Beauty and the Beast (23 page)

“Are you all right?” I ask, kneeling beside the pig-turned-man. He is still staring up at Riley, shaking his head back and forth.

“Enough already,” Riley says, rolling his eyes. “I get it, I'm huge and hideous. But she made
you
into a pig, and that's not anything to brag about.”

I turn to Riley. “Did you know the witch had cursed others?”

“I had suspected,” he admits. “But I did not want to frighten you further by telling you.”

“You can tell me anything,” I say, a bit hurt.

“I'm sorry,” he says, stepping to my side. “I will keep things from you no longer.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, reaching out my hand for his.

“Hello?” the man asks, leaning on a lemon tree for support as he stands. “Can we focus on the larger issue here?”

“Sorry,” I say, my cheeks warming.

“Sorry,” Riley mutters, squeezing my hand before letting it fall.

“All right, then. First of all, my name is Mumford. I am much indebted to you, young lady, for the kiss. I had long given up on anyone breaking the curse.”

“No offense,” I reply, “but the witch said the girl has to love you before she kisses you. While you were cute as the pig, I would hardly call what I felt for you love. More like sympathy and gentle affection. Perhaps something else ended your curse?”

The man shakes his head. “The witch lied. 'Tis only the kiss that matters.” He nudges Riley. “But all the better if she loves you first, right, old boy?”

“But … we … I … but …” Riley stammers as he takes in the man's words. “You mean all this time a girl had only to
kiss
me and the spell would have been broken?”

Mumford nods. “Not as easy as it sounds when you're a pig.”

Riley's expression of shock at this new knowledge is almost comical. With his hair all wild from the run through the woods, and his cheeks flushed, he looks like a young child's drawing of a monster.

“Most people who saw me tried to turn me into their supper,” Mumford explains. “I was much too far from my home to find safety there, so I wasted most of my months of freedom running from meat cleavers. And then my time was up. Like you, I was pulled back to the witch by an invisible force. I have been here ever since. Five or six years, I think. I have lost track of time. It is never dark. It is never winter. The only voice is hers. Once you are her property, your speech is stolen as well.” He stretches, smiling as he flexes his fingers. “Ah, movable thumbs. How delightful!”

Riley, wide-eyed, has now begun muttering angrily to himself and pulling at his hair. “Just a kiss!” he repeats over and over. “Just one little kiss!”

I allow him his tantrum in private and turn to Mumford. “But what is this place? What goes on here?”

“This is the witch's compound,” he says, stating the obvious. “She leaves it only to collect another victim.”

“But why does she bother?” I ask. “Judging by the kick she gave you, she does not seem to like having you here.”

“Oh, she hates us, to be certain. But she needs us within her walls. She draws her power from ours.”

“Our
power
?” Riley asks. “What power?”

“All of her victims have something she lacks. Some special skill or gift. With some it is strength, or brilliance, or perfect eyesight. Others are especially brave, or are skilled in battle, or can play the violin to make you weep.”

“I don't understand,” Riley says, clenching his fists, his anger clearly not spent. “How did turning
me
into the beast help her?”

“When she transforms someone, she absorbs whatever their gift is, leaving them unable to outshine her in any way. That is what feeds her magic and keeps her young. She has already outlived her rightful years by many a dozen.”

Riley frowns. “Then she made a mistake by transforming me. My brother, Alexander, possesses all the talent in our family.”

The man shakes his head. “The witch does not make mistakes.”

Suddenly, I feel the rise of anger, too. I am angry that Riley suffered these last few months for nothing. Angry at the witch's lie about love. Angry that my own family suffered because of it, too. “The witch will never have Riley as her latest ‘pet.' I shall kiss him before that happens!”

He smiles gently, unable to hide his amusement. “Then what are you waiting for?”

I lift my chin high and cross my arms. “I can't yet. We have to vanquish the witch first so she cannot curse anyone else.”

Mumford laughs, then stops when we do not share in his merriment. “Oh! You were serious! Forgive me, but the witch is very powerful. She will squash you like a bug. Or, more likely, turn you into one. I was attempting to thwart her when she captured me. Do you have a plan?”

To my surprise, Riley says, “Yes. I plan to surrender.”

“Sorry?” I ask. I hope I've heard him wrong.

But Mumford only nods thoughtfully. “Keep talking.”

Riley begins to pace. The ground beneath us quakes a bit with each heavy footfall. I glance around, hoping the witch isn't close enough to feel it. All I see are a few ducks and a llama eyeing us warily from a nearby lawn.

“I will approach her in surrender, as she commanded,” Riley explains to me. “She will see I was unable to break the spell, so I am now her property. I shall keep her distracted while you … well … while you kiss a lot of animals. When the witch's powers are weakened enough, I shall escape her sight, you shall, um, kiss
me
, and turn me back while there is still time.”

Mumford, while delighting in doing deep knee bends and lunges, has been listening carefully. He cracks his knuckles and says, “I will help you by gathering the witch's creatures to the pastures at the far end of the compound. The smells usually keep the witch far away. And when the transformations are complete, I shall dispense of the witch.” He cracks his knuckles again, then grabs a lemon from the branch above his head.

I mull over their words for a moment. I do not like the idea of Riley being alone with the witch. “But, Riley, what if she bewitches you in some way? Robs you of your speech, or makes you forget who you are?”

He kneels down beside me and takes my hands in his gloved ones. “Then you shall remind me.”

I stare into his eyes, nearly level with mine, and find strength there.

“You must promise me,” he continues, “that you will not get caught. If you see her approaching, use Veronica's stone to find your way out. Do not come back for me. It will be too late, and I could not bear it if my fate were to befall you as well.”

Tears fill my eyes.

“Promise me,” he repeats.

I force myself to nod, although I am not at all sure I mean it.

He smiles and pushes a strand of my hair away from my face. The gesture is so sweet that I begin to cry all over again. Without a thought, he hugs me close. Even through all the fur, I can feel his heart beating. I have never been held by anyone other than Papa. I do not want it to stop.

Mumford clears his throat. “Hate to break this up, but we really must get moving. The witch will shortly be heading this way.”

I had nearly forgotten we had an audience. Reluctantly, Riley and I release each other. “Be careful,” I whisper. “Now that I have found you, I do not want to lose you.”

“Nor I,” he says. We lean toward each other as though going in for one last hug. His face only inches from mine, I am overcome with emotion. Without any thought whatsoever, I lean forward and kiss him so quickly that it almost might not have happened.

But it did! We stare at each other in horror.

Mumford shakes his head. “Young love. What can you do?”

I can feel the echo of the kiss as we stare at each other. It was as soft as a moth's wing, and as quick as a hummingbird, but I can still feel its effects all the way down to my tingling toes. We hold our breath. Maybe it wasn't enough to break the spell? Maybe we can still follow through with our plan?

But Beauty knows the truth before I do. She steps back and shakes her head. “I'm so sorry.”

Seconds later, a shudder rips through my entire body and, still kneeling, I fall face-first to the ground. Where months ago there was stretching, now there is shrinking. My limbs rearrange themselves, my hair yanks itself back into my head, and my fur disappears, leaving my skin bare and raw. I press my lips firmly together to keep from screaming. Everything is dark! I am blind! Then my eyes open. I hadn't realized I was squeezing them shut.

The first person I see is Mumford, bowing low before me. “At your service, Your Highness,” he says, reaching to help me stand.

“How do you …” But I need only to look down at myself to know the answer. I am wearing my traveling clothes. My cloak has the royal emblem embroidered on the front.

Dizzy from the transformation, I let him take my elbow and help me to my feet. It takes a second to realize when I have reached my full height, for it seems so close to the ground. I cannot help running my hands over my arms and face. Gone are the muscles and the broad shoulders and the strong arms. But so is the thick hair, the fur, the hawk nose. I pinch my nose. I cannot believe it was ever this small!

I feel a light touch on my arm and know that when I turn around, Beauty will be standing there. What will she think of me? Will she be disappointed? I turn slowly to face her.

Her eyes scan my face, void of any expression other than curiosity and wonder. Finally, she says, “You are shorter than I expected!” and then grins.

I laugh and hold out my hand. She takes it.

“A much better fit,” she says.

“Indeed.” This is the first time we have held hands without my gloves on, and I feel suddenly shy. My cheeks grow warm and I have no long hair to cover them.

“I have ruined our plan,” she says. “I am truly sorry about the kiss.”

“I'm not,” I reply truthfully. It feels great to smile without the hook of my nose digging into my lip.

She squeezes my hand and I no longer care if she sees me blushing. I am human again! And a girl likes me! It is hard to think of the witch.

Mumford hurriedly shakes two lemons from a branch over his head. He tosses one to each of us, only mine lands on the ground due to me not really being aware yet of where my arms begin and end. “Let us be on our way,” he instructs. “We will have to cut through the pasture, so there will be no trees nor buildings to hide behind. Stay low to the ground.” He tilts his head at Beauty and says, “Due to this one being so free with the kisses, we shall come up with a new plan as we go.”

“Hey,” I say, defending my lady, “had she been less free with them, you would still be rolling in mud, eating worms and tree bark or whatever pigs like to snack on.”

He laughs and slaps me on the back. “You speak the truth, Your Highness!” He takes off at a sprint, having apparently recovered his balance already. He begins to whistle a low tune, almost like a hum. Every animal in sight stops its grazing and follows him.

We hurry to catch up, me stumbling every few steps. When your feet are suddenly half the size they've been for months, walking is an entirely new experience. Mumford keeps turning in circles as he goes, searching the property for the witch. I feel very exposed in this pasture, with nothing but low grass surrounding us on all sides. Beauty and I stick close together. More than once she has to catch me before I hit the ground. “So much for my plan to save the day as the beast,” I whisper as she steadies me once again.

“Were it not for the beast, we never would have made it here in the first place,” she points out.

The animals are beginning to surround us on all sides. They sneak glances but move steadily forward toward the large barn in the distance. “That may be, but without your stone, we never would have seen it for what it was. I would have been at the mercy of the witch. And she would have shown me none, for certain. Did your friend ever mention a connection between the stone and a witch?”

Beauty shakes her head. “She never knew where her mother was headed when she left home, or even how she came by the stone in the first place.”

Mumford stops beside a large red barn and motions for all of us to gather around him. I cannot help but steal glances at the animals. I am fairly certain all of them were once human, but I cannot bear to think on it. At least I still had the body of a human (well, mostly). There is nothing human about any of these poor creatures, except the expressions in their eyes. Sadness, fear, frustration, and now, a bit of hope. “I must not let them down,” I whisper fervently. If Beauty hears me, she does not comment.

Mumford leads the crowd a few more feet until we are hidden from view behind the barn, and then steps onto a bale of hay to address the crowd. “Attention please, everyone. I am Mumford, formerly known as The Witch's Pig.”

At this, the crowd stomps, crows, snorts, bleats, barks, and flaps.

“Shh,” he says. “We must move fast.” He gestures for me to stand beside him. “This is, er, I do not actually know your name?”

“I am Prince Riley from one of the seven kingdoms due south from here.” I stand up straight like Mother always taught us when addressing the townsfolk. My voice still sounds strange to me, like a boy's voice. Which, of course, it is. I admit, there were elements of being the beast that I will actually miss — the deep voice being one of them. I clear my throat, and try to sound older. “This is my friend Beauty. She kissed me and broke the witch's curse. She will do the same for you.”

More barking and all-around happy animal noises erupt. Mumford holds up a hand and they quickly settle down. I continue. “When everyone has transformed back to their former selves, the witch's power will be gone. At least we hope so.” I do not want to admit that we have thought no further than that. We will need to keep her from starting all over again. But first things first.

Beauty joins me in front of the crowd. I notice for the first time that her arms and cheeks are scratched from the branches during our run. She never even complained.

“Hello, everyone,” she says. “I would like to ask the women to stand to the left, and the men to the right.”

A flurry of fur and feathers later, they are sorted into two nearly even groups. I cannot figure out Beauty's intent. She turns to me and Mumford and says, “Pucker up, boys, you have some kissing to do, too.”

Mumford looks from one group to the next, and then lets out a big belly laugh. “Of course! The girl is right!” He positions himself in front of a fluffy white poodle, and points next to him at a particularly large brown sheep. The poodle wags her tail happily as she looks up at Mumford. My sheep eyes me warily. I do not blame her. I have never kissed an animal in my life, since Mother does not allow pets in the house. I may have kissed one of the royal horses when I was three, but that is the extent of it.

“Let us begin!” Beauty says. She races over to the first in her group, and kisses an owl right on the top of his head. Without waiting to see what happens, she moves on to a frog, and then a turtle. Mumford has already kissed his poodle and has moved on to a three-toed sloth. He elbows me. “Get to the kissing!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the animals Beauty kissed are falling to the ground, transforming in a tangle of limbs. I quickly turn back to my sheep and kiss her lightly on the ear. It felt like kissing my blanket at home. Not that I have actually done that, of course.

Without looking back, I move quickly down the line. An antelope, a cat, three rabbits, and a hedgehog. Judging from the muffled shouts and weeping and shuffling going on behind me, I surmise my kisses are doing their job. I am about to kiss a parrot when I catch Beauty's eye. She smiles at me over the head of a donkey and winks.

I smile and kiss my parrot square on the beak. I'm about to move on to the next animal when I realize Mumford and I have no more animals in our group. Working together has allowed us to move more quickly than Beauty, who still has a handful to attend to. I consider asking some of the newly transformed women to help, but they are all still very disoriented and most are having trouble even sitting up without help. In hindsight, Mumford recovered very quickly following his own transformation. I wonder what his special gift is. Strength maybe, or bravery. Beauty has just finished kissing a mule, and is bending down toward a large gray buffalo.

“Wait a moment,” I say, hurrying to join her. When the buffalo sees me, he shuffles backward until his hind legs are up against the wall of the barn. I squint at him. The shiny almost-silver-colored coat, the horns so low they scrape the ground. “I have seen you before,” I tell him. “You were with the witch the day I was cursed.” He only lowers his head further, his horns digging small ditches in the soft ground.

“Do not be afraid,” Beauty says, approaching him cautiously. She rests her palm on his back, but he bristles and shies away from her hand.

“I am loathe to rush you, m'lady,” Mumford says, joining us. “But we must finish our task and get everyone to safety.”

We both glance back at the twenty-five or so fully human people huddled together. Old and young (though none as young as I), they are talking excitedly, their eyes alternately frightened, cautious, and gleeful.

Beauty turns away and quickly kisses the cowering buffalo. Soon he is a tall, thin man, huddled in a ball. He pulls his silver cloak tight around himself and refuses to look at us.

Beauty bends down beside him. “Sir? Are you all right? You are amongst friends here.”

He shakes his head. “I failed the royal family. I tried to warn them, but I could not.”

She looks up at me, surprised, then back down at him. “You look familiar to me. Have we ever met?”

He glances up at her and shakes his head.

“I do know you, though,” she murmurs. “Wait! You are the man at the mill. The one who can tell if someone is telling a fib!”

He nods, wincing. “That is I. All the witch does is tell fibs. And I could do nothing to stop it.”

Beauty leans close to me and whispers, “When I saw him last, he was confident and strong. Now he is a broken man.”

I kneel down. In my most princely voice, I say, “Sir, you are not to blame. You tried to warn us as best you could, and in return you were struck by the witch. I am certain when all of this is over, our kingdom would be lucky to have a man such as yourself working with us.”

He meets my gaze. “Truly?”

I nod.

He pushes himself into a sitting position. “Thank you, Your Highness. I shall pull myself together.”

Satisfied that he won't have a problem on his hands, Mumford helps the man the rest of the way up, and brings him over to the other group. “Run as fast as you can,” he instructs everyone. “Hide in the cellar of the slop house. The witch never goes there. I shall come for you when it is safe.” Before they turn to go, they lob oaths of loyalty and words of gratitude to me and Beauty, then take off, running and stumbling and helping each other up. They disappear around the side of the barn. I do not see where they go from there.

Just as I'm about to ask Mumford where we can find the witch, a black cat with white spots rushes up to us. It is the same one the witch was petting so lovingly earlier. “Oh, no, we missed one!” Beauty says, kneeling down and puckering her lips.

Mumford yells, “Stop! Don't go near that cat!” but it is too late. The cat has sprung up, hissing and spitting and adding to the scratches on Beauty's soft cheeks.

“Ouch!” she cries out, trying to fend off the cat with her elbows. I run up and grab the cat from behind, holding it as far out in front of me as my arms (which seem short and stubby to me now) can reach. It squirms free and dashes away.

“That is not good,” Mumford says, holding his hand to his face. “If he is here, the witch is not far behind. I had hoped to have the element of surprise on our side.”

“Who is he?” Beauty asks, dabbing at her face with her sleeve. “Or should I say, who
was
he?”

“I do not know,” Mumford replies. “But he and the witch are very attached to each other. She turned him long ago. I think he was not a good person to begin with.”

“If she likes him so much, why doesn't she turn him back to human?” I ask. “Surely she can break her own curse.”

“'Tis a good question. I think she likes having him as her eyes and ears amongst the other animals.”

The words are no sooner out of his mouth than the cat reappears, followed only two steps behind by a withered old woman, bent nearly in half. Her eyes, full of hate, are directed entirely at me.

“You!”
She spits at my feet. A gross glob of green goo slides between blades of grass, barely missing my boots. “
You
have done this to me! How dare you?”

I motion for Beauty to get behind me, but instead she stands beside me and takes my hand. “
We
have done this to you,” she corrects the witch. “We did it because no one else should have to suffer like Riley did. Or any of the others you took away from families who loved them. How dare
you
, is the question.” She juts out her chin in defiance. It trembles a little, but does not waver.

I turn to Beauty in amazement. I knew she was brave — she'd have to be to agree to live with a beast and then to come here with me — but I did not know she was capable of
this
.

The witch waves her hand at Beauty, dismissing her like one would a pesky fly. “I still have enough power left for one more transformation,” she hisses at me. “I turned you into a beast once. I shall do it again.”