The Beauty Within the Beast

Chapter Four

“Eleanor!” his harsh shout startled her awake. She groaned and turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling and sighing loudly. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. It was a wonder she had; she’d spent a good while imagining various scenes of her own violent and bloody demise.

“Eleanor!” he called again, sounding on the verge of anger.

She rolled her eyes, flung off her covers and ran downstairs.

“What is it?” she asked, folding her arms and glaring at him.

“We’re going to the market.”

She wasn’t surprised that it seemed she had no say in the matter.

“OK, just let me get dressed.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded tightly.

When she reappeared moments later, he was standing in the same way, his eyes dark.

“Ready,” she said brightly, grinning at him. He grunted at her and headed for the door.

They walked in silence through the trees, and Eleanor was glad of the quiet and the fresh, gentle breeze that whispered against her skin. She barely even noticed Wolfgang, who trudged along ahead, his fists shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

It occurred to her that she should be the one sulking; she hadn’t done anything to put him in such a foul mood.

She heard the market before they reached it, the chatting of shoppers as they strolled from stall to stall, the shout of sellers calling out their special one-time-only prices. Livestock complained in their pens, already tired of being confined.

Wolfgang’s back suddenly straightened, his head tipped back, nose in the air, swinging from side to side. When he glanced over his shoulder at her his eyes had glazed over. It was like he didn’t even recognise her.

He stopped so abruptly that she walked into him.

“Come,” his voice was low and guttural, and was that drool at the corner of his mouth?

He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight enough to make her wince, and pulled her through the trees.

“Ouch! Wolfgang! There’s a twig in my eye!” she dug her heels into the dirt, trying to slow him down, but he didn’t falter, dragging her along behind him like she weighed nothing. He burst out into the clearing, blinking rapidly in the sunlight, all nearby eyes on him.

Eleanor yanked her hand out of his and brushed the leaves out of her hair, scowling.

Wolfgang’s cheeks were flushed, he turned back towards the forest, ready to run and hide within its familiar, comforting depths, but she walked on past him and towards the nearest stall. He couldn’t leave her there alone.

“If you talk to anyone about…us, I’ll never let you out again,” he hissed in her ear as he caught up to her.

She laughed and ran faster, but she knew he was serious. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight long enough for her to get away.

And sure enough, he spent the whole time at her shoulder, watching her so closely she thought he’d burn a whole in the back of her head, but she refused to let it ruin her mood.

He let her buy whatever she wanted; her bags were soon spilling over with fruit and vegetables and seeds for the garden.

They stopped at the butchers’ stall next. Eleanor tried to tug him away; the sight of the pale carcasses hanging from hooks above their heads made her stomach churn.

“Noo,” she said dramatically, pulling on his arm.

“We need meat for dinner,” he told her, laughing at her, terrible mood apparently forgotten.

“No, we don’t. We have plenty of vegetables. You can try my lifestyle for one meal.”

His eyebrows shot up and he looked at her incredulously.

“Slow down,” he chuckled. “One gross green thing at a time.”

She huffed crossly but relaxed her grip.

“How can I help you?” the stall-owner stopped counting his money and came towards them. Eleanor instinctively hid her face; his voice reminded her of David. But it wasn’t him.

“Yeah,” Wolfgang eyed him, something like fear in his wide pupils. “Can I have a side of beef?”

“Sure thing,” he pulled out a long butcher’s knife, sharpened it against the block on the table in front of him, then started slicing into one of the carcasses behind him.

“You having a family barbeque or something?” the butcher asked conversationally.

Wolfgang glared at him. It was lucky looks couldn’t actually kill.

“No. It’s just for me.”

The man laughed pleasantly.

“That'll last you over a year in the freezer.”

Eleanor scoffed.

“Yeah right,” she muttered, but he was too focused on having a normal conversation to pay her any mind.

“How do you want it portioned?”

He looked shocked, almost disgusted at this suggestion.

“I don’t. I want it just as it is.”

“Umm…how will you carry it?”

“I’ll sling it over my shoulder.”

The butcher shrugged. He told him his price, and after handing it to him and wiping his hand off on his shirt, Wolfgang hefted it into his arms, throwing it over one shoulder easily. He made it look like it weighed nothing.

“Come on El,” he said cheerfully, picking up her bags and grabbing her arm. She gagged and pulled away from him, but followed obediently at his heels.

***

“Where are you going?!”

She was practically skipping away from him.

“To plant some seeds!” she shouted over her shoulder, not catching the slightly forlorn look in his eyes.

Even if she had she wouldn’t have stopped what she was doing. She’d always wanted a proper garden where she could grow her own food.

She’d brought vegetables and herbs that were indigenous to the region. She found a spade and rake leaning against the shed, which was almost entirely covered in brambles, and set to turning the soil in the flowerbeds. She worked at her own leisure, enjoying the feel of the cool earth between her fingers, planting each bulb or seed with delicacy and care. She was in her element, forgetting all about where she was and how she couldn’t leave. In those moments she wouldn’t have wanted to.

She didn’t hear Wolfgang come out, didn’t notice him standing by the door, watching her through half-lidded eyes in a way that would’ve made her uncomfortable.

“Do you want to help me with dinner?” he asked, startling her.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said darkly, then laughed. His teeth flashed in the failing light. She hadn’t even noticed the sun beginning to set. It lit up the sky in a glorious pink, orange tendrils reaching out across the horizon. She didn’t want to go inside.

“I’m not finished yet.”

“It’s getting dark. You can finish tomorrow.”

She wanted to argue with him, because he was telling her what to do again, and because she wanted to stay and bask in the glory of the sunset.

“I’m sure you can make dinner on your own.”

He scowled.

“Fine,” he turned to leave. “I’m not making any vegetables then.”

She sighed, rolled her eyes, got up and dusted off her knees.

“I’m coming,” she said and knew he was grinning. She followed him into the kitchen.

The massive side of beef was taking up most of the counter.

“Is that even gonna fit in the oven?”

“Nope. It’s going on the barbecue.”

“Good. I don’t want my food contaminated by all the juices.”

He didn’t answer her, too busy pulling jars of spices and herbs out of the cupboard.

“What are you having then?” he asked her, brandishing a knife as he took more ingredients from the fridge.

“Veggie wellington.”

His eyebrow rose questioningly.

“It’s just roasted vegetables wrapped in pastry.”

He screwed up his face in disgust, his nose wrinkling in a way that was almost adorable.

“Sounds terrible,” he said, turning back to his task.

Eleanor ignored him and started prepping her own meal. They worked quietly side by side for a while, not in harmony, and yet not getting in each other’s way.

“That’s never gonna cook through by the way,” Eleanor said, breaking the silence.

“I am cutting it up,” he laughed, patronising her. She didn’t care. She watched him hack at the carcass with a cleaver, then turned away in disgust. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and his forearms were coated in a sickening mix of blood and spices. The smell made her dizzy. He tossed the pieces into a large metal bowl.

“Come help me with the barbecue,” he said, picking up the bowl.

Eleanor wanted to protest, but secretly she was glad he wanted her help. It felt less like he was controlling her and more like they were equals.

He showed her where the barbecue was, tucked away in the corner by the gate which lead back to the front of the house. She hadn’t noticed it before. She dragged it out and dumped the coals into the big bowl, lighting them and then placing the rack on top. Wolfgang didn’t even wait for them to die down before he began placing chunks of beef on it gently.

“I’m going back in to finish my food?” she said. “Do you want some of my vegetables with your meat?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

“Why not? You need to eat vegetables too.” She winced. She sounded like her mother.

“I’m not eating anything you’ve cooked, unsupervised.”

She laughed.

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you,” he said.

She laughed. This was absurd. And, yes, she was a patient girl, but there was only so much nonsense she could take in one day.

“What are you expecting me to do? Poison you?”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice no longer so hard and accusing, it was sullen now.

“No,” she said. “I’m not a murderer.”

His gaze flicked up to hers, his expression one of blazing anger and hatred.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his hands curled into tight fists as if he would strike her at any moment.

But somehow, she was not afraid.

“Never mind,” was all she said, because she’d had enough trouble lately to last her a lifetime, and goading him would only make things worse.

She simply slipped away, back to the kitchen.

As she finished preparing her dinner, she watched him through the kitchen window. He didn’t seem to feel her eyes on him, just quietly turning and prodding the meat as if willing it to cook faster. She smiled indulgently, glad he didn’t look up and catch her staring.

Maybe I’m just as crazy as he is.

Wolfgang looked up at the sky, which had turned dark, and something came over him. His eyes were bright yet vacant, almost as if he couldn’t see. He shrugged, stretching his back languidly, his shirt lifting to show his belly that seemed to cave in with an impossible hunger. As he started to take the meat off the barbecue he became more and more agitated, constantly scratching at his wrists and neck, and clearing his throat in a rather unsettling way.

Eleanor cursed and pulled herself away from the window, remembering her food. It was a little overcooked.

Wolfgang came in, and without speaking to her, took the plate of extra vegetables she’d left on the side. She plated her own food and then followed him into the dining room.

When they finally sat down to eat, they did so in tense silence. Once he looked up at the clock, and catching sight of the time, pushed his plate away.

“But you haven’t finished!” Eleanor said, not out of concern but out of complete shock. She had never seen him turn away food before.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, standing up. She found this impossible to believe.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“Out.”

Panic struck her heart. To be alone with him was bad enough, but to be alone again in this huge, silent, dark, empty house would be even worse. Anything could happen here, anyone and anything could find her.

“Why?” she asked and was ashamed to find that she clung to his arm. “Please don’t,” she said, a pathetic whimper which climbed up from her throat. “Please don’t leave me here.”

He chuckled, his expression softening a tiny bit, but his eyes didn’t melt back to normal.

“I need to get you a cat for company,” he said. But he didn’t stay. He pulled away and was gone.

Eleanor didn’t sulk for long. She decided to take this opportunity to explore places that would usually be out of bounds.

Rummaging through the kitchen drawers she found a torch. She put on her slippers and stepped out of the back door.

She slipped out into the cool night air and made her way to the shed she’d seen earlier. She rattled the handle; it was locked. She almost kicked the wooden slats but realised in time that Wolfgang might still be close enough to the house to hear.

Quietly, cautiously now, she searched around her for a key. It wouldn’t be at all impossible for someone like him to hide it nearby.

Sure enough, she found it hanging in a perfectly concealed, yet somehow obvious, hiding place. It was hooked onto one large thorn on the bramble bush which hid the shed.

Gently she inserted it into the padlock and eased the door open. Despite her caution, it gave a loud squeak.

The outhouse smelt strange, musty and stale, like old things and old people. It was pitch black; no light from the moon came in through the one window, covered as it was by branches and vines.

She shone the torch round, it gleamed on something long and white at her feet. She reached down to pick it up, to see it better and turned it over in her hands. It was about as long as her whole arm and had an odd, dry feel to it.

With a sinking feeling of dread and horror, she realised it was a bone.

Stifling her scream with the back of her hand, she dropped it with a dull thud. Frozen in terror, she stood there panting, hoping against hope that Wolfgang would not appear beside her. If he did, she might be added to this pile of bones.

She saw as she flashed the torch over the rest of the shed, there really was a whole pile there. And then she realised with a greater sense of alarm that they were laid out in neat skeletons, from the skull right down to the tail bone.

The one in front of her was a bull. She saw this by the great curving horns on either side of his skull, and the huge, curving cage of his ribs, which she could almost fit her entire torso into. There were no bullet holes or small shards which might suggest they’d been killed by guns or other traditional hunting tools.

She imagined for a moment what beast could’ve taken this creature down, what huge predator could’ve fought and won and come out unscathed from between this animal’s hooves and horns.

There were smaller skeletons beside his, a goat’s, a sheep’s, a few deer. Some of them still smelt fresh, and tiny snags of red still clung to the nooks and crannies of their bones.

Eleanor put a hand to her mouth to stem the wave of nausea that crawled up her throat.

If this was his doing, she could understand why the farmers didn’t like him.

Having seen enough, she went back inside, careful to close and lock the door behind her. She put the key back where she found it, or at least she hoped she remembered which thorn it had been hanging from.

She slept fitfully, her dreams haunted by wild beasts with glowing amber eyes and wolf-like smiles. They all bore an uncanny resemblance to Wolfgang.

She woke a little before dawn and slipped downstairs. Her bare feet made no sound on the carpet. Seeing the front door’s handle turn, she crouched, concealing herself behind the solid wooden bannister.

A hand held the edge of the door, and a familiar, silver-haired head poked round. Wolfgang looked around for a few seconds as if to make sure that no one was about. Then he stole into the house, clutching a long black trench coat around his body. She could see his pale-tan, bare ankles sticking out at the bottom.

Eleanor turned and crept back up the stairs.

She spent the next hour or so wondering what her strange host was doing running around at night with only a trench coat on, before finally falling back asleep.

***

Something small and hard dropped onto her stomach, waking her up.

She opened her eyes.

Wolfgang was standing over her, a fond smile on his face and in his eyes.

She jumped upright, knocking the something to the floor. It gave an indignant meow.

“Look what you did,” he scolded, bending down and scooping the creature up into his hands. It was a tiny, silver tabby kitten. He presented it to her with a grin. “I brought you a kitten. For company.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, taking it from him and settling it in her lap. She stroked its minute nose.

“I know.”

“What’s its name?”

“It’s a he. And you can name him.”

She pondered this; her head tilted to one side.

“Umm...how about Wulf?”

He smirked.

“You like me, don’t you?” he said, laughing.

She stuck her tongue out at him. But liking him was kind of an understatement. She felt as if she’d known him for always. And yet he terrified her in ways she’d never thought a person could.

“No. It’s just...his fur is the same colour as your hair.”

He reached out to caress the kitten’s flank as if seeing the colour with his fingertips.

“Yes, so it is,” he said like he hadn’t noticed it till then.

Eleanor tucked the little cat inside her nightdress and stood up. It clung there with its claws, its head and shoulders sticking out at her neck. Feeling unsafe, it opened its pink mouth wide and gave a small, high-pitched mew.

They both laughed.

“Come on,” he said, taking her arm. Today, for some reason, she didn’t flinch away at his touch. “I think he’s hungry.”

“You mean you are,” she said, and let him lead her downstairs.

He gave Wulf some milk, and then made their breakfasts. This time he didn’t bother to make her anything special; obviously the mysterious guilt he’d felt had disappeared now.

“How come you were running around last night with only a trench coat on?” Eleanor asked feeling brave.

He glanced at her, an expression of mild surprise in his soft, warm eyes.

“So I did smell you at dawn...I thought I was mistaken. I’m not used to having other people around. I should be more careful,” he seemed to be talking to himself more than anything.

“What do you mean you smelt me?”

He chuckled. There was a darkness in his expression which sent shivers down her spine. She was reminded of how animal he was.

“I have a stronger sense of smell than most...people.”

“Wolfgang, are you a werewolf?” She didn’t know where the question came from.

Werewolves aren’t real, you i***t.

He shrugged.

“I don’t know how to answer that. Don’t believe in werewolves.”

She wasn’t going to get any sense out of him. Not that she ever did.

“You didn’t tell me what were you were doing last night,” she reminded him. “Are you a pagan? Or a Satanist? Do you do moon dances or animal sacrifices?”

He laughed at the absurdity of this idea.

“Of course not.”

They drifted into silence, eating, thinking and watching Wulf play with his food.

Eleanor took her plate to the sink and started washing it up. Wolfgang cleared his throat, making her turn.

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“What?” she asked, exasperated.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, but there was a sparkle of laughter in his eyes.

“Uh, washing up?” she said.

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” she answered, turning away from him and putting an end to the conversation.

He had taken double helpings, so he’d only just finished his food. He stood up and took the plate to the sink.

“I’ll do mine,” he said.

She shook her head without making a sound.

He sighed, taking the hint; she wasn’t going to give in this time.

He turned and scooped Wulf up into his hands, and placed him on his shoulder.

They went into the piano room; Wolfgang sat down and idly ran his fingers along the keys, making a rather awful noise. Wulf jumped down from where he’d placed him on the lid; he obviously didn’t approve of the tuneless music.

“I didn’t mean to do it, you know,” Wolfgang said.

Eleanor knew exactly what he was talking about.

“How could you not?” she asked.

“She followed me one night when I went wandering. They never understood me. It used to be my only escape, every day I had to put up with them, and so I went out to get away from that, and because I had no choice.”

She didn’t understand this last statement but didn’t interrupt him. He could shut off and stop explaining in an instant.

He looked up at her with big, scared eyes. He seemed as young as the boy in the pictures she’d seen the day before.

“I don’t really remember what happened, but she jumped out at me and shouted something insulting, about me being weird and wild. I tried to ignore the jibes but then she threw a stone at me. It hit the back of my head, making me bleed, and I went mad. Next thing I knew she was dead. The family left after that. They said I was a danger to them and myself and that I should be in an institution.”

She didn’t blame them for that. And even if he hadn’t killed his own sister, he was still scary and dangerous and probably had some mental disorders. She wondered if he had multiple personalities.

“Were you on anything?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Had you taken any drugs?”

“It was like that...but no,” he answered, and she saw that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so she let the subject drop.

“How do you sleep?” she questioned, realising that he was awake day and night.

“I nap. Like a cat,” he said, laughing, and scooped Wulf into his arms. “We’re gonna go do that now,” he said, carrying the tiny kitten upstairs.

***