“Shut the fuck up. Shut up!”
“You stupid boy, the Dark Riders never attacked her!” King laughed so loudly his voice drilled holes in Beast’s ears as it echoed down the old walls. “I took her out, because she wanted to move you away. And I couldn’t have my living, breathing steroid supply going anywhere, now could I? And when you burned to char on top of it? Now that was just priceless.”
Beast’s breath wheezed, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead on one of the steps as strength drained out of him like blood from a cut aorta. His eyes stung, closing despite Beast willing them not to, and the overwhelming need to lie down—even if just for a while—weighed Beast’s body down, making him sink to the polished wood that smelled of some kind of conservation product and dirt. He was sinking to the bottom of the world.
Hound wouldn’t let him. The dog grabbed Beast’s sleeve and tugged on it viciously, forcing Beast to keep his eyes open. In the corner of the landing stood a tall grandfather clock which Beast was sure hadn’t been there before.
Tic tock.
“You’re pathetic. To think that there was a time I was jealous of you, that I worried my sun was dying while yours was about to rise…” King’s voice sounded sharper now, and it took Beast forever to understand that there was nothing blocking the sound anymore. He pried his eyes open and gazed along the stairs revolving around an empty space in the middle, all the way to where the staircase made another turn to climb above Beast’s head. King leaned against the railing, but when Beast moved, so did King, partially hiding behind the old wood. The coward was likely still wary of Beast’s other gun.
The surge of anger was like adrenaline kicking in and making Beast’s heart beat firmly again. Cooled down by the dampness of Hound’s tongue, he dragged himself to his feet and moved on all fours when the railing budged slightly under his weight with a vicious creak. His chest was one big burning core of pain by the time Beast managed to kneel on the stairs directly in front of King, laboriously catching his breath in hope that despite the horrid lightness in his head, his frantically beating heart would not give up.
He reached up, trying to grab at King, but as he moved, his other gun clattered down the stairs. Beast looked back, the image caught by his eyes not following his thoughts quick enough, and he howled with despair when he realized how far the weapon was. A whole flight of stairs below him.
The clock was still ticking. He couldn’t waste any time retrieving it. Not now, when King was so close.
King put his hands on his hips and shook his head with a smile plastered to his lips. “You do know your little angel was in on this from the start, right?”
“And now he’s gone,” whispered Beast, reaching for the pin. It burned with a pleasant heat that streamed into his body like a surge of liquid energy to envelop Beast’s aching heart in a plush cocoon. Beast dragged himself two more steps up, hand steady on the railing that he suddenly didn’t need as desperately as just moments before. He let go before the unstable banister crumpled any further.
The frantic drumming of the rain against the roof above hid a marching rhythm for him to follow. When Beast stepped on the landing, into the light coming in through the tall window, he only had eyes for his target.
"A shame really, because I was planning to keep the boy around. Cocksucking lips like his could find a use in the club.”
“He loved me,” Beast said with confidence, through gritted teeth.
“You? You’re lucky if your dog can love that hideous face,” King laughed but took a few steps back, startled when the small windows in the upper part of the staircase slammed open one by one, letting in the howling wind and cold rain.
Rain rushed inside in a spray of water pushed in by the storm. The cold peeled sleepiness off Beast’s mind, and he climbed the stairs fueled by rage growing inside him. He was by no means fast, and each movement felt like his skin was slowly about to break, but his eyes were fixed on a goal, and with Laurent gone, he had nothing to lose anymore.
“He loved me,” he repeated, pushing forward as the lightning hit a tree just beyond the house. It exploded with fire, turning into a giant torch. In the bright glow of its flames, Beast saw something move above King, by the entrance to the attic space beyond the old roof. The smell of burning wood and sulphur spread in clouds of smoke as darkness expanded in the corner of the landing on top of the stairs, dull fire burning around a tar-black shadow with long horns.