Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 113332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“As in, you want him to be straight?” Elliot added with his usual tact.
Laurent zipped up the bag with a groan. “Ours is not an easy path to follow, so yes, despise me for it all you want, but I wouldn’t wish it on our son.”
The uncomfortable silence only added to Beast’s own sense of disillusionment. “Great. Unexpected pregnancy with a gay man who wishes his kid was straight. And we could have just spoken to the goddamn ghost instead.”
“Of course I will love him either way,” Laurent mumbled, hugging the backpack, but the damage had been done.
Knight patted Laurent’s head. “Just messing with you. Don’t worry so much. Okay. Ghost time. Elliot, are you set?”
Elliot looked at the other side of the well, his mouth turning into a scowl. “You think he smelled as badly as he looks?”
Beast had no reference for what his friends were seeing, but Knight’s barely held-back snort told him all he needed to know before it was verbalized.
“He’s dressed in dirty leather and fur. And his beard’s so dirty it has those weird knots. You know, he’s like a crazy trapper from a pulpy western.”
Elliot’s mouth thinned, but he closed his eyes and reached above the well, taking painfully slow breaths. The silence stretched, and it seemed that even the birds and insects in the trees around them held their breath.
Elliot’s shoulders hunched in the strange silence. His head dipped forward as he raised his hands closer to his face, moving each finger. When he turned, his face no longer was his own either. The features remained the same, of course, but the stern expression and wild gaze were so beyond his usual repertoire Beast stepped closer to Laurent, feeling his heartbeat quicken. They should have left the egg with Jake and told him to guard it in his gargoyle form.
Laurent frowned when Elliot opened his mouth, his voice deep and raspy, as if it weren’t used very often. “It’s French, but slightly different than the version I know,” he whispered but followed it up with translation. “He says his name is Theodore, and that he’s the first one. The one who started it all, the one who made the first pact with Baal.” He entwined his fingers with Beast and squeezed. “He heard a voice speak to him from a hole in the ground, and that was Baal. He covered the crack in the ground with a stone so he could keep the demon’s power to himself. He’s carved Baal’s sigil on it. After that, he served Baal until his death.”
Beast watched Elliot’s every move, as did Knight who stood closer, without a hint of smile on his face. The uneasiness of it all got to him too, no matter how beautiful the colors and smells of the forest were. “Ask him what he knows about Baal’s plan.”
When Laurent spoke French, a wave of tenderness overcame Beast, and no matter how silly it was, he wished to pull Laurent behind him, just so that he didn’t have to face the dangerous man occupying Elliot’s flesh. A cool blue glow appeared in the corner of his eye when Knight pulled off his leather gloves, revealing the sigils. He was ready to intervene if needed, and the ghost took notice, assessing him with a wary stare that looked unfamiliar on Elliot’s usually open features.
Laurent swallowed. “The trees feed on human darkness, he says. And on the blood provided by Knight. When they bear fruit, their roots will tear the earth apart, opening a physical passage to the Other Side.”
Knight cleared his throat. “That’s… enigmatic. Is it because he’s French?”
Beast shook his head, but his gaze was trained on Theodore, who sank lower until he sat on what was left of the well with both hands grasping the inner edge of the circular structure.
The ghost’s eyes were drawn to the pulsing sigils on Knight’s hands, and an unpleasant smirk twisted his face as he spoke in a low, somewhat melancholic tone.
“He says it’s literal. He’s seen the beginning of this ritual in his lifetime,” translated Laurent before suddenly looking at Knight with worry that had Beast’s guts twisting. “He says his wife was like you, but when he realized what the devil wanted, he—”
Theodore’s next words made Laurent stiffen. He swallowed and hugged the egg. “He killed her and then took his own life, regretful that he ever sought the demon’s aid.”
Beast took a deep breath as his brain toyed with this new information. “And it’s happening all over again.”
Theodore’s eyes briefly settled on him, and he nodded, as if he understood Beast’s meaning from the tone of his voice. But then his eyes darted back to the sigils, and one hand dove into the well. It happened so fast Beast only had enough time to pull Laurent behind him when he saw the glint of metal in Theodore’s hand.