The Beast Read Online Free PDF

precaution these doors were built to keep the dead in. Those who were bitten, but didn’t die, were quarantined in the jail. Time revealed that there was no truth behind the stories, but the doors were never removed.”
    “Fascinating.” The woman’s eyes danced with excitement. “How does one get in?”
    “Hunters have a key,” The clergyman said with a tone of finality and gently took the woman’s arm, guiding her to the stairs. “Come, Dr. Caskin, I’m sure the Father is free by now.”
    The ladies curtsied to one another in passing, then Belle watched the doctor and friar disappear up the stairs. A woman doctor? Was it possible that Doc had found a replacement? Walking over to the great metal doors, Belle hoped that he had not.
    From her side, Belle untied her rosary. The ebony beads were held together by gold links. Its matching gilded cross was large enough to span her palm and carved with a complicated pattern. Only a few knew it, but the key was this very rosary. It was one of the three gifts every Hunter received upon initiation. At death, the key was given to the Hunter’s family in a funeral ceremony so that they may visit the one they lost.
    The cross slid easily into the lock. She twisted it. The mechanism clanked loudly, setting off the many gears. Movement started near her key. Small and large cogs clicked and turned, their teeth snapping into place, causing others to do the same. Like a technological ripple, it spread, triggering pieces all over the doors. Bars slid from the center seam. Metal scraped on metal. Each bar halted with a resonating boom, one by one, into the recesses of the doors.
    Click. Click. Snap.
The clockwork went silent. Belle removed her key and the doors cranked open. She stepped inside. The doors glided shut behind her.
    The Hall of the Hunters consisted of white marble walls, brass nameplates, and floor-to-ceiling crypts. Like the drawers in a dresser, they stacked on top of one another—each small compartment containing a bed for the eternally resting.
    Belle retied the rosary to her hip, drawing it through added loops so that it dangled against her skirts. She walked along the graves. Rolling the rose in her fingers, she gazed at the many scarlet folds. They looked like satin. Her feet moved, but she didn’t need to see where they took her. The path was all too familiar. Belle stopped knowingly before the wall and finally peered up at the precious tomb.
    The nameplate read,
Liliane Verdandi LeClair–Beloved wife and mother–Died on the hunt.
She set the rose into the holder and traced her gloved fingers over the engraved words. With her hand upon Liliane’s name, she silently prayed. Belle lingered for a while after that. She didn’t cry. The time for that had come and gone long ago. Belle simply remained there, picturing her mother, remembering the sound of her voice.
    When she left, the cogs to the Hall of Hunters were still locking as she made her way back up to the main floor. Instead of exiting the cathedral, as she normally would, Belle made a detour to the priest’s office. The door was open and the voices from within wafted out.
    “We send them refusals. We then ignore their continued requests. Yet they still send someone all this way.” Belle did not need to see the voice’s owner to know why her stomach cringed at its sound. “And a woman scientist no less!”
    A scientist! So the woman wasn’t a medical doctor at all. Just like the mercenaries, scientists have had an immense interest in Vakre Fjell for years. Their pursuit wasn’t for wealth of gold, but for that of knowledge. Not believing the theological explanation given by the church, they wanted to study the hellhounds. Unfortunately for them, they would have to go through the Pope to do that and the church wasn’t budging.
    “I’m not sure we should write them off entirely.” Belle entered the office, seamlessly inserting herself into the conversation. “Studying a live hellhound might help