Chapter 12
Genevieve studied the soft, pale sky as she pulled into the driveway. It was getting late, but sundown wouldn’t be for another couple of hours. She’d have time to plan for her meeting with Finn this time.
She sat for a moment in the car to study the statue. Both Miranda and Juliet had been unavailable, and the longer she debated about calling them, the more she believed she needed more information before she did. If she could get Finn to talk to her again…
She’d bought a large steak to tempt him. If he was sharing food with the wolves, then it meant he liked his meat rare. But she couldn’t sit and chat with him while watching him eat raw meat. He’d have to sacrifice just this once and eat his food cooked. Would he eat a baked potato and some salad as well? She’d fix him some and see.
A nervous cramp settled in her stomach. This was probably a bad idea, but she couldn’t do anything until she was certain Finn didn’t pose a danger to her or her neighbors.
If she contacted the police, they’d ship her off to the psych ward. And when Finn transitioned…they’d kill him. Or attempt to, and then one of them might end up hurt or killed, because Finn’s claws and teeth looked lethal. And since he’d been hunting animals to eat, they obviously did the job.
She called to Butterbean as she entered the house, plastic bags full of groceries hanging off her arms. A new catnip mouse toy might make up a little for his temporary ban from going outside. It and the bag of treats.
When he didn’t come running, she stashed the raw meat and other perishables in the refrigerator and then wandered down the hall, mouse in hand. “Hey, boy, I got you a mousie,” she called as she entered her bedroom.
He wasn’t in his spot on the bed. Or in her walk-in closet, where he liked to hide. She checked the bathroom, though he rarely went in there unless she was in the tub.
“Kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty,” she called while she wandered back toward the kitchen. He was asleep somewhere, she was sure, and mad because she wouldn’t let him go out. She put the mouse on the kitchen counter and finished unpacking her groceries and cleaning supplies.
She made a salad, put the potatoes in the oven to bake, put the steaks in a marinade, and then exited the house through the breezeway door to clean the grill. She scrubbed a wire brush over the cooking rack, removing any residue of grease and food, sprayed it down with the garden hose, then put it back into the grill.
When she turned off the water, she turned to face the statue. “I hope you’re awake, because I want to invite you to dinner. I’ll be grilling some meat, and I have other things cooking in the kitchen. I hope you’ll join me. We need to talk.”
She strode to the breezeway door and gave a startled squeak when something rubbed against her leg. Butterbean greeted her with a high-pitched meow. “How did you get outside?” she asked. Yeah, like he was going to answer her.
She opened the door, and he shot inside. She followed him to the kitchen, where he went to his automatic water dispenser for a drink, then meandered to his food dish.
After Genevieve fed him, she leaned against the counter and traced each step she’d taken before leaving. Butterbean was lying on her bed before she collected her purse from the pantry and left. She was certain he was inside. Then how had he gotten out? Unless he squeezed out when she left. But in that case, why hadn’t she spotted him?
Because she was distracted and thinking about talking to Juliet and Miranda. At least Butterbean was safe inside the house now. But she needed to be more careful. He was all she had left. Him and her career. She needed to take very good care of them both.
She poured a glass of wine and carried it into her studio to take a look at the clay figure she completed a few days before. It was drying nicely, would be ready to fire in another week, and the wooden base was prepared.
She moved on to the stone project. She wiggled into her work coveralls, put on her mask and did a bit of sanding on the arm she revealed earlier in the day. The tiny veins rising from the skin looked as though they might pulse with blood. She was very pleased with them.
She tried to lose herself in her work until, nearly an hour later, she stopped and stood back from the piece. It was going to be very emotional, and very powerful. The figure was breaking free of the stone. Much as Finn hoped to break free of his curse. Was it painful for him when he transitioned from stone to flesh?
After cleaning up the studio and herself, she checked the potatoes in the oven. Finding them done, she glanced out onto the patio. In the gathering dark, Finn sat on the concrete seat, his wings wrapped around him like a bat. She opened the door. “Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”
“Nay, mistress. I am well.”
She turned on the patio light and descended the three steps. He remained motionless until she came close. His yellow eyes gave her a shiver as he tracked her movements.
“It has been some time since I have eaten a cooked meal. Thank ye for yer invitation.”
“You must be as hungry as I am. I’ll get the steaks.” She turned on the grill to heat and went back inside. When she returned with the meat, she set the plate on the flat platform on the side of the grill. “It needs to heat up a little more. Would you like a drink?”
“Aye. Being hardened into stone all day makes for a fierce thirst.”
She retrieved a pitcher of water from the small refrigerator and a glass from the cabinet next to it, pouring him a drink and handing it to him. “You are welcome to help yourself to what’s in this refrigerator any time. I try to keep it stocked with bottled tea and other drinks.”
He inclined his head again. “I am most grateful.”
When she raised the top of the grill, Finn came to stand beside her and study it. Her heart beat like something wild at his close proximity, and her legs turned to jelly. But it wasn’t entirely fear that caused the reaction. It was excitement, too.
“How does the fire start?”
She swallowed. “There is gas in this bottle here. I turn it on with this knob. Then I push this button here, and it causes a spark. The spark ignites the gas, and starts the fire.”
“Gas?”
“There’s a liquid inside the bottle that changes to a vapor-like fog at a certain temperature. It’s invisible, but you can hear it escaping the bottle when I turn it on. It hisses.”
He nodded.
Using tongs, she lifted the meat out of the marinade, put it on the grill, and closed the lid. “It will be done in just a few minutes. The grill is extremely hot, so you don’t want to touch it. I’ll get the plates and other things.”
She rushed inside with the empty dish, took the potatoes out of the oven, and put in the bread, then went outside with everything to set the table and flipped the steaks.
Fifteen minutes later, when they sat at the table to eat, she was struck by how surreal it was to share a meal with him.
He was interested in everything, the dressing on the salad, the sour cream and butter on the potatoes. She went in and got some shredded cheese to add to the toppings. His hands looked so big with the fork and knife in them. She demonstrated how to cut the meat, and he sawed away at the rib eye. He watched her eat first before taking up a piece of meat on his fork.
When he growled, she started and nearly dropped her fork until she realized it was a groan. He chewed slowly, savoring it.
She took a quick sip of wine to cover her reaction. “What kind of food did you have before?”
“Before the beast, porridge. Stews. Roasted meats, turnips. Ale. I have sorely missed ale. Since becoming the beast, I have hunted for small game and fish, and sometimes dug through rubbish for food. This is a potato?” He held the bite aloft on his fork.
His quick change of topic threw her a moment.
“Yes.”
He put the bite in his mouth and closed his eyes while he enjoyed it. “One of the cooks at the castle put food out for the animals. I believe she cooked these, but not in this way. This way is much better.”
One minute his monstrous exterior fascinated her, the next frightened her. Listening to him talk, she found herself moved by sympathy for how he’d been forced to live. But it was more important for her to learn who turned him into the monster, and why, before she went to Miranda and Juliet.
They lapsed into silence while they ate. When she could only eat half her steak, she offered the other half to him. He gladly took it.
When the last bite was consumed, she offered him a little more wine, then set the bottle down between them. How wise was it to give a cursed human/monster wine? Probably not very, but he seemed so grateful for the meal…
“I need to know who turned you into the statue, Finn.”
“’Twas a Druid priest, name of Cinead MacLeod. He advised our laird Ian Ciar about many things going on within the clan. But Ian was away from the castle, and Cinead was angry with me.” He looked away into the forest, his features rigid with emotion. “I took his daughter to me, and she was bairned.” He swept his hand from his head to his feet with a wry smile. “This was part of my punishment.”
“What do you mean part of your punishment?”
“Isabelle died in childbirth.”
Despite his gravelly voice, she heard the regret.
“There were those who said she paid with her life for sinning with me. But she was an innocent lass. She was simply hungry for love and a wee bit of attention.” He paused. “’Twas my sin that caused her death.”
“And you loved her?”
He shook his head. “I wish I had. I regret that I did not. They buried her in the garden in front of me so I would see where she lay every eve when I awoke. They buried m’ son beside her when he died, a score and four years old.” He fell silent for a long moment. “I never knew him. Never spoke w’ him.” His throat worked as he swallowed.
He turned to focus on her. “I watched m’ clansmen die away until I was left there alone.”
Genevieve beat back the twinges of pity. “How did you learn to speak English?”
“I wasna an ignorant man before I became the beast. I knew how to read and write. And I had been to London and France. Later, back before the Great War, there was one young lad who discovered my secret. He was drawn to the monster even though he was afraid of me. He spent time conversing with me and sharing books. When he was twenty, he wed, and he feared his wife would be afraid of me, so he met with me in the woods or left books on m’ slab. I have witnessed wars, and read of them. We watched as the planes flew overhead carrying their bombs to London. I stopped some of them from reaching their destination, but ’twas never enough.”
“How did you take them down, Finn?”
“I tore the tails off with my hands.”
Dear God, he’d taken down planes. “There have been other wars since then.”
“Aye. I have read of them as well. But they havena’ been so close to home. Now few people have a newspaper delivered to their door in the early morning, so it has been some time since I was able to borrow one and read it, though I oft find magazines in the rubbish and read them.”
It seemed unbelievable that he’d witnessed hundreds of years of history. “We read the paper on the computer now.”
“I ken a bit about computers, but I have only seen pictures of them.”
“I’ll bring mine out and show it to you another time.” It seemed time was rushing by. “What was the name of the boy who shared the books with you?”
“James MacFadden. He lived a wee distance from the castle. He died in a lorry accident. It overturned with him inside.” She looked away at the grief in his expression. How many people had he lost over the years? Outlived.
“Have there been many who knew about you?”
“Nay. In the beginning, they hunted me with lance and arrow because I killed their animals and frightened their children. I was an abomination, because the turn had stolen my humanity from me. When I came back to myself…I hid away. I didna wish harm on anyone but Cinead, and he was already dead.”
“What happened to him?”
“The clan burned him at the stake for being a witch. I told him before the turn that what he wished upon me would return to him, and it did. But by killing him, they left me stranded as a monster. There were no others who could help me.
“Ian Ciar was my cousin, and he protected me for as long as he lived. Then his son banished me to the edges of their property and told me he didna want me anywhere near the castle. Over the years, my statue was moved about the grounds, until now. ’Twas perhaps my trespassing that caused the laird to wish me gone. An unguarded letterbox or an unlocked door was too much temptation for me when there were books within reach. The current laird wanted no part of me.”
So that was why the price was so amazingly low. They’d wanted to be rid of him as quickly as possible. And what would she do if she awakened to find Finn prowling the house, looking for a book?
Somehow she didn’t think he’d trespass without being invited.
“The magic used to turn you into this creature is very dark, Finn. And very dangerous. I need to do some research about you and it before I ask Juliet and Miranda what can be done.”
He studied her face for a long moment. “Aye. I understand.” His throat worked as he swallowed.
She stood to clear the table and stacked the dishes. When he started to rise, she waved him back down. “I can do this.” She really had to find him some clothes.
She gathered the dishes, but paused just before going into the house. “I might be able to find you clothing to wear if you’d like. At least some pants.”
He flashed a quick, toothy grin. “Aye. I would appreciate it.”
She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
She had to be careful. For all the courtesy he showed her, and all the sympathy she felt for him, he might have moments where the beast was more in control than the human. She put the dishes in the sink and went into her bedroom. Inside the walk-in closet she found the box of Andy’s clothes she’d packed and been unable to part with. How would he feel about her giving his sweatpants away to Finn?
If Andy were here, he’d probably be searching for something for Finn to put on himself. He wouldn’t like the idea of another guy parading around naked in front of his girlfriend. And she still felt like Andy’s girlfriend after almost two years, their connection had been so close. When she pulled a pair of gray sweats out of the box, tears stung her eyelids.
There were times being such a visual person made things more difficult. She could still see him dressed in the sweats, and the way they hung off his slim waist with equal parts threat and promise. His warm brown hair would be dark and damp from his shower, his chin still shadowed with his beard.
She forced the images out of her head and turned away from the box.
Finn hadn’t moved from where she left him. She extended the pants and he took them. “They may be a little snug. I’ll pick some more up in a larger size tomorrow. I don’t know what to do about a shirt. Obviously, your wings make it difficult, so I’ll have to come up with a creative solution. Is there anything else you may need?”
“If you will leave me soap and a towel somewhere out here, I would be grateful. Just because I look like a monster, doesna mean I want to smell like one.”
“You won’t be cold?”
“Nay. I dinna seem to have an issue with cold or hot.”
“Juliet said you are encased in magic. That may be the reason.”
“Aye.”
She gathered up the rest of the dishes and the empty wine bottle.
“I appreciate the meal and these, mistress.” He raised the sweatpants.
“You’re welcome.”
When she came back to get the rest of the dishes, Finn was gone. She scanned the sky, but though the horizon was purple against the black shadow of the nearby forest, she could see no sign of him.
Was he standing somewhere close by, watching her? What if he was? He had been nothing but courteous. But chills bumps ran rampant over her skin.
She gathered the dishes, went into the house, and locked the door behind her.