Despite Milien's and Lorenza's efforts, whatever poison had infected the redhead all those years ago still lingered in his veins. Trust Jean Paul's gargoyles to come with a venomous bite and claws.
Even Madame Roland had no solution to her colleague's predicament. "Perhaps you best kill him," she had said tartly when he asked her for assistance. Madame Roland never liked Master Robespierre much. The last time he was in Marseilles, the Rolands were sheltering a number of young girls indoctrinated with the ideals of the revolution. Madame Roland was convinced that her boys were not achieving their ideals soon enough, but beautiful girls of good quality, wedded to men in positions of power…
Milien's reverie was broken by Robespierre's voice. "Mil, your raven-haired admirer is in the street below."
Charlotte waved cheerfully to Milien when he poked his head out of the window. Milien smiled. Charlotte Courday was a petite young woman. She wore a dress that flattered her slim figure and raven tresses. "How did you know I'm here?" Milien asked. He had just moved lodgings recently.
"Camille told me. Do come over to my store some time, we have some gloves which will suit you…" she replied coquettishly.
"I'll consider…" Milien replied. "Maybe next week…" Charlotte pouted at his reply.
Author's Notes:
This is the end of the werewolf arc. Sergei is letting things rest for now. I will be shifting the focus to Milien and Robespierre/Robin for a while.