Red (16 page)

“Wait,
you're
a princess?” said Goldie, dropping her book. “But you're so…so…you're so…”

“Furry? Smelly? Hideous?” snarled the beast.

“I was going to say ‘tall,' ” said Goldie. “You're very tall for a girl. That's all.”

I was still taking this all in. The Red Roses had turned the princess into a beast. A beast that could live forever. I pressed my face into my hands. I could have turned Granny into a beast. If it weren't for the gargoyles, I could have turned myself into a beast. And now I could see all the regret in the eyes of this princess-beast—regret that she had ever wished for immortality.

“Did the enchantress tell you how you might break the curse?” I asked.

The beast shook her head. “It's impossible,” she said bitterly.

“Oh, no,” I said. “Every curse has a means of escape, even if you don't know it. I have a friend who was cursed since birth, and he had no idea how to break it, but he still did.”

“I never said I didn't know the way. I said it was impossible.”

“If there's a way to break it, then it is possible,” I said.

“Oh! Oh!” shouted Goldie, waving her arms around like a lunatic. “I know what it is! True love's kiss! Mummy told me a story once of a princess under a spell, but the spell was broken by true love's kiss!”

“That's a lovely story,” said Beast, “but this spell will not be broken by true love's kiss.”

“If you were a prince, I'd kiss you right now,” said Goldie. “Then I'd be a princess and Mummy would love me for certain.” Goldie puckered up as though she truly thought to kiss the beast.

“But she's not a prince,” I said, restraining Goldie. “She's a princess. Or was.”

Beast had backed up against a bookshelf, as if she thought the threat of Goldie's kiss was real.

“It doesn't matter,” said the beast. “I can't break the spell, and I'll be a beast forever.”

I drummed my fingers on a stack of books, thinking. If Granny were here, she'd know what to do. I'd seen her help others in similar predicaments, though perhaps nothing quite so extreme. Obviously the roses didn't interest me anymore, but perhaps I could barter with Beast, convince her to release us in exchange for Granny's magical advice.

“I think I know someone who might be able to help you,” I said.

“Yes,” said the beast. “I know. In fact, that is precisely why you are here.”

I nodded, my suspicions now confirmed. Granny wouldn't be able to break the curse for Beast, or change her back to a princess, but she could tell her if she would ever break the spell, and perhaps give her a few clues as to how. It might be my only chance of escape.

“My granny knows a lot about magic,” I said. “If you release us, I can take you to her. She's very ill, but she'd still help you find a way to break your curse.”

The beast stared at me for a moment, something like laughter in her eyes, though I couldn't see what was so funny. “That won't be necessary,” she said. “I've already sent word to your granny.”

“I don't understand.”

The beast turned away from me and brushed her claws along the books, leaving scratch marks on the spines. I could almost feel the books cringing in pain. “Enchantress…,” said Beast. “It's just a nice name for a witch, you know. A witch did this to me, and now I hold the key to making her change me back—her one and only grandchild.”

I gaped at Beast. The realization crept over me, cold and slow, like frost on a windowpane. “You mean…”

The beast nodded. “Rose Red the Enchantress, or as people now call her, The Witch of The Woods.”

Granny. Rose Red. The enchantress who transformed a princess into a beast. She had never told me this story before. I guess I could see why. It wasn't something to be proud of, transforming a princess into a beast, even if the princess
had
demanded it. It was a cruel fate and I understood why the beast had made us her prisoners, but she obviously didn't understand that kidnapping me was a useless ploy.

“She won't undo the curse,” I said.

“She will if she wants to see her only grandchild.”

“You can't keep us here forever!” said Goldie.

“Has your affection for me died so soon?”

Goldie cowered, clutching her book of handsome princes and fair princesses to her chest.

“You don't understand,” I said. “She
can't
undo the curse, even if she were well enough. She doesn't have the power. Curses can't be reversed or undone, only broken, according to whatever rules were set forth at the time of the cursing, so the only way—”

The beast roared, causing books to tumble from shelves. “I know the rules! Now I'm setting
my
rules! Your granny will turn me back into a princess or she will die knowing that you are in my power.”

“And at the end of it all, you'll
still
be a beast!” I shouted.

The beast's hairy brow furrowed ever so slightly. I thought she was about to cry, her sapphire-blue eyes glistened so, but then she roared and raked her claws over another row of books so that they crashed to the floor. She burst through the doors and ran away on all fours.

The library busied itself, picking up the books the beast had displaced, stacking them neatly on the shelves.

“Red, do you think we'll ever go home?” Goldie asked.

I closed my eyes. It was my fault Goldie was here. I had gotten her into this mess. “We'll find a way out, Goldie,” I said. “I promise.”

A book suddenly lifted off a shelf and dropped onto my head.

“Ouch! What was that for?” I picked up the book and read the title.

The Broken Promise.

I hurled it across the room, but it simply floated back up to the shelf and slid itself neatly into place. Magic books. They won't even let you get properly enraged.

Why hadn't Granny told me about the beast? Was she ashamed? Had she truly meant to turn the princess into a beast, or had it been a disastrous magical mistake? I had never imagined Granny made any mistakes with magic, but clearly I didn't know everything about Granny.

“It's a good thing you didn't get one of The Red Roses,” said Goldie. “Otherwise, you might have turned your granny into a beast!”

“I suppose so,” I said, though I wondered if the spell might work differently if you didn't want it for yourself, but for someone else. Granny said that selfishness was one of the reasons magic always went wrong. But I didn't want eternal life for myself. I wanted it for Granny. That wasn't selfish, was it?

“What about that other magic…?” Goldie mused while turning the pages of another book. “The Magic Hearts. I told you to try that from the beginning. It sounds nice.”

I had pushed it out of mind because the dwarves knew so little of it. “I don't even know what a Magic Heart is or where to find one,” I said.

“Maybe it's something you find in your own heart?” guessed Goldie.

“That doesn't even make sense,” I said. “I need to figure out how the magic works.”

I knew The Magic Hearts existed. The dwarves said so. I just needed more information. Granny always says the best way to gain knowledge is through your own experience. The second-best way is to learn from others. Stories. Lessons. Books.

Books! Here I was in a place full of information, and all I had to do was ask.

“Goldie,” I said. “We can ask the library about Magic Hearts!”

“Goodness, why didn't I think of that? Here, let me ask.” She closed her book and stood up. “Oh, library, wilt thou give us a book about The Magic Hearts?”

Nothing happened at first, and then a book removed itself from a low shelf and floated toward us. I took it and eagerly read the pages, with Goldie peering over my shoulder, but I was disappointed in the story. It was a tale about a girl who gave her heart to a boy, but he threw it away. Where her heart lay there grew a willow tree called The Wishing Willow, and anyone who wished for true love beneath that tree would find it.

“That was the saddest, most beautiful story in the world!” Goldie sniffled.

“But it's not helpful.” I shut the book and pushed it back toward the shelf. “I need a book that will tell me how to stop death.”

The library brought down another book full of remedies for common illnesses, but nothing out of the ordinary.

“Oh, gross,” said Goldie. “There's the recipe for the tonic Mummy always makes me drink!” She made a gagging noise and tossed the book back to the shelf.

“We might have more luck if we search separately,” I said.

“Good idea,” said Goldie. “I'll go ask the other side of the library. You stay here and keep asking this side. We'll find something!”

I asked about Magic Hearts in a dozen different ways, and the library brought down book after book. I read stories and histories and remedies, each having something to do with hearts, magic, or forever, but none brought me any closer to knowing how I might save Granny.

Across the library, I could hear Goldie's requests and then her subsequent reactions to whatever book the library had given her. She giggled, gasped, and sobbed, while I grumbled and growled at my fruitless search. In a library with this many books, there had to be something useful.

“Can't you find
any
book that mentions Magic Hearts? Just Magic Hearts so a person will never die.” The words came out a little snippety, so I added, “Please.”

The library was still for a minute, like it was thinking or searching for the right book. Finally another book came down to me from the very tallest shelf. It was old and worn. It looked promising. I settled into a big chair and opened the pages. At first glance, I thought it was a spell book and my heart leapt, but it turned out to be nothing more than nursery rhymes, all rather silly and nonsensical.

I slammed it shut and started to fling it back when something caught my eye. A page hung out of the book, torn from the binding. Two words jumped out at me: “never” and “die.”

I opened the book to a rhyme called “Hearts of the Huntsman.” It felt odd compared to the others, mysterious and melancholy. Each verse was a tragic tale of how someone died, whether by illness, accident, or old age, but at the end of three sad verses was this stanza:

Who will o'erthrow Death

That man may keep his breath?

What pow'rs be in the land

To stay Death's chilling hand?

The old huntsman knows

How the Hearts grow

The Magic for those

Who wish never to die

“Goldie, come look at this.”

Goldie read the poem, her eyebrows knit in concentration. “The old huntsman knows…” She traced her finger over the line.

“Do you think maybe Horst could know something?” I asked.

“Well, he's certainly old,” said Goldie.

“And see how it mentions ‘Hearts' and ‘Magic,' as though they mean something more.” I'd been trying to stay as far away from Horst as possible in order to protect Wolf, but maybe he held the answers I sought. Had I been wrong to refuse his help?

It didn't matter. Unless we could escape the castle, there was no point to any of it, especially if Granny was…

No. I wouldn't think of that. I refused. Mama and Papa should be home soon. They could be home now and they would surely go right to Granny's. She would be fine. At least for now. Granny and I were so connected that I believed I would feel it if she were gone, like a bone breaking. Surely she was holding on for me.

The beast did not dine with us that evening, nor the next. She issued no orders, made no demands. She didn't even show herself, which made me feel uneasy.

With no Beast to boss us about, Goldie and I were left to the care of the castle. It gave us the freedom to wander around, though it kept us locked inside.

I could not enjoy the freedom. I couldn't stop thinking about the terrible fate Granny had bestowed upon Beast. I couldn't stop worrying about Granny and Wolf. I couldn't stop wondering about The Magic Hearts, and what Horst might have to do with them.

I lay in bed that night, Goldie snoring next to me. I slept with my cloak, and I fingered the corners anxiously, trying to draw comfort, wisdom, hope.

Wolf howled.

Come back,
he said, and I sensed his growing urgency. Was he in danger? Was Horst coming after him? It felt like we were both running out of time. His cries had lulled me to sleep these past nights, but tonight they kept me awake.

Another howl sounded, but this one was nearer, inside the castle.

Beast.

I sat up. A candle lit on my bedside. I took it and went to the door. I pressed my hand against it.

The door unlocked and opened.

The sconces lit up along the wall as I traveled down the corridor, down the staircase.

The terrible howling came again. There was no meaning to it, except despair. I wandered through the castle aimlessly, but then I saw the shadow of Beast cross the corridor. I blew out my candle and silently followed. She walked through a maze of rooms and hallways, until she came to the library. She entered and shut the door.

What was she doing in the library in the middle of the night? Reading bedtime stories?

I turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open, just enough to peer through with one eye.

Beast stood in front of a bookshelf, casting long, ghoulish shadows across the room. She reached for a book, but when she lifted it, there was a click, and a portion of the shelf swung open, revealing a corridor behind. Beast slipped inside, and the shelf closed behind her, leaving me in darkness.

I should have just gone back to bed. But I couldn't help myself. I was curious to know where Beast was going and what she was doing.

Curiosity killed the cat,
said a small voice in my head. It sounded eerily like Granny's.

But I'm not a cat,
I said back to the voice. Besides, this was my captor, whom I wished to escape, so it made sense that I should follow her and find out all I could. I walked to the shelf and felt along the spines of the books. Beast had reached for a book at the level of her chest, which meant it would be above my head. I tipped a book back as I had seen Beast do, but nothing happened. I pulled more books, working my way along the shelf. One or two fell down, but they quickly picked themselves up and floated back onto the shelves. I clutched another book and tugged. This one felt different, like it was attached to something. I pulled until something snapped, then I released the book and the shelf swung open.