The Beast Within

10

Connor opened his eyes; he was trying to recall a dream. Was it last night or the night before? He couldn’t remember, all he knew was that it was the nicest dream he’d had in a very long time. It was on the verge of his memory, playing with his consciousness. He redoubled his effort but all he could recall was a warm sun and the presence of someone watching over him who loved him very much.

Unable to bring the details of his dream to the surface, he took in his surroundings. He was in a large bed with white sheets in a gigantic room. The room was decorated elegantly with expensive paintings and rich carpets. A large window allowed light and clean air to breeze through.

The air was sweeter than he remembered. His ears perked up as he caught a variety of noises. Birds chirped outside, faint voices met his ears, and the wind even made a light, whooshing sound. He rose from his bed and walked to the window, the thick rug hugging his feet in warmth. He was shirtless and dressed in long white pajama bottoms that weren’t his but fit him nonetheless.

He opened the dark red curtains. Connor stared out the window, startled with the scene that lay before him. The familiar houses and streets of suburban New York were gone. The trees and buildings he’d become so familiar with were nowhere to be found, instead open fields met his eyes. He had to be on the third or maybe even the fourth story of the building because the ground below him was too far to jump. A countryside that in any other situation would have seemed breathtaking was now alien and confusing.

Connor narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the events that brought him here, and where “here” even was. His dark eyebrows furrowed and he bit his lower lip as he tried to remember.

The events that took place in the Catskill Forest came to him all at once. He remembered it all: the fight, the killing, Laren biting him, and his wounds. He had murdered someone. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. But he had to, didn’t he? Laren and Lu would be dead if he hadn’t done something. He would be dead. Remembering his own wounds, Connor looked down at his chest but nothing was there. Examining his shoulder revealed not so much as a kitten’s scratch.

To the contrary, Connor felt as strong as ever. His olive skin was tight around his toned body, and his muscles felt bigger and stronger. Crossing to a mirror on the other side of the large room, he examined himself. Sure enough, his shoulder and chest where Faust had bit and clawed him were completely healed and the person looking back at him even seemed a bit taller and more muscular than he remembered.

The absence of his wounds made Connor second-guess himself and wonder if it had all been some kind of crazy dream, but that was impossible. There was no way he could have imagined or made up the entire thing. Could he?

He was interrupted by a light knock at the door. The massive wooden door reminded him more of a cellar gate than a room door as he placed his hand on the bulky brass handle and turned the knob.

Morrigan greeted him. She smiled. She wore a simple cream-colored dress and matching sandals. A golden headband held back her black hair. In her right hand she held a plain green t-shirt.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Moore. You look well.”

Connor nodded his head numbly, words escaping him.

“May I come in?” she asked, handing over the shirt.

“Oh, yes, please.” Connor took a step back, allowing her access to the room as he took the shirt from her. He pulled the soft material over his head. “Where am I?”

Morrigan, now standing in the middle of the room, looked at him. “There’s so much to be explained and even more to be done. Connor, I must apologize to you. All this has happened faster than I anticipated. I’ve put you in a confusing position.”