Cursed to Love: The Golden Curse

Chapter 10: Something Happens Which Is Not Usually Done By Accident

‘A curse is dangerous, certainly to the bearer, but also to the witch who casts it. It is necessarily tied to the life force of the caster, feeding on her hate, and on herself.” – From Witches to the Wise

Lord Phillip could feel a headache coming on. The crying serving girl in his room was being unnecessarily loud. He rubbed his temples, this was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t just given her a very fine piece of Lady Catherine’s jewelry. He did have peculiar tastes, but as nobleman he adhered to a strict code of gentlemanly conduct. If he broke something, he paid for it.

He finished dressing quickly and stepped to the window. Outside on the path of fresh black cinders that made the walkway to their house, he could make out a familiar figure limping its way toward the manor. Damn! That besotted boy was becoming a real annoyance. He’d been up to the manor several times a week over the last month to beg that Lord Phillip pardon Miss Lillan and call off the hunt for her. In the beginning Phillip had viewed the awkward petitions as once of the many minor irritations he would have to endure now that he was reigning Lord and subject to listening to the grievances of his tenants. NOW however, these pleas were becoming a significant problem.

The majority of village men he had been conscripting for the hunt were tired of the pursuit. Nothing had been seen of the girl for a month, and they grew weary of spending their small amount a free time hunting someone who seemed long gone. Most of them wanted to forget the incident and return to their families, or tavern seats. Theodore Brandon was becoming the voice of the village men, instead of a mere lovesick child.

The fact that it was now Autumn was problematic as well. Bears had been sighted out in the woods when the men were looking for the witch. Bears grew territorial and violent in the Fall when they were guarding the places they intended to hibernate. Both the men, and the dogs did not like running across the ursine inconveniences, and the sightings were becoming more frequent. Phillip jerked his head toward his guest.

            “SHUT UP!” Phillip shouted at the weeping chamber maid. She bit her lip in an attempt to stop the tears but it was ineffectual. In a cursory glance, he noticed the problem. The clothes she was trying to put back on were rent, and bloodied in a conspicuous way which would be embarrassing for her to have to explain if she was seen returning to the servants quarters. He sighed and threw her the afghan off the end of his chaise.

            “Wrap it around yourself, say you are having it washed for me. Go to your quarters straight away and put on your secondary uniform. Put that one in the bottom of the refuse bin in the yard, it is going to be burnt this afternoon.” This speech had been given before, by now, he was able to speak it calmly and without any panic. “I will have Lady Catherine to order another uniform for you. Now go, immediately.” The girl did as she was told and exited the room almost gratefully. Still. She had made entirely too much of a fuss, and was likely to continue to do so if he did not put a definite end to it. This was why he had given her a piece of sister’s jewelry in exchange for what he had taken from her. All he had to do was tell his family’s butler that the girl was suspected of theft. When the jewelry was discovered amongst her things, she would be sent packing, and no one would listen to the violent and salacious tale of known thief.

Still. It was messy, and he had had too many messy incidents lately. It was all the fault of that wretched little witch. She was the one who had forced him to move up his planned timeline in regards to having his father declared unfit. She was the one who had embarrassed him by making a mockery of his first actions as Lord by failing to allow him to burn her at the stake in a satisfactory manner. Now her little boyfriend was weakening the resolve of the villagers and trying his patience. He tightened his cravat. By now Theodore Brandon would have been shown into the parlor, and his valet would be on his way to summon him. Very well. He could control himself again…it was imperative.

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Fall had officially arrived. The air was growing cooler at night and the orchard surrounding the stone cottage was full of fruit, trees bent nearly to the ground. Gilda had spent most of the day picking apples. It was easier to do in the sunlight, and in that respect it was easier for her to do it. Her hosts had a difficult time harvesting the apples themselves during the day as they tended to accidentally pierce every tenth apple with an errant claw. The fruit from their orchard was a considerable portion of what fed them through the winter, and it was nice not to spoil a significant percentage of it. Having Gilda around was actually very useful to them as she could harvest fruit in the daylight, milk the cow without killing it, and the chickens laid twice as many eggs when they were collected by a human. Freya was especially enjoying having another woman around, and told Gilda daily how much she valued her presence. Being alone with her brothers for the last twelve years had been extremely trying for her. Gilda for her part had ceased to try to escape. Freya’s friendliness and Freyr’s daily assistance carrying her about had gone a long way to ease her concerns. She felt less like a prisoner and more like a friend. If it weren’t for the fact that Freyr still spent every night asleep on the bedroom floor, she would have been able to forget that she was a captive.

Gilda had been placed up into the apple tree by Freya, who was, during the day, quite strong due to her more muscular animal form. Gilda scarcely noticed that they were animals anymore, and had not flinched at all when Freya touched her with her paws. She’d even gone so far as to ride on their backs when she needed help getting from one spot to another with her injured feet. Somehow, it had become normal. The only part that was still excessively trying, was her intense attraction to Freyr. She almost wished that he would go back to being mean to her, when he was kind it was hard to hate him. While the pain in her feet was subsiding, her feelings toward Freyr were increasing. Gilda gently placed several more apples into the basket that Freya was holding up.

“Are you ever going to tell me why you don’t go into town?” Gilda asked, looking not into Freya’s eyes, but at the apples in the upper branches as she filled her skirt again before handing them down. Freya had been so grateful for her help in the orchard, that Gilda felt emboldened to ask, at last.

“I’m going to have to at some point aren’t I?” Freya answered. She knew that Gilda had been attempting to ask her all month.

“I’ve not tried to escape for weeks now. Surely you know that you can trust me.” Gilda said unloading her skirt into the proffered basket.

“Very well then.” Freya said helping Gilda out of the now empty tree, as carefully as possible. She had no desire to rend Gilda’s skin the way she would have done to a considerable portion of the apples. It would have been very easy to do, given that she currently had 4 inch claws on each finger. She slung Gilda’s arm over her furry shoulder and helped her hobble over to the apricot tree. That one had to be done today in order to get the apricots dried or into jars before they became overripe and spoiled. Freya lifted Gilda into the tree arms first so that she could swing her way up into the canopy, agile as a monkey from years of hunting and trapping. Freya collected the fruit from the ground, as carefully as she could. Apricots were much easier to pierce and ruin then apples were. Luckily they planned to split and dry these anyway.

“Well?”  Gilda asked…doing her best not to be annoying. Admittedly her best was really not very good. Freya sighed.

“Very well.” She said. “I never go into town because the man I loved as a girl lives there…and he is married to someone else.” She all in one breath, as if she couldn’t say it fast enough.

“You were in love?” Gilda asked in surprise, her foot slipping and nearly toppling her out of the tree. She had kind of gotten the impression that they weren’t much interested in that…well Freya and Freyr. Frederick was teasingly amorous, but more to annoy Freyr than anything. She kind of assumed his attentions were a fluke, and that bear people didn’t find humans any more appealing romantically then they did as food.

“Believe it or not – my heart is always human, regardless of what I look like.” Freya said with a wry smile. It disturbed Gilda only slightly that she could discern the facial expressions of bears now.

“It was when I was seventeen, and I still went into town often. There was a shop keeper there. A very nice, very sweet young shop keeper. He was kind to me and often let me do business in the evenings when he was supposed to be closing the shop. He didn’t seem to mind staying open late just for me. Eventually he asked me to take dinner with him at the inn one night after merchant’s hours were done. I quite foolishly agreed. After that first dinner I saw him several times a week. He was so kind to me, and he never even questioned the odd hours that I kept. Which was generous considering that a woman only seen at night garners an even worse reputation than a man in similar circumstances.” Freya said wistfully, as if she was well aware that the understanding shop keeper had been her only chance at as normal a life as she could expect. She exhaled slowly and deliberately and continued.

“Winters are lovely for us, as we are human by three thirty in the afternoon and stay that way until nine in the morning. It is almost like being normal. We could go ice skating, take walks, and be almost like any other courting couple. When summer came and I was only available in the late evening, he never said a thing about it. I don’t think he wanted to know what I was, or why I was so strange. I don’t think he wanted to believe ill of me, and he knew that asking questions made that more likely. He was so kind, and despite my curse, my life was momentarily blissful. Even in summer, when the days are so long, he would wait for me. He noticed my regret and did everything he could to make me happy. Finally he began proposing to me. I kept putting him off. I wanted to be with him as long as I could…but eventually he tired of asking and married someone else. For a year or two I continued to go to town, but at some point seeing him with his new wife was just too much, and I stopped going.” Freya said quietly. Gilda handed her a series of apricots straight into the basket. Gilda put her hand on Freya’s furry shoulder, almost as if she was a normal human.

“Why could you not tell him the truth and see if he wanted to marry you anyway? If he loved you enough not to question your odd hours, could he not love you enough to accept the truth?” Gilda asked. Freya shook her massive head.

“It’s not that simple. My father was a King! If the girl he had proposed to had been frightened and threatened to expose his secret, he could have simply thrown her into a dungeon for the rest of her life! If it came to it he could have charged her with treason and had her executed to preserve his safety. I certainly do not have those abilities, nor I suppose, would I want them. I could not risk the safety of my entire family that way. You’ve seen how quickly the town can turn on someone with even just the whisper of a rumor – let alone a verifiable monster.” She sighed. This was the more intimate part of her situation.

            “There is also another problem. My grandfather spawned one child before he murdered his wife and disappeared. My father produced three. If each of us married and produced several children, the country could theoretically, within several generations be highly populated with accursed animals like us.” Freya said honestly. More than anything she wanted a little child, but she wanted it to be human.

“But maybe they wouldn’t be! The curse has lessened with every generation…perhaps your children would not have it at all.” Gilda said. Freya shook her head.

“There is no way of knowing that, and none of us would wish our bizarre, dangerous and lonely lives on a child. We were able to have something of a normal childhood for a while, if a very solitary one. We had nannies and servants and toys and a massive castle to wander in without fear...until the end. Raising a child out here in the woods would be too dangerous. The child would inevitably get sick of these four walls and this section of woods… It would put that child in far too much danger. It would be the deepest anxiety to worry every single second of every day about the poor thing’s safety. If the townspeople were willing to burn an innocent girl like you for your beauty, what do you think they would do to a child who was also a bear?” Freya asked. Gilda shivered, it was a horrible thought, but she had to admit Freya was right. Freya was silent for several minutes.

“I’m sorry.” Gilda said simply. There was not much else she could say.

“We’ve all made a promise that we will be the end of the curse. None of us will love, marry, or have children.” Freya said. For reasons that Gilda was not willing to admit, this thought filled her with pain. Freya looked up at the sky. The sun was very low to the horizon.

“Do you need to leave?” Gilda asked. Freya nodded. She pulled Gilda gently out of the tree, being careful to keep her claws as far back as she could.

“Stay here. I’ll come back to bring you into the house in an hour or so, Freyr may be back sooner. Don’t try to finish the tree or carry those baskets into the house yourself. You’ve just gotten those feet to scab over properly and begin healing. If you tear them open again, after all those baths and bandages, I won’t forgive you. I’ll bring in the fruit when I get back, and we’ll finish the tree tomorrow.” Freya said firmly. Gilda nodded and sat down under the branches.

“I will sit here and watch the sunset like always. Now go on before you maul me to death.” Gilda said crossing her legs and looking the picture of innocence. Freya laughed and headed toward the woods. “Alright Gilda.” She said as she disappeared into the trees.

Gilda looked out across the clearing, not a single bear in sight. Being alone was actually pretty freeing. They almost never left her alone, except for that window of time in the morning and in the evening when they all three disappeared into the woods. Given that they were faster, stronger, had a better sense of smell, and could hear her from a distance, there was no chance that she could get far enough away in such a short window of time to properly escape. But she had stopped even thinking or planning about it weeks ago. She had to admit, that prisoner or not, she had nowhere else to go. This was in and of itself distressing. She was used to action. She set goals and then worked diligently to achieve them…in the past anyway. Now she was a mere object which forces acted upon. All of her choices of late were re-actions, not true decisions.

Gilda heard rustling in the trees. It was too soon for Freya to be back. She would be in human form by now, but with the mind of a bear. She didn’t know what Freya could possibly want to do to her when she was that way, but apparently it was dangerous enough that she kept her distance until she was fully herself. Gilda turned around to look into the trees, but saw nothing. Ten minutes went by, and no one had come out of the woods. Could it have been the wind? That seemed unlikely as there was no breeze at the moment. She knew that Freyr had been the phantom…so that was unlikely as well. It wasn’t as if he would spy on her for old times’ sake. Suddenly she was hoisted to her feet from behind and pulled back toward the house, gripped tightly against someone’s body.

Gilda struggled and kicked at her unseen assailant.

“Gilda!” A voice hissed tersely in her ear. “It’s just me. Stop fighting.” Freyr whispered as he continued to pull her bodily into the house, tightly against him with a finger to her lips. Once inside, he set her down, and bolted the door. He turned to face her, his finger still to his lips for silence.

“Your man has been out prowling around the woods for weeks now. I’ve been keeping any eye on him to make sure he doesn’t get too close.” Freyr peeked out the window, disturbingly, through the cambric curtain. “Just now he nearly entered the clearing. I’m fairly certain he saw you. He has found us.” Freyr’s voice was barely audible, but urgent. Gilda hadn’t considered that they were more frightened of being found than she was.

“Man? I have no man.” Gilda said in confusion. Freyr grasped her hand roughly and held her ring to the light.

“Then what is this?” He demanded, still in a whisper. Oh. Yes. That.

“The Squire is in the woods?” She asked. She had all but forgotten that dreadful tea which had led to her current circumstances. She hadn’t even remembered she was still wearing the little token, but apparently Freyr had.

“Not the Squire!” He hissed. “A young man – 19 or 20. Tall, gangly, sandy hair, bad skin.” He spun to face her, eyes dark. “How many fiancés do you have?” He asked sounding irritable.

“You mean Theodore? He’s the banker’s son. Why would he be looking for me? He is afraid of me.” Gilda said, now she was worried as well.

“If he thought you were a witch he wouldn’t be looking for you alone. He’d be with several men and a few dogs. That’s how they have been searching for you lately.” Freyr rubbed his forehead. “The boy is besotted with you like the others used to be. He must be here in a backward attempt to rescue you.”

“That cannot be! I can tell you honestly that he is terrified of me.” Gilda said nervously, she really didn’t want to be found and brought back to town. The sound of a boy’s scream filled the air, startling her and enraging Freyr.

“Frederick! My stupid brother has found the boy!” He half shouted in panic as he unbolted the door. “Lock this behind me, don’t open it for any reason. Anyone attempting to come through this door will not be me.” He said dashing through it door at inhuman speed. Gilda bolted it after him obediently. She sat in a chair at the table, head in her hands, attempting to steady her panicked breathing. She could hear the loud ‘thwack’ of a body hitting a tree with great force. She rather hoped it was Freyr hurling Frederick away from Theodore. Frederick would be relatively unharmed…Theodore would be dead.

Frederick lay dazed at the base of a tree. He rubbed his head. He could hardly believe his own brother had hurled him against it! He could have been killed! Well, no, there was no chance of that… But being thrown had caused him to stop choking the life out the stupid village boy, which he felt he was very much within his rights to do. He’d never killed anyone before and this fellow had deserved it. The only reason for this t**t to be here was to arrest Gilda for witchcraft. Frederick blinked resentfully until his eyes could see properly again. Freyr had hoisted the boy into the air by shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded shaking the boy. The boy looked petrified.

“I was trying to find Gilda.” He managed to gasp out. “I’ve been worried about her, I thought she was dead.” His voice was panicked.

“What do you want with her?” Freyr asked without putting the boy down. Because of Freyr’s height, the boy’s feet dangled a considerable length over the ground.

“I love her.” The boy said still looking like he feared for his life. “What have you done with her?” He asked, attempting to sound demanding but he sounded like a frightened child. Freyr dropped him hard in order to grab the front of Frederick’s shirt and hold his brother back. The boy let out a startled gasp as the air left his lungs when he hit the ground. Frederick had regained his feet had attempted to run at the boy again before being so rudely apprehended. Freyr’s hold on his shirt was all that was keeping Frederick from flinging himself at the boy.

“Love her?! You and your friends are the reason she collapsed in our house half dead a month ago. Do you know how long it took her to walk again? She bled her way through our house before losing consciousness on the bedroom floor! You’re here to find her and take her back to town to finish the job.” Frederick shouted, struggling in his larger brother’s grasp. Freyr was holding both Frederick’s arms behind his back by the wrists as he growled and snapped at the boy. Frederick longed to sink his teeth into the boy’s quavering throat. It was very close to sunset and his instincts were still mostly ursine. He could see the large vein of his jugular pulsing in the villager’s neck. He could feel his teeth snapping the taut flesh and the heat of the blood foaming on his skin…even though it wasn’t actually happening.

The boy slithered backward against the trunk of the tree. He looked horrified by the behavior of the two men. They were acting more like vicious animals than humans. The strange snarling and snapping noises they could make reminded Theodore of wolves or bears.

“No! I would never do that. I just want to keep her safe.” He pleaded. “I never wanted them to hurt her. I swear it! I love her, and I know she loves me. I’m here to make sure she is safe, and to take her home! She wants to be with me, please just let her come home with me.”

“She’s safe here. You can go.” Freyr said coldly. “If you took her ‘home’ she would not be and you know it. Do you want her burnt? You want to curl up to a pile of ash at night? Go.” Freyr said leaning forward menacingly toward the young man.

“No he can’t!” Frederick said attempting to turn in order to attack his brother instead of the trespassing villager. “He’ll just run back and tell everyone where she is. They’ll come with torches and dogs and kill us all! We have to take care of him…permanently.” Frederick’s eyes held a determined glint. Gilda’s current fertility had his bear instincts in overdrive wanting to protect her. He could smell her across the clearing inside the house from where he was. The fact that he had never lain with her didn’t stop the bear from thinking of her as his mate.

“I won’t tell anyone where she is! I don’t want to kill her…I want to marry her! If she is married to me, then I can vouch for her morality. My father is a powerful man…” The boy cried covering his head with his hands. “I just want her to be safe.” He begged.

Freyr c****d his head to the side. The boy was in earnest. He was thoroughly spent on his affection for Gilda and would not leave unless he thought the reason he came for no longer existed. A plan to send the well-meaning, but very inconvenient boy away had formed in his head. Freyr didn’t particularly like it, but it would work.

“You want to marry her?” He laughed. “You can’t marry her. She is married already.” Freyr said giving his brother a backward shove to deter him a moment as he pulled the boy to his feet.

“Married already? How can that be? She has not been back to town…” The boy looked startled. Freyr smiled with too many teeth.

“I mean married in the…more rural sense. She was living here under our roof for her own protection... We may be simple woodsmen, but even we realized that it wouldn’t be seemly if she wasn’t married to one of us. And as we couldn’t send her away without consigning her to death… I married her…after a fashion.” Freyr said raising an eyebrow.

“You took her as your common law wife?” The boy said with horror in his voice. The idea of his sweet Gilda, pure as a blossom, being forced into such an arrangement made him want to vomit. Freyr nodded smirking at the lad’s despair.

“It’s a common enough thing out here in the country…scarcity of proper vicars and all. In any case, you are too late. The most you can do for her is keep the secret of her whereabouts.” Freyr said releasing the boy. Frederick stood at arm’s length watching the boy’s reaction to this ridiculous lie. Why would Freyr make himself the husband? He was so much older than Gilda, it was completely unrealistic. It would have been much better if Freyr had said that Frederick was the one who had married her.

“You used her fear for her life to convince her to lie with you and accept a common-law marriage?” The boy’s voice held anger and disappointment in equal measures. Without a marriage contract, written in the parish books, this horrid woodsman could simply abandon Gilda when he grew bored. Freyr laughed.

“Don’t pretend you would have acted any differently.” He said coldly. “A pretty girl too sick to walk landed in my lap, and you think I’m not going to take advantage of the situation?” He shook his head.  “At any rate, it’s a valid enough thing if there were vows and consummation. I assure you that there were both.” He smiled lasciviously at the boy. “As a simple woodcutter I’ve been afforded precious few opportunities to ensnare such a choice creature. You think I would not press the advantage given by such a situation when it regarded a girl like Gilda?” Freyr asked, his posture aggressive.

“And how do you expect me to do any better? Were I to inquire for church wedding, my lovely young wife would be taken from me and burnt at the stake! Would you have me do that to her? Or have allowed her to live in my house with myself and my brother without offering her the protections of even a ‘spousal’ marriage as you say? Surely you can admit that I have acted in the girl’s best interest.” Freyr finished. The boy was crying. Ugly, hacking sobbing noises were coming out of him. He wiped his dripping face on the back of his hand.

“Can I at least see her? I won’t tell anyone where you are if you just let me see that she is alright, and that she is happy. Please. I can’t leave unless I know it was by her choice. I never got to say goodbye…” The boy was crying bitterly. Even Frederick relaxed his fight-ready posture. The boy was truly a pitiable sight. His searching through the woods had left him dirty, and scratched. It was clear he unaccustomed to such exertion. His eyes were hollow from lack of sleep and his overly emotional display had left him runny nosed and red faced. The boy was no danger to Gilda, unless he didn’t see her, in which case he might do something foolish and desperate.

“Very well. I thought you were here to cause her harm, so I told her to bolt herself into the house and to let no one in. Let me go into the house and get her.” Freyr gave his brother a sideways glance. “Frederick, this young man is our guest. Do not harm him.” He said sternly. Frederick rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to hit a crying runny nosed boy. There would be little fun in that. Freyr disappeared around the back side of the house. Frederick smiled, the boy would think there was a door there. He would never guess that the woodsman would be climbing 30 feet into the air and jumping through a window.

“Gilda.” Freyr said stepping off the staircase into the kitchen.

“Is he here to scout for Mr. Grummold or Lord Phillip?” Gilda asked in a panic. Freyr shook his head.

“He is here, as I assumed, because he is in love with you. He wants to marry you in an effort to protect you from the accusations. Obviously that would never work, and he was being particularly adamant about it…so I had to make up a convincing story to dissuade him.” Freyr said looking almost embarrassed. Gilda had never seen him look anything less than self-assured and completely at ease.

“What was it?” Gilda asked. Freyr rubbed his temples.

“I had to tell him you were already married. It’s the only way he’ll think that the reason he came for no longer exists. He won’t come back. That boy would not wish to have you harmed, even if he can’t have you himself. There is just one small problem.” Freyr said, his voice quiet, even for him. Gilda looked surprised.

“What is that?” She asked. Who had Freyr told him she had married? Not the Squire, there would have been an announcement in town, and it would not explain her presence here. After all, the Squire would expect his bride to live with him in his Estate, not in a cottage in the woods.

“He wishes to see you, in order to verify that you are happy being married to me.” Freyr said almost inaudibly, and unless she was mistaken, a faint flush had appeared on his narrow cheeks. No. That was impossible. Freyr’s only emotion with regard to her was irritation.

“You?” Gilda laughed. “You told him I was married to you? That’s ridiculous! We have never been to town! How does he think we managed to get married?” She asked. Freyr looked at the ceiling. What she had assumed was a flush crept across his face once more.

“Handfasting...” He said still not making eye contact.

“Still…those aren’t binding unless…ah.” Gilda bit her lip.

“I indicated that that had been taken care of as well.” Freyr said leaning on the wall, looking anywhere but at her. He didn’t want to see her reaction to finding out that he’d told a boy that wanted to marry her that she had already been forcibly wed to himself.

“Ah. Well, we had better not leave him out there with Frederick alone. He might hurt him.” Gilda said calmly. Freyr exhaled in relief and looked at her. He had assumed she would be angry, or at the very least, horrified.

“He was trying to kill him when I first went out there.” He said unbolting the door. He took her hand in his. “For appearances.” He said simply, his voice once again bare of emotion.

“Of course.” Gilda said quietly. She very much liked the feel of Freyr’s hand in hers. His roughened palm felt right against her smoother one. She couldn’t let him know that though. Freyr led her out into the clearing, the sky was still purple from the recently set sun, and the moon was rising.

Theodore rushed towards them. He stopped a few steps back, as he was still afraid of the massive man next to her. “Gilda! You are safe!” He said with great relief. She appeared whole, healthy, and had no obvious injuries. He didn’t even seen any bruises or minor contusions like one might expect the wife of a woodsman to have. He knew men like these were generally brutes when it came to their wives. Was the moonlight just hiding her bruises? No. Her face was still as perfect as the oil painting of an angel in the Vicar’s office at the church. She might not be physically harmed after all…unless the wounds were under her clothes. He could hardly ask them to allow him to undress her to verify that she was unharmed…could he?

Freyr gripped Gilda’s right hand tightly and kept her close to him. Gilda smiled hesitantly at Theodore.

“Yes Theodore, I am alright. Freyr and his family have been very kind to me.” She said.

“So it is true then? You married this man?” He asked sounding utterly destroyed.

“Yes. I have accepted him in accordance with the old traditions. Those were after all, the only ones available to us.” Gilda said grasping for the right phrases. She had once been to a hand fasting ceremony for a friend who was in need of a quick wedding. Despite being winter, it had appeared that her friend had put a large summer melon under her dress. All that need to be done was hold hands and say a few words in front of witnesses.

“As I said, I have taken this young woman as my wife. There is no more reason for you to be here. Your presence here, away from town at this hour, puts her in danger of being discovered. If you come slinking back home late at night again you will arouse suspicion. You do understand that I cannot allow you to put her at risk this way?” Freyr said clutching Gilda to him possessively. Theodore nodded and stepped back. The gigantic man was glaring at him as though he were ready to dismember him.

“This is what you want Gilda? You will be well cared for here?” He asked sounding half strangled. It seemed more from emotion than his recent choking.

“Yes.” Gilda said looking up at Freyr. “This is what I want.” She said…then realized with horror that she had spoken the truth. Theodore bit back a sobbing sound and turned to walk back through the dark woods. He gave Gilda a forlorn backward glance.

“Goodbye then Gilda. I’ll keep your secret. I…I...” He stopped speaking abruptly and dashed back through the woods. There was a lot of crashing and branches breaking. The noises seemed to be designed to cover the sound of his guttural sobs…but they did not. Gilda gave a deep sigh as Freyr released her hand. As soon as the boy was out of sight he had dropped it like he’d been holding a snake.

“The poor boy.” She said as she watched him disappear. Freyr shook his head.

“Hopefully he doesn’t come back.” He said beginning to head back into the house, without so much as a backward glance at her. Frederick walked quickly after him, prodding him as if to start a fight.

“Rather ridiculous of you to make yourself her husband.” He said sullenly. Freyr scoffed.

“He’d never have believed it if I said it was you.” Freyr said giving his brother a light hearted shove.

Freya stepped up from behind the tree line where she had missed the entire affair. She always took longer to return to her own mind than Freyr did, a problem which felt unfair, but nothing could be done about. She watched her two brothers leave the injured girl stranded in the yard. She sighed.

“Did those two ridiculous roosters forget to help you in?” She asked helping Gilda hobble back toward the cottage.

“I think Freyr just wanted to get away from me as quickly as possible after having to pretend to be my husband.” Gilda said embarrassed. Freya looked at her with wide eyes.

“He did what now?”

As usual Freyr woke up before the sun rose. He made sure that Freya woke and left for the woods before she had a chance to sleep through her transition. Once she was safely through the window, he could relax. He couldn’t have her accidentally ripping their house guest into pieces! It was the real reason he’d continued to sleep on the floor every night. He knew as well as anyone that Gilda would no longer try to escape.

He had not left for the woods yet.  He preferred to eat breakfast when he had actual hands. He could easily get into the woods before the transition began, and there was no chance that Gilda would wake up this early and come into the kitchen while he was in such a tenuous state. She still required help on the stairs and was unlikely to attempt it herself for no reason.

He sat at the kitchen table contemplating the situation with Theodore. The ruse would hopefully be enough to keep the boy away, but they needed a plan for what to do if the other townspeople did figure out that Gilda was with them. No one in town actually knew where they lived…other than the man who had built the cottage, but he had died years ago. Still, it was a small estate and it wouldn’t take long for the hunters to eventually stumble upon them. If they ever got any kind of real hunt or formal inquest started, it would be all over.

Freyr began to feel a bit strange. The change was coming. He sighed and rose, removed his boots and put his bowl in the sink. Time to head to the woods. A creak on the stair startled him. He whipped around to see what had made the noise. Gilda was standing in the kitchen. No. She couldn’t be here. Not when he could feel the raw desires of the animal filling him, not when he had less than ten minutes before he grew claws and inch long teeth.

“Freya was gone already…I had assumed you were gone too…” Gilda said. He plastered himself backward against the wall by the stove, trying to keep as far from her as he could. If she didn’t come any closer, if he didn’t have to smell that lushness…maybe he wouldn’t have to do this. Gilda took a step towards him.

“I wanted to see if I could make it down the stairs without you having to carry me. I know how much you hate it.” Gilda said apologetically.

“You foolish girl!” He gasped out. “Don’t you know what the bear wants from you?” He couldn’t stop it. He flew to her, gripping her tightly and pressing her against the wall. He kissed her hard, his hands lifting her into the air, wrapping her legs around him and holding her to him, her back firmly up against the stone wall. His hands left her waist and slid up her thighs, bringing her dress up with them. His tongue slid along her lower lip, biting her as he kissed her, open mouthed and desperate. It felt like he was a drowning man and she was air. His lips traveled down her face and kissed the curve of her neck, his hand slid up under her leg, his fingers caressing the bare flesh. Gilda almost managed to make a sound of surprise before his mouth covered hers again, hungrily. Gilda could scarcely breathe, and she was enjoying it. She twisted her fingers into his long hair to try to hold him to her. He tasted like salt and honey and his hands were warm and insistent as they stroked her. How had she tricked him into doing this? How could she make sure he didn’t stop?

Abruptly he ended the kiss and shoved himself back. He was halfway across the room before Gilda could see why. Claws were forming on his hands, he’d ripped the sash off of her dress and she hadn’t even noticed.

“Get out!” He roared. Gilda turned and ran out the door. Her feet were on fire from running on her new skin but she ran to the tree line and climbed the apple tree and waited. Was he going to follow her and maul her to death? The number one rule was to stay away from them while they were changing. Why had he been in the kitchen? Why had he kissed her? What did he want from her? He couldn’t possibly feel for her the way that she wanted him to. Gilda rested her forehead on the branch. What had just happened? Minutes slipped by in what felt like hours as she clung, flushed, to the tree. After what seemed like an eternity, the door to the cottage opened.

Freyr, unfortunately the bear Freyr, stalked out of the house…but he was moving like a man…not like a bear. He had regained control.

“Would you like help down?” He asked holding out his arms. He was unsure if she would allow him to get her down. She had literally climbed a tree on her delicate injured little feet to get away from him. He could hear her heart thudding in her chest louder than it had ever been. Her face was flushed and red. She must be utterly terrified. But, surprisingly she grasped his paw and allowed him to help her down.

“I didn’t know you would be in the kitchen.” She said looking at the ground, her face suffused with even enough blood to make it crimson instead of gold. He sighed.

“I shouldn’t have been. It won’t happen again.” He said, his voice once again utterly devoid of emotion, calm and even.

“You mean you won’t kiss me again?” She asked. The thought was painful.

“I didn’t actually kiss you. I was not in control. The bear kissed you.” He said, evenly, he didn’t even look embarrassed. Gilda was confused.

“What?” She asked. He exhaled in a sound like a growl.

“Shortly before the change, and shortly after the change, I find the instincts of the bear very hard, if not impossible to ignore.” He sighed deeply. “What are the instincts of an animal Gilda?” He asked as though she were a small child.

“To stay alive, and to that end: to eat, to drink, to sleep, to protect itself.” She said simply, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been to school. He made a sighing noise that sounded like he was disgusted by her stupidity.

“And?” He asked. Instantly Gilda understood.

“To make more of itself.” She said looking at the ground. Why could she not be smarter?

“Yes. You are just lucky that you caught me transforming to a bear, if it had happened when I had just turned into a man… It would have been much worse.” He said looking away from her. “None of that was about you. Any young woman of child bearing age would have caused the same reaction. It was the time of day, nothing more.” Gilda sat down and put her face in her hands. The panicked thudding sound in her chest was enough to make him more ashamed than he already was. He’d scared her witless. The shock had worn off and now she was crying the tears she had been holding back this whole time. Tears of abject horror. He looked up from the crying girl as Freya emerged from the woods, also a bear. The morning light had lit up Gilda’s hair like a beacon, making her little huddled form conspicuous. Her head was in her hands and she was weeping.

“Gilda? What is wrong? Freyr, did something happen?” Freya asked kneeling beside the crying girl. Freyr just looked away.

“She came into the kitchen while I was about to transform.” He said and didn’t elaborate.

“How far did it go?” She asked, stroking Gilda’s hair. She knew exactly what would have begun, she just hoped he hadn’t finished it.

“Just a kiss.” Freyr said and stalked off into the woods. Gilda bit back a whimper, it hadn’t been ‘just’ anything for her. Freya put her arm around her.

“Did he stop before he turned completely?” She asked fingering the shredded sash. What had the poor girl experienced?

“Yes.” Gilda said wiping her face. “But he said he didn’t kiss me because he wanted to…he said he would have kissed any girl just then...” She muttered quietly feeling intensely rejected. It was a new experience for her, generally no one rejected her. Freya sat down beside her. For some reason Gilda found her warm fur very comforting.

“Oh.” Freya said petting Gilda’s hair carefully as if Gilda were the furry one. “You care for him.” She said as though it were a great misfortune. Gilda nodded. “He cares for you too I think, and it pains him greatly. Because of our commitment, he knows that he could only ever make you unhappy.” Freya put her massive arm around Gilda. “He was telling the truth about why he kissed you…” Freya cleared her throat. “You are particularly hard to resist right now. Women’s ability to become…to get…to bear a child grows and ebbs cyclically through the month. I’m sure your Gran told you something like that. Right now you are very tempting to him, and to Frederick honestly.” Gilda wrinkled her eyebrows and looked at Freya. She was glad Freya was not human right now. This was a very strange and personal conversation. She didn’t think she could have borne the awkwardness if it was with another human person. Having it with a hedous bear was difficult enough.

            “How do you know?” She asked. Freya looked away.

“It’s a scent you give off. Bears can smell a female who is…ready, for miles. Freyr couldn’t resist kissing you, and couldn’t have resisted a lot more than that if the transformation itself hadn’t stopped him. You were lucky to have caught him at this transition and not the other! That may have been why he did it…but it doesn’t mean he didn’t want to, or that he hasn’t wanted to for some time.” Freya shook her head.  Then she bit back a laugh.

“Oh dear! Freyr! He doesn’t know that you want him. He must think you are crying because it was so frightening. No wonder he left. Poor man must feel dreadful.” Gilda shook her head. Freyr wasn’t a poor anything!

“That’s not true! All he ever does is mock and insult me.” Gilda argued. Freya helped Gilda to her feet.

“It is true. It’s been true for a while…even before you knew him. I think that’s why he is so unpleasant towards you. He’s been doing his best to keep you at arm’s length. But you make it very difficult! Surely you have noticed your effect on men?” Freya asked, her eyebrow raised. “Do you think that he is really so different?” Freya asked. “Well, aside from the obvious.” She said with a laugh. Gilda bit her lip and nodded.

“He is different than any man I’ve ever met. That’s the problem.” Freya shook her head as she brought her over to the apricot tree.

“Leave it to you Gilda, to have every ordinary mortal man at your feet, and you want the one who is bear.” Freya smiled. “Come on now, the apricots won’t climb out of the tree by themselves.”

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Mr. Fillman knocked tentatively on the door of the small farm house. Miss Lamb opened it briskly and waved for him to enter. A black haired man with a wiry frame was laying on the floor in agony. The town’s pastor was finishing binding his ruined hand up in a clean white cloth, and stamping it with the church’s wax seal. He stood up.

“I will return in three days. If he is alive, and if the wound is healing with healthy pink flesh…I hope that you will release him to my care.” The Pastor said with a discouraged look. It had already been all he could do to convince them to use one of potentially non-fatal forms of testing the guilt or innocence of the accused. Mrs. Filch had named half the town as her coven. He couldn’t very well let them drown half of his parishioners. Miss Lamb looked at the tightly wrapped bindings and nodded.

“Of course. I do not hold out much hope however. Most of the others have developed the devil’s own infection in their flesh.” She said disparagingly. “You may go.” She said like an afterthought to the young Pastor who was still standing beside the door nervously. Mr. Fillman cleared his throat as the man nodded sadly, and shut the door behind him.

“Miss Lamb. I received an important message from the council. We have a new summons.” He said with a cough into his pudgy hand. Miss Lamb rotated her slender neck vertebrae by vertebrae to look at him with her unsettling black eyes.

“Do enlighten me.” She said with interest as she withdrew her gloves. Ah. Red/brown stains were forming underneath her fingernails. That was precisely what the gloves were supposed to prevent. How unfortunate.

“We are needed in the town of Edenhoven.” He said quietly. She raised an eyebrow.

“Never heard of it.” She said opening the door to leave the farm house as well. Mr. Fillman looked at the unconscious man with the burned hand lying on the floor. A golden pocket watch glittered inexplicably from the man’s pocket. How had a farmer afforded such a thing? A Mr. Abner Finch no less. Miss Lamb followed his eyes. She paused in the door frame.

“And what, may I ask, is in Edenhoven?” She asked. Mr. Fillman was loathe to say it. It would inspire the very worst behavior in his colleagues.

“An uncommonly pretty girl who lures men into improper behavior.” He said with a downcast look…at the watch which so coincidentally had his initials on it.

“A pretty girl?” Miss Lamb said, her eyes growing wider with interest. Mr. Fillman knew how this one would go. Mr. Pike had his way of dealing with pretty witches, and Miss Lamb had hers. They both had been doing this work too long and had developed such unsavory habits. It was lucky that he had no such unfortunate side effects from his distasteful career.

“Pity.” Miss Lamb said, apropos of nothing.

“Huh?” Mr. Fillman asked. She shrugged.

“That when he dies tonight from his wounds…that gorgeous watch will go the church. They’ll only sell it for half of what it is worth in order to buy bread for orphans or put in a new stained glass window. I don’t even think the Pastor noticed it was there…the man has no taste.” She said as she closed the door with a click behind her. This was how she controlled him. She knew what he wanted, and when he got it, she never told. This was why he was going to let her take this ‘Gilda Lillan’ apart, piece by piece…despite there being no moral, procedural, or investigative reason for it. Poor girl. She probably had no idea what was coming.

Chapter 11: A Favor Done With The Very Best Intentions