“You remember what you did to us, boy.”
Arnoux writhed. No. No. But he saw it all, like an ancient black-and-white film played out behind his eyes.
“The beast… killed you,” he gasped.
“You killed me,” Papa said.
“You killed us both, mon fils,” Maman echoed.
Maman’s voice ached with sorrow. The last time he heard it, it had been raised in terror and accusation.
“I didn’t want to, Maman,” he said. “But you wouldn’t understand that Papa tried to kill me.”
“I tried to destroy a wolf,” Papa said harshly.
“It was me, Papa.” He tried to sit up, but his limbs were strangely heavy. “I didn’t want to be a wolf. I didn’t know what was happening. When I saw you, I tried to change back. But I couldn’t. And you tried to kill me…”
“You brought his body back to me, and then you became a monster,” Maman said, so sadly.
“I was afraid when you screamed. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You denied your own evil,” Papa said. “You buried us unconsecrated and convinced yourself some other creature had killed us. But it was you. Always you.”
“Papa,” Arnoux sobbed. “Forgive me.”
“It is not only for us to forgive,” Maman said. “There were others. Innocents. You blamed another for their deaths.” She stroked his forehead. “It is almost time for you to come to us again, but first you must go back. Go back and make your confession.”
Go back. He didn’t want to. There was a tight band around his ribs, and his body was leaden. I am dying. But the thought brought only a great release. Now he could speak.
When he opened his eyes Maman was gone. He gripped another woman’s hand. His fingers were human in hers.
His vision was blurred, but he could see Alexandra, and Kieran, and the others. They would hear his confession, and Maman would still be waiting.
“I confess my sins,” he whispered. “I killed.” And he began to recite the names of those who had died by his hand, beginning with his parents; the girl in Minnesota five years ago, her death used to convince Kieran that he was the murderer; Peter Schaeffer, victim of Arnoux’s blood-lust and frustration; Lori Carstens, innocent of any offense. All savaged under the fangs of a monster.
Himself.
He looked at Kieran one last time. His hatred was gone. “I laid my guilt upon you,” he said, his voice fading. “Now we are both free.”
Alexandra leaned over him again, and he heard fragments of words: “… doctor… hang on…”
He tried to shake his head. “Maman is waiting,” he said, and closed his eyes. She was still there, as she had promised.
“The beast has gone away, hasn’t it, Maman?”
Tears ran down her face and fell on their joined hands. “It will go away, Joseph.”
“Can I come with you now, Maman?”
Maman looked up at something Joseph couldn’t see. A veil fell over his eyes. His ears closed. The ground fell away from beneath him.
“Maman! Don’t let me go!”
“I won’t, Joseph. I promise—”
“Maman… the beast…”
It was coming back for him. He could feel it in his heart, filling him up with hate and the need for blood.
Never again. He fought it, felt his body begin to twist inside, bones and organs and skin stretching and contracting. Fur rippled across his skin and vanished again. Wolf and man, back and forth, battling for mastery.
“Maman!” he screamed. “Hold me!”
And she held him through the convulsions, one upon another as he gave a last push and drove the beast from his body. His life went with it, but he gave it willingly, gratefully.
“Come, Joseph,” Maman said from very far away. “You are free.”
Chapter 20
Arnoux was human again, as he’d begun.
Alex held his hand until she knew the last life was gone. It was Kieran who eased the man’s fingers from her own, who shut the staring green eyes with a gentle brush of his palm.
So quiet. Alex scrubbed her face and gazed around at a world that seemed unreal. Kieran seemed very far away, as if he, too, had been pulled into Arnoux’s final madness and hadn’t yet found his way back.