The Monster in the Manor: Chapter 32

Rupert

I’m in agony as I lope on all fours back to my room. I take the side passage and then go up the stairs, every step as laden and heavy as the one before it.

Peony doubts how I feel about her. She believes I would do this lightly, when it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

I sag against the door, then shake my head as I open it. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe she should think I’m a monster. Then she wouldn’t look back as she drove out of my life.

Hopefully not in that old ramshackle buggy of hers.

I collapse on the couch the moment I’m inside and wipe my eyes frantically. Fuck it all. Peony. My little flower. My perfect woman. The one I was put here to find and to love, and I’m not allowed to have her.

I lie unmoving for some time, simply ruing the day I ever came to New York City. I want to call Giancarlo right now and cuss him out until I’m blue in the face.

“Rupert!”

The sound of Peony’s heated shout makes me leap to my feet. Is she in trouble? Something must have happened.

I shoot like a blasted bullet to the door, and then her voice echoes again.

“Rupert!” When I peer out into the hall, Peony crests the stairs. But she is not hurt; she is angry. “Rupert, listen to me right this second.”

“Peony…?” I ask, but she shoves me, hard, so I’m forced to stumble backward. She pushes past me into my quarters and sits herself down on my settee, looking like I just pissed on her rug.

“We are going to find him,” she says, her tone unyielding. “It was your friend Giancarlo who put you in touch with that man, right? The one who cursed you?”

I nod uneasily.

“Call Giancarlo,” she snaps. “Right now.”

I stare at her, baffled, but she only narrows her eyes at me. 

“Call him!”

Reflexively I obey, grabbing my mobile and pulling him up on my contacts list. “Why…?”

“We are going to track down this asshole who changed you. I am going to have a word with him. We are going to resolve this once and for all.” 

Her expression is pure, flaming determination. She will brook no objection, and I have to do what she asks.

With a sigh, I press DIAL and hold the device up to my ear. I squint when Giancarlo answers the phone.

“Ah, my friend! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I clear my throat. “Giancarlo, I need a favor.”

Twenty minutes later, and after many attempts to reason with him—which turned into begging as Peony’s eyes dug like daggers into my flesh—Giancarlo has gone and rummaged around his office until he found the ancient, scrawled address and number belonging to the man who once cursed me. It’s hard for him to make out the handwriting, and he keeps interrupting himself to tell me what a bad idea this is.

“Don’t go kicking the hornet’s nest,” he says. “You don’t know what else he’s capable of.”

“Let me talk to Giancarlo,” Peony growls, snatching the mobile away. And then she goes on the attack, much like a guard dog, until I can hear my friend whimpering on the other end.

Eventually she gets her way, and though she wanted to hop in the 4x4 immediately to head to New York City, I reason with her that it would be best if we left in the morning and got an early start so we could make it there by the afternoon tomorrow.

She grumps about it, but eventually she gives in. Still, I can tell Peony is quite peeved with me for our earlier conversation. I clearly hurt her deeply. She sleeps at my side that night, in her pajamas because she refused to have sex with me, which I suppose is understandable. But she still wanted to be with me at the end of the day, and that’s all I can ask for after what I said, after what I tried to do.

Just the thought of her leaving me makes me clutch her tighter.

---

Peony

We’re up early the next day to get in Rupert’s car and head for the city, much to Kellen’s surprise. When I tell him we won’t be back until late tonight, he quirks a brow but seems to decide against asking questions when he registers the determined look on my face.

A few vans are parked outside the gate as it opens for us, and Rupert guns the engine. We take off down the road, the vans waking up and zooming after us.

Eventually, though, two hours in, they start to fall off like flies. Rupert lets out a deep breath as he drives.

“You have the satnav?” he asks.

“Straight on ahead, then we get off at the turnpike.”

We drive quietly for a few hours. I’m still stewing, annoyed at how Rupert thought he knew what was best for me, how he made the decision to exile me to some other house of his without telling me the truth about his curse first.

Eventually, as the distant skyline rises into view, we run into a traffic jam. After another hour, I guide Rupert off the highway, and we make our way down the narrow streets, deeper into the city. The immense skyscrapers tower over us, blocking out the sun. As we head closer to our destination, the buildings grow denser. The GPS guides us left, then right, until we’re in a narrow alleyway with many high windows and fire escapes. Finally, we come to a dead end.

“You’ve reached your destination,” it says.

In front of us appears to be a bar—or the rear side of one.

“Maybe he lives upstairs?” I ask. A pair of steps leads up above the bar to another entryway.

Rupert huffs. Then, to my surprise, he opens the car door and gets out. I had expected he would hide in the car and I would go alone, but he seems determined now.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for me to follow him as he heads up the steps.

I close my door behind me and hurry after. The stairway’s metal frame whines under his weight, but Rupert pays it no attention as we reach the landing. Then he knocks on the door.

No one answers. We wait, and wait, and then Rupert knocks again. Finally, someone on the other side curses in a language I can’t understand, and the door flies open.

“What do you want?” a woman snaps, appearing in the doorway. A howl fills the air as the baby in her arms screams.

Rupert backs away, and the woman takes in the sight of what’s in front of her. The baby continues crying as she stares open-mouthed at him.

“Oh.” She adjusts the screaming infant. “It’s you.”

Now it’s both of our turns to stare back at her.

“You know me?” Rupert asks.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re all over the news.”

That’s true. 

“But as soon as I saw you,” she goes on, passing the wailing baby from one arm to the other, “I knew his handiwork.”

Rupert and I exchange a glance. So we are at the right place.

“Can we talk?” I ask.

She narrows her eyes at us, the baby still screaming its head off. “Fine,” she says, “if that’s what it takes to make you go away.”

She sighs and beckons over her shoulder for us to follow her.

I step inside first, Rupert ducking his head so he can follow before he closes it behind him.

The apartment is dark with low ceilings, so he continues stooped over to make room for his horns. The woman pays him no mind as she returns to the living room, which has cute knickknacks all over glass shelves in the corners, and sits in a chair with the crying baby. She doesn’t ask us to sit down, so I help myself to the couch, leaving space for Rupert next to me.

“So, you know him?” I ask. “The man who did this to Rupert?”

The woman nods. “He was my grandfather.”

“Where is he?” Rupert demands. “I need a word with him, immediately.”

She laughs. “He’s dead. He has been for a while now.”

Rupert freezes, and his mane stands up. “He’s… dead?”

“You heard me.” She lifts her shirt, revealing her breast, and latches the baby onto the nipple. Rupert quickly turns his head. “He passed away about seven years ago now.”

Finally, with the baby quiet, I can hear myself think. The man’s been dead for seven years, the one who laid this curse on Rupert.

“Fuck!” Rupert says. I try to shush him, but he has his hands in his mane, pulling on his ears. “Shit! He was the only one who could ever undo this!”

I stare at him. Undo this? 

Oh, of course. He still wants to be human.

The woman is unbothered by Rupert’s outburst, though, and the baby remains occupied. “I doubt he could reverse it, even then. Papaw was not in the business of ‘undoing’ things.”

“Can you do what he did?” I ask suddenly.

She shakes her head like I’m not very bright. “No. That was old magic. He shouldn’t have been playing with that stuff, anyway. It’s very dangerous. I’m sure it’s why he died.”

A shiver ripples through me at the thought.

“But I know what kind of work he did. The moment I saw this guy on television, I recognized it.” She gestures at Rupert, still talking to me. “Papaw loved to punish those greedy Wall Street guys especially.”

Rupert’s mane rises even higher as his fur bristles. I put a hand on his arm, trying to cool him down.

“That was you, to be fair,” I tell him. His lip curls, but then he gives me a weak smile, because he knows I’m right.

“Now, is that all?” the woman asks, bored.

I suppose we should leave her be, now that we know. But Rupert has his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth as if he doesn’t believe it.

“He can’t be gone,” Rupert says, sniffling. “I need you, Peony. I can’t bear being without you.”

“Look,” I say to the woman, rubbing his back. “Your grandfather said something when he ‘cursed’ Rupert. That he would never—and could never—be happy.”

The woman arches a brow. “Well, no kidding. Have you looked at this guy?” She gestures at Rupert.

He growls, and I fist my hand in his fur to hold him back.

“Was your grandfather really capable of something like that?” I ask. “Cursing someone’s fate? Changing their destiny?”

The woman barks a sudden laugh, so loud that Rupert and I both recoil.

“Tourists,” she says, snorting. “Papaw did shit like that all the time to scare people. It worked, I guess.”

Rupert lifts his head, confusion in his eyes. “What? It… it isn’t real?”

“There is no such thing as fate,” the woman says, clearly growing annoyed with us. “Your will is your own. No magic can change what people do.”

“I’m not doomed to never be happy?” Rupert asks again, like he can’t believe what she’s saying.

“Depends on how well you treat your woman.” She winks at me.

After thanking her for her time, I help Rupert to his feet. He walks as if in a dream through the door of the apartment and down the steps. A drunk stumbles out of the bar, in the middle of saying something when he stops and registers Rupert.

“Whoa. It’s… the guy. From the videos.” He shakes his head. “You’re crazy tall, man.”

Ignoring him, I guide Rupert into the car and close the door. Eventually, he starts the engine but doesn’t drive away. Instead, he turns to me and takes my hand in his.

“I’m so sorry, my little flower.” He bends his head until my hand is pressed to his nose. “You were very wise to come here.”

“Thanks,” I say, a little imperiously. “Don’t withhold information from me again.”

He nods, properly chastised. “I would never.”

After a few moments, I ask, “Do you really want to be a man again?”

Quizzically, Rupert raises his head. “Of course I do. How much easier would our lives be if I were?”

“Even if no one else in the world existed, would you still want that?”

He studies me, seeking out the reason for my question.

“I suppose I don’t care what I look like if I’m with you,” he says at last.

I smile. “Well, good, because I much prefer you this way.”

It almost looks like he doesn’t believe me, the way he stares down at the steering wheel.

“How is that possible?” he asks after a long moment of silence. “That someone like you would love someone like me?”

I furrow my brow in confusion. “What’s not to love?” I run a hand through the soft fur on his shoulder. “You’ve always been generous with me, caring about me and loving me without reserve. Your heart is just as big as your stomach. And you cook the most amazing beef Wellington.” I reach up to kiss his cheek, and he rubs the spot where I pressed my lips to his scales. “You may not think so, but I find you very handsome. I could never love someone else the way I love you, Rupert.”

He grins a small, reluctant grin back at me. “Lucky for you, then, that the old guy died.”

A laugh bursts out of me, making his smile even wider, and I just have to kiss him on his perfect lips.