Near the end of the chapter he also saw photographs of items associated with the killing of Fane—among them, the thick collar that had Laurent shrinking on the inside with the memories. Attached was also a photograph of an object from the local museum—a bullet described as likely fake. The real one had been apparently taken out of a different man’s body around the time of Laurent Mercier’s execution.
Laurent’s stomach clenched at the shame of it all. He was confused by all the mentions of the devil, but a few paragraphs later, he realized that it was because Fane himself had been found with the devil’s sigil on his nape. It all came together in Laurent’s mind. Fane’s murderous schemes had to be him doing the devil’s bidding. But of course it was Laurent, his killer, who got all the blame.
The next page screamed at him with brightly colored streaks underlying elements of text. It took him several seconds to understand that they were all reports about the murder and the trial that followed.
He’d been found.
He’d been in the cellar when the servants broke down the door.
He’d been taken to jail and put on trial.
So… how was he here?
His breath caught when yet another quote was followed by Knight noting that Laurent Mercier had been sentenced to hang. On the following page, names of his three siblings were mentioned at the very top. They arrived in Brecon three years after the murder of William Fane, expecting to find their brother thriving but were confronted with his crime instead. They didn’t even have a gravesite to pay their respects at, presumably because Laurent’s body had been buried in an unmarked grave.
And yet, he was here. He didn’t understand. Was he a living soul, and the devil left his body back in 1805?
He rubbed his eyes in panic when tears fell on the notebook. His siblings, his family had come to him after all those years, and he had no idea. They hadn’t abandoned him after all. He squeezed his hands on the edge of the desk, staring at the scribbled notes and pieces of paper with someone else’s writing, completely overwhelmed by the storm raging in his chest.
As if suddenly, beyond the confusion and the terrifying process of reading about his own death, a ray of light was penetrating Laurent’s soul. He still had family. He even had a living family member who was interested in his life. He wasn’t alone in the world.
“What are you doing here?”
Laurent turned around in panic, too overwhelmed by his findings to even form a coherent lie. What was he to say? He had obviously sneaked in here despite numerous warnings not to. “I…”
Beast stared at him, his hand squeezing the door handle tightly. He took deep breaths, as if in hope it would help him somehow keep his cool when even the tendons in his neck were visibly shifting. He was a bull about to charge. “What? You what?” he snapped.
Laurent took a step back, bumping into the desk. “I’m dead,” he whispered. “And you knew this. How could you not tell me?”
Knight hovered behind Beast, but Laurent’s focus was only on his beloved.
Beast hit the wall, leaning forward with both his hands resting on the doorframe. “It’s been over two hundred years, Laurent. And you’re here, so you’re obviously not dead. And stop turning this around, because I told you to never come in here. I don’t want you to look at any of this,” he said and rapidly pulled on Laurent’s hand, taking him out of the small room.
Laurent bit back the yelp that tried to escape his lips. Out in the living room, he got a clear look at Knight. “I had family come to me years later. Why am I not in there with you, trying to understand it all?” He pointed to the room in frustration. Most of the notes and clippings in there weren’t fresh. Beast has been working on this for years, and didn’t find it appropriate to tell Laurent even though Laurent was wearing the devil’s brand on his body!
Beast swallowed hard, his arms so stiff it almost looked painful. “You’re one to talk. This is personal. How dare you break my trust like this? Haven’t you put me through enough for one night?”
Knight sighed and looked to his feet, as if he wanted to pretend he didn’t see what was going on.
“Why are you researching this? What do you know?” Laurent demanded breathlessly, unwilling to let go or apologize. He was being treated beyond unfairly. What if he could still die? Get sucked back into the past when the time came? “Is there anything about the dead Laurent having the brand?” he asked Knight, hoping his own family would be more cooperative.
Knight cleared his throat. “Yes. That’s why some people think he was in on it with Fane. That they were both part of a satanic cult.”