Monstrum

Chapter 1: Shadow at the Door

Chante stepped out of the bookstore, the worn leather of her newest find pressed close to her chest. The door creaked shut behind her, its cheery bell like a laugh against the grimy, cobbled street. She barely took a step off the stoop when her face collided with something hard and unyielding- a man's chest, though it may as well have been a brick wall. Staggering back, she hit the door of the shop, one hand flying to her nose, her eyes stinging from the sudden shock. A silent curse twisted in her throat. Who would block her path like this?

When she finally looked up, her breath caught. Aubin.

His name fell from her lips, a stone sinking into black waters. She wiped her nose with the back of her gloved hand, half expecting blood. "Strange to find you lurking around a bookshop." She said, forcing her voice steady. "I thought you were out of town."

"I came as soon as I heard about your father." Aubin's voice slinked around her, oily and thick. His palms pressed into the doorframe on either side of her head as he stepped close, trapping her. "That incident in the square- it must've been quite the shock." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "It's a terrible thing, watching someone fall apart before your eyes. Marry me."

Her throat tightened, a stabbing pulse sending a jolt of pain down to her chest. He knew. Of course he knew. She forced down the bile rising in her throat, locking her expression into something unreadable. Her fingers brushed against the door behind her.

"No." She bit out the word as politely as she could.

A smirk twisted across his lips, his eyes glittering like some half-dead thing in the dark. Reaching forward, he took hold of a chestnut curl that had slipped from her bonnet. His finger brushed against her collarbone as he began winding the curl around his finger with deliberate care before bringing it to his mouth. His blond lashes fluttered as he slowly inhaled, like he was savoring the scent.

"You'll change your mind." he murmured, his voice low, his lips tenderly brushing over the curl.

Chante recoiled, shuddering as an iron chill seized her heart as her stomach flipped in on itself. The press of his body felt suffocating. His breath hit her skin, warm and cloying, carrying the faint scent of lemons and mint. She jerked her head back, hitting the door with a soft thud. Her fingers scrambled for the latch.

"Thank you for your concern, Sir Aubin," her voice was tight as a thread. "But the answer is no."

Her hand finally found the latch, and as he leaned closer, she yanked the door open. She slipped through the narrow gap before slamming it hard behind her. The glass panes rattled with the force. Her hand flew to the lock, shoving it into place with a sharp click. The bell bounced off its holder, jangling violently as it skittered across the floor. Inside, the shop felt too dim, too still. The air itself seemed to be holding its breath.

There was a loud bang, and the door shuddered under the force of his fist. Chante took two steps back. Then two more. Another set and her spine was pressing into the wooden edge of the counter. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, her gaze darting around a dimly lit shop, searching for any way out.

The shopkeeper emerged from the back, wiping his ink smeared hands on a rag. His gaze met hers, then shifted to the door, where Aubin's shadow loomed against colorful glass. Letting out a low grunt, he jerked his thumb back behind him. Towards the storeroom door he'd just come out of. Without a word, he moved to snuff out the lights, plunging the space into near-darkness.

She hesitated for only a heartbeat then nodded, though he couldn't see her. She silently made her way to the back,her boots scuffing quietly against the wooden floorboards. A tight knot twisted hard in her stomach. Her hand just closed around the handle when Aubin's laugh seeped through the cracks around the door. Smooth as poison.

"I must've caught you at a bad time, Chante," he drawled, amusement curling through his words. "But don't worry. I'm a very patient man."

His words hung in the air. Taunting. Goading.

Her grip tightened, knuckles cracking. heat suffused through her skin, her pulse drumming in her ears. Her teeth clenched, jaw aching as she drew in a breath. She turned sharply, stepping forward, ready to hurl every bitter word festering on her tongue at him.

"Listen here, you bas-"

Before she could even get started, the shopkeeper's hand closed over her shoulder, firm but gentle. His eyes locked on hers with a quiet authority. He gave a small shake of his head, then gestured back toward the exit door. One finger pressed against his lips.
"Don't."

Chante swallowed back her words, though it burned her throat like acid. She heard the echo of Aubin's boots against the cobblestones. The sound lingered in her ears, an oppressive reminder. She cast one last glance at the now quiet door. Her resolve wavered as the fight drained from her. Without another word, she let the shopkeeper lead her away, past the dusty boxes of books. She didn't look back as she slipped through the rear door into the night.

Outside, the shopkeeper gave her a silent nod toward home before shutting the door firmly behind her. The click of the lock was a small comfort.

For a moment, Chante leaned against the cool brick of the shop wall, her damp palms shaking as they pressed against her face. Her breath hitched, the cry she'd been choking down threatening to spill over. She swallowed it, the effort tightening her throat.

When she could finally trust her legs, she pushed herself off the wall. Inhaling deeply, she squared her shoulder and lifted her chin, then set off down the darkened street. Her pulse still raced, her feet moved faster than they should. The weight of his eyes lingering on her skin like a stain she couldn't scrub away. Her fingers clenched and unclenched around the folds of her skirt.

Setting off down the street, she refused to look back.