Charming to a trot. The group seamlessly matched her pace. They’d been riding for awhile; they had to be getting close.
Belle tapped her ear chip. “Henri? Franck? Adam? Anyone there?”
She pressed it again and waited, but there was no response. Belle looked back at Gastone. He met her gaze and she could see he expected the worst.
His eyes pulled from hers, drawn up the trail. “There’s something up there.”
Belle turned around. He was right, there was something ahead. It was big and obscuring the path. As they came closer, she started to see the bloody snow—the figures of corpses. She grabbed her revolver and held it up, signaling her men to ready themselves.
The large object revealed itself to be Henri’s invention. They rode past a dozen or more bodies. Many Belle didn’t recognize, but more than a few she did. Jean dismounted to check them but shook his head when she inquired if they were alive.
“My God.” Belle gawked at the surroundings. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, feeling like it was about to fall out. Never before had she seen so many dead hellhounds in one place. “How many are there?”
Andre rode up. “Counted three dozen so far.”
Belle heard growling and followed the sound around the cart. Her gun was ready, waiting for the creature to leap. Just beyond the trees the hellhound stood over the remains of a Hunter named Adam.
It snarled and lashed out as Gastone and Jack came over. It reached down and grabbed Adam’s body, dragging him a few feet away. Was it guarding its food? Revulsion rolled through her stomach. Gastone raised his gun to end it.
“Belle!” Andre leaned over someone just down the path.
There was blood all around the area, along with more corpses. A shot rang out as Gastone put down Adam’s killer. Belle dismounted and ran, fearing what she would see. Holding her breath, Belle pulled Andre back. But it wasn’t Henri.
Franck lay there. His shirt was shredded, as was his body. His eyes saw through them. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“Friar Clemens, we need the doc now,” Andre said into his chip and his voice echoed into her own.
It was too late though. Franck was already on his way toward the light. She’d seen it before. When her mother died, she’d looked right through her—right into the light.
Belle walked away, leaving Andre to him. Her chest ached. She pressed her palm into it, trying to ease the strain. The other Hunters were checking every body, attempting to account for the rest of Henri’s hunting party. There were so many bodies. He could be anywhere. Belle palmed her chest again and rested against the cart.
She looked over at it, wondering what had happened to Magnificent. An idea struck her. Belle swiveled around, counting the dead horses. Six. There was one missing. One had gotten away.
Belle walked to the end of the cart, lifting up the harness straps. Hope flared in her chest. They’d been cut—not torn. There was a chance, even a small one, that Henri had cut them and attempted to escape with his life. Surely he would have tried to save his men, but failing that—when there was no doubt they’d been lost—he would have tried to save himself.
Walking away from the group, she searched the disturbed snow, looking for a set of tracks to separate from the others. Escaping toward LeClair House would have been the smartest plan, but Henri may not have had a choice. He may have been forced farther into Vakre Fjell.
Something glinted in the snow, causing her to stop. Belle crouched down and carefully brushed the white fluff away. A timepiece stared back at her. At its center were the words,
Liberty Watch Co
. Hand trembling, she grasped the watch and turned it over. The back was glass. The clockwork inside no longer ticked.
My legs are buried deep in the snow, but I’m not bothered. I can feel the crisp air on my cheeks and cold snow against my skin, but it can’t hurt me. Nothing can. Within this earthly
Belle tapped her ear chip. “Henri? Franck? Adam? Anyone there?”
She pressed it again and waited, but there was no response. Belle looked back at Gastone. He met her gaze and she could see he expected the worst.
His eyes pulled from hers, drawn up the trail. “There’s something up there.”
Belle turned around. He was right, there was something ahead. It was big and obscuring the path. As they came closer, she started to see the bloody snow—the figures of corpses. She grabbed her revolver and held it up, signaling her men to ready themselves.
The large object revealed itself to be Henri’s invention. They rode past a dozen or more bodies. Many Belle didn’t recognize, but more than a few she did. Jean dismounted to check them but shook his head when she inquired if they were alive.
“My God.” Belle gawked at the surroundings. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, feeling like it was about to fall out. Never before had she seen so many dead hellhounds in one place. “How many are there?”
Andre rode up. “Counted three dozen so far.”
Belle heard growling and followed the sound around the cart. Her gun was ready, waiting for the creature to leap. Just beyond the trees the hellhound stood over the remains of a Hunter named Adam.
It snarled and lashed out as Gastone and Jack came over. It reached down and grabbed Adam’s body, dragging him a few feet away. Was it guarding its food? Revulsion rolled through her stomach. Gastone raised his gun to end it.
“Belle!” Andre leaned over someone just down the path.
There was blood all around the area, along with more corpses. A shot rang out as Gastone put down Adam’s killer. Belle dismounted and ran, fearing what she would see. Holding her breath, Belle pulled Andre back. But it wasn’t Henri.
Franck lay there. His shirt was shredded, as was his body. His eyes saw through them. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“Friar Clemens, we need the doc now,” Andre said into his chip and his voice echoed into her own.
It was too late though. Franck was already on his way toward the light. She’d seen it before. When her mother died, she’d looked right through her—right into the light.
Belle walked away, leaving Andre to him. Her chest ached. She pressed her palm into it, trying to ease the strain. The other Hunters were checking every body, attempting to account for the rest of Henri’s hunting party. There were so many bodies. He could be anywhere. Belle palmed her chest again and rested against the cart.
She looked over at it, wondering what had happened to Magnificent. An idea struck her. Belle swiveled around, counting the dead horses. Six. There was one missing. One had gotten away.
Belle walked to the end of the cart, lifting up the harness straps. Hope flared in her chest. They’d been cut—not torn. There was a chance, even a small one, that Henri had cut them and attempted to escape with his life. Surely he would have tried to save his men, but failing that—when there was no doubt they’d been lost—he would have tried to save himself.
Walking away from the group, she searched the disturbed snow, looking for a set of tracks to separate from the others. Escaping toward LeClair House would have been the smartest plan, but Henri may not have had a choice. He may have been forced farther into Vakre Fjell.
Something glinted in the snow, causing her to stop. Belle crouched down and carefully brushed the white fluff away. A timepiece stared back at her. At its center were the words,
Liberty Watch Co
. Hand trembling, she grasped the watch and turned it over. The back was glass. The clockwork inside no longer ticked.
My legs are buried deep in the snow, but I’m not bothered. I can feel the crisp air on my cheeks and cold snow against my skin, but it can’t hurt me. Nothing can. Within this earthly
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