Beastly by Matt Khourie Read Free Book Online

Beast-child’s heart. He choked down a parade of gasps, clinging to fleeing breath. The demon beckoned with its human hand and smiled a hideous mouthful of hooked fangs. “You’ll never be free of Arak-jai.”
    A shrill scream shattered his consciousness and the Beast-child lapsed into darkness.

Chapter 6
     
    Without warning, he was back. He clutched the table’s sides, tension building in his forearms. The Beast slumped in his chair, vaguely aware of the fire’s warmth upon his face. Never in his life had he felt such exhaustion. Urda summoned the crystals back to her side. They flashed home, hovering beside the carved headrest of the high back chair. She probed the hearth with a poker.
    The old gypsy smiled in the dancing light. She had indeed delivered a rare gift. The Beast now possessed a kernel of truth. His origin had long been an elusive dream. Now it was as certain as the dawn. The image of his childish hands was imprinted upon his mind. Human ...
    “I remember...” The words fought through his throat. “I remember the dark. I remember when he first came.” A shiver climbed the Beast’s spine. He remembered the stinging, the biting. He remembered hiding from the horrible eyes.
    “Ah yes. The Prince of Stingers, the Arachnomancer himself,” Urda said, slipping back into her chair.
    The Beast uttered the once forgotten name scorched forever on his tongue. “Arak-jai.” He wondered why the brutal memory was the first to reveal itself.
    “Because it was he who ignited the burning desire within you. The desire to fight. The desire to live free of fear.”
    The Beast sprung upright, unnerved by the intrusion into his private thoughts. He started to issue a complaint but Urda found words first.
    “Peace, Beast of Briarburn. Yours was an obvious question. In fact, it was the most obvious question. Everyone who travels inside questions why they see what they see.”
    The Beast sensed truth in her words. Inside of that frightened boy a glowing ember had been born. That boy would mature and face his crawling fears in the darkness. The works of his mind turned, creaking slowly as rust fell away. The Beast remembered that boy. He survived, found his way to a new home... A castle. He would grow up to be...
    The memory faded. It was only a fragment of a fragment. But it was something. It was a start. The Beast studied the lines around Urda’s eyes. The fire in her milky orbs hinted that old age had done little to dampen a strong spirit. There was no trace of dishonesty. He fumbled for the medallion and then lifted it over his head. The firestone gleamed, soaking up the fire’s warmth. With a gentle push it slid across the table, splitting the narrow spaces between bone-filled plates and empty mugs. Urda cupped her hand beneath the table’s edge just as the medallion slipped off.
    The medallion spun, dangling from Urda’s bony fingers. She let it dance at the end of its chain, then traced a thumb over the inscription. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it, my son,” Urda lied. “It is dazzling piece. Certainly there is magic within the stone, that much is obvious to even the thickest dullard. Very old. Originated beyond our realm.”
    The exhausted Beast missed the subtle shift in Urda’s tone. Layers of flowery talk about magic and distant realms provided ample concealment. It was the stuff of children’s fantasies and old maid’s tales , the Beast thought. Fantastic tales for hopeless fools. Then again, he had experienced Urda’s magic firsthand. Maybe there was something to her claim? He leaned onto an elbow and extended an open palm. The medallion drifted from Urda’s fingers and settled around his tree trunk neck. The Beast stifled a chuckle. Urda’s mischievous nature was growing on him.
    The Beast allowed a minor breach of his guard, dressing his words with a hint of sarcasm. “Parlor tricks are one thing, gypsy, but what real help are you?”
    “Yes, yes, faerie fire is one thing. Showing