Hemlock Veils

He roared, making her retreat, and lunged for her, his fangs tearing into her neck. It wasn’t until he howled that Elizabeth realized Diableron’s tail had penetrated his side. While a black, mist-like substance poured from her neck and lifted into the air, she retracted her tail from deep in the beast’s flesh.

“Beast!” Elizabeth called, ru

While Diableron writhed on the ground, he threw a warning at Elizabeth. Stay away!

Then, in a less commanding, muddled tone, she heard, Elizabeth? and he fell to the ground.

Her knees skidded through the mud and came to a stop before him. She lifted her head at another screech, but Diableron fled, slipping between the trees as quickly as the beast moved. Her last screech, which came from much farther away, was unmistakably a cry of pain.

The beast began to stand.

“Stay,” Elizabeth said, trying to push him down. She moved her hands over his fur until she reached the blood on his left side, warm and wet and spilling. She ripped off her jacket, rolled it up, and pressed it hard into the wound. He howled again, writhing, and she tried shushing him. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “You’re going to be all right.” Her face was wet, not from the tears she’d shed for Willem, but from new ones. She wiped them on her upper arm, still putting pressure on his wound.

Elizabeth, leave, he said, and she shook her head before the words finished in her mind.

“I’m not leaving you.” She looked all around, trying not to panic. He didn’t have long before the poison would overtake him, and if she didn’t do something about his wound soon, she would lose him.

“I need you to walk,” she said after a sniffle, trying to make her voice strong. “Can you do that, Beast?”

Leave me. His eyes drifted. Go home. He said it over and over again. You’re not…safe.

She shook him, and his large, brown-and-gold eyes met hers, though they appeared out of focus. “You listen to me,” she said through her teeth. “She’s gone now, I’m fine. I’m not leaving you, and I can’t carry you. So you’ll either walk with me, or I’ll stay right here with you all night. What’s it going to be?”

As though his deep groan commanded it, he slowly rose to all fours. His legs shook and his head swayed. She lifted her long-sleeved thermal shirt over her head and yanked her arms out of the sleeves, leaving her in her white camisole. She pushed her back upward against his side, to both steady him and supply pressure on the wound, and as quickly as she could, she tied her shirt sleeve to her jacket sleeve. Behind her he wavered, and she pushed her back more forcefully into his side, digging her boots into the soil.

At her release of her pressure, blood began to pour from his side again, and as quickly as she could, she threw one end of the makeshift bandage over his back and retrieved it from underneath, pulling it tight around the thi

“Let’s go,” she rushed. She shoved her shoulder into the wound and steadied him with her hands, trying to be the best support she could be. But she was nearly helpless with a creature so large; if he fell on her, she would be crushed. His legs wobbled and his steps seemed difficult, and words floated in and out of her mind: her name amidst random, incoherent thoughts. “I need you to focus,” she said, trying to guide him in the right direction. But he wouldn’t allow her to guide him to her home. Instead they veered toward the mansion.

The stone wall wasn’t far ahead, but his front legs nearly gave out and he stumbled. She steadied him, urgency giving her limbs strength. “Stay with me, we’re almost there.”

After a few more feet he stumbled again, and she moved just in time for him to fall face-first to the ground. “Beast, get up!” she shouted, shaking him.

Leave me…Elizabeth. He laid his head on the ground, his eyes closing and opening with a heavy drowsiness she could almost feel herself.

“No!” She shook him again, even pulled on his ears. “Please.” She tried not to notice his blood, everywhere. “You’ll be all right if you go with me…”

Don’t cry, he said. With his eyes safely behind closed lids, hers desperately searched the area. There had to be something she could do. She couldn’t leave him out here.

Then she knew. His eyes remained closed when she spoke, and if any of him remained inside, she hoped he could hear. “I’ll be right back,” she said, close to his ear. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m going to get help.”

He moaned, moving his head as though he objected, but she ran anyway, through the trees, until she slammed into the wrought iron fence around his mansion. After sprinting to the gate, she pushed the green button on the panel, panting. She buckled over, resting her hands on her knees as she waited, trying to steady her breathing, but she didn’t have time to wait. She pushed it again, and then again. Finally, a buzz sounded and Arne’s voice came over the intercom.

“Who is this?”

“Arne!” she said in relief, nearly attacking the box with excitement. “Arne, I need you!”

“Elizabeth?” The video screen came to life and a grayscale Arne with disheveled hair appeared. His tired eyes widened, and she didn’t want to know what bloody image his screen displayed. He straightened. “What happened, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, but Henry isn’t. I need your help.” Her voice cut off as her chest closed in on her again, a sob rising to her throat. She tried to breathe.

“Elizabeth.”

She straightened and wiped her face with the back of her hands. “He’s going to die.”

“Elizabeth, Henry is…” He appeared conflicted.

“Dammit, Arne, I know! I’ve known for a while, so you don’t need to cover for him. What you need to do is get out here and help me get him home!”

“I’ll be right there,” and the screen went black.

***

Elizabeth allowed Arne a moment, fighting her impatience. It was lonely under the night sky, even with the chirps of insects, and her chest shuddered with urgency. Within the trees, a yellow square of light reminded her she never turned off her bedroom light. How many people had heard the brawl, and how hadn’t Arne?

Just when panic began flooding in, the gate opened and Arne jogged from the mansion, wearing a robe over his pajamas and house shoes on his feet. As soon as he met her, she ran into the forest, hoping he could keep up. She shoved branches aside as she ran and when she reached Henry, nearly skidding to a stop at his side, from behind her Arne breathed, “Dear God.”

He knelt beside her. “What happened?” he asked in a rush, shining a small flashlight over the makeshift bandage. Nearly the entire ensemble had been dyed a rich, dark red.

“Stabbed by a Diableron.” His eyes were full of questions when they shot to hers—not questions about what Diablerons were, but questions about how she knew. “There’s no time to explain, but the poison is taking over and we need to figure out how to get him home so I can fix him before he bleeds out.”

Arne grasped the beast’s fur in his fist and yanked, something painful enough to wake him if any consciousness remained inside, and the beast opened his eyes, baring his wild and ferocious fangs. “It’s all right,” Arne said. “It’s me.” After a short second, he nodded. “Yes, it’s Arne.” Elizabeth stayed at Henry’s bottom half, putting more pressure on the wound, and tepid blood oozed from her jacket as she pushed, like excess water squeezed from a sponge. The slimy, slick texture left an unsettling flutter in her stomach, but a deep breath steadied her. Arne threw her a quick glance then added, “Yes, yes, Elizabeth is fine. I need you to come home with me so we can get you mended, all right?”