Monster

MONSTER

Six Months Later

The first signs of spring were fighting the wintry landscape, frost clinging to the stone path as I made my way through the small village. Shops were opening, but none of them wanted me to grace them with my presence.

They were too frightened.

There was an old paper stand at the very edge of the village. I made my way to it, noting the way the old man that sat in the rocking chair out front glared at me. He didn't want anything to do with me, but I didn't care. He was the least of my concerns.

I rifled through all the newspapers, looking for some of the older ones. I was always curious about what they wrote. Most of them were newer, although occasionally I could find scraps from last year.

“Oh, what do we have here?” I whispered.

Nora was going to love this.

I plucked it out and tossed the man sitting there a coin, but he let it drop to the ground, refusing to touch it. He continued to glare as I started to whistle a melody.

All of the villagers were suspicious of me and my wife. I found their glares and whispers amusing.

I tucked the paper under my arm with a smile and continued my walk outside of the village. It took about an hour, but during that time, I thought about how we would need to take a trip to London soon. There was a shop that was interested in the herbs I was able to create now. Once I realised that I was the very monster I’d hunted in the first place, I was able to complete my project. I created a poison that could harm monsters, although I ensured they did not harm me.

I’d named it Faen .

Alec Briar was dead. So was Nora Woulfe. At least, that was what the entire world believed and it was for the best. The twisted monstrous psychologist and the even more monstrous botanist.

We certainly made a pair.

Our cottage sat in the middle of the forest. The villagers whispered about us. They crossed their chests when they saw us and told their children that cursed monsters lived in the woods. They weren’t wrong, and it didn't help that my garden was full of all sorts of deadly things.

The door opened and Nora stepped out, crossing her arms as I pushed our gate open. “Did you get lost on your walk?”

I grinned as I came toe to toe with her. I drew her into a kiss, pulling her against me.

“How did you sleep, belladonna?” I whispered.

“Good, but I missed you upon waking,” she said, kissing me again.

I chuckled and pulled out the newspaper, handing it to her. She frowned as she took it, read the first line, then burst out laughing.

“Oh gods, this is perfect.”

MONSTROUS PSYCHOLOGIST CULPRIT IN

PRESTIGIOUS UNIVERSITY MURDERS

St. Thorn University has found that former professor and psychologist, Nora Woulfe, is responsible for a string of brutal murders that took place between September and October. She acted alone and without an accomplice.

Dr. Woulfe confessed to killing the following seven men:

Eric Long

William Noland

Frank Hankins

John Andrews II

John Andrews III

Louis Brown

Alec Briar

Towards the end of the university’s investigation, Nora Woulfe disappeared. Please notify authorities if she is seen.

She is presumed to be dead.

“I think the worst part about this is they think you acted alone,” I said. “As if I wasn’t there every part of the way covering up your dirty little sins.”

“No, the worst part about this is that they’re pretending like they actually carried out an investigation.”

We both grinned at each other and then a scream echoed from the basement below our cottage. I needed to work on sound proofing more.

I raised a brow. “Is that your specimen wailing from the basement?” I asked.

“Yes. He’s been a little loud lately. But the experiment is going well.”

“I can drug him if you’d like,” I offered.

“That would be wonderful. You’re so thoughtful, my love.”

“I am with you...” I leaned in and kissed her again, sliding my hand down her waist. “I love you, belladonna.”

“I love you too.” She ran her hands up my chest, gripping the lapels of my shirt. “I missed your vines this morning. Care to make it up to me? The specimen can wait...”

I was already starting to change, my body growing before her. My vines wrapped around her and shoved her against our front door. I leaned in with a low, monstrous growl.

The scent of her arousal grew stronger. I hiked her skirt up and she moaned, bucking against me. “Let me make it up to you, belladonna.”

We twisted together like two vines, our darkness mirroring each other in a deadly dance that had brought us to an end we both deserved.

The moment I fell in love with her was the moment I’d damned us both.

I was her toxic obsession. She was my sadistic monster.

Or was it the other way around?