He rolled off her. “You can fuck off now,” he told her. “There are plenty of spare rooms about you can sleep in. Your carriage is coming back for you at seven o’clock sharp. Don’t let me see you leaving or I’ll sodomise you.”
Getting off the bed, the girl walked over to her discarded clothes on the floor and began to rummage through them. She found a large pocket of the type ladies wore over their petticoats and retrieved something from it. The Prince sat up on the bed, watching with interest.
Naked, red-eyed and smudged with the remains of her make-up, The Girl held up a small, crude doll made from straw and sackcloth. As The Prince watched, she reached between her legs and scooped out a glob of blood and sperm, smearing it on the poppet’s chest.
“Hear me Mother Frīg,” she intoned. “By my enemy’s seed this body is his body, and by my blood I bind it to my power and mark the price I pay. By my spittle I curse him. This is my will.” She spat on the doll, three fluids running together.
“Hear me Mother Frīg,” she called out. “The Beast of Troller’s Gill dwells in my enemy’s heart. I stand upon the white bridge and my toll will be paid in full. Draw from his depths the black dog of his soul, and let it take his flesh. This is my will.”
“Hear me Mother Frīg!” she shouted, lifting the doll above her head like a torch. “Let him wear his beauty within and his ugliness without. Let his heart know regret, and imprison it within his foulness! Scourge him with shame and wrack him with self-loathing.” She smiled cruelly. “Make him broken, and dirty, and unable to look in a mirror without knowing it. This is my will.” Then she began to tear the stuffing from the doll. It was roughly stitched, and in a few violent movements she had ripped it to pieces.
For a moment, there was stillness. Then The Prince began to laugh. It began as a mild chuckle, but it was loud and forced before it ended. “I say,” he chortled, clapping his hands in appreciation, “I didn’t expect a show to end the night’s entertainment. I’m not even going to punish you. That was marvellous. I’m particularly amused that your goddess is apparently called ‘Mother Frig’! That’s very funny, very funny indeed. Really though, you should leave now while—”
Whatever he had been about to say, it was cut off; he was clutching at his throat and making a choking noise. He began to twitch. The Girl, arms fallen by her sides, feet apart, bloody mess smeared around the insides of her thighs, watched. the prince began to convulse on the bed, his body jerking into painful angles. An inhuman sound began to pour from his mouth, first faintly as if from far away, but louder and louder until the room was filled with a roar like angels mourning the death of God. The Girl stood fixed to the spot. The light in the room had a weird brightness that seemed to make her look paler than before. Her eyes were open slightly wider than normal. the prince’s unearthly scream was no longer coming from his mouth. It was all around them. He was now bellowing in pain as he thrashed on the bed, a human sound, but one with traces of an animal howl. Parts of his body were swelling like tumours, and think black bristles were pushing out of his skin in uneven patches. Rolling onto his side, he spat out mouthfuls of blood and teeth.
The Girl looked on, her face now gaunt, her skin pallid and her eyes sunken. Her breasts had shrivelled slightly and underneath them her ribs were beginning to show. The mass of writhing muscle and fur that had once been the prince was beginning to settle into a new shape. It was hulking and bestial. As it cried out its yawning mouth revealed the points of sharp fangs beginning to emerge from the crimson mess of its gums. As its seizures subsided, it pulled its knees up to its chest and hugged them. For a few more minutes, it whined quietly as the flesh under its fur continued to shift and expand.
When it finally lay still, The Girl spoke. Her voice was that of a crone, worn down by long years: “My price is paid. By my will, and by Mother Frīg’s, it is done. Only by true love’s kiss will you be redeemed.” Then she fell, and the sound of her hitting the floor was as quiet as a book being closed.
After a while, the thing on the bed stood up. Where The Girl had stood, an emaciated body lay. It was little more than ivory skin stretched over a skeleton. In a mirror across the room, a huge black-furred monster with green slit eyes and a head shaped not quite like a dog’s was reflected. The Beast threw his head back and howled.
***
When The Beast had finished his story, Rose looked both haunted and thoughtful. “That’s difficult to take in,” she said. “Thank you for telling me.”
“So now you understand why you have to leave.”
“I’m… not sure. I think it’s best if I don’t talk to you for the rest of today. I need time to think.”
The Beast looked at her quizzically. “I don’t know what there is to think about, but you can take all the time you need to. My only motive now is to aid your safe departure. I’m not trying to drive you away before you’re ready. I’ll spend today out of your way. They’ll be dinner on the table at seven.”
Rose nodded her head, and they both got up and moved to leave at the same time. The last she saw of him that day was him tripping over his feet to give her space.
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