The Beast Within (7 page)

“I am glad the cake was agreeable, yes? Again, Miss Abelardus, it is such a pleasure, please come back soon.” Turning to Connor, he continued, “And you, sir, don’t let this woman out of your sight. She is a keeper.”

“I won’t,” Connor said, looking at Laren.

“Cyril, what about the check? You never brought it,” Laren said with alarm, pulling out her purse.

Cyril looked at her, stunned. “Miss Abelardus, please, this is on the house.”

“Cyril, I’m afraid that is much too kind and I must insist.”

“Please, how silly is this? Your family owns this hotel and restaurant and I would charge the owner’s daughter?”

Connor raised his eyebrows until they were almost touching his hairline. He knew Laren’s family was well off, but he had no idea they were this well off. To own a hotel and restaurant of this caliber, they had to be millionaires.

“Cyril, if you don’t give me the check, I’m just going to guess how much it is and have the hotel manager put it into the restaurant bank account. And I’m an extremely high guesser when it comes to these things. What will my father think?”

Cyril’s face went white and then a thin smile spread across his mouth and perfectly groomed goatee. “Oh, Miss Abelardus, you are your father’s daughter. Give me just one moment.” Cyril turned and was out of sight in seconds.

“You didn’t tell me your family owned this place.”

“Does it matter? Don’t forget who won the race.”

Soon Cyril was back with the check. Laren paid with a black credit card she pulled from her wallet and the two walked out with well wishes from Cyril.

“Thank you for dinner.” Connor turned to her as they stood in the vacant hotel lobby.

“A bet’s a bet,” she casually responded. “I do need to ask a favor from you, though.”

“No, I can’t go up to your room. It’s way too soon. I’m just not that type of guy.”

“You are ridiculous, Connor Moore.” She shook her head, clearing the possibility from her mind. “I was going to ask for your number. You have mine. We really haven’t had to use it yet, but just in case.”

He smiled at her as she reached her hand into her purse and produced a slender phone. After punching in his digits, she looked up at him.

“I want to show you something,” she said suddenly, as if she had just decided something. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand and half ran, half walked to the nearest elevator. Pressing the button a few times just to make sure it would come, she turned once again to her date.

“Okay, where are we going? I told you I’m not that kind of guy; four dates. Four dates minimum,” Connor teased.

“Oh, is that all? I didn’t realize I was going out with such a floozy.”

“Floozy? Does anyone even use that word anymore?”

The elevator doors dinged open and she rushed inside, pulling him behind her. Connor had never seen her so excited. She pushed the button to the 52nd floor. The doors slowly closed, and then the elevator began to ascend.

“I’ve been staying at this hotel for a long time, ever since my family bought it. Throughout the years, when I’ve needed somewhere to think or a place to just get away, I come here.”

Connor took stock of his surroundings: it was a normal elevator, glass walls mostly composed the square box; there was an emergency phone placed next to the doors, and of course all the buttons to different floors and options for various elevator functions.

“Laren, if you need a place to go to think, I can probably find you somewhere with more room.”

“Not here. Where it’s taking us. Please,” she said.

They were lucky the elevator didn’t make a stop and soon the doors dinged open and welcomed them to the top floor.

Laren didn’t miss a beat and was out as soon as she could fit though the opening. Connor followed her down the hall and to the stairwell door.

The hall was ornate with bright lights. His feet sank into the richly carpeted floor.

None of this phased Laren, she was on a mission. Pushing the stairwell door open, she entered the cement staircase and climbed the remaining steps to the roof. With no hesitation, she placed her hands on the emergency access door that led to the roof, the same door that had numerous warning signs of alarm if it were to be opened.

“Laren, wait—” but he was too late. Laren pushed the door open and walked onto the roof. To Connor’s surprise, the door was not only unlocked, but no alarm went off.

The roof was a desert of pipes and conditioners, air vents and other odd-shaped cooling agents. Laren was there, high heel straps in her hand, leaning against the questionable-looking railing.

Connor walked over next to her. They stood quiet, staring down below on the city. They were far enough up that Connor could see the street his mother’s shop was on, but too far up to be able to see the shop itself.

Tiny moving lights marked vehicles below, and even tinier dots, moving slower, were what Connor guessed to be people. The wind picked up on the roof and tiny goose bumps prickled Connor’s skin. Placing his right arm around Laren, who he assumed must be cold, he was surprised. She was actually warm to the touch. Despite this, she leaned her head onto his chest.

“Isn’t it great? It’s so quiet here; the lights of the city remind me of a Christmas tree, and if that wasn’t beautiful enough—” She pointed to the sky and Connor looked up.

It was breathtaking; the moon beamed its power across the city and welcomed everyone to partake in its soft, strong light. The stars were doing their best to compete with the moon but all fell short, even the brightest star paling in comparison.

“You’re the first person I’ve shared this with.”

Connor looked down at her, so small against his chest, so perfect. She drew herself away from him and looked into his eyes.

“Why are you so perfect for me?” she asked.

“Because somehow we were… are… drawn to each other.”

Placing his hands on either side of her neck, he drew her closer to him and felt her soft breath. He could feel her pulse quicken against his palms. The moon caught her green eyes just right and radiated off them in a way that made her look both dangerous and beautiful. Their lips found each other and the rest of their surroundings fell away.

There was nothing else, no more questions, no worries, nothing but the two of them. The kiss was enrapturing; it took hold of his heart and refused to let go. It was as if something inside of him was made whole again.

They pulled away breathless, neither one willing to break the perfect silence. Time stood still as they gathered themselves.

“Well, I’m glad you invited me up here.”

“I am, too, but Connor, I don’t know if it’s fair to lead you on with my family and everythi—”

Connor cut her off with another kiss. This time when they separated, her eyes were closed, taking time to enjoy the moment.

“Stop worrying; it’s going to be okay.”

Chapter 6

T
he night ended with a
kiss goodbye as Connor escorted her to her room, half wary in case Lu showed up and half not caring. Promising a phone call the next day, Connor left, took the long ride down the elevator, waved to the plump front desk attendant, and exited the building.

That night as Connor fell into the open arms of slumber, he was visited by yet another dream. He was standing on top of the same roof he had been on with Laren, but this time he was alone. There was no end to this roof. It seemed like it stretched for miles in all directions. The moon was double its size and the dark sky was void of any stars. There were no pipes or conduits protruding from this roof, instead it was lined with statues, statues of men and women that almost seemed alive. Connor wasn’t necessarily scared of these statues, but neither was he too eager to see exactly who or what they were.

Taking a step forward, he became bolder and approached the first image. It was a statue of a warrior, maybe seven or eight feet tall. He wore battle scars proudly. His long hair around his shoulders, his distinguished nose and brow hinted he was of noble birth. He was dressed in armor and boiled leather, one arm holding his helm in its crook and the other resting on the pommel of a sword sheathed in his belt.

The next statue was similar, but female. Her fierce gaze reminded Connor of a caged animal, the pose the sculptor chose for her adding to the ferocity of the image. She stood tall, chest out, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Both her fists rested on her hips, daring a challenge.

The stone warriors were all intimidating in their own right. Soon armor and leather gave way to an assortment of different clothes. Chain mail and heavy axes gave way to colonial era clothing and sabers. One statue even boasted a male warrior in what looked like traditional samurai armor.

As Connor made his way through the forest of statues, he couldn’t help the eerie feeling that they were watching him, judging him. It was like being introduced to a new school and having the class look at you, judging you before getting to know you.

Connor walked for what seemed like miles, passing more and more statues. One thing he did notice was that no matter how the clothing of the statues changed, the weapons never included guns or firearms of any kind. There was a plethora of swords, axes, knives, maces and other vicious looking objects, but no rifles, handguns, or even bows. Thinking of what this could mean, he stopped short in his tracks. There was an end to this dream after all. There was a door with beaming light shining through from the other side just a few statues away.

He passed the last handful of sculptures. The last few warriors were dressed in semi-current military fatigues. One held a wicked looking knife and the other a large machete.

Only two more to go and you can get out of this crazy dream
, Connor thought to himself.

Second to last was a statue of a man. Connor took a step back; he had seen this man before. This was the same one who had rushed to meet him in his previous dream. He was older, maybe twenty years Connor’s senior. His hair wasn’t long, but long enough for the wind to play with it. He was solid, muscular, and tall, he looked the part of a warrior. Still, Connor had the feeling he knew this person.

Connor put it in the same category he had put so many other unanswered questions. Lately it seemed that for every answered question he had, there were two that still begged a response.

Approaching the last statue, he refused to believe his eyes. There was no way this made sense and he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The statue was him!

Furrowing his eyebrows, he studied it. Whoever sculpted him captured his features perfectly. He was wearing jeans, his favorite pair of Converse shoes, and a V-neck shirt. Not only was he incredibly underdressed for the occasion compared to the rest of the statues, but he was holding a pickaxe. It was the same one Laren had ordered from his mother’s shop. It was the same one that was still in his truck bed. Where other warriors were carrying shields, spears and clubs, Connor had a pickaxe slung over his shoulder.

His face held an expression Connor wasn’t familiar with; his brow was slightly crunched down, his lips were pursed together and his eyes held the fiercest gaze he had seen on any statue. It was ironic that the statue of himself scared him.

But that wasn’t the only scary part. As he was examining this twisted representation of himself with the help of the abnormally large moon, there was a voice.

“Connor, are you ready for the truth?”

Connor spun around. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was definitely an elderly female. It sounded familiar, like an acquaintance or old friend. Unable to put his finger on the identity, he ignored it and headed toward the door Connor hoped it would lead to awakening.

A few feet away from his means of escape, the door shuddered, as though something large had struck it from the other side. Connor stopped dead in his tracks.

“You shouldn’t be so ready to jump into the unknown. Are you ready, Connor?”

He turned to address the voice but didn’t know where to look. Instead he shouted at the moon. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“I’ve known you your whole life. Watched you grow up from just a pup. As to who I am, well, you know the answer to that.”

The door behind him shuddered again, this time more intensely. Something clawed at it from the other side.

“Are you ready to accept the truth? You’ve been so content to go along these last few days without facing what you know to be true. Passing things off as coincidence or ignoring them all together.”

Connor knew the door wouldn’t hold much longer as it groaned again and again under the onslaught. Connor turned to face the door, prepared for whatever was to come.

His hands were sweaty and his voice wavered. “What’s on the other side of the door?”

The light behind the door, near the bottom, was being blocked every so often now by something pacing back and forth.

“Always with the questions.” The speaker gave a sigh.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready. Tell me.”

The door cracked. It would hold maybe against one or two more attacks, but that was it, whatever was behind it was relentless.

“Tell you what, Connor—what is it you want to know? What is the question you would like answered most?”

“Who…” he started.

The door crunched and half fell off its hinges. Connor could see a dark shape on the other side but it was too hard to tell what it was with the blinding light that swept through the door.

“Who am I?” he screamed.

The door gave way to splinters and exploded from within as the dark shape bounded through the door and straight at Connor.

“Now you are ready for the truth.” The voice sounded pleased with itself.

The last thing Connor remembered before he woke up was two red eyes belonging to a large black shape sprinting toward him.

Connor knew he couldn’t ignore all the questions anymore, he needed to get to the truth. There was a lot more going on than he wanted to admit but this was getting ridiculous. He resolved that morning to sit down and talk with his mother about his dreams and see if she could shed any light on the situation. If that failed, he could always call Laren. He wasn’t sure exactly what she knew, but she knew something. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a nightmare, then Laren showed up and he was averaging one every other night.

He knew a run wouldn’t be enough to work off his frustration, not after his most recent dream. He threw his gym bag in the truck, then grabbed a box of Fruit Loops and headed for his old high school. Although he was a recent graduate, Connor’s coaches had given him access to the school gym. Many of them looked at him as a son and admired his work ethic and natural ability as an athlete.

Clouds covered the sky and threatened rain. Connor ignored this, and within minutes was pulling into the school parking lot. Heading straight for the lockers, he was changed and in the weight room in record time. Connor checked the summer class schedule posted on the door. The next class wasn’t scheduled until later on that afternoon. For now, Connor had the gym to himself.

Rows upon rows of weights, treadmills and workout machines lined the building’s walls. The familiar smell of sweat made Connor smile. He was at home, a place where he could be himself.

Pushing, lifting, pulling, he went through his normal routine, but increased the weight every rep. He channeled his feelings, the anger he felt at waiting so long to try and figure things out. Questions he should have tried to answer before, not just about Laren, but about himself, about who he really was, about his father.

He strained against the bench press and it felt his anger over Katie leaving him. He curled a weight on the barbells he never had before for the confusion he felt about Laren. He got on the stationary bike and peddled until he couldn’t feel his legs, taking out his anger about his father and why he had been so complacent all these years, and just let it go. The whole time he was at the gym, the rage was with him, the urge inside of him was forcing his body to go on when it had no reason. Connor lost himself once again and reveled in this inner force.

Two hours had passed before Connor looked at the time. Every muscle in his body yearned for rest and begged him for a break. Connor was drenched again, but he felt better. He would get answers today one way or the other. Exiting the building, he made the journey home. Like most days, his mother was already gone tending to the store. He let himself in, almost robotically ran through the motions of showering and dressing. Today he decided on jeans, his Converse and a white shirt, laughing to himself when he realized the outfit he picked was the same one he had seen his statue wear in his dream the previous night.

He was interrupted by the familiar jingle of his ringtone. It was his mother calling. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, honey, did I wake you?”

“Nope. Already been to the gym and back, and now I’m headed to see you.”

“Oh good. Can you do me a favor? Mrs. Hayes is complaining about her delivery yesterday. She said we brought the wrong product over or there was a mix up; to be honest it was hard understanding her.”

“I know what you mean. I can head over to her house on my way to the store. It’s not that far out of the way.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe later today can we talk?”

“Of course. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just, well, I have some questions … about Dad”

The line was quiet for a second. “You got it. I can answer whatever you need to know to the best of my ability.”

Connor felt a wave of relief, “Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem. See you soon. I love you, Connor.”

“Love you, too.”

He hung up the phone and immediately felt better. It was funny how parents could have such an effect on their child. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders. In a few hours he would get some answers and, with any luck, be able to chalk this whole thing up to paranoia; or to a beautiful girl taking him out of his comfort zone and causing him to have delusions of grandeur.

After a few minutes’ ride in his truck, he pulled up to Mrs. Hayes’ house. The tan two-story home seemed a little slanted, but that could just be his imagination. Connor parked out front, opened the wooden gate, and walked towards her front door. People could say what they wanted about her sanity, but she was one hell of a gardener. Her vegetables were perfect and her flowers were so flawless they looked fake.

Connor walked up the two small steps to her creaky wooden porch and knocked on her screen door. There was no response. Opening the screen, Connor rapped a little louder on the wooden door.

“I hear you, young Connor, go ahead come on in—door’s open.”

Connor tried the door and sure enough, it was unlocked., He swung it open and stepped inside. Although he had known her for years, made countless deliveries to her and had plenty of conversations with the woman, he had never actually been in her house.

No sooner had he placed a foot inside than his ears were met with the patter of multiple running paws. Rounding the corner were the biggest bulldog and bloodhound Connor had ever seen. He knew he should probably be scared, but Connor had always loved dogs, and this pair, despite their size, didn’t seem threatening.

The two dogs rushed to meet him, panting their hellos. The bulldog was white and light brown, his comrade the same shade of brown, but black instead of white. They greeted him like old friends with sloppy licks and happy nudges.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Hayes called from the other room. “Boys, go to your rooms and leave our poor friend alone.”

The two dogs reluctantly but obediently left Connor’s side.

“I didn’t know you had dogs,” Connor shouted to the empty air, still unable to see her.