Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 147673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Laurent stopped in front of an old dusty mirror in one of the corridors and rubbed it. “It’s not fair! I wasn’t told what keeping Beast here meant!”
The mirror thumped, the sound drawing him closer while at the same time making his body hair bristle. The surface slowly changed color, the orange tint traveling from under the frame, all the way to the middle, burning Laurent’s face with heat.
The creature was merely a shadow at first, but the longer Laurent stared into his own reflection, the more he saw the demon rather than his own face. The large, symmetrical eyes burned in the tar-black face, singling Laurent out and making his feet freeze to the floor.
“It matters not to you what happens once your agreement with me is completed. Do what I asked, and you will have a chance for a happy life. That is what we agreed on,” the demon said in a raspy voice that sounded as if it was produced by the embodiment of gravel.
Laurent punched the walls next to the mirror. "How can I ever have a happy life after this? How can I possibly live with myself knowing I sentenced to death the one person I care for so much? This wager is unreasonable!”
The creature watched him. “This is none of my concern. I did not make you care for the Beast, and now it is up to you whether you want to stay here or go back to your old life.”
The surface of the mirror trembled, creating concentric circles, as if the devil had plunged one of its claws into the glass and turned it into water.
In the frame, Laurent saw his own face again, but it was not his reflection. In the vision, he sat on Fane’s bed, still in his old clothes, which were stained brown by old blood. Fane lay facedown at his feet, a motionless tangle of limbs dressed in expensive silks and fine wool.
A few quick heartbeats later, the Laurent in the mirror raised his gaze toward the edge of the frame, then shielded his head with one arm when men spilled inside, slamming their fists down on him. The scene then changed to the same men dragging him up the stairs and then down the corridor, with Laurent’s own body so lifeless from the beating he couldn’t walk anymore and face so swollen it was barely recognizable.
“Your choice,” said the creature in an emotionless voice.
“But—”
“You better hurry, Laurent, if you want to fulfil your obligations.”
The image in the mirror faded, revealing one Laurent didn’t understand at first. A floor covered with the same symbol as the one of his nape. A shadow obscured it partially, but it was only as the picture revealed itself further that Laurent realized it was none other than Beast pacing around the room. He came into view, only to disappear again. His mouth opened wide, into a voiceless scream, and he dragged blood-stained fingers down his face, leaving behind the red residue.
“What is this?” Laurent didn’t even blink, petrified to the bone.
“He wants to forge a pact of his own. One to keep you as his forever. But I don’t need him.”
“I don’t understand!” Laurent cried. “Where is he?”
A shadowy figure came into view in the mirror, looking straight at Laurent. Straight into his soul. Fane. William Fane was in the same room as Beast, menacingly watching everything from a corner. He wore an outfit identical to the one from the night he died, and even without being in the same place Laurent was getting sick from the phantom smell of perfume, and yet Beast acted as though he were on his own
“What is he doing there?” Laurent hit the wall in helpless fury.
“He? That is his place of eternal unrest. You know where that is, Laurent.”
The surface trembled, and out of the ripples emerged Laurent’s own face, staring back at him in horror.
Fane’s cellar. That was where he used to murder his victims, so why the hell would Beast have chosen it in the first place?
And yet, each time he thought about Beast, the demon’s words came back to him to dim all tender feelings. He couldn’t believe Beast would be trying to entrap him in such a vile manner. It was almost—almost—what Fane had done to all the poor souls, to poor Marcel whose hand Fane spared for some perverse reason. It had all been about control over another, and now it was Beast who wished to bind Laurent to him, regardless of Laurent’s own wishes.
Even with this knowledge, Laurent’s feet started moving, and he rushed along the corridor, toward the part of the building that he’d always avoided. He couldn’t have Beast bleed out. Partly because it hurt to even think about Beast being wounded, and partly because if Beast died tonight, a horrible death awaited Laurent on the other side of the mirror, in a past he wished to never go back to.