Depravity: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (A Beastly Tale Book 1) (11 page)

He slowly shook his head, and I knew I’d puzzled him by not asking why he went there.

“Then tell the man at the door I’ll be back with food for you.”  He opened his mouth to protest.  “I won’t go in.  I’ll just hand it to him.  Eat it all.”

Before he could object, I spun away toward the market district.  There, I bought three pastries with the coin I had left from the prior day.  I ate one pastry myself and handed two to the very stoic looking guard at the back door.

“The second one’s for you if you’ll ensure my father eats his portion,” I said.

The man’s lips twitched slightly, and I hoped that meant he agreed.  I thanked him then went on my way.

The walk through the market street was peaceful so early in the morning with only the scents of baking bread to keep me company.  The mill lay silent as I passed it and started my trek over the bridge.

When I reached the edge of the estate, I checked the traps I’d left overnight and was disheartened to see they remained empty.  The bait I’d placed was gone.  I took them down and headed into the estate.

Instead of a note, a large stag waited on the butcher block, along with an empty barrel and a burlap bag of salt.  I frowned at it all.  I’d watched Bryn put up salted meat when I was younger but had no idea about the particulars.

Going to the office, I paged through the books for over an hour before I found one talking about salted pork.  Shrugging, I used that as a guide to butcher as best I could.  I was used to skinning and cleaning small animals.  A larger one proved more time consuming and messy.  Blood dotted my clothes and smeared my forearms.  Before I was halfway through, I lit the fire to start water heating.  I would need to wash out my shirt.

Soon the barrel was full of meat, salt, and brine.  I tapped the lid in place and strained to move it to the food pantry.  There I found waxed cloth which I used to package the remaining meat I meant to carry home.  The large carcass glistening on the butcher’s block daunted me.  I had no idea what to do with it.  I couldn’t just dump it outside the door as I had with the ash and debris.

“Sir,” I called politely, thinking the title better than beast.  “What am I to do with the remains?”

A dark mist swirled into the kitchen almost immediately, and I listened to the scrape of his feet on the floor.  I wondered if he’d been so close all along.  A few rustles of movement and then silence.  The mist only lasted a moment and when it cleared, the carcass was gone, leaving only the bloodstained block.

I scrubbed the surface with a brush I found then rinsed the top thoroughly.  My arms grew tired from all of the water I needed to pump.  Finally, I moved to the heated water and poured it into the large tub along with some cold water.  Having been foolish once, I wasn’t about to bathe again.  Instead, I stripped from my shirt, knowing my bindings hid the important bits, and washed my arms and face.  My shirt went into the dirty water.  As I was rinsing it, the mists returned.  I wasn’t surprised.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” the beast said softly.  I could feel his eyes on me as I rose and set my shirt over the back of a chair near the fire.

“Tell me why you want me to,” I said, bending to scoop the used water from the tub with a smaller bucket.  He remained silent as I moved from the tub to the door several times.  I rinsed the tub and turned it over to sit on.  He moved up behind me and touched my hair.

“Will you return tomorrow?” he asked instead of answering my question.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, thinking of my father.  I needed to speak with him about why he went to the Whispering Sisters.  I felt certain it was in a teaching capacity, but why hide it?

The beast growled behind me.

“The next day, then.”

I nodded, knowing we needed the food, and I would not be able to stay away for long.

*    *    *    *

When Father left the next morning, I didn’t pretend to sleep.  Instead, I rose with him.  There were no oats left. I’d only been able to purchase a small amount, and Bryn had salted the meat to put in storage for hard times.  I wondered how much harder our time needed to be before we could eat the meat but didn’t protest her decision.  However, the storage left Father and me with nothing to eat.  He didn’t say anything, and neither did I.

We left together, and I walked with him all the way to the Whispering Sisters then told him I would return with a pastry.  He nodded and went inside.

Using my last copper, I bought him the pastry fresh from the nearest baker’s oven.  The glaze ran on my hands, and I quickly licked it off as I walked back to my father’s place of employment.  The guard didn’t offer to take the pastry.  Instead, he opened the door and nodded for me to enter.

My stomach dipped with excitement.  To see inside the house was something I’d never imagined.  They catered only to male guests, and the only females allowed were those employed there.  I kept my enthusiasm from my face as I stepped inside.

Soft music drifted down the halls along with the cloying smoke.  My head began to spin as I walked down the dimly lit hall.  A woman walked toward me.  She wore only her grey facial veil, her heavy breasts with their dark nipples and thatch of hair between her legs visible for anyone who cared to look.  I tried not to look but couldn’t help myself.  Even changing at home, my sisters and I gave each other privacy.

As my eyes swept her from head to toe, I noted she carried a cup.  I moved aside as we neared, but she stopped and held out the cup to me.  I hesitated to take it.

“Thank you, but I’m just here to bring my father, Mr. Hovtel, something to eat.”

The woman laughed softly.

“I know, child.  Drink the tea so the smoke doesn’t bother you.”  She held out the cup again, but I didn’t notice.  The sound of her voice mesmerized me.  It was so soft I had to strain to hear, and it had a sighing quality that hinted at a hidden yearning.

“How do you speak like that?” I asked, slipping into my father’s world of observation and study.  I was his daughter, after all.

She laughed again.

“After you feed your father, I will teach you if you’d like.”

I nodded, accepted the cup, and drained it.  Almost immediately, some of the spinning stopped.  As it did, I realized I still stared at her breasts; and I quickly looked up to meet her eyes through her veil.  I saw amusement there.

She took the cup back and led me down the hall.  I couldn’t help but watch her butt as she walked.  Every move seemed slow and rolling, a smooth dance to call attention to different areas of her body.  I felt no attraction, but curiosity bit into me deeply.  No shame entered a single movement, even when she bent to stroke a cat that ambled down the hall, giving me a clear view of her...well, everything.

She surprised me by stopping suddenly in front of a door.  She tapped on its surface instead of knocking, then opened it.  She motioned me inside and followed me.  Father sat at a desk, looking decidedly uncomfortable as he lectured on mathematics to four very naked and veiled students.

His voice seemed overly loud after the way my guide had spoken to me.

When he caught sight of me, his eyes widened in surprise, and I apologetically held out the pastry.  He obviously didn’t want me associating with his students for very visible reasons.

One of his students, who reclined before his desk, rose gracefully and took the pastry from me.

“I’ll see you this evening,” Father said, sounding strained.

I nodded and left without a word, my guide closing the door for me.

“Would you still like to learn, daughter of our teacher?” she whispered softly beside me.

I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more at the moment, but I knew what my father would think.  Or did I?  As she pointed out, my father was a scholar.  He, more than anyone I knew, understood what it meant to have a burning curiosity.  Often he commended me on my tenacious pursuit of knowledge.  Would he this time?

With resolve, I nodded.  She led me to a set of stairs at the end of the current hallway.  One led down, where I could hear gentle splashing sounds, and the other led up.  Bright light and laughter spilled from the upstairs.

She hesitated at the landing.

“Perhaps it would be less shocking to go to the bathing room.  It sounds as if most of my sisters are upstairs.”

Without waiting for my answer, she glided down the candlelit steps which opened to a large underground room.  Red dyed fabrics covered the rock walls, and large tubs filled with steaming water were placed throughout the room.  An arched opening covered by another piece of red fabric led from the room.

A single woman, wearing the same style veil as my guide, occupied one of the many tubs.

“Good morning, sister,” my guide whispered.  “Are we disturbing you?”

“Not at all.  Who is your friend?  A new sister?”

My guide giggled, a tinkling sound that made me smile.

“Our scholar’s curious daughter.  She would like to know how we learned to speak like this.”

“Come, sit near me.  I would like to listen,” the woman bade, standing to motion to the cushions set on the floor near the tub.  Other than my father’s chair, I hadn’t noticed anything more than a cushion on which to sit.  I sat next to my guide.  The woman in the tub didn’t sit until we sat, making it impossible to avoid seeing everything above the water that lapped at her knees.  Her small nipples, rosy from the warm water, stood out from large breasts.  No thatch of hair covered her lower parts or limbs.

“What is your name, child?” she asked, a smile curving her mouth.  The veil fell to the top of her upper lip.

“Benella,” I whispered back.  I hadn’t meant to whisper, at least not consciously. It just seemed too quiet and peaceful to speak regularly.

They both laughed lightly.  The one in the tub introduced herself as Aryana and my guide as Ila.

“Why did you speak in a whisper?” Aryana asked.

“It feels wrong not to.  Everything here is quiet and peaceful.  I didn’t want to disturb that.”

Ila reached over and patted my arm with a smile.

“That is the heart of why we speak as we do.  To bring peace to others, we must keep peace in ourselves at all times.  We struggle; but when we do, we surround ourselves with our fellow sisters until peace returns.  Speaking as we do comes with practice, but also deep peace.”

“Drinking the tea every day doesn’t hurt either,” Aryana wryly interjected.  “After prolonged drinking, the tea roughens our voices, making it uncomfortable to speak above a whisper.  It also adds the husky quality that most find appealing.”

“Ah,” I said, feeling enlightened.  Now that I had a little knowledge, I wanted more.  “Why so many bathing tubs?”

They both laughed again.

“Definitely curious, this one,” Aryana whispered with a wide smile.  “Benella, the knowledge of this house is kept within the sisters and the clients we serve.”

She didn’t say it harshly, but I still felt embarrassed for assuming too much.

“I’m truly sorry.  I meant no offense.”

“Such a sweet girl,” she said thoughtfully.  “I can see you ask out of innocent curiosity, and I am willing to answer any questions you may have on one condition.”

I nodded eagerly.

“You must never speak of what you learn here to another person.  If you can swear to that, I will tell you anything you like about our sisterhood.”

Quickly swearing to her that I wouldn’t dare speak of it—she laughed at that—she willingly explained about the tubs.

“We open our doors to our clients after ten in the morning.  Many seek our comforts later in the evening.  No matter when they seek us, we strive to have everything ready for them.  Men are, by nature, aggressive and brash to some degree.  Oh, women can be too, but we only serve men here so that is our focus.  Their tendencies along with their strength can cause issues if we do not bring them peace quickly enough.  The smoke helps as soon as they walk through the door.  What the smoke cannot cleanse, a bath and body rub can.”

I frowned slightly, recalling my bathing experiences.  The feeling of warm water surrounding me certainly did have a calming effect, but the water cooled so quickly it didn’t stay soothing for long.  Frowning further, I recalled Father’s tendencies to wash with cold water from a bucket.  When he did require a full bath, we typically left the cottage for a walk, and when we returned, he already had everything cleaned up and back in place.

“Do men really enjoy bathing?”

Aryana smiled while Ila took a turn explaining.

“New clients do hesitate, but when they see one of us rise from the water, they are usually willing to join us.”

“Oh.”  In my mind, the experience turned from cleaning to frolicking in the open.  I eyed the other tubs in plain view of this one.

“Make no assumptions, Benella,” Aryana said.  “State your thoughts and ask your questions.  I wouldn’t like for you to leave with incorrect notions.”

“Do you have sex with your clients in the tubs where everyone can see?” I asked bluntly and without censor.

Ila laughed loudly, a deep sound that had me looking at her with concern.  Aryana chuckled.

“I will certainly tell the other sisters you evoked a true laugh from Ila.  Something that hasn’t been done in a long while.”