Stand and Be Eaten

Chapter 9

The moment stretched out between Annabelle and Wells, pulling taught and fine as a silk thread. There was no sound in the stone barn apart from their heavy breathing. It seemed a most incongruous place for a silent contest of wills, especially one that could end in bloodshed the likes of which few had ever seen. Though naturally gloomy as all barns are wont to be, sunlight pierced through little cracks and gaps in the walls; in these shafts of light, little motes of dust and hay floated weightlessly, tiny rural sprites.

Annabelle had always known there were two sides to herself. When she was young, she had assumed that everyone had these two sides and would ask her father or the servants about The Thing With Teeth in their heads. It was explained, as hurriedly and delicately as possible, that she was, in fact, unique in this regard. Upon being informed of this, Annabelle took to spending a great deal of time before the looking glass.

She knew vanity was a sin, but it was not done so that she might admire her own reflection; she would watch herself carefully, turning her face this way and that, wondering if she could catch a glimpse of this unknown thing within her. Whenever she passed a polished surface, from the very corner of her eye, she would think that she caught a glimpse of it, something dark and monstrous shadowing her. Stopping short, she would look more fully at the reflection, and there would only be her own round blue eyes and pert little nose staring back at her.

So while it may have appeared to have been a duel between two in that hayloft, it was, in fact, a duel between three. The strange beast within Annabelle was always whispering into her ear, now more than ever, strengthened by blood and the scent of more prey.

"So sweet and tender," it said, and Annabelle could practically hear it running its tongue over jagged teeth. She, too, could not resist licking her lips, her tongue swiping them quickly. "It would be over so quickly, and we would be so full and satisfied." Annabelle twitched her head a little, thinking for just a moment that she felt hot breath panting past her ear.

But the beast that bayed for freedom was clever, too. It was the product of centuries of hunting and being hunted; the ones that came before it had watched as humans had become more and more formidable, wielding weapons that stung and hurt. Though hard to kill, it was not an impossible thing. It had feasted well recently, true enough, but it had also expended a great deal of energy, both in healing and galloping to freedom.

So the enthusiasm for more bloodshed was somewhat banked by the sight of Wells' nimble hands deftly reaching for her guns. The Beast Within was also not without justice and sense of loyalty, for it understood that Wells had not hurt it. Indeed, this divinely-scented human had helped the sad girl the feral thing was trapped in. It was willing, therefore, to withdraw a little, biding its time, circling like an anxious dog.

Annabelle, released from some of this inner conflict, drew in a deep and shaking breath. Wells, eyes sharp and wary, watched this. She saw, too, as Annabelle shook herself all over, like a dog that had come in from the rain. Despite the precarious nature of the situation, this made her smile her lop-sided smile. Annabelle blinked a few times, and when their eyes met again, the tone of the stare had changed significantly.

Wells didn't understand what all was going on with this strange girl, but she had a keen sense of self-preservation and an ability to read people. It was this ability that had seen her safely through any number of ordeals. With a nod, she nudged her guns deeper into her holsters.

"You alright there, m'lady?" she asked, watching carefully. Annabelle hesitated for a moment, her eyes shifting about, then nodded. "That's a relief to hear–I don't much fancy being your lunch."

Annabelle didn't speak, but made a face, wrinkling up her little nose in a way that made Wells grin again. She knew that she should be afraid of this strange girl, not only because she could explode at any moment into a beast that could easily rip Wells in twain, but also because she was the daughter of a duke or general or somesuch. Wells was under no illusions that there was a high likelihood that this little adventure was likely to end with herself at the end of a rope.