Chapter 20
Victoria ran for miles, never slowing. She might be a skeptic, but she was no fool. There was a troll in these woods—a big one. Another woman in her position would have been the beast’s dinner, or his unwilling bedmate. She would not stop until she reached the safety of the tree line.
When she finally did, she gripped the trunk of a young oak and caught her ragged breath. Laughter bubbled up and spilled out of her. “A troll,” she said to herself. “They weren’t kidding.”
All that foolish talk of beasts. It was the truth. Elias and his warnings had merit.
She straightened suddenly, her brows furrowing. Where was Elias? He’d gone out into these woods last night and hadn’t come back. The young man spent much of his time in the woods, she’d met him out here on her first day at Edenbridge.
Why, she wondered, would he come out here so frequently, knowing there was a beast?
Victoria contemplated this. Had Elias never come across the monster himself? Did he have some false sense of safety, as she had, because he’d never seen it with his own eyes? Elias was sure there was a monster out here, a deadly one. He’d said something to the effect when they’d met. He didn’t want to drag her dead body from the woods.
No one else had said anything about dead bodies, though. Lydia and Agnes had seen the troll in town, but they made no mention of any murderous rampage nor of any deaths attributed to the troll. Elias alone was sure that the danger was extreme.
“A real, live troll…” she said aloud, her hand on her forehead. She was laughing again, wishing to see her father, longing to tell him of her adventure. Tears came unbidden to her eyes. She was happy and invigorated and yet so incredibly lonely. She could not tell her story to her father. She did not have the sailors to speak to. Charlotte would never understand. Of course she couldn’t tell Lord Reginald that she nearly ripped a ball off a troll. As lovely as he was, she didn’t think he was that open-minded. What she wanted was to talk to Elias. He was the only person who she could tell the full tale to.
Disheartened, she dropped down onto the leaf-strewn ground. Longing, anger, bitterness—emotions washed over her like waves. She sat there for so long that the sun began to set. The forest was in twilight. Victoria knew she should head into the house soon. From where she sat she could see that the candles in the dining room were lit. Dinner time was near. She’d need to wash up. The young adventuress had just about decided to rise when a figure stepped out of the woods.
Her eyes widened, and she held her breath, refusing to make a sound. In the dim light it was plain to see that this was Elias emerging from the forest not 50 yards away. He came out from the trees cautiously, obviously not wanting to be seen, and the reason for this was stark. His clothes were in tatters.
Not a muscle moved in Victoria’s body. Her eyes followed Elias like a hawk. At first, she thought his heading was for the front door, but as he neared the house, he took a passage unknown to her—one of the many secret passages built into the old estate. A few short minutes later, a light came to his window. It was him, there was no doubting it. And the strangest idea came into Victoria’s mind—one that she could hardly reconcile.
Elias’s clothes…they were the troll’s clothes. Flashes of her row with the beast came to mind—the scars on his neck and back, those eyes and that lightning bolt of familiarity. She’d felt it but could make no sense of it in the moment. Now, she wondered.
This idea of hers came like an avalanche. First, small, little bits and pieces binding together, and then more ideas, more memories, more questions. She rose, her whole body trembling, and sprinted for the house.
Victoria ran straight for the library and began ripping books from the shelves. Volume after volume about the Perished Woods and the beasts therein. So many of the chapters focused on trolls. Could this be a coincidence?
Elias. The troll. The same scars. The same clothes. The man’s dire warnings about the woods. His efforts to stay away from the village. How did Elias get those scars?
She paced, her mind frantic. Thoughts swirled. Could the beast have hurt her? she wondered. Did he have the opportunity?
Yes. That was the plain answer. Those hands of his were monstrous. Surely he could have snapped her neck if he had chosen to do so. It would have been a quick thing.
“No, no, no. The troll wouldn’t have killed me if he’d sought to rape me or keep me as a slave.
“But he didn’t pursue me either. Why not?”
Perhaps he didn’t want to harm her at all. Perhaps he just wanted to scare her away…to protect a secret.
Victoria was coming to believe that Elias and the troll were one and the same. “But how!” She nearly screamed the words. As chance might have it, her gaze fell onto a shelf filled with chemistry and alchemy books.
“Of course!” More books came down from the shelves. The word “transmogrification” kept appearing in the texts. She devoured the information. Time seemed to stand still.
The next step in her path became clear. “Lord Reginald. His laboratory.”
What Victoria knew about the sciences didn’t cover transmogrification but she knew a bit about chemistry—enough to make a guess.
She strode to the lab. Surely Lord Reginald would be at the dinner table. Would Elias be with him? She guessed not. And the old man must be wondering on her whereabouts. She passed Mary in the hall.
“Miss Victoria, dinner is ready if you?—”
Victoria moved purposefully past her, pushing open the door to the laboratory.
“Miss! You can’t go in there! Lord Reginald doesn’t allow anyone into that room!”
Victoria turned abruptly to Mary. “Why not?”
The maid blinked. “I don’t know. Dangerous chemicals and such. Someone might get hurt.”
“Hmm,” Victoria hummed. “You better warn Lord Reginald.”
And with that, she shut the door.