Beastly Read Online Free Page B

subtly kicked the infernal seat aside.
    “I meant no offense, stranger. I was merely offerin’ up some advice. Plenty of huntsmen and even some mercenary types have gone lookin’ for Marrock.” Hamish’s mouth went dry and his beady eyes flickered to the boisterous table. “We usually find pieces of them come spring, sometimes not at all.”
    The Beast followed the bar keep’s gaze. The wolf pack was still hard at work, clinking steins and groping at unfortunate women as they happened by. They appeared capable enough, the Beast thought. He looked down at the sketch. The scarred eye and gouged face refused to give up its secret. What sort of query could challenge such a party?
    Hamish swallowed the lump in his throat.
    “Lord Marrock once owned himself a fine manor not too far from here. He was a good man, fair to his people.”
    “What happened to his face?” The Beast tapped the picture.
    Hamish frowned. “Hey now, I’m running a reputable business here, not a university.”
    “Reputable?” The Beast nodded to a hunter being lead upstairs by a buxom consort. In his haste the young man forgot to unsling his crossbow. He tripped over an errant boots lace, nearly stumbling back down the stairs.
    The Beast produced a single gold piece and, with a toothy grin, placed it on Marrock’s charcoaled nose. Hamish snatched it up with a wry smile and disappeared under the bar. He re-appeared with a bucket-sized stein, filled with frothy ale. He nodded appreciatively and slid the monstrous drink in front of the Beast. The Beast returned the gratitude and drained half of the ale in a single pull.
    “I had that made as a joke,” Hamish chuckled. “Never thought I’d actually pour in it.”
    The Beast took a second swig, finishing the ale off. Not the worst, certainly not the best, but good enough . He pointed at the empty cup.
    “Fill it again, and tell me Marrock’s tale.”
    Hamish happily obliged and returned with a fresh ale. He wiped his hands dry, then tossed the apron aside in a ball.
    “I’ll tell you what I know, lad. But like anything, there’s more than one side to a tale,” the bar keep cautioned. “Marrock was a good man, I told you as much already. He took a wife. Pretty thing. Big brown eyes. Anyways, they say one night she noticed his Lordship sleep walking. Walked right out of the house and into the forest, he did. Opening doors, not falling down or nothing funny. She followed him a ways into the woods, she did. A mile in, Marrock entered a clearing.”
    Hamish glanced at the handbill, then quickly away, trying to avoid Marrock’s etched gaze. “And then things became... peculiar.”
    The Beast leaned in, taking another monstrous pull of his ale. “I’ve seen my share of peculiar, bar keep.”
    Hamish regarded the Beast’s monstrous features. “Not like this you haven’t, lad. There in the moonlight, she watched as Lord Marrock stripped down to his starkness. Starts howling at the moon, he does. And then in a burst of silver fire he disappears! Burns up!” Hamish threw his arms up.
    A huntsman slammed his stein down on the bar, bringing the story to a halt. Vildar’s head was covered in a mat of rough stubble. A harness of throwing knives buckled over his chest gleamed in the fire light. His leathery face tightened into a scornful mask. “Go on, tell him the rest.”
    Sweat beaded on Hamish’s brow and he stammered. He found his tongue after choking on a second gulp.
    “Right. The silver fire, you see, it disappeared after a moment and all’s was left behind was a wolf. A grey wolf. Massive.” Hamish gestured wildly, stretching his arm span. “So the lady near passes out, but manages to escape to the manor. Next morning, she awakes and finds his Lordship in the bed beside her, bare as the day he was born, he was. They don’t speak--”
    Vildar’s jaw clenched, his scowl reducing his eyes to slits.
    “Tell him how that filthy dog killed my brother. Tell him how Marrock stalked our