Beauty and the Beast (21 page)

“You never brush your fur for
us
,” Alexander teases when I walk into the dining room for supper. “And you are wearing the new shoes Mother had made for you.”

“Do not tease your brother,” Father says. “He looks very dapper.”

“Any comments from you, Mother?” I ask, assuming I have the pleasure of her company, too.

“We did not appreciate being locked outside this morning,” she says icily.

“You should not have been following me. Or sighing loudly. Beauty can hear you.”

“Perhaps we were overly bold. Well, you will be pleased to know, then, that you and Beauty shall be dining alone tonight, so you will not have to worry about us interfering.”

“Alone? Without Godfrey or Freddy, either?”

“That is correct. You should go on a proper date.”

“But, Mother, what if I make a mess of it?”

She pats me on the arm. “You will do fine. Just be yourself.”

“Or someone else entirely!” Alexander says. “Did I not tell you to refrain from boring her with tales of alchemy? And a tour of the library? What could be more boring?”

“She did not seem to find it so,” I argue.

“She was probably just being polite.”

I wave my arm toward the door. “If you are leaving, now would be a good time.” Silence. “Alexander, I can still smell you. You truly must bathe more.”

Father chuckles.

“I do not know what you find so funny, dear husband,” Mother says as she brushes past me. “You have not trimmed that beard in weeks! A small rodent may have taken up residence there and we would not even know it.”

They continue to argue over the proper level of personal hygiene for invisible persons — a conversation they never seem to agree on — until their voices fade away. I take a few deep breaths, willing myself not to say anything dumb when Beauty arrives. We had spent the afternoon digging for worms so I could reenact some of my experiments for her. Maybe Alexander was right, and she had only been pretending to be interested in such things.

The clock in the great hall chimes to mark the hour, and before it finishes the sixth chime, Beauty walks into the dining room. She is wearing a pink dress, white shoes, and the red rose I gave her tucked behind one ear. When she sees me, she stops and puts her hands on her hips. “All of my clothes have mysteriously disappeared. In their place hang ten dresses, all pinker than the next, all miraculously my size. Have you any explanation?”

This has Mother's handiwork written all over it. “Um, laundry day?”

“I feel ridiculous,” she says.

“You look … lovely.” I hurry to pull out her chair. She stumbles a bit getting into it.

We both nibble our roast lamb and mutton, offering only harmless comments about how well prepared it is. Meat will soon be scarce as winter closes in. I hope Beauty is too distracted by the food to notice how messy an eater I am. Indeed, she is polite enough to look away when food falls back onto my plate. I give up on the spiced carrot soup after three spoonfuls, most of which wind up on my chin.

I look up to see a tear sliding down Beauty's face. She tries to hide it by wiping it away as she dabs her mouth with her napkin.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

She sniffs and wipes another tear away. “Today is my sister's birthday. I had forgotten.”

I do what Alexander told me, and make sure she knows I am interested in her life. “How old is she now?”

“Sixteen. She always thought she would be married by now.”

“Why is she not? I heard she was quite charming.”

She stops sniffling and looks up in surprise. “You did? How?”

I put my hand over my mouth. Where is that invisible brother when I truly need him? I almost let it slip that she is not here purely coincidentally. “I mean, I suspect she is charming since, well, you are wonderful to have around, and since you are sisters … it stands to reason.”

I do not know if she accepts my bumbling explanation, because she just starts crying again. “You must miss her a lot.”

She nods. “Our birthdays are so close. We've always celebrated them together.”

I push back my chair and stand up. I do not even realize I am doing it until I find myself leaning over the table. In my deepest, firmest, beastliest voice I say, “You should go home, then. I do not have the right to keep you here against your will. You should be with your family.”

“But I —”

“You do not belong here. I am a beast, remember? I have eaten entire families! Now go!”

For the first time, I see something like fear in her eyes, and anger, which I have not seen since our first meeting. And then she is up and running.

It does not take me long to pack my bag, considering all of my clothes are missing except a few undergarments, my cloak, and the boots I arrived in. I angrily throw Clarissa's comb and the book I brought from home into the bag and cinch it up. If he does not want me here, I shan't stay another moment. I upheld my end of the agreement by coming at all. I need not have shown him any kindness, just because he showed it to me. I am the prisoner, after all. Well, I
was
the prisoner. Now I am just a girl who feels all tangled up inside.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and bound down the stairs. I do not pass the beast on my way to the front door, for which I am grateful. I do not think I could pull off my storming-off-in-a-huff exit if I begin to cry again.

“You should not be out here, miss,” the guard tells me when I push the door open and step outside into the cold. The setting sun is nearly as pink as my dress, but I do not stop to appreciate it.

“I would like a carriage, please. The beast is sending me home.”

The guard does not wait around to hear any more. He simply says, “Wait inside and I shall find a coachman.” I watch as he rounds the corner of the castle toward the stables. I do not want to wait inside and risk seeing the beast again, so I huddle against the doorway. The wind howls, and I shiver. I think I feel worse than when I left home! I reach inside my cloak and pull out Veronica's necklace. The last rays of sun glint off of it, and I find myself holding it up to my eye to see the light shoot off in all directions, bathing the front lawn in gold.

A rustling in the bushes beside the door draws my attention. I lean over, and at first all I see are some hedges bent at odd angles. And then suddenly a shape appears, seemingly out of the air. A boy! A boy hunched in the bushes, crying, and not even trying to hide it! He is older than me by a year or two, dressed in what looks like his pajamas although it is not yet fully dark. I feel another shiver and I hunch back against the door again. As I move, he vanishes!

“What happened?” I call out, looking around wildly. “Where did you go? Who are you?”

“You … you could see me?” the now-invisible boy asks. A rustling follows. “Beauty?”

His voice sounds like he is getting closer. I back up against the hard door, glad for its solidity. “How do you know my name?”

“Do not be afraid,” the voice says.

“That is easy for you to say. You are not the one seeing ghosts!”

“I am not a ghost,” he says, his voice coming at me from the left now.

“Then show yourself.”

“I cannot,” he says. Then he begins to weep again. “Please do not leave. None of this is Riley's fault. I am the one who spoke to the witch. It is my fault he is the beast, and then I let him believe it was something
he
did. What kind of brother am I?”

I turn in the direction of the voice, beginning to feel dizzy. “The beast is named Riley? He has a brother?”

A gasp, followed by silence. Then more weeping. “Now I have truly ruined everything! You were not supposed to know his identity until you fell in love! I warned him not to talk about all those boring things and chase you away, and now you will never love him and he will remain the beast and I shall remain invisible, forever!”

Now I am the one stunned to silence. His words run around one another as I try to make sense of them. The beast is really a boy named Riley. This boy in pajamas is Riley's brother. And he has ruined something? I was supposed to fall in
love
? “I need to sit down,” I announce to the empty air.

An invisible hand on my elbow leads me to a stone bench by the door. I think the boy sits beside me, but I am not certain.

“I am sorry,” the voice says, sounding truly miserable. “I should not have laid that upon your feet. It is I who ruined this, not you.”

We sit in miserable silence for a moment. Then I ask, “What exactly did the witch say when she cursed your brother?”

“She said the girl couldn't know who he really was until she fell in love with him. And then the curse would break when she kissed him. And now you know who he is and there are only a few days left before the deadline. All is lost.”

“You have ruined nothing,” I whisper, so softly I am not even certain the words came out. Handsome said I would know my future when I found it, and I have. The beast — or Riley as he is called — he is my future.

I know not how long I have huddled here in the dark. The root cellar was never a very inviting place. Damp, dank, and windowless, it is perfect for storing wine and vegetables, but I would much rather be sulking and miserable up in my bedchambers. I am hiding from the others, though, who have no doubt figured out by now that Beauty has left and that I chased her away. This is the last place in the castle I could think of where I could be alone.

I feel a ghastly ache inside me, and I know there is more to it than the anguish of realizing I shall remain a beast forever, the property of an evil witch. I have only read about it in books, but if I had to guess, I think the pain is heartbreak. I also fear I am coming down with a cold. I feel a strange chill, like an insistent buzzing inside my head unlike anything I have felt before. I wrap my arms tighter around myself, but it does not help.

A wine bottle crashes to the floor a few rows away from where I am crouched. I look over and see a lantern making its way toward me. “Go away, Freddy,” I call out. “Nothing you could say would make me feel better.”

“Perhaps you will want to hear what
I
have to say, then.” The lantern draws closer and Beauty steps into view. I nearly fall backward in surprise. Her dress is covered in purple stains.

“I owe you a bottle of wine,” she says. “I hope it was not too valuable.”

“What … what are you doing here?”

She smiles and in her eyes I see no anger, no fear. “I have come to kiss you.”

My jaw falls open. If I were not already sitting on the ground, I would surely have fallen to it in surprise. As much as I want the kiss, I cannot take it. I lower my head. “But I have behaved like the beast I am. You deserve much better than me.”

She shakes her head. “A real beast would never feel that way. And you are not a beast. You are a boy trying to save his family. And then you tried to save mine by sending me away.”

“But … how did you know all that?”

“I know you are Prince Riley. I know your family is invisible and that they care about you very much.”

My eyes widen as her words sink in. “Then all is lost.”

She shakes her head. “Not lost.” She reaches out and lays her hand in my glove, where it looks so tiny but feels so nice. She squeezes, tight. Suddenly, I understand what she means. She loved me
before
she learned my identity! I meet her eyes, dazed.

Before I have a chance to think one more thought, to apologize in one more way, she moves toward me. All my experiments, all my knowledge about nature and the sky and music and worms, none of it has prepared me for how it feels to have someone you love about to kiss you for the first time. I close my eyes.

“Wait, stop!” a voice cries out. My eyes fly open. Another lantern rushes toward us, this time with Freddy at the other end.

I turn to glare at him, hoping to scare him away with the force of it. But he only comes closer. He better have a good reason for ruining my first kiss.

“I am sorry,” Freddy says, out of breath. “But you must listen.”

“Can't this wait?” I ask through gritted teeth. “We were in the midst of something important.”

He shakes his head. “I'm truly sorry, but you want to vanquish the witch, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“If Beauty kisses you now, the curse will break, but you'll lose all the beast's advantages — the speed, the strength. I do not think Prince Riley would fare as well. No offense intended, of course.”

Beauty takes a step backward. “He has a point.”

With each step she takes away from me, I feel a tiny stab in my heart. What I truly want to say is, “Can't someone else vanquish the witch and we can get on with the kissing?” But as I look from one to the other, I see that response is not the correct one. And yet … with the original plan I get to be kissed — the one thing I thought for certain would never happen to me, either as the beast or as Riley.

“Come,” Freddy says, waving us forward. “Everyone is waiting for us in the fireside room.”

 

“Can you believe it!” Alexander says as we surface, eyes blinking in the brightness. “All you needed to do to get a date was to turn into a beast!”

Beauty laughs and squeezes my hand again. I would be annoyed at his comment, but I am too busy smiling. My upper lip hurts from where the nose/beak is digging into it, but I care not a bit. Mother and Father embrace both of us, talking over each other in their pleasure at the turn of events. Godfrey and Freddy hang back, beaming.

We gather around the couches, where after a lot of shushing and interrupting, I learn about how Beauty and Alexander met outside. When they are done, I ask Alexander, “You have no idea what you did in order for her to see you? Did you feel any different for that moment?”

“I did nothing,” he insists. “One moment she was looking at me, claiming to see me. The next she gasped like she had seen a ghost, and I became invisible to her once more.”

Beauty suddenly jumps up from the couch. “My necklace! I was looking through it when first I saw him!” She reaches under her collar and pulls out a pink stone on a leather string. She holds it up to her face and turns toward Alexander's voice. She laughs with delight. “You have changed since I saw you last!”

“Just in case it happened again,” Alexander says, “I thought I best change from my nightclothes!”

She walks slowly toward the hearth, still looking through the stone. “Your Majesty,” she says, and gives a low curtsy.

Mother gasps. “You can see me? But I must look a fright!”

“Not at all,” Beauty insists. “You look quite lovely.”

“She always does,” Father says.

Beauty turns toward the sound of his voice, blushes, and lowers the stone. “Perhaps I should wait for you to put on a robe.”

“Honestly, Silas,” Mother scolds. “How many times did I tell you?”

I watch all this with utter fascination. Somehow, even though I am living proof that magic is real, I never would have believed a stone could reveal what is hidden to the eye.

“Riley,” Mother says. “Please do not think me uncaring or selfish, but what if you did not try to vanquish the witch, and just ended this now?”

I glance hopefully at Beauty, who has taken her seat beside me. She looks unsure. Then she shakes her head. “I have seen people go to great lengths to protect the people they love. A dangerous witch is on the loose. How can we sit by and do nothing?”

“You speak the truth, of course,” I tell her, “but we don't know the first thing about the witch, or how to bring her down.”

“We have a book about witches,” Freddy adds, “but it is written in symbols we do not understand.”

“May I see it?” she asks. Freddy jumps up to fetch it from upstairs. That buzzing I felt in the cellar returns as we wait. It is not a good feeling. My stomach clenches. Beauty must have felt me shiver through my glove. “Are you all right?” she asks.

I squeeze her hand, careful to be gentle. I don't want to worry her, so I say, “I'm merely excited.”

She tilts her head at me suspiciously, but does not press further. When Freddy comes back with the book, Beauty holds her crystal rock up to the pages. And there, over and over again, are the same words:
You must find a witch's weakness to drain her power. That is the only way.

“That is one powerful necklace,” Mother says in a hushed tone. “Where did you get it?”

Beauty tells her the story about Veronica and their quest to find the stone.

“But how did the girl's mother come to possess it?” she asks.

Beauty shakes her head. “I do not know. Veronica never knew that part of the story.”

“Sorry to change the subject,” Alexander says, “but how are we supposed to find the witch's weakness? She seemed pretty unstoppable.”

“We will have to observe her,” Father says. “That is what we do if the kingdom is threatened. We watch our enemies, and we learn. There is strength in numbers, and you have all of us.”

Freddy nods in agreement. “We will have to find where the witch lives, and spy on her.”

“But how will we find her?” Mother asks. “We have no idea where she lives.”

“We will not have to find her,” I tell them calmly. “We simply have to wait. The witch said I would be drawn to her.”

“Is it happening yet?” Alexander says. “There is only a few more days to go.”

I shake my head.

“Let us all get some sleep,” Mother says decisively. “This has been a big day!”

I watch as Beauty's hair is pushed aside by my mother's invisible hands and a lipstick mark in the shape of a kiss appears on her cheek. Beauty puts her hand up to it, obviously pleased. I remember how she grew up motherless, and my love for her grows even more.

I have just blown out the candle by my bedside when I hear a knock on the door. “It is me,” Beauty announces.

I bang my knee and stub my toe but make it to the door in record time. I open it an inch. “Is everything all right? Do you need anything?”

She shakes her head. “You felt it. Earlier. You felt something, did you not?”

I hesitate for only a second before nodding.

“Why did you hide it?”

“You heard them. Everyone wants to help me. But it is too dangerous. All I feel is a little buzzing, a sort of tugging. But not enough to guide me anywhere. I do not want them making plans.”

“But when it is time to go, you shall tell me, right?”

I do not answer.

“Riley! I am just as big a part of this as you. You need me there. What if she tries to take you before the time is up? I need to be there to kiss you!”

She is right, of course. But the thought of putting her within reach of the witch is a terrible one.

“Plus, I am an experienced quester,” she says proudly.

I smile. “I do not think that is a word.”

She laughs. “Perhaps not. But I do know how to survive on my own, and I have a feeling you did not get out much on your own in your previous life.”

I cannot argue with her logic. “All right. I promise to tell you.”

“Thank you,” she says. “Good night, then.”

“Wait.” I open the door a bit more. There's a question I've wanted to ask her all day. “What did you see when you looked at me with your necklace?”

“I have not turned it upon you,” she replies.

“Why not?”

She shrugs. “I already know what is inside you.” She hurries off down the hall and I stand there with what is no doubt a very silly grin on my face.

“You should really put a cork on the end of that thing you call a nose,” she calls back in a loud whisper. “It would be a lot more comfortable!”

 

That night I have the dream again. I am running, panting, through a dense wood. As before, I have a companion by my side. But before in the dream, I never knew where I was running to, or running from. But when I awake, panting, and it is still not yet dawn, I know the answer. I know exactly where I am heading, and exactly who will be waiting on the other end. I shudder and climb out of bed.