Hemlock Veils

She sounded nervous, even unsure, when she said, “If…if you don’t feel anything for me, then I accept that, and I’ll walk out and never bother you again. But if you do, I—”

“No,” he shook his head. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t deserve it!” Bracing himself, he shot to his feet again, and he couldn’t be formal anymore, didn’t want to. “Dammit, Elizabeth! I don’t deserve your love. No man is worthy of it, as far as I’m concerned, so how could I ever be?”

With tight lips, she fought the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Stop speaking of me as though I’m perfect. You, of all people, know I’m not. You’ve seen my dark side!”

“Dark side?” He nearly laughed. “You mean your human side?”

“I’m no more human than you. You know what I’ve done, what I did before I came—”

“We’ve already been through that. You did the best with what you were given.”

“And so did you,” she said without missing a beat. “Henry, you still accepted me after I almost lost it on Brian, and even after I told you how I got here. It’s time for you to let me accept you.”

He shook his head and glanced at Arne, who appeared to be moved and livid at the same time. “Did Arne tell you the kind of man I was, Elizabeth?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“I think one of his most classic descriptions is ‘A good man who’d just lost his way.’”

“It’s the truth, is it not?” Arne said, speaking for the first time in a long while and meeting Henry’s eyes just as fiercely. “And it was in one thing only you lost your way.”

“That one thing is what I was judged on. The rest doesn’t matter.”

Arne looked to be on the verge of laughter. “Doesn’t matter? Since when does helping the needy—and saving thousands of jobs your father almost cut before you saved the company, mind you—not matter?” He looked to Elizabeth before Henry could respond. “For your information, dear Elizabeth, Henry had a bigger heart than anyone I’d ever known, and still does. It was why I started working for him in the first place, after his father passed away.”

Henry groaned through his teeth, ignoring him. Instead, he closed in on Elizabeth. She kept the blanket over her while folding her arms, staring up at him in the defiant way that was her own. “The women, did he mention them—the ones whose names I don’t even remember?”

“No,” she said again.

He looked her squarely in the eyes, telling himself not to waver as he said: “I slept with too many to count. A new one nearly every night—some who even felt I took it too far. I had no rules, nor did I give thought to the occasional wedding rings some women tried to hide. I hardly batted an eye as I used them and sent them away. Raw, meaningless passion.” She faltered only slightly, but the way she swallowed and blinked said it had been hard for her to hear—just like he’d intended it to be. “You might want to be with me despite the fact that I’m a monster, but can you honestly say you still want me after that? After you know just one of the many reasons I am one?”

“You’ve hidden your whole life,” she said instead of answering. “And you’ve done a damn good job at fooling everyone. Even before your curse. But that person you’re portraying—before and now—isn’t you. You need to forgive yourself, let it go.”

“You don’t know.”

“I know enough. I know you’ve made mistakes. But you do have a heart, like Arne said. I haven’t been fooled, Henry. I’ve seen it, from the very first night I was here and during the fleeting moments you let me in. And it’s infuriating that you can’t see it—that you’re not willing to!”

He sighed, so ready to give in. Closing his eyes, he again brought his fingers to his eyes. “I,” he started tiredly, softly. “Thank you for saving me, Elizabeth. I mean that. But…you shouldn’t have.”

“Henry…” she breathed.

He was about to speak again, but something caught his eye. It wasn’t even the t-shirt she wore, which he just noticed for the first time was one of his own. It was the blanket she kept over herself. She was hiding something. Avoiding questions all together, he pulled it off of her, too quickly for her to take hold of it, and she clutched the air. Her entire forearm was bandaged, from elbow to wrist, the white cloth failing to hide three bloody streaks. Rage boiled inside him, cooking his blood, his heart. As he stared, chest heaving, he said, “I…did this?” He felt sick, and his knees almost buckled.

“It was an accident,” she said cautiously. “When the poison—”

“You tried to hide this from me?”

“Yes, for the same reason I didn’t want to tell you I knew. I was afraid you’d blame yourself. I didn’t want to lose you.”

He brought a hand to his head. Everything spun, even her and the red on her arm.

“Henry, look at me.” He did, or tried to, but his eyes were out of focus. “This wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”

“An accident?” He lost it, drowned in self-loathing. “These accidents are all I’ve been trying to protect you from, Elizabeth! And Aglaé…” He exhaled, trying to steady the choppy sea in his head.

“I can handle it, Henry.”

“I can’t…What if I can’t save you from her?” His voice was desperate, and he realized he was grasping her by the shoulder. “What if I can’t save you from me?”

Her brows pulled together, and he could tell she didn’t know what to say. His eyes found her arm and he swallowed at the way it sickened him, at how it was from his hand. “You should have stayed away, Elizabeth. From the very begi

“You’re the one who came! I tried to honor our deal, but there you were, waiting outside every night. And it wasn’t until I realized it was actually you that I decided to meet you. You came to me.”

“It was you who wouldn’t leave well enough alone!”

She stared, and he wanted to drown in her eyes, never failing to remind him of his forest. “How could I forget you existed? How could I pretend you weren’t real and that your soul didn’t speak to mine?”

Sighing, he placed his free hand on his hip. “Get out.” He said the words before he could think them through.

She recoiled in surprise, perhaps in pain.

“I won’t do this anymore. I will not put your life in danger. I can’t, Elizabeth.” He glanced at her arm one last time before gritting his teeth and turning away.

“Henry…” It was Arne.

“Out!” he shouted, not bothering to turn, and his eyes burned along with his heaving, tight chest. Maybe now she would see him for what he was. Maybe now was the time she would wake to reality.

It took a moment for the bustling behind him to begin, and with a weak voice, she gave Arne instructions for caring for his wound and fever. On the last word, her voice tanked, giving in to emotion. Then, with soft footsteps and an even softer closing of the front door, she was gone. He sank to the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“She saved your life, you hotheaded ass!” Arne shouted.

The image of Arne swam in his vision, his friend veiled by tears. Henry wiped them angrily. “I can’t believe you let her stay.”

“She wouldn’t leave, no matter how hard I tried. And frankly I’m glad she didn’t, because I wouldn’t have known what to do. I’ll say it again, because I don’t think you understand: you would be dead right now if it wasn’t for her. And you really think I could send her away, knowing she could save you, just to protect your secret? Sorry, my friend, but protecting you is more important than protecting your secret, especially from someone who already knows it.”

Again lowering his face into his hands, Henry willed the sickness to leave his body.

“You’re a damn fool. You’re doing everything possible to lose the only woman who’s ever really loved you for who you are—loved you despite the fact that you’re a damn, blind fool!”