In The Night

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

XV

With the sun set into the land, a dark shadow cast over the north English grounds. The full moon hung at his highest in the black abyss, supported by the delicate glow of the stars. The forests were quiet - so much so that they could be mistaken for a desolate countryside void of all life. For the creatures knew not to venture the earth at this satanic hour. Evil had awoken. And not a thing was safe from it's wrath.

Ainslie screeched as the weight of something tremendously large was thrown against the wooden door of the bedchambers. The door which Ainslie had locked at the first sounds of an unchained beast. A door which would not last very long at all under such a relentless assault of unrestrained power.

Ainslie's fear was heard instantly by Charlotte, the sobbing, sweating woman sobbed louder as the situation became apparent. Ainslie could hear the woman repeating her husband's name over and over again and she was not sure if she was warding him away or begging for him to be by her side. But it wasn't Hale who stood outside the room, Ainslie knew from just the howl who it was.

When the door finally caved and wood splintered in all directions Ainslie fell backwards towards the bed where Charlotte struggled. She cowered, her body quivering at the sight of the beast looming in the doorway, snarling and growling, its sharp fangs glaring at her.

It was the beast, The Beiste of Bolham, her beast. Allister.

"P-please," she begged, her words stuttered as tears drenched her soft, flushed skin. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes again and again as she slowly crawled away from him, dragging her body closer and closer towards the bed.

He didn't listen.

The Beiste stalked forward, its glowing, soulless eyes locked onto her with a horrific intensity. It was hunched on four legs, its paws resembling large hands cursed with talons so long and sharp they could only be the product of night terrors. Its body, covered in a thick layer of black, coarse fur, was so dark that under the dim candlelight of the room the Beiste looked akin to a deadly shadow inching closer and closer to its prey.

With every step the talons cracked against the creaking wooden floorboards, barely heard under the thunderous rumbling, similar to the growling of a rabid wolf, that vibrated through the entire Beiste's body.

"Allister," she cried in synchrony of another bout of agony shooting through Charlottes core. The birthing woman's body lifted and writhed, and a piecing cry split from her lips. The Beiste didn't react to the name but shot forward to batter into Ainslie's small, delicate body and forced her into the corner of the room, far away from Charlotte.

"Ainslie!" Charlotte wailed, staring at the child with wide eyes as she pushed back against the wall behind the bed in an attempt to create distance between her and the Beiste. But the Beiste didn't care for Charlotte. Its attention remained completely on Ainslie as it stood balanced on its two hind legs and blocked Charlotte from view.

"Allister, please," Ainslie sobbed, her hands quivering unsteadily as she wiped again and again at the endless flow of tears. She sniffed, a whimper passing through her chapped lips as the creature growled deeply.

It sat, it's form hunched, towering over her trembling figure, it's beady eyes locked onto her intently.

"Charlotte," Ainslie whimpered, her voice loosing the loud, panicked edge. She spoke meekly, staring wide-eyed at the Beaste, praying not to anger it with her voice. "Charlotte, a-are you ok-ay?"

Charlotte groaned a pitiful sound, caught between a sob and a cry of anger as she grunted through the pain of childbirth. Ainslie's tears had never stopped and now they continued to flow with abundance as she realised that there was no way to reach her friend with the Beiste separating the two. Dante and the men were locked downstairs. Charlotte was alone in one of the most dangerous times of a woman's life. Ainslie could not be sure if Charlotte would even make it the night.